2023.02.20 Slap-Happy Redux, and Groves Ahoy
| 02.20.23 Slap-Happy Redux, and Groves Ahoy | |
|---|---|
| After being slapped, Trent (and Massa) rejoin Trey, and more sharing ensues, along with a trip to the grove. | |
| IC Date | 02.20.23 |
| Players | Massa, Trent Towers, Trey |
| Location | Witches' Brew, later a private grove |
| Spheres | Changeling, Mage, Sorcerer, Fera |
Witches Brew and Occult Shoppe - Main Room
When entering the shop, the door will chime from an old-fashioned little bell set above it. First to assault the senses are the scents within the shop, there are heavy herbal smells along with delicious scents of baked goods. Describing the shop itself, it can be considered broken out into two sections. A front section that is the entirety of the front of the shop houses the cafe portion, and a back section that is split in half with one half devoted to tall bookshelves and a wide-variety of books, while the other half is devoted to a huge herbal and apothecary section that includes needed supplies for the practicing pagan. Separating the front and back sections of the shop is a long, rectangular glass counter for specialty items and checkout. It has a narrow space to enter and exit in order to serve customers and check people out from the cash register that is at this counter. There is a sign that states, 'If you can not find the book you are looking for, please enter your request in the special order book.'
The front of the store has nooks built against the front windows that are comfortable window seats with piles of cushions for the customers to sit and read, chat or snack comfortably. There are also plush, comfortable seats that have high cushioned arms arranged in cozy triangles around little tables for people to relax and chat. Just to the left beyond the cafe seating is a long glass counter that is displaying a plethora of baked goods, all very interesting and all very delicious. Behind the counter is a barrista that can also offer a multitude of drinks, from coffee, to tea, to water or any non-alcoholic drink. All drinks are delivered in unique cups, no two cups are alike, and they are all porcelein.
In the far back of the room, behind the bookshelves and shelves of merchandise are two doors that are always closed. One door has a sign on it that says 'Employees Only', the other door says, 'Private'. At the front of the store, there is a set of double-glass doors on the right hand side that lead into an expansive greenhouse, although the glass windows are often misty due to the moisture of the greenhouse beyond.
PLACES/+views/+notes available - +note/read here/PEACEFUL_AURA
NOTE: There are several cameras pointing at the entry door, the cafe and specialty counters. Also - if you do anything in this shop that would be noticable, or Mia or any other workers that work here are involved/impacted, please @mail Anyu.
Trey is seated at a table by the window, a fresh cup of coffee and the crumbs of a croissant before him, perusing a book on California's flora and minerals and their use in ritual.
It's, like, -a little while- later, versus the earlier scene. Cause Trent had to get ferried out to the outskirts of town or wherever Caressa's place is, get talked to, then make his way back. He'd used Massa as an excuse to get loose again--which had been no less than the truth, Massa's capacity to blow up his phone has already proven legend--and the two boys are now arriving back at the Brew together. Or more accurately Massa is arriving, with Trent somewhat reluctantly in tow, explaining the events of the evening.
"--was speaking a -little- out of turn, I -guess,-" he's saying plaintively. "She was not pleased. Took me out to her place and gave me The Talk. Which, -to be fair to her,- she was right, given what she said I should be more circumspect about her specifically in the future. But I--oh, hey, he's still here."
Trent brightens and gives Trey a big and possibly-unnoticed wave from the other side of the store, hooking Massa by a belt loop and yoinking him a bit in the man's direction. "C'mon, let's be sociable. Heyyy," he says, sliding back into a seat beside Trey--the same seat he'd abruptly vacated an hour or two previous. "Sorry I had to go so sssuddenly earlier. You, uh, caught all the details of that, I suspect. I forgive her, for what it's worth. She was more or less right. This is Trey, between the deuce and the four," he introduces the one catboy to the other, a boy whom he compares to a cat. "And that's Massa."
Trey has just been here reading. He's gotten through a goodly portion of the book. The voice sounds familiar, so he looks up, then throws an affable wave back to Trent. "I was *not* getting into the middle of that," he says with a chuckle. "Either she was insane or she was right, and either way, I didn't want to get *my* ass chewed off, no offense." He sticks out a hand to Massa. "Good to meet you, so you're the other half? Or just the boy toy?" Tactless, but he seems well-intentioned enough.
