2023.02.28 Chess and a Wellspring

02.28.23 Chess and a Wellspring
Trey and Massa play chess and exchange philosophy, weirdly; Trent comes along and brings them to his grove's Node, a spring.
IC Date	02.20.23
Players	Massa, Trent, Trey
Location	Witches' Brew, later a private grove
Spheres	Changeling, Mage, Sorcerer, Fera, Bastet

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 barista 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 porcelain.

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.

Trey is seated by the window, working on the day's crossword in the paper. Yes, a hard copy of the paper. He's doing it in pen, even. It's about two-third full, and examination would show that a lot of the missing clues are pop culture based. He has a cup of coffee, but it's probably gone cold.

Massa slips in and over to the counter. Its a quick exchange. Cash for calories. Bottle of water and a cranberry muffin procured he scans the room and wrinkles his nose oh so slightly before he pushes a grin onto his face and strides over to Treys table, inviting himself to join as he sets down his food and then himself. "Hi there, stranger." he greets with a level of familiarity unwarranted from their brief interactions.

Trey looks up from his cold coffee and crossword -- I mean, really, what, is he 70? -- and offers a reasonably easy smile. "Hey," he says, one brow quirking just a bit and then settling back down, "How goes?" He doesn't bother to offer welcome, because, well, Massa's already there, not that Trey minds.

"It goes quite well." Massa says in a chipper tone and a return of the easy smile. "Just doing my daily people watching. Thought I'd post up here, maybe harass some random people into a game of chess...I'm hot garbage, but I may have over spoken my skills to someone who expects me to prove it..Sooo, practice it is."

Trey chuckles. "I play a bit, but not competition level or anything." He shoves the paper to one side absently, and takes a swallow of cold coffee. He doesn't even wince. "Hot garbage. I always wondered why it's worse when it's hot. But I guess the smell of it gets worse when it's hot." His turn to wrinkle his nose. "You don't smell like garbage, hot *or* cold." He studies Massa, easy but unblinking, considering.

Massa smells like fresh turned dirt, in fact, and half a gallon of coconut oil. Someone’s bought into the 'its good for everything!' trend and never let it go, it seems. So maybe a little better than garbage. "You ever gone dumpster diving? Its fun in the winter....Its hell in the summer."

Trey says, with a chuckle, "Sometimes, if I spot something worth trying to reclaim, sure. Wandering day laborers don't exactly make a ton of money." Coconut oil is a pleasant enough scent, though bathing in it might not be a great idea if you don't want to slide out of your pants. "But nah, garbage in the summer is more than even *I* wanna do. All that nasty shit people throw out rots at top speed in the sun, and believe me, the smell of rotting veg atop dead fish isn't my idea of fun. And I *like* fish."

Massa gives a little 'tch' of a half laugh. "What sort of labor do you do in your wondering? You don't strike me as the landscaping type...But I could be wrong. You good with a hammer?" Massa asks, unloading his satchel from his shoulder and setting it down next to him. "You wanna play?" he asks, waiting a tick and clarifying. "Chess. I've got a travel board in my pack.

Trey says, “Well, right now, I'm working at an animal sanctuary early mornings, so I'm not picking up day work, but I've done everything from painting to roofing to planting stuff to mowing..." He shrugs and says, "Landscaping's not bad. Hard work, but there's a zen to it, too. And I'm decent with a hammer. Better with a sewing needle, believe it or not." He quirks the brow again, and then nods when Massa mentions the chessboard. "Sure, why not!"”

Massa perks slightly to peer down at Treys hands, hmming softly. "I'd beli4ve it. You look like you've nimble fingers." With that he's fishing out the little magnetic travel kit and setting it up slowly, like he only kind of knows where everything goes. "I haven't played since, well.. It’s been years."

Trey notes, "Considered piecework for tailors but none of them seem to believe I can sew worth a damn. Plus, it's more involved than I wanna get." He asks, "So what exactly do *you* do? I have no idea, I never asked." Well, it's not as if they've had a million conversations.

<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Massa rolls Intelligence vs 7 for 2 successes.
5 +7 +9
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->

"Not much, really. I have family money and I make jewelry when I feel like I need a little extra. Yes, I know, nothing screams privilege like a day-job that requires you to buy diamonds and gold to get started..." He says with a faint smirk. "But such are the cards, who am I to complain?" Finished setting up he idly moves a pawn. "Your turn."

