2023.03.05 Trent Vents

03.05.23 Trent Vents
Trey and Trent talk about what’s bothering the mage.
IC Date	03.05.23
Players	Trent Towers, Trey
Location	The Cottage
Spheres	Bastet Mage

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.

Trey had gotten a text: "I am STRESSED. I am SWEATING. I am running in circles around a tree I grew from a dead rooster and Massa is asleep in the truck because he's an unsupportive partner. Come over here and let me growl near you for a few minutes, huh?" And look, there's Trey! Trent had left the gate and the front door open, so Trey'd been free to simply cruise into the back to find Trent, yes, prowling in circles around a tree, muttering to himself.

"Oh. Hey, Trey," he says when the cat arrives, as if he hadn't just sent an invite and this were a chance meeting. "I need reassurance that I'm not totally crazy. I'm not totally crazy, right?" He's pacing!

Trey enters, being a good friend and generally a decent guy, and is greeted by the frustrated Trent. He shakes his head at the question. "Last I checked, you weren't crazy. Different from most, but that kind of goes with the territory." He pauses, and then says, "Growl away, what happened? Do you need to kill someone?" He offers that cheerfully.

"No!" says Trent, horrified at the implication. Of course Trey doesn't know what he's pacing about, so when the one brain cell connects to the other he calms down and repeats more levelly, "No. No, not today. I just need to relax. It's Caressa. She shot me a text yesterday saying that we needed to talk, which last time I got one of those from her camp was her husband delivering me a -second- lecture about keeping things quiet, after she'd already given me one. Today she shows up here at my place and the first thing she asks is 'do you know the basic rules of wizard society?' When I tell her I do and ask why she wants to know, if she's concerned about my behavior, she says 'kind of,' and implies I'm young in my Art. Me! Trent Towers, Awakened these fifteen and more years, addressed as if I'm some rank apprentice." He's steaming, but he stalks over to the catnip (he'd transplanted some more over near the door) and scoops some up, prowling toward Trey and hoisting it threateningly at him.

Trey grins. "Okay, so then it's fixable. Or deal-with-able." Trey backs up from the catnip and says, "After you talk, unless you want me giggling at you." Back to the topic. His eyes narrow a bit and he says, "Okay, walk me through something here. Is she your direct superior or in a position of responsibility over you? Like your boss? I don't entirely understand the intricacies of Mage society. Like among my people, you show respect to those of higher rank -- which means more accomplished -- but they don't really get to order you around."

"That's the question, isn't it?" Trent says tiredly, retreating to some little coinpurse-style sacks hanging against the lee of the house and stuffing the extracted catnip into one of em. "The short answer is no, she's not 'my boss,' like, we're not in a direct managerial relationship. But the slightly longer answer is 'she's a popular and potent magus on the local scene, and if she decides to flex power either socially or supernaturally there's not a goddamn thing I can do about it.' So when she took offense at my taking offense, instead of just, you know, -agreeing to talk to me like a grown man,- it's -kind of like- my manager is mad at me." He growls and bonks another of the bags, pressing his fist into it to knead it against the wall and mash whatever he'd stowed in there.

"So it's a problem. It's not like I'm out here enjoying hurting her feelings. But I, too, am possessed of feelings, and they, too, are hurt."

Trey shakes his head softly, letting Trent explain it all in depth, and then ohhhs. "Social and personal power flex. Yeah. That's..." He winces a bit. "Never a fun thing. Never a good thing, when you're on the receiving end." He perches on the steps, sitting easily and watching the other man work as he considers this. "So basically, she has a big stick and is using it against you for... no real reason? I mean, this is just out of the blue?" Another shake of his head follows. "That's... I don't know, that's fucked up."

"Well," says Trent with a deep breath. He pulls the sack down and inhales from it, holds it in, exhales. "'s just mint," he explains that he's not out here getting super stoned or anything while trying to unburden himself. "There's no stick. Not yet. And I have no reason to think she's going to try and punish me just because we've had some interpersonal strife. It's just the kind of thing people sometimes do, you know what I'm saying?" He grimaces.

"Really, I'm just shaken that the conversation went so badly. The high-level summary is that I should've continued to be submissive in the face of being condescended to. But I'm allowed to have an ego, am I not?" he sighs. "Am I not allowed to want to be addressed as an equal? To be considered to have responsibility over my own life? Hnghhh." He thinks back on the conversation. "At one point she asked me to introduce myself -formally- to her. Maybe that was her -trying- to let me be an equal. Didn't feel like it at the time. Felt like teasing me at very much the wrong moment to be teasing. And avoiding the question of 'why are you here, asking me this.' Repeatedly."