Massa drags himself in, looking ever so burdened, rolling his eyes aggressively at Trent. "Yeah, that sounds like you. Big mouth. No situational awareness. Thats why we keep things simple." he says with a little smirk, and then hes being tugged at. He responds with a "playful" jab to the ribs that might land a little harder than one can describe with the word "playful". "Don't pull." he mutters in a petulant tone with a frown that is replaced with a bright and toothy smile as he slides in next to Trent and takes the extended hand to offer a firm grasp and shake. "Just a passing fancy, a simple man, making his way through." he replies with a dimming of his grin to a faint smile. "Who is this?" This directed to Trent, despite the fact he had just been given his name.
"We're still negotiating the details," Trent answers Trey happily, in the tone of one who's pleased to be bargained away. "Let's not put too much pressure on Massa lest he explode at the implication he actually likes me and doesn't just text me a dozen tiems because he needs a human scratching post. Or because he likes my rooster. He's just some guy," Trent says to Massa, trying his best to dream up some circumspectness. "He...knows more about things than average, and shares with us an interest in herbalism. I was offering him the use of our garden." Good ol weaponized plural possessive pronoun, fuck yeees!
Well, those pronouns sound awfully well-decided. Trey just offers a crooked smile and says, "That's the hardest part, figuring out the recipe. Making anything that works, it always takes a little work, a pinch of this, a handful of those..." Is he really that oblivious? No, just a smartass. "I'm just a random guy," He agrees. "Nothing at all interesting about me except for the herbalism thing. Not a thing."
A brow perks slightly as he gives Trey a second glanc over with a slightly more discerning eye. "Oh, well that sounds very convincing. Just joe-average hippie sage man, hm?" Massa skeptically. "You turn into a wombat on the quarter moon? Some kind of lizard person? High priest of the Crimson Shroud? Huh?" Trent, in the moment, seems forgotten about.
"Massa," says Trent softly, judging the boy in the ribs with an actual gentleness Massa could never aspire to. "It's not polite to ask people if they turn into a wombat on the quarter moon. It's like saying 'but where are you REALLY from.'" Still, he also seems to harbor his suspicions, and he looks back to Trey with silent questions in his eyes. Well! Apparently HE'D given the entire game on himself and Lady C away earlier! Maybe they're owed some answers of their own!
Trey bursts out laughing and counters, "No, but my left foot is a miniature iguana unless you look at it." Hippie... man, he hasn't been called that in at least six hours! "Wombats are actually kinda cute. And tasty, if you like game. Nice amount of meat on 'em. Not that I would know, I'm a different flavor of Aboriginal than the kind that deal with wombats." He meets Trent's gaze with an even one of his own, and just nods once, but offers a smile that might be comforting. Might.
"Well then that leaves Lizard Man or High Priest. I'll figure it out between the two later." Massa says in a teasing tone with a dismissive waving motion, cutting a little glare at Trent over the oh so gentle nudge. "And i'm not being rude. You're the one who going around blabbering secrets, apparently." He replies in a needlessly defensive tone. "But yes, I suppose I shouldn't put people on the spot...But you're only validating the question by acknowledging it as anything other than nonsense." he sticks his tongue out ever so briefly then goes back to just kind of, existing, staring almost vacantly off into the distance. Out the window maybe?
"You can see why I'm so devoted to the guy," says Trent mildly. "It's not my fault different people define 'secret' differently. Nobody in the world has any doubt in their mind that Trent T. Towers is a practicing big W witch, that's all I'm saying, it's official, it's in the phonebook, you can google it and find it on my tax returns. So what if some people--well, anyway." He fixes Trey with an intent look again, but perhaps more information isn't forthcoming for the moment. "We need to get some freak flag space where we can all just let the secrets hang out, you reckon?" Trent says. "...I guess my place probably constitutes. Hey, you wanna see the garden, High Priest of the Lizardkin? You can be as strange as you feel the need to be out there, no prying eyes. I'll even let you wander home with whatever you can pluck. And if you can catch the waking deer, you may get a wish granted. Maybe. Haven't tested that yet."