<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Trey rolls Intelligence(3) + Enigmas(3) (6 dice) vs 6 for 2 successes.
1 2 5 +6 +8 8
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->

Trey ahhhs. "Nice work if you can get it," he says with a wry smile, locking up Massa's pawn with his own. "Was sort of wondering how you and Trent met. You two semi-serious?" Nosy bastard.

<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Massa rolls Intelligence vs 7 for 1 successes.
3 4 +7
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->

"I've got a fondness for gardening. His, as you have seen, is quite eye catching. He caught me snooping around and...Well. You know how he is. Too friendly for his own good." The next part of the question gets a wrinkle of his nose and a light shrug. "We're good friends. I value his companionship. I suppose it depends on what you mean by serious? Why? You thinking of asking him out?" He asks, making his next move.

<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Trey rolls Intelligence(3) + Enigmas(3) (6 dice) vs 6 for 1 successes.
1 2 3 4 +6 9
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->

Trey says, “That's true. I worry a bit about him, but... I guess he's capable of taking care of himself." He sounds like he's not so much talking about Trent's capabilities, but his intentions. He shakes his head, moving a piece forward and says, "I don't really go that way, I just was curious because he's becoming a friend. And I'm nosy," he says, without any sort of shame.

<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Massa rolls Intelligence vs 7 for 0 successes.
1 5 9
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->
<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Trey rolls Intelligence(3) + Enigmas(3) (6 dice) vs 6 for 4 successes.
2 3 +6 +7 +9 +9
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->

"I think he'd say we're serious if you asked him when I wasn't around...So I suppose we might be. I don't think I'd argue if he wanted to call me his boyfriend." Another shrug, this one a little uncomfortable. Is it his lack of experience of discomfort with that topic that drives his next move? Because he leaves his ranks open. Just about the worst move he could have made..

Trey offers a somewhat comforting smile and says, "Family going to dislike you dating him? Not your class of people, not the right gender, something something?" He then makes a decisive move with a knight. "Check." Seems like Trey hit a nerve there. "My family, thankfully, only gives a damn that I have kids someday."

<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Massa rolls Intelligence vs 7 for 1 successes.
6 6 +10
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->

<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Trey rolls Intelligence(3) + Enigmas(3) (6 dice) vs 6 for 3 successes.
2 2 3 +7 +7 +10
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->

"My family...Tolerates the idea. Which is good. Because between us I would be hard pressed to walk away from a life a leisure and financial security to chase after a man I've only just met..." He sighs, managing to get himself out of check but still very much on the defensive game wise. "Ah, the old breeding mandate. Gotta love that. Nothing weird at all about that." He says, as if this too has somehow struck some nerve as he scowls down at the dire situation on the table.

Trey says, “Most people would. Given the choice between wealth and love, most people would choose wealth. Especially if it's what you know best. Me, I've never had it, so I couldn't miss it, y'know?" He shrugs and notes the sigh, nodding. "Well, when your people -- I'm Seneca Nation by birth, and our population doesn't replace itself. Every kid born to us who survives and thrives is an asset to the people." No nerves here, oh nooo. He makes another move, chasing Massa's fleeing piece.”

<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Massa rolls Intelligence vs 7 for 1 successes.
4 6 +8
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->

<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Trey rolls Intelligence(3) + Enigmas(3) (6 dice) vs 6 for 3 successes.
2 4 4 +6 +7 +10
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->

"I get it. But when...Well.." He shrugs and gives a soft laugh. "Wow, this...This was a fast game, wasn't it?" he says, moving out of check but only deeper into the larger trap before him. "Assets are assets I suppose. Thats one thing being wealthy will teach you."

Trey mmms. He says, with a half-smile, "You don't think strategically, you're thinking tactically. Immediate cause and effect, not long-term." He motions to the board. "First rule of chess: whoever owns the center squares, owns the board. True of life, too." The corner of his mouth quirks into a rueful expression. "I may never be wealthy. But I'll always be me. For whatever it's worth." A pause. "Check. Mate in three."

