2024.03.03: Bob visits Chula Vista

Bob visits Chula Vista
Bob visits Lyra at her restaurant, and Echo joins them
IC Date	March 2nd, 2024
IC Time	Evening
Players	Bob, Lyra, Echo
Location	Lady of the Lakes
Spheres	Mage

Lady of the Lakes - Dining Hall

In this pub, the rustic feel of an old Irish bar meets the sophistication of glass and tall ceilings, somehow managing to compliment each other instead of ending in contradiction.

On entering, one finds themselves near the wooden, ornate railing of stairs leading down into what is best described as a pub hall instead of a small pub room. Two stories high, its walls are held in a light sand color, the walls broken by various pieces of wooden decor, signs of Irish tradition, and various lamps held in an older style. The floor of the hall is made of classic, square tiles set into a diagonal pattern, and framed here and there with ornate borders where the placement aesthetically flows into the floor layout.

The long bar along the hall's western wall is lined with actual comfortable chairs rather than mere barstools, the tiling beneath their feet fading from a black/white affair into a more warm brownish color to compliment the wood. Scattered through the hall are various tables - round and of a dark wood, with more classic wooden barstools around them, each table able to hold four to six people comfortably.

The decor here is a mix of period conscious riche, and more dated faire. Oil paintings are placed here and there, depicting scenes of Arthurian legend in pleasant shapes and vibrant color. Flanking the bar on its right and left are two dulled english longsword replicas, bolted to oval wooden bases which hang on the walls.

On the northern wall, there is a large set of double doors which leads back into the banquet hall. To the east, a set of stairs which goes upwards to a balustrade with private seating- and a lone door which leads into another portion of the building.

Beneath this, there is another set of stairs which leads down to the basement.

The night is alive in the Lady of the Lake tonight... And yet the bar, surprisingly, is not the most packed part of the building.

There is some kind of occasion going on in the banquet hall, the sound from which bleeds through the closed doors even over the hum of the patronage in the main area of the restaurant. Several families are here to eat, having ordered from the pub menu rather than the fancy four course menu which is, notoriously, unpopular.

The chef of course refuses to cut it.

Milling about the floor are three women. A blonde, a redhead, and a girl with raven hair. They are dressed similarly in white button-ups and black slacks, indicating that they are employees. But the most eyecatching thing in the room... It's Lyra, of course.

Seated at the bar with a bottle of Guinness in hand, the proprietress of the place is conversing with her tender. Legs crossed, idly swirling the bottle. She's dressed impeccably casual tonight, wearing a tanktop and black leggings instead of anything of her usual fanciness... And she is, as usual, breathtakingly gorgeous.

In short, the night is usual. And like any good pub, the energy feels... Welcoming.

A tall-ish man walks in, leaning only a little on a thick wood shillelagh. He wears a thick black wool turtleneck, with a black blazer over it. Bob is also wearing black Levi's jeans, and steel toed biker boots. He has shoulder length dark brown hair and his oval face is adorned with stubble and a mustache beneath steel grey eyes.

Bob steps to the side out of the line of traffic and looks around the bar, smiling, as if searching for a specific someone.

Lyra

A vision of seaside arboreal beauty standing to a height of five feet and eight inches. Her face is softly square, framed in lusciously long silver hair which reaches the small of her back. It is worn loose, slight with natural waves. From beneath sharply arched brows there peers impossibility. Shocking silver, like the very moon itself, is the color of her almond eyes.

She wears light makeup on this occasion. Light, only by way of meaning there is no need for foundation. Her lips are painted a rich wine red, and her eyes are sharply lined with cat's eyes and black shadow.

The occasion sees her dressed extra casual. She wears a black tanktop with a bindrune in white as its design, over a pair of black featureless leggings which lead down into a pair of black ankle boots, clasped twice each.