Trey asks, "High priest of what? Man, if I have my own cult, I want to know where my tribute is, and when I get my pile of furs and pillows and gold and gems." Both his brows raise at the idea of blabbing secrets. "Hm? Someone was telling secrets and didn't share with me? Well, *that* is just rude! I didn't hear any secrets." Well, not in so many words, no...
"Oh, it's a secret that you're a witch? Not a very well-kept one, then." The next question definitely makes him perk up his ears. Well, figuratively, at least. "I'm game to see this garden at the very least, though I'm not sure how many lizardpeople are going to show up. They seem to have abandoned me, the miserable bastards."
"Well, all for the better, I suppose. Terrible house guest, those lizard-folk." Massa replies with a sigh and a shake of his head. "You trust too easily, Trent. But yes, lets show the stranger the mystical grove and introduce him to the Deer King, surely we won't be smote under his mighty hoof." Another roll of his eyes and a glance at his phone to check the time. "Well if we're going we should go, no? We haven't got all night.."
"A cab, then?" Trent's got his phone out and is dialing it in for em. TRANSIT TIME
The Cottage - Backyard
To call this place a yard is an understatement. It's not quite a grounds, not quite that vast, but it's every bit as rambling and private as an eccentric's private woods would be. While it is walled off, you wouldn't know it to walk into the space, because the forest is so dense here as to create the impression of fairytale paths through the woods; in a microcosm of a primeval wood, little trods take the visitor from open space to open space, each home to its own private profusion of life. Squirrels feast on nuts from exotic climes, and fruits bloom out of season. Here a tiny glade opens, there a pond stands athwart the way, and ever the paths split and rejoin til the satisfied wanderer can find themselves well and lost on a few small acres of space. Wonders dwell here, tended for two centuries by the crafty hands of Verbena witches, reality itself smoothed out to permit their darkest imaginings and brightest fancies to come to be.
So, yeah, it's not quite your average herb garden.
The cab ride's short and uneventful, and the house is dark when they arrive. Trent leads em past the gate and up to the front door, into the dimness of the living room. Here Tom, the three-foot-tall black rooster, puts in an appearance; he sprints over to the three of them, hopping up toward Massa in particular, but on getting a load of the whole Treyness of the situation, he'd skittered off and away and lurked at a distance. He trails behind the party, keeping a safe distance, occasionally making little 'rkk'ing noises as if to warn his masters of the terrible beast in their midst.
"This is it," says Trent happily as they spill out of the warmth of the kitchen into the cool evening out back. The place is lightly canopied, with starlight shining intermittently through; true to Trent's promise, the place is Herb Garden Central, with plants both local and exotic flourishing where'er the eye may fall. Paths lead off in multiple directions through the little wood, dense enough that the fairy tale vibes are real as the ways disappear off into shadow. "A couple centuries of maintenance to produce this mess. I'd call it my proudest achievement, but it belongs to the Old Mothers more than me. Just passing through my hands. Or I'm passing through its, whatever."
He produces a bone flute from nowhere and sights down it like a rifle, prepping it, but not blowing on it just yet.
Trey is utterly unsurprised that a prey animal runs like hell from him. He doesn't chase the rooster, though it takes a little willpower not to do so. He's distracted entirely from the rooster once he gets a good look at the grove, however; he steps into the moonlight, a faint silver flecking his brown eyes as he gazes up at the moon, then down around him to the bounty of the garden. "We are all the world's caretakers, Trent T. Towers," he murmurs without explanation, "Some better than others." He lays his hand on the trunk of a tree, feeling its life and inhaling deeply. He smells... is that catnip? Oh, shit.
<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Trent rolls Arete vs 5 for 1 successes.
1 +7 10
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<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Trey rolls Perception(3) + Awareness(2) (5 dice) vs 6 for 3 successes.
1 +7 +7 +7 8
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Massa frowns as Tom turns and runs. Trey gets a glance, a narrowing of eyes in suspicion, but he says nothing. Just follows through the house, kicking off his boots and socks as they spill into the back yard. It isn't /super/ obvious, but everywhere the man walk seems to swell slightly. Grass underfoot growing unnaturally, adding a centimeter or so in his wake as he passes through, blossoms bloom just a little big wider, plant life simply seems to thrive around him as he moves silent through the garden, keeping a little bit of distance from his companions.