<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Massa rolls Perception vs 6 for 3 successes.
+9 +9 +10
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->

Massa hmms softly and stares at the board for about thirty seconds before he reaches down and flicks his king over. "Yeah. No win situation. Better to fall on my sword than let you capture me." He says with a sigh. "Will you, though?" he questions vaguely to Treys comment on 'being him'

Trey laughs softly, and says, "Scorched earth rather than the risk that your captor might be merciful. Sounds like pragmatism." He raises a brow at the question, and says, "That is the one thing I can be assured of being. There's *my* fall-on-my-sword line. I wouldn't want to *not* be me." He looks thoughtful. "You? Would you rather become someone or something else, or fall on that sword?"

"I've been many things in my life. What does it mean to be you? If you change, is it not still you? Corruption, redemption, rise and fall...As a man, as a corpse. As a warrior or a healer. What state of being would exclude me from being me?"

Trey huhs and says, "Now, there lies an interesting question. And a quandary. What change makes you no longer you? Hrrm." He's actually pondering that one in seriousness. "I think that there are things at the core that define us, and changing *that* would change the person, but..." He shakes his head. "I'd rather not *have* to be redeemed, but it's better to be redeemed than not."

"So, what you're really saying is that you'd rather die than change, provided these changes cross some sort of internal moral line, yes?" Hes packing up the board then, putting everything slowly into its place. "What changes do you find death preferable to? What line cannot be uncrossed in your heart, Trey?"

Trey hrms and nods. "Sounds about right. Change beyond a certain point is to my detriment." That, he seems confident about. "There *is* a line. And death... is more than most people think, in my belief, at least. I don't really fear death, but I don't want to find it any time soon, either. I have too many things I'd like to do in this lifetime." The question makes him pensive. "I can't tell you exactly where the line would lie, but I can tell you that I know what lies beyond it. Do you know the answer? Would you choose death over change in some cases, too?"

"If you where to sink your fingers into my hair and feel around you'd find a rather large scar on the back of my head. A few years ago I caved in the back of my skull on a set of concrete stairs. I was dead for at least a few minutes. Modern medicine, am I right?" he grins, getting on with his point after a short moment. "There is speculation that it did something to my sense of danger. My ability to process fear...But I think Its that I looked death in the eye and said 'no' once already...Its all just free-play now, yeah? I could die right now and everything between then and now would have just been extra. There are things I'd rather die than do, yes, things I would gladly die for. But change? Change may be the one thing I fear less than death."

Trey mmms. "Cheating death is a good way to get over fearing it. And seeing all the time since then as a gift, or a bonus... that's a novel approach, but not a bad one. I don't fear change, but it seems like you relish it," he offers, still thoughtful.

Massa and Trey are sitting across from each other at a table. Massa is slowly packing away a small travel chess set and by the lack of smug grin on his face he most likely did not win. "There is nothing more boring than stagnation. Even ecstasy and joy become thin and hollow without something to balance them. Ambrosia is nothing but gruel if you've never tasted the dirt."

"Death is to be hated, feared and reviled!" says Trent cheerfully, plunking himself down in the seat beside Trey and kicking Massa gently under the table. "But never reversed. Some things gotta stick or nothing counts for anything. How's my boys holdin together?" He's got an outsized mug of coffee in the one hand and a cheese danish in the other and is alternating between them. "Change I can take or leave. I've had some good changes lately. If they change back I'm gonna be mad about it." He beams between the pair of them, glad to have helped them unravel this philosophical riddle they've doubtless been struggling with for the past few hours.

Massa makes his further comment: "He -says- that," he asides to Trey conspiratorially, "but he's not out here giving all his money away, either. A rich guy can make a lot of claims about asceticism and you gotta wonder why he's still rich. The boy will take his ambrosia where he can find it. And he hasn't taken any steps to make my skin any coarser, either. I think? You haven't been fucking with the regimen, have you, Massa?"

Trey considers that. "I don't think this world will lose its share of despair and pain any time soon. More than its share, if you ask me. Perhaps we do need the pain to balance the joy, but I think there is already plenty of it in the world. But I think joy only becomes stagnant if it, too, doesn't evolve. Or if we lack the ability to see how it does. And after you've tasted the dirt enough times, I think it's within us to cherish the joy." He chuckles at Trent's declaration, and says, "Death is death, it has its place, but I think that modern medicine does cheat it on some levels." He adds, with a smile, "I'm doing fine, thanks, you?"