She wears an array of jewelry, chief amongst these the four necklaces around her throat. One is made of what appears to be small metal rail spikes, wound and twisted into the shape of an esoteric symbol which may bare some familiarity (Ask for Occult diff). Alongside this is a necklace of purest silver, astoundingly beautiful with a charm wire-wound into the shape of an oyster's shell, housing a pearl who may well be a small replica of the moon itself in its luster.

The rest, by comparison, are insignificant. A black featureless choker is secure around her neck, and a charm necklace full of what looks like nothing more significant than various bits and bobbins.

She moves like the sea breeze through forest boughs. Graceful, mystifying, the passing of which carries many secretive whispers if one listens closely enough. Her body and demeanor evoke the image of a siren... Treacherous, but intoxicating.

(App 6 (Legendary), +note, +info)

And there she is.

He notices her the very same moment as the hostess addresses him, asking if he would like the bar or a table seat.

Lyra notices him at the same time. Casually looking back over her shoulder in his direction. She doesn't look particularly thrilled, or even disappointed. Just... Ambivalent. But that moment passes as she wrings a small half smirk out, beckoning him over with an index finger.

Beckoned, he moves. Bob notices Lyra and starts in her direction. He bumps into one customer, with apologies, and has to lean on his cane a bit for just a moment. A moment, but noticeable to someone of discerning eye.

He walks up to the bar where Lyra is, nods. "Hey. Nice place. Guiness sounds like a good idea, please." This last is said half to Lyra, but really to the bartender. Turning back to Lyra he says, "I had to stop several times on the ride down. I am..getting my legs back after the recent treatment, but still learning my limits."

<OOC> Bob will roll to recognize Lyra's occult symbol necklace at diff 8, with spending 1 WP <-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->
Bob rolls Intelligence(5) + Occult(2) (7 dice) vs 8 for 3 successes.
1 2 5 +8 +9 +10 10
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->
<OOC> Bob says, "So 4"

Once Bob arrives, the bartender leaves Lyra to go and grab his Guinness... Which arrives shortly after, filled to the brim in a clear pint glass instead of the bottle like Lyra is drinking from.

"I appreciate the compliment. It took quite a while to get the place built... Quite a while longer to get it well reputed amongst the locals. Quite the nightmare, when you have a head chef who has a 'vision' in mind." The sarcasm drips like poison from the word 'vision.' She and the chef, it would seem, PROBABLY don't get along very well.

"You have your legs back? That's wonderful! You'll have to tell me about how that came to be another time... I tell you, medicine is a wonderful thing these days. Tell me, you didn't happen to use alternative medicine, did you?"

That necklace... Looking at it, Bob remembers reading about this somewhere. Some book he found a print of in some dark corner of the web, or some book he happened to get his hands on properly.

That is a symbol of Lillith. A Bahari symbol, in fact.

A smile, and then a smirk at alternative medicine. "Modern medicine is amazing. Steele turned me on to a procedure I hadn't heard of, and it fixed me up. Branton helped with directions as well." Bob pauses and his voice lowers to where it is barely audible.

"That symbol. I don't know if you know, but I recognize that as being strikingly similar to the symbol of the goddess I follow. You follow the Dark Mother as well?"

Something in Lyra's expression changes when he mentions this... And it looks, almost, dangerous.

"Bite your tongue in the eyes of the masses." She pracitcally hisses under her breath, "A whisper is still a shout to the ears of those well trained in listening. And those, there could well be many around any corner. if you wish to talk about 'that', then you will need to come with me to the basement."

Startled, Bob looks sheepish. He is almost startled enought to lose his balance. "Uhh, ok. Sorry. Perhaps there would be better, if you think so. Or I can just steer clear of such topics for now if you'd like to remain up here?", he asks.

Its been quite some time since Echo had been here. He enters slowly, looking around and...How can you NOT see Lyra in a room? he spots her at once and blushes at the sight of her. As if guilty already. He had heard she was back, of course...But had done nothing so far to reach out. He stalls, just lingering for now across the room.