Oh yeah, there's a clump of catnip riiight by the door, in fact, from experiments with cats past. It'd been difficult to square them with the chickens. Not that the cats had eaten the chickens or anything, it had been more, uh, the chickens had made the cats' lives a living hell and Trent had given up on trying to socialize the two warring species together. He'd kept the bush as a memorial. Perilous for poor Trey!
Trent places the bone flute to his lips and blows a long, slow note that seems to...curl? A sensation of old, roiling things in the deep permeates the space, of a momentary pull from below, and the starlight...bends? What had been a dim and diffuse light beneath the tree cover brightens measurably, not changing in color or texture from the pale moon-and-stars nightscape it'd been, but coming into a greater focus that illuminates the space beautifully. Perhaps not necessary to more-than-human eyes, but those of us with apescape appreciate it! Trent sighs a satisfied sigh at the working, looking about him at the newly-clarified space. The real point had been to show off some magic in action, of course, to let Trey know he was dealing with something real here, but the effect is its own reward, too.
"I do my best. It takes work. Takes literal sweat and blood and could probably do with tears, too. Maybe I should bully Massa." He looks after the smaller man with a soft fondness in his gaze. "Here, though..." He moves for the door and digs around in a bag of tools, producing, yes, a silver-ass sickle, which he approaches, holding it downward, to hand off to Trey. "This oughta be ritually pure enough to serve your needs, if you see anything that suits you." OH WAIT THOUGH. SILVER? DO WERECATS HAVE A SILVER THING? Your author doesn't even know. Hopefully not a faux pas!
Trey has human eyes at the moment, so the illumination is noteworthy, to say the least. He looks upon the intensified light of Selene spreading through the garden, painting the green with faint silvery fingers. "So you do," he says quietly, licking his lips in thought as he gazes all around him, taking it all in with care and attention. He doesn't feel threatened, though that may be a touch of recklessness on his part, as well. He pauses at the offer of the sickle and hisses thoughtlessly, drawing his hand back sharply. "Ordinary steel... will work." He even takes a step back, rueful. "It's not the tool, it's the respect with which it is taken." Somehow he manages not to get pissed, though he does tip his head to one side after a moment, studying the tool. "It is a beautiful tool. But you are a man. Children of the moonlight cannot bear Seline's kiss so closely."
<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Massa rolls Intelligence + Lore Garou vs 8 for 2 successes.
3 4 6 +8 +9
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By the time Trey rejects the tool Massa has slunk off into one of the (relativly) darker patches in the shadow of one of the sturdier trees. The hiss and rejection draws another curious if not suspicious look, much as the fleeing chicken had. curiouser and curiouser. Oh. Good. Hes in /danger/. Ha ha. Just smile. So he does. He keeps his mouth shut and just smiles in the shadow of the mighty oak, was this an oak? Hes a herbalist, not an arborist, damn it!
"Oh?" Trent retracts the tool reflexively, then turns slowly, tossing it back toward the bag it'd come from as one might a just-unloaded gun. "My apologies...child of the moonlight...I didn't mean to bear threat to a guest." He sounds genuinely contrite, and is clearly just assuming: werewolf. He doesn't know shit about werewolves, but he was just warned about them minutes before. "Let me get you something more suitable..." He returns to the bag and produces a more mundane pair of sheers, clicks em a couple times, tests their sharpness. Yep, good! He pauses at the door to crouch down and stroke the lurking rooster Tom, clucking to him and whispering little reassurances that aren't gonna do a damn thing to get the bird walking any closer to a man-sized monster cat, even if he's man-shaped right now.
"Sorry 'bout that!" he says as he returns with the shears. "Swear up and down that wasn't me being cute, didn't occur to me there might be metal allergies in play. With my kind the intent's important, but the tools can matter, too." Massa gets a sidelong look prowling over there in the darkness, but Trent finds there's something kind of charming about the little guy clinging to the shadows like that, and doesn't intrude. In fact, he flexes his effect, letting shadow pool where Massa walks, giving him some shelter from the enhanced illumination to prowl in.