"Yes, yes I do." Massa replies when Trent comments about him taking his ambrosia where he can get it. "My spoonfuls of dirt, too." he says, giving Trey a gentle pat on the side of the head as if to drive home the fact that he is, in fact, the dirt in this metaphor. "Besides, most of the money isn't even mine to give away. Having a black card and an allowance doesn't mean I can dump the Swiss accounts into charities." He turns his attention back to Trey then and gives a nod. "I'd say the world has its share of joys and sorrows...The issue is the uneven distribution, to my mind, at least."

Trent thought he was very smart sitting next to Trey instead of Massa so he could enact a conspiracy against the smaller man, but his goddamn human yearning is getting the better of him already and shame-facedly he picks himself up and rotates over to the other side of the table, squishing Massa over a little and claiming the spot beside him after all. Yes; this is the correct place to be. Court. Magician. "Oh, are we doing a communism?" Trent lights up at the mention of distribution. "I've got my bow in the truck and am prepared to do some Robin Hood-type actions on the nearest billionaire. I'm good!" To Trey. "We had a weird night last night. Hung out at a strip club. I guess I'm a naive, but I was surprised at how untalkative the strippers were, I dunno. All so impersonal. Ended on a sincere note, though, which I always appreciate." He bumps Massa gently. "How's your joy-to-sorrow ratio doing? I really can't complain these days." To Trey, but of course Massa might spring with an answer of his own. SURELY A KIND AND SINCERE ONE.

Trey says, “Doing a communism would require the compliance of those in power, or their end, choose one." He offers a very wry little excuse for a smile with that. "I didn't know you knew Archery." Oh, Trey, it's a metaphor. "A strip club. Forgive me, but I've never understood the appeal. Aren't they paid just to be naked and dancing? Why would they talk to you?" He's sincerely puzzled, there. "My ratio is mostly good, personally, I enjoy the hell out of my life. I wish the world around me had a similar balance."

"I think the nearest might be our dear boating companion. You might want to bring more than a bow." Massa says with a smirk, shifting away from Trent is only to save himself from being /too/ smooshed by the space invasion. "I've been disgustingly content lately. It’s been making me complacent. I slept until 8 this morning." he said, tapping his muffin and shifting a rolling of his eyes to settle on Trent. "Solids before six. Haven't even done my yoga...You're making me lazy." A little laugh as Trey weighs in on strip clubs. "Right? I didn't realize he was expecting to like, bend over the dancers in the bathroom, or whatever...I'm not sure he gets the difference between a club and a brothel."

Trey’s brows both crawl hairline-ward. The parts that refer to other people, he leaves alone for now, but the bit about the strip club gives him pause. "I was going to say... strip clubs are pointless because you can find all manner of naked bodies for free on the internet. Sure, they aren't in person, but... as you said, there are brothels." He shrugs off the whole brothel thing, though; not really his area of expertise. "Did you try to mate with the strippers, Trent?"

"He had me spend two hundred dollars on a chaste lapdance. Most expensive set of blue balls I've ever seen." Massa says with a roll of his eyes. "But, I mean...I get it? Sort of. Not to get weird but there are things you can't really experience from a picture. Even if you can't touch. There’s a vibe. The smell of a woman, the fleeting spark of yearning hope that can play out forever in a second in a moment of eye contact. People need contact."

"I've picked one," Trent says grimly re: those in power. But it wasn't a metaphor! "I do know archery! Do you? I'll set up the targets in the garden some time and we can show off at one another. Or I'll teach ya, if you're unfamiliar. More secrets for the c kid." He wasn't gonna say cat in public, honest. "I wouldn't say I -tried- to mate with them!" Trent protests. "I was just...highly prepared for that to be where the evening went! And it wasn't! I can't tell one kind of sex worker from another. We ended up in a private room with one of em and it was just...softcore. Naive!" He jerks a thumb at himself, a man who had never paid for anything even remotely resembling sex before yesterday. "Iii dunno," he says speculatively on Massa's musing. "There's something so artificial about it. Sex is more sacred to me than it is to most people and I don't know if I could've found any -power- in that. Not the way we did it, anyway, with the -State- leaning over us as this interposed entity. Maybe if it were in a more divine setting. Temples used to have divine prostitutes, you know. I'd mate with a goddess -that- way and I'm sure I'd see God in the act."