Trey waves a hand. Even if Trent *was* getting stoned, he wouldn't judge or mind. It's a good thing to do when rage kicks in, whether it's the ordinary kind or the preternatural sort. "You kind of *have* to have an ego to do what you do. You're imposing your will on reality. That implies you have a strong will to begin with." He hmmm, listening to the rest, teasing out the details and processing them. "Do your people have any ways of working out differences? We have challenges, but they're not always physical. Sometimes they're through talecrafting -- telling better stories -- or gamecraft, which is puzzle and riddle solving. It helps us keep from killing one another. But... they do help to cool the anger, and when they're done, the matter's settled. It sounds to me like she's got some reason she feels you're not living up to some standard, but see, to me? You're doing fine. Why would you need to do an Introduction when you have already?"

"Certamen?" Trent says dubiously. "The Hermetics have a special dueling method they use to brave one another down without usually murdering each other. It's not widely taught outside their circles, though. A sort of wizarding chess where the pieces are your gifts with spells as sword and shield. I'd love to see it played. Fought. Whatever. Sounds more like a game than a fight to me, but people do die, sometimes." The distracted aside passes: "I don't think we're going to duel over it. I think we're going to avoid each other until one or the other of us decides to apologize, if that ever happens. I'd be willing to apologize! But I'd also fully anticipate the exact same thing to happen again." He sighs. "Maybe she and I just aren't meant to be friends. That's fine. I don't need to attend the dinner parties." He really, really doesn't.

He grabs the catnip bag off its hook and stalks over to take a seat next to Trey, passing it over to him and taking a couple more steadying breaths. "It's alright. It's fine. Honestly, the worst part is that I was unable to navigate those waters without hurting her feelings. She doesn't need that kind of bullshit from me, even if her behavior was obnoxious." Good old Trent, the inescapable white hat, unable to hold onto the purity of his wrath no matter how it flows. You've got a point about the ego thing," he adds. "Not like I'm going to tear reality in half without being ready to impose myself on it." He passes the nip bag over to Trey. "No presh, but you have my permission to become giggly now if you want. I'm alright. I'll be alright."

Trey picks up the bag and selects a choice leaf, putting it into his mouth to nibble at in between talking. He mmms and closes his eyes, and then breathes out. Catnip breath. "It sounds to me like neither of you does. You don't have to set yourself on fire to keep someone else warm, Trent." He pauses and asks, "Did something happen to Tom?" His voice is as gentle as it can be -- he knows how much Trent loves that rooster. "I know you'll be all right, you're strong. But if I can help, tell me."

"She asked if he was my familiar," Trent frowns. "Not sure why. He's not, except in the general sense. He's around. Tom?" he calls. Tom doesn't really know his name, being but a mere normal-type bird, but he's always lurking around the edges of perception; he'd gone rabbiting off into the brush when he'd sensed Trey's approach, but he's kind of lingering over there at the edge of the clearing now. "See, there he is," he points at where the bird's moving in the brush. "Shouldn't you have keenly-honed predator's instincts tipping you off as to prey's location at all times?" he asks shrewdly, nudging Trey with his shoulder.

"You're helping by bein' around, boyo," he says. "I just need to decide if I want to try and salvage the relationship or if I'm better off without it. And THAT is a decision for another day. So I'll allow myself to be cat-distracted and feel better." He folds his arms around his sturdy torso and frowns to himself, then tries on a smile and decides he prefers it. "ANYWAY. That's MY dramatic-ass life right now. How've you been? New adventures? More secrets?"

Trey snickers, "I don't think of your rooster as prey, Trent, you'd be really unhappy if I ate him. Plus, I tend to not come here hungry just in case." Now that particular conundrum is difficult, and Trey chews his lower lip thoughtfully. "I'd say another day, yeah, it's a good thing to put off." He laughs softly and says, "Oh, yeah, I wound up yesterday having a prolonged conversation with a woman at Witches Brew about sex with food and why people shave and bleach their assholes."

Trent rubs his chin. "People do a lot more than that," he says. "They'll totally change their bodies from the ground up to be the right kind of sex object. For themselves, even, more than for other people. I don't envy you as an immigrant to human sexuality, it's probably our least rational area where other animals tend to be most sensible. Big reasonability gap there, I think. Sex with food--like, fucking a donut, or fucking a person with donuts in the picture?"

Trey shakes his head. "Humans are crazy," he offers good-naturedly. "I mean, if I'm close enough to someone that they're examining my asshole that close-up, I would like to think that its exact hue isn't a deal-breaker." He mms, though, and says, "Sadly, people seem to have settled on a very few ideas of what is beautiful and all try to look the same. Well, not all, but enough of them to make it kind of saddening. Sex... I'll wait on that until I find someone I can *tell* what I am and have them be accepting, comfortable with it, you know?" The last part makes him laugh again. "Well, it started with the apple pie from that movie and went from there. She made some comment about guys sticking their dicks in blenders. I hope people don't actually do that."