Trey is not wholly surprised that Massa attempts to disappear -- the small man seemed to have some inkling of what he was facing, more so than Trent did. Perhaps. "I know," he says with a half-smile, accepting the shears without anger or any hesitation. "I don't take offense when it's a lack of knowledge. And... your sort. You're not just a sorcerer," he adds, considering. "I know *of* others who wield magic, but I haven't known them personally." He looks off to Massa again, and notes, aloud, "Even I am not fool enough to cause harm to the paramour of a magician in his den."
He thinks, and then says, "My kind... we don't tell. We... teach through stories, through puzzles. And knowing that could tell you much of who I am, were you in the know. If not... well, friendship between your kind and mine exists in history, past and present."
"No, we're all friends here," says Trent with some caution. Again, he's just thinkin' 'werewolf,' and Caressa had warned him about Rip just one scene before. He's cognizent of the killing machine factor at play here, but not as aware of the killing -reputation.- "I think we both know I'd move to protect what's mine if I had to, but I've got every confidence that everybody's buds." Pause. Grin. "Well, you're under no obligation to spill any more beans than you feel you can. I know your kind walk closer with the spirits than mine do, and that they impose certain expectations on your behavior. If you've gotta speak in riddles, I won't hold it against you. I value friendships past and present. Also, for the record, I don't dismantle people for spare parts." A pained expression crosses his face. "I am Verbena, if the name holds any power for you. We abide harmoniously with nature and its guardians, where we can. Not so much into collecting fangs and fur for our magic, unless it's freely given."
Trey says, "Yes," he says, nodding. "I accepted your hospitality, I came to your place of power. One does not do that unless one is reasonably sure that the invitation is given in good faith. You seem to be possessed of good faith and curiosity, both of which I myself have." He mms and nods. "Some more so than others with the spirits. But all of us are creatures *of* spirit as well." He hrms at that and says, "I will need my claws and teeth for a good long time." That's punctuated with a quick chuckle, and then he goes one: "But allow me to... pose you a simple riddle, Trent of the Verbena, druid and grovemaster..." He speaks as if reciting: "Smaller cousin to a chain, the part which makes it whole."
Uh oh. Brain power. Trent's been busy being mysterious and now he has to be clever. He glances over to Massa to see if he's gonna get any help on this one, but Massa's still busy skulking. He flushes slightly, uncertain of his answer. "A lllink?" he hazards. He has the sense that the correct answer would mean more to him than link does. Then again, links are the ties that bind! "You're allowed to laugh at me if I get it wrong. I'm sure Massa knows," he says, raising his voice, "if he would come out of hiding and be a good partner for a minute!" Unlikely at this stage.
<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Trent rolls Intelligence vs 6 for 2 successes.
5 +8 +8
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"Links. Links, links, links," Trent murmurs to himself. "Linnyyyxxxx." His eyes narrow. "You're not a werewolf after all, are you? I have brought unto my garden a bona fide earth-grown man-sized -catb- werecat." He interrupts himself mid-word just in case calling a bastet a catboy turns out to be mortally offensive.
Trey bursts out laughing. "Catboy? More like boycat. I was born on four feet, not two." Wait, *what*? That's *possible*? He's not at all offended -- he's roaring with laughter at the very idea. Seems at least THIS werecat isn't the tetchy type. "Congratulations, you unraveled your first riddle. Friends of the catfolk will find it useful to become used to puzzles. We like them a great deal. Our proper name, which I give to you both but not to others, is the Bastet."
Trent seems very pleased with himself to have unraveled that one. Brains! Him got that brain liquid in his head hole! "Bastet," he tastes the word. "I'll take it to my grave. That was some real enrichment activity, Trey, thank you, I feel like my mind grew three sizes this day. You can riddle me that any time you want." He works backward through the information he was given. "Born on four feet? So you start as animals and become manlike? I gotta admit I don't know a thing about shapeshifters except that you're supposed to all be supremely jacked when you get mad, and that sometimes you go really, really bad. And the silver thing. Guess that one's true."
Yes, delicious delicious terms. Secrets. Lore to regurgitate...Massa creeps from the shadows, sliding up next to Trent, half hiding behind him half peering around him at Trey. "Bastet, hm? And not a homid...Well, you carry yourself very well in your guise, ill admit...And move so freely in the public eye..." Hes doing his best to sound calm. Relaxed. But his 'chill' vibes are coming off more intense and creepy than relaxed. "..What do you mean go really, really bad, Trent?" He asks then, turning an eye slowly up to him. Well, both eyes, really.