Trey's eyes go wide. "Two hundred-- really?" He seems to be reconsidering something, at least. "Of course we need contact. That brings us back to the brothel. Though personally, I don't think I'd want that, I don't want to have anyone in my bed that I don't know. But I am really certain I wouldn't want to have someone that close and not be able to have contact." He grins at Trent and notes, "I'm teasing. And... seeing the divine in sex is closer to how I see it, I think."

"Y’all are worshiping at the temple of biology. Sex is sex. Any meaning you can cram into the act is all well and good but it’s the intent that gives it power. The act itself is just rutting. No different than dogs or flies or people. Just cranking out more of themselves to continue the cycle of consumption reproduction and death." He gives a dismissive little wave to the pair.

"Are you gay?" Trent asks, pretty bluntly. "I've always tended to be a little more casual with women and a little more intimate with men. Or...my heterosexual couplings are intense and cosmic and the gay ones are more personal and meaningful. Emotionally, I mean. Physically I'm pretty up for whatever whenever. There's something appealingly sullied to me about--" He clears his throat. "Well. Anyway. We don't need to go too deep into the web of my overlapping practices and kinks. I'm happy, is the main thing," he squeezes Massa, "even if I got blueballed. It gave Massa something to giggle about, and then exploit when we got home, so nobody ended the night unsatisfied." "Now now, prince," Trent waves a hand. "You're half right. Dogs and flies mating is different because it doesn't make new humans, and humans are, unfortunately, divine animals. Unless you've met any other species that practices alchemy and... all the other silly bullshit we don't discuss in public. We are clearly special creatures. So the act that makes more of us is inherently a divine one, too, tapping into something grand." He rubs his chin. "Of course, gay shit works for touching the divine just as well, so maybe that's all just air. But it's air that breathes right."

"You'd think someone who can see beyond the veil would have a greater definition of what life is and isn't considered divine.." Massa muses with a thin smile, giving her a rather dour look about...Something he asked. "I'd love if you'd stop so directly referencing our sex life in public, Trent, darling face. Some of us aren't quite as shameless as you." He says, idly kicking his companions shin under the table. "Nor is it polite to subject Trey to such. Putting images in people’s heads."

"That wasn't that direct!" Trent protests, then he relents. "As you say, sir," he grumbles, chastened. "I'll be more circumspect in the future. All life is powerful, but only humans have the spark, you know? Nobody else is out here tipping the scales of the world. Beavers, maybe," he allows. "Men and beavers are the two creatures that shape the world. And bees. Wasps don't get to join the club. Vile things."

"I like wasps." Massa chips in with a weak huff. "They're formidable and command respect despite offering nothing of worth. Thieving of Power and yielding nothing in the pursuit of continued existence. Pf, only humans have the spark.." A roll of the eyes and a little shove at Trent’s shoulder.

Trey blinks in surprise. "Me? No." He shakes his head and chuckles. He doesn't remark on the 'sullied' comment; he just lets that one go. "As long as everyone involved is happy, it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks," he notes, with regard to the kink. He shrugs at the reference to their sex life, noting, "I don't need to know that, but it's interesting that you're uncomfortable about it," he tells Massa, with a weirdly thoughtful air. "But I don't agree that only humans are divine. Everything bears the same creator, at least to my way of thinking. We all arise from the same origins. It's either divine or it isn't."

"Yes but you like wicked things, dear," Trent reminds Massa, "whereas I merely tolerate them as a necessary component of the tapestry of reality. I'm not saying wasps can't chill in my garden, only that I'm not going to extend to them recognition of godhood over their papery nests. "Massa is not uncomfortable so much as he is selectively, erratically prickly," Trent clarifies for Trey. "But we must respect and admire him and his wishes. Or he'll kill us in our sleep." Squeeze.