Lyra shakes her head, letting out a quiet sigh. She had turned about... Aiming to continue cspeaking. But her eyes?

They noticed someone.

Echo gets a piercing stare from Lyra. The witch, it seems, had been curious as to where he was... How can one tell? Well, because of the very reason he knew.

She reaches out with her left hand, beckoning Echo towards them without even a word towards Bob. She... LOOKS like she might be furious?

Maybe?

Watching Lyra, and following her gaze, he sees the man approaching. Bob remains silent though, and instead sips his Guinness. He watches both closely though.

Echo shuffles on up, rubbing the back of his head with a toothy grin. "Hey. I didn't expect to see you back in town.... Figured when you said goodbye you meant it. Glad you uh, didn't? Unless you're back for bad reasons..." He shifts his eyes to bob and doubles down on his smile. "Hi, Echo. My uh, is my name. That is."

Echo is a mostly average looking young man. Light blue eyes and a slightly pale complexion, dark brown hair styled into a neat crew cut, slightly slicked back with a little bit of 'spike' to it.

He's about five ten with a lanky build, lean and erring on the skinny side and usually dressed in casual clothes. Jeans and Vans with a band-T tossed on. Nothing special, dressed to blend in.

"Oh no!" Lyra assures, hopping up from her seat to... Catch Echo in a nice, tight hug! "I was just on a little sabbatical... Selene exaggerated you see, as she is so inclined to do." She speaks into the embrace for the duration, but withdraws shortly afterwards...

"I've been meaning to speak with you, however... There's a great deal that's changed, obviously, and I need to gather you and Titania up some time to discuss."

"Hi, I'm Bob. Nice to meet you.", he says with a nod, once the hug is ended. He winces ever so slightly when Titania's name is mentioned.

Echo stammers a soft 'duuh' sound as Lyra hugs him, blinking softly before returning the hug. "Its good to see you." He says warmly, sounding relieved. "..And of course. Any time. I've uh, been helping someone out lately. She wants to keep an eye on things, keep the place safe....She...Well. She isn't YOU. But shes got her heart in a good place. Runs a crew called the Pacific Path." He says with a slow nod. "But, ya. Is it something I can help with?" A nod to Bob then a half cocked grin. "You uhm, friends of Titanias?"

When Echo mentions the other crew... There's a brief flash of something in Lyra's eyes. A something that he might recognize. That put-on something that she wore when she saw him tonight... But it is just a glimmer. A sliver of something that buries itself underneath, where it rightly belongs.

"Whether or not she is capable of such a thing is a question I'm sure you cannot answer." She says, "I hope that she does good work. Because if she doesn't, I would hate to see talents such as yours wasted." She takes a long swig from her Guinness then, finally adding to the pair...

"But I think that this conversation is now a basement one. Yes? Shall we?"

A sharp raise of Bob's head and surprise in his eyes when Echo mentions the Pacific Path.

"Hmm, is that other person a sciency type? If so she's been busy. I've been heads down in some things for the past few weeks, and she probably couldn't reach me, but I'm also part of that same crew. Doubly good to meet you then." There is in his countenance the hint of amusement mixed with a dash of bewilderment. "Umm, uh, how many people are we up to now? There were five last I knew."

Bob nods at Lyra's suggestion of the basement.

"Basement sounds good." Echo says with a slow nod. "And yeah, she...Well, like I said. She isn't you. By her own admission shes a rookie, but Im glad to help anyone I can if they're fighting the good fight. Shes got a hate on for injustice and infernalism, so...Good enough right?" a half cocked smile. "...but im already here for you. Er, well. You know what I mean. I've seen to much to not help any way I can."

"...You'd best be." Lyra says with a small smile, "I can't do this alone. I never have been able to. You're part of my family, whether you like it or, frankly, not." And with that? The witch hops down from her seat and stretches herself out... Guinness still in hand.

"We'll head downstairs to talk shop. Come with me, dears."