Trey shakes his head. "Some. Not all are born as I was." He presses a finger to his lips and grins cheekily. "And all cats have at least two names. Some even have three as TS Eliot asserts." The power of magic, the power of the unknown -- all are heady pleasures.
"We... are not pleasant when we're angry. But some, more so than others. Wolves... are angrier as a rule. More ready to protect what is theirs, because so much is theirs compared to others." and Trey notes, "I am not against the idea of teaching gamecraft to you. It is a means of resolving conflicts without bloodshed. I would be curious to learn of your ways, as well." His gaze moves to Massa. "Funny, little friend, you say 'Homid,' and not 'Human.' You know something of this."
"Well, I dunno the details," says Trent to Massa. "Just that Caressa warned me that Rip guy was 'pretty evil.' Sounded like a profound spiritual sickness, not just some moral failing. Why, you more familiar with the specifics?" Uh oh. We're veering into dangerous territory here. And then Trey's calling out Massa on using the vocabulary! Trent shifts in place, moving them to be standing more in a triangle, then self-consciously pauses and retreats to Massa's side, loyally, slipping an arm around him. Still, he's looking down at him! "Sounds like you're more familiar with the specifics!"
"I know something of many things. One must know secrets if he wishes to paint with forbidden colors." Massa replies in a dry tone, shooting a dagger like stare at Trent until hes rejoined, taking the arm as shelter to huddle into as if he thought Trey might pose some sort of actual threat. Though, it isn't like the 'kid' isn't known for his dramatics and paranoia. "I have never met a..Bastet? It is an honor.."
Trey is not angry, mind you. Wary, with the revelation of Massa's knowledge, whatever it may be, but still reasonable and calm for a shifter. "Mmm. And my kind are not alien to you. But not familiar, directly. You know things... many sorcerers do."
Yes, he seems to know the difference between a sorcerer and a mage. "So that fellow is someone I should avoid? That Rip person? Is he tainted?" It's a simple, flat question, matter-of-fact. "He didn't stay long after you left, which is just as well. I prefer to fight on my own terms if I must do it." He dips his head a bit to being told it's an honor. "It is, because it is rare we show ourselves. But I like people more than most, and enjoy learning more than most."
Trent gives Massa a guilty squeeze, having not really intended to leave the boy 'exposed' there, just moving toward an egalitarian reflex. Of course now he feels somewhat arrayed against Trey, which is also sub-optimal, but Trey seems less sensitive to these matters than some. "That's what Caressa seemed to think, that he was bad news. She warned me to pick no fights but that some day a fight might be in the cards. 'Dangerous, and actually fairly evil. But til he makes some stupid move that reveals himself, we don't pick fights,'" he remembers her exact words, with the help of his log. Hee. "Yeah, what the little guy said, an honor to make the acquaintance of a shifter." This is a genuinely novel experience for Trent, and it's a shame the politics of navigating the meet are slightly fraught, because it's fascinating.
<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Massa rolls Subterfuge + Manipulation vs 4 for 5 successes.
1 3 +4 +4 +5 +7 +9 9
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Massa cocks his head to the side slightly. "Oh? Fairly Evil? That sounds pretty damning. I don't know what you exactly mean by tainted...But Evil sounds, well...Evil?" Blink blink. "I'm sorry if I seem a little gunshy. I've had bad experiences... Not, with. Well. You. Or your people directly. I don't mean to lump you in with some totally different species because of some superficial magical similarities." He seems to relax a bit, giving Trent a little squeeze before slipping a step away and back into a semi-triangle formation.
Trey considers how to explain, and how much. "Tainted is... spiritually sickened by corruption. It takes more than just immorality. And there is... a great deal of spiritual knowledge that would have to be explained to explain more than that."
He considers Massa, and nods slowly. "There are others who act first and ask questions later, or spend no time assessing the truth. But secrets always lead you to the truth, in time." Is that warning, or just belief? Hard to tell. "I make no accusations without reason. But I accept warnings from the wise about people to avoid."