"Ye-eeesss," says Trent slowly, stirring his coffee with a distracted finger because that's just how gardeners do. "Everything is -of- the divine. And I have to admit that your own existence does give some credence to the world not being as man-centric as it seems. But...well. You're here, wearing clothes, speaking English. I imagine every one of yours who takes a new shape takes -our- shape, not the shape of any random animal. It still speaks of a universe mystically biased toward mankind, don't you think?"

"Look at us. sitting on dead trees twisted into chairs on slabs on concrete in a city. Would you say that makes the world Urban Centric? Or is it just that men have smashed and cut and burned the area to make it their own. Dominance doesn't mean divinity. By that logic Murder Hornets are the most divine insects. Any ecosystem they enter becomes Them Centric." A shrug then as he sort of squishes his shoulders up. "I'm not...Uncomfortable. Just polite." Oh yes, so polite. "It could make others uncomfortable. One must think of the pearl clutchers in the crowd."

Trey cants up a brow at the 'wicked things' comment, but doesn't offer a comment. "Ah, I see," he comments, "Prickly. Was that an innuendo or just inadvertent?" He presses a finger to his lips about his own existence, but doesn't draw out the point. "There are cosmological arguments about that, yes, but I think a bias doesn't mean an exclusion, if you follow." And now Massa speaks up, and Trey finds himself listening, huhing. He *does* like a challenge. "I suppose," he agrees. "I don't intend to discuss my own sex life in any detail, so I sympathize."

"I'm just saying I've never seen a dog stare at anything until it caught fire," Trent grumps. Questioning the primacy of humanity in the universe is challenging territory. As a Verbena, his respect for nature is a given, but putting it up against a shapeshifter's, and one who started life as a cat no less, is unfair to him. He's still anthropocentric about things. "And if there is such a dog, I'd like to meet 'im. But you're right," he siiighs, "this isn't really the place for that kind of conversation. We could repair to the garden if we wanted to speak more freely on higher matters...?"

Trey says, “You don't hang out with the right dogs," Trey quips at Trent. "Oh, you could, but it would probably force you to rethink a lot, and I'm not sure that would serve you all that well. Oh, sure, I'm game for that for a bit, at least..." He smiles at the pair and says, "Assuming we're all in agreement.”

"Yes, well...If we're being coy about things I should hold my tongue on the nature of animals and their potential. I think the Deer King might have some things to say about you're lack of reverence for his divinity." Didn't you just say you should hold your tongue? "But it is always more comfortable in the garden.." he adds with a faint smile. "I might go and teach Tom the Low Paths just to spite you now.." he mutters as an afterthought.

"Let's go, then! Massa's paying for the cab." He unsubtly texts something to Massa as he stands. "Also, just, like, reminder, but I -made- the Deer King," Trent hisses at Massa, swatting him on the thigh. "Or at least enabled him to come to be. He's still -mine.- Just like -you.-"

"You didn't make shit. You lowered a barrier and allowed him to come into our perception." He doesn't know if he’s right or not. But he feels like he is! Isn't that what counts? "Yes, truly. Man is divine, is we measure divinity in arrogance." He muses as he stands and gives a lazy stretch. "Lets go."

The Cottage - Spring

At what feels like the center of the yard but in fact is more toward the rear is the heart of the forest. The spring that bubbles up from some unseen deep below is the source of the waters to be found around the yard, but more than that, is the source of the magic of this place. The yard is mostly relatively canopied by plant life, such that direct sunlight is rare, and here, too, the sun itself never shines; but over the spring, a gap in the tree cover, at the wrong angle to ever allow sunlight, does occasionally let the more cunning moonlight in. Where the moon does fall directly on the living wash of the pool, it's there the magic touches down, eddying and mingling into the flow to coil into stiller pools at the rocky edges of the water, awaiting a knowing hand to sip or bottle it. Nature holds its breath here; the forces of creation are loosed in this place, restless, ready to bring change to a world mired in stillness.

The only real clearing in the garden is right back by the door to the kitchen, which is where they'd hung out last time. That's the only spot you can really imagine kicking a ball around in or getting out those archery targets Trent was talking about. They hadn't stayed there this time. Trent had lead em out back and then silently gestured for the pair to follow him, Massa down familiar paths, Trey down those new to him, into the depths of the little wood. The trails are dense; the sense of being in a much larger space is real. Little dens and clearings dot the path, each with its own strange character and unusual fruit. Here, we find the forest's heart; a spring, the canopy open above it, but on which sunlight never directly falls. In this stretch of evening the place is orange with sunlight, but the angle is such that the pool is still in shadow. Trent inhales deeply, sighs happily, and approaches the water. "My place," he says with pride. "Ours, really. Me and my mere and all my many grands-meres before them. I keep it in their names."