And then she's leading the way!

Lady of the Lakes - Basement

This place is starkly opposed to the space above. Not so much in its aesthetic- rather, the amount of space that it commands. This basement is clearly larger than the restaraunt above it, and likely out to be extending into other parts of the city. And yet, it is not.

What one's eyes behold in this space is a brilliant library. Lit by flickering candle and sconce, the clean shelves house a near innumerable count of books in various types of binding. From mundane 'occult shop' new agery, all the way to the weathered books that likely were the personal journals of long dead mages of many different sorts. There are a variety of little decorations here and there- most of which seem to have some kind of spiritual significance- and some of which are clearly meant to denote the 'type' of content on a shelf.

In the very center of the room, there is a VERY large round table. Thirteen chairs sit situated, equidistant, around it. At the head of the table, opposite the stairs one enters down, is a chair larger than the rest which is apparently meant to be the head of the table. Notably, it's ALL solid oak.

Behind the table, set in the precise center behind that head chair, is a portrait of a beautiful black haired woman washing clothes at a riverbend. There is a silver plate affixed to the wood, which says: 'The Washer'. Nothing more.

Interrupted by moving downstairs, Bob will lean a little on his cane as he traverses the stairs down. Bob then repeats his question, "Hmm, how many people are we up to now in the Pacific Path? There were five last I knew." In the meanwhile he takes a long draw from his

"Right! Sorry!" Echo says, counting on his fingers. "She said...uhm. Someone...Someone..Victor..Shazzia.. her. So, uhm, five. I'm the only new face then." He says with a little smile. "I assume you are one of the someones... That just leaves one name I cant' uhm, well. Remember." Lyra gets another quick series of nods. 'Trauma bonded." He says with a weak laugh.

Lyra leads the two of them downstairs without much in the way of conversation... And soon enough? There they are. The former chantry house of the Circle of the Grey moon, now just a 'place' that Lyra used to store a portion of her material.

"Five." She says, making her way to the round table where she sits squarely at the head... She situates herself for a moment, before she speaks further.

"I suppose, then, that the five of you will continue to insist that there is no active threat to our two cities." She starts emptily, "I know that neither of you are the ones to speak to about this... But perhaps you might deliver a message on my behalf." She looks between them, gesturing to the empty seats across the table.

"My chantry. My city. The Traditions. We are still, actively at this moment, at war."

Bob may be easily startled, for a hint of startlement once more kisses his face like an old lover. "Shazzia is..who? The other's I've met, and I think I remember who the other someone is." He pauses, "Trauma bonded? What do you mean?" Lyra's words then register. "I for one know and recognize that we are at war, on multiple fronts. Our chantry members have differing views to one degree or another, but I believe I am not alone in this belief within our chantry."

Bob takes a seat with a nod of gratitude, putting his shillelagh across his knees. "And I am happy to take your words to others, if you so wish."

"Of course." Echo says with a slight nod as he moves to sit down. "I said as much when Ceilia spoke of protecting the 'lull' the city had experienced. If you think you're at peace, all it means is you aren't looking hard enough." Echo says, staring ahead and Lyra, making rather sharp eye contact for just a moment. "Like Bob said, the others seem to be in...Various states of acceptance of this fact.Ceilia views it an an abstract 'maybe' threat. Viktor spoke like he realized the gravity but hes too tired to fight.. But yeah, I can give a message also. You want us to carry it out to the four corners for you?" He asks with an only half teasing tone.

Lyra listens to the two of them in turn... When they're both through, she sets her beer to the side with a gentle sigh.

"Unfortunate to hear that." She says, "But I'm glad the two of you are on the correct page of the story... To the four corners, I don't need it to be sent. I've done as much half a dozen times in the past, and all I've received for my efforts have been chaff and distrust. No... I want only those who are committed to the Traditions. To the goal. That see the world for what it is, rather than some rose tinted paradise where we've already mostly won." She maintains eye contact with Echo as she speaks, but it's clear her words are also meant for Bob.