"Probably a metaphor. Probably," says Trent doubtfully. "People have done absolutely everything it's possible -to- do, though, especially where their dicks are concerned. I heard it said once that humans are the animal that exists to do all the things that can be done, so that if you can describe it, we'll feel the need to follow through on it. Unfortunately, that does sometimes extend to blenders as well." He thinks about it. "Unfortunately, our intimacy drives are such that sometimes the color of the hole IS one of the first things you notice about a person. I mean, you understand that much, it's not like cat courtships take too long from heat to penetration. But you're right, for calmer people like yourself, those details are pretty secondary. I myself tend to recognize my partner as a symbolic object more than anything. The specifics are mostly lost on me. A fertile body to breed, or a masculine body to violate taboos with. Either one contains a power of its own for me."

Trey says, “I *hope* so. Because of all the things I've considered doing, putting my dick in the blender was never on the list until she brought it up, and then, all I could feel is horror and a faint revulsion." He tilts his head to the side, studying Trent almost disbelievingly. "Cats don't have much color vision. We're more driven by scent. But point taken." He mms and pauses a moment, taking another leaf from the pouch. He's not stoned enough for talking about sex. "That's just it," he offers at length. "My drive is linked to a female in heat. Human females don't go into heat. So I don't really react. Maybe in time that will change, I don't know. I like touch, I just don't link it to sex."”

"Wellll. Some chicks do claim they get horny when they ovulate," says Trent, "I bet you could crank up your senses to detect it and persuade yourself it's the same thing. But you know humans. Not always looking to have kids with strangers." He rolls his eyes as if this were a ridiculous custom humanity had dreamed up, not keeping 50% of the population pregnant at all times. "Or I could work a spell on you to detect it," he adds thoughtfully, looking sideways at Trey. "That would be easy. Sense Fertility. I could even tie it to your sense of smell, so's human girls reeked like feline females do when they're in relative estrus. Hmm." Nobody's ever excited for him to do mad science wizardry on their sex drive!

Trey mmhmms. "I mean, if I knew what the scent was, I could detect it, but I would have to be familiar with the whole cycle of scent. I knew with one girl I was friends with, but there wasn't anything like that between us." He looks at Trent, horrified at the very idea. "But human females have needs beyond protection during pregnancy and I am... so, so very not qualified for that role. And humans, in theory, mate permanently, or semi-permanently. Cats don't. Not at all... I mean, I want to... ah, fuck, I don't know. I'm a cat but I'm enough human to be confused as fuck."

Trent claps him on the back and grins. "You're a good boy, is what you are. Nobody should be pressuring you into anything you don't feel ready to do, least of all human girls who see the exciting native boy and decide it's their job to seduce him into a life of sin. You've got a long, long life ahead of you to figure out if you ever want to raise kids on two legs. I assume you can always break into a zoo and sire some four-legged cubs on an unsuspecting exhibit, worst case?" The idea isn't without appeal. If humans came in zoos, Trent might...never mind. "It -is- work. A lot of it. Homosexuality does abrogate a lot of these problems, if Massa and I ever decide to deal with whelps it'll be very much a choice."

Trey laughs and says, "Not so much good as intimidated. Not much scares me, but finding myself in a situation where both people were miserable sounds like some kind of hell." He narrows his eyes again, and says, "Is *that* what does it? Because I've had women react to me oddly -- in ways I see now as maybe hitting on me -- and you think it's because of my human heritage? Huh. I mean, don't get me wrong, I know about political injustice and history -- but that seems kind of disgusting, to objectify Native humans." He rocks back, a lazy smile crossing his lips. "Another Lynx would be easier, but I'm not sure it would be enough, either. But no child of mine would grow up in a zoo. If anything, I would free a lynx and find a range for her to hunt, then mate with her. But she would drive me away as soon as the kittens were born, because some cat fathers kill their young." He sits back, big thoughts twisting his mind around a bit, and then says, "I assume you would adopt, or find a woman to bear a child by one of you."

"White folks do indeed be disgusting," says Trent evenly. "I'm sure plenty of em are just flirting with you because you're cute. And sort of artfully guileless. People like that shit. But some of them, definitely yeah, seeing you as exotic in your people's own lands. We suck a lot," he sighs. "As for me and Massa...yeah, range of options. My family has a long tradition of adoption--I was adopted, my mother was, her mother, for hundreds of years back--and -I- have a long personal tradition of siring kids on people who want to raise them without me in the picture, for whatever reason. Fertility magic," he shrugs. "It's a thing. And Massa's..." He pauses and stops himself, very obviously. "I don't know what Massa's deal is," he coughs. Oops. Lies are hard.