Made? Huh. Now that's a question Trey intends to ask when they're back at the Grove. And speaking of which... thanks to a time handwave, here they are. "So you brought the Deer King from the Umbra?" Hey, it's worth knowing, right? He tugs his hair back, tying it with a strip of leather with beading at the ends, and then takes off his shoes to let his feet enjoy the grass as soon as they reach the back yard. As Trent leads the way through the dense wood, Trey follows, stepping into the other man's steps thoughtfully, carefully. A hush falls over him at the sight of the spring, the pool shadowed but beautiful by the half-light of the setting sun. "This is a wondrous place," he says simply, moving to the side of the water and gazing into the running water.

"I try to keep it that way," Trent says. Shoes vs no-shoes, you can tell who the real sons of nature are here and who's more of a conservator. "Yes, the Deer King...there's a few deer who pass through this place, through a high hole in the rear wall. They spring in, impressive to see. The other day I put one to sleep and briefly Awoke its spirit, to show Massa something of the beauty of this place. He had the good sense to defer to it and it reared, granted him its blessing, which I think mostly just made him more of an herbivore for a few hours. It didn't endure--Awakening a spirit permanently takes more effort than I had time for that evening. But I could, if I wanted a guardian of this place." He glances about him at the gathering gloom. "Not that there aren't spirits aplenty who walk here already. Many and more strange things pass through these lands."

"Of course they do. This place feels closer to the Umbra than most of the rest of the mundane world does. It's comfortable for a spirit to be here." Trey narrows his gaze at the temporary Awakening, but doesn't offer a comment right off. Instead, he says, voice quiet as he speaks directly to Trent, "I think some lessons may not take. I think you may expect much of him, but is he truly seeking what you are in that?" He shakes his head. "Expectations can destroy a lot of things before they grow."

Trent looks sideways at Trey. "He? Massa? I can never be sure," he keeps his voice low as well, not proud to be discussing someone present in tones below his hearing but understanding, perhaps, what Trey's getting at. "No one ever grew without someone taking a chance on them. I feel like he deserves the chance. And what am I risking? Everything? Small enough price, I'm just one man, gambling himself on another." He shrugs expansively. "Even money."

Hrm. The cat considers this, unfamiliar with being a man as Trey is, and says, "It isn't willingness I question but ability. But I know you, and I wouldn't deny you the chance to try." He crouches and lets the droplets from the falling water splash his hand. "Some things are precious. Chances are among those things." Cryptic, perhaps, but it seems Trey at least means well.

<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Trent rolls Arete vs 3 for 1 successes.
1 +4 6
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->

Trent finds these sentiments cryptic, yes, but reminds himself that that's kind of Trey's whole thing and he should be ready to expect such from the cat. "Can you touch the power here?" he asks with sudden curiosity, back in a normal tone. Doesn't want it to be...too-too obvious that they were discussing Massa's worthiness. If indeed that's what they were doing? "There's more than I need. If you'd care to draw energy from this place, you're welcome to it, at least for now. Might come a time when my need's greater so it can't be an open invitation, but at the moment, my cup runneth over." He crouches beside Trey and moves a hand slowly over the pool, whose surface ripples beneath the passing paw. "I gather sometimes we tame them such that your kind find them distasteful, but I'd hope this one was still wild enough to drink from."

Where had he gone? Once they arrived in the garden Massa had just sort of vanished into the thick of it, leaving the others to talk of what they would and gaze upon the sacred spring. Yes, that holy place. That place of power and natural wonder. That little slice of divinity that Massa was now skinny-dipping in, floating into view from...Somewhere...Only his face visible above the water. Yes, have a sip..

That question brings Trey's head up, and he says, "I *believe* so, but for us, it's not so much drawing from a source as letting it flow in, if that makes sense." He settles onto his haunches and smiles. "Allow me to find out, then..." He blinks in surprise at the appearance of Massa, naked in the pool. and laughs a bit warily. "It is a matter of meditation and calm..." Something hard for a Ragemonster to do, but Trey's a little less Ragey than most.

<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Trent rolls Arete vs 3 for 3 successes.
+8 +9 +9
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->

Trent pushes his hand forward and speaks a word. The water flows away from him, splooshing over Massa's head in a not-unimpressive little wave, kinetically conjured from nowhere. "You defile this place," he intones, before pulling off his shoes and socks and stripping -down to just his boxers- because he has some -decency- and slipping into the pool after him. "Shhh," he says, bobbing after Massa and, if he's feeling compliant, gathering him up. "The cat's gonna see if he can drink from our spring. He doesn't--" Mm. Does Trey have superhearing? He stops himself talking there, just turning to watch Trey try and meditate his way into a Gnosis dinner.

Massa rolls with the wave, vanishing under the water, then popping up gasping for air gasping for air. "Ass!" He calls, sputtering, flailing around until he finds his 'float' again. "Yeah, great idea. Fantastic idea, Trent. You're so smart." Massa replies in a tone that is so utterly devoid of sarcasm that it had to be the most scathing category of it.

Trey sits and breathes slowly, calm, calm, calm... listen to the water, splash splash sputter... yeah, that meditation isn't happening. His eyes open and he says, mildly, "Trent is this place's guardian. He knows I don't challenge that, and will keep my kitty trap shut. And I think I can, but my own reservoirs are full right now, so I would need to try when I have room."

"You said we should show him the place!" Trent complains, shoving off of Massa and paddling around him. "That means learning what there is to learn. Yeah, exactly, what he said," he says, taking confidence in Trey's assurance that of COURSE he won't betray Trent. "Remember that I'm taking chances with you, too, tomcat," he murmurs, bobbing in closer to Massa. "Each of you better stop being suspicious of the other, or I might wise up and send you both packing." He snatches for Massa and drags him briefly underwater, kisses him, releases him and kicks off back to shore, where he emerges beside Trey. "So it -would- be a target for the furry war machines, then. Good. Maybe that -is- cursed knowledge to have," he pulls a 'yikes' face. "Secrets, secrets, kitty cat."

"Have you not a pack you go back to and share your treasured secrets? Or is that a trait specific to the Dogs." He says with a little sneer of distaste upon mentioning the Garou. "And yes, show, not feed...." he says skeptically. "But fine, as Trey says.... This is your domain. I am...Simply more cautious than you, I suppose, when it comes to sharing the wonders of my world that may elicit a covetous reaction from a being beyond your scope of comprehension..." eyes slink to Trey. "A statement I make and mean to be an honest compliment."

Trey draws in a long breath and says, "An unspoiled place? Yes. And I believe I said as much before. But... I am not one of them. Cats are not pack creatures. We think and choose for ourselves, and we like our secrets, as you know." He narrows his eyes and says, "One thing I will say, Massa... if you do not wish to inspire suspicion, you should consider how much you tip your own hand. I am guessing you know as much as you do because you have a relative among them, or several. I have no *pack*. Cats are not *pack* creatures," he retorts. "The Wolves have their ways. Their ways are not my ways. I call some of them 'friend.' But I keep my friends' secrets, and I call Trent 'friend' as well." He exhales, calming at Massa's last remark. "Taken as such. But I have no means to defend such a territory alone, and cats have wide ranges we hunt. So territory... not as much a thing for us."

<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Massa rolls Subterfuge + Manipulation vs 4 for 4 successes.
2 2 3 3 +6 +6 +9 +10
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->

<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Trey rolls Wits(4) (4 dice) vs 7 for 1 successes.
2 2 3 +10
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->

<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Trent rolls Wits + Subterfuge vs 6 for 1 successes.
4 5 5 5 +7
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->

"Peace, boys," Trent growls, but then they're both peacing anyway so there's less need for maesterly intervention. "This is a place of refinement and healing and I wouldn't see the vibes spoiled by mistrust between two friends. But I appreciate that each of you has my interests at heart." What did Trent do, truly, to deserve such loyal friends, so doubtful of each other? "They come in packs?" he adds, swallowing. "I guess that