"For example... There is an active, real threat. The reason I was so vile with you, Bob, is because a Nephandic spy has been stalking me and my activity. Some... Young gothling. I know nothing more about her but that she is riddled with a resonance that I can only describe as... Pure, in its destructive lilt. Any words uttered outside of this room would almost assuredly find their way to her through some grapevine or another."

Words are considered. Then Bob speaks. "I didn't know. But I should have assumed. It's said the one who the mortals consider the greatest swordman to ever live, Miyamoto Musashi, once defeated an ambush. When asked by the dying ambusher how Musashi knew the ambush was there, Musashi replied 'I didn't. It was the best place for an ambush, so I assumed one was there, drew my blade, and struck.' Though, if you know you are being stalked, could you reverse the trap to lure this gothling in? But yes, I will carry your words to those who are committed. Do you know the gothling's name?"

Echo froms as he listens. "A spy? A..so..You know who it is? Do you need help finding her? Pinning her location down?" He almost says something else but stills his tongue, and looks visibly guilty for whatever he'd just thought.

"I do not know her name." Lyra admits, canting her head to the side. "I could certainly set up an ambush for the ambusher. But I don't believe that her intention is to harm me... Not that she could. She is looking for something of mine. I don't know which particular piece it is, for there are several, but something of my collection has interested her enough to poke and prod for weaknesses. And when a witch does not wish to be found, I imagine I don't have to explain how finding her is often a fool's errand. I do not know her name, but I DO know the name of the woman who might have sent her." She takes a sip of ehr drink, setting it down on the table.

"Her name is Carla, from Mount Laguna. A place you won't find... Even on old maps. Magick has been unable to help me track her down, so my current approach... Figure out how to deal with this little bat. Get the information from her."

"Makes sense. Is there a way we can help in addition to carrying your words, or would our involvement be folly at our level of skill?", Bob asks. He wants to help, but he knows he has much to learn.

Echo nods slightly. "I assume going in guns glazing with a few good men at your back wouldn't cut it?" He says with a sigh. "Like bob says, how can I help? I've seen what those sick fucks do and I can't sleep easy knowing for sure they're in my back yard."

"...Folly?" Lyra asks, looking at Bob.

"I was fighting these hellspawn when I was nothing more than a hedge witch. I took a shotgun to their minions, and a sowrd to their throats. I might not have been successful at killing one back then... But fuck, if I wasn't successful in hurting their operations. It's dangerous. But any knife, with alittle bit of sharpness, can find a gap in anyone's armor. Even mine."

She shakes her head... Reaching into her pocket, she pulls out a silver cigarette case, which she brings to her lips and lights with a thumb. Echo knows this one's a new habit.

"If you 'want' to help, then I will need your full commitment to helping. I can promise, at the very least, that I won't be sending you into another labyrinth." She blinks a moment, giving a considerate tilt of her head.

"...Yet. No, what I need help with is smaller fish for the timebeing. Local problems that may, or may not, be related."

Bob thinks over her words. He starts to ask what a labyrinth is, but stops before the words leave his mouth. Instead, he says simply. "As long as it does not cause me to betray my chantry, or my mentor Xiu, I am all in, however you need me. I'll my best to survive, so I can continue to be useful. After all, it is hardship that tempers steel, not sitting on a shelf somewhere."

Echo nods. "I'm all in. I can see if the others can help? Look, I...I don't LIKE violence. But some things need to be removed from this world. This Carla? She sounds like one of them... Not me, not NO ONE is ending up in a labyrinth because of her."

A yawn escapes Bob's mouth, and he looks mortified. "I am still getting used to walking around after over a year of not doing so, and it's tiring. My apologies, but I think I need to crash. If the basement is safe enough, I can just get a few winks in the corner while you all continue your conversation, and then ride home. Otherwise I'll pump myself full of caffeine and ride out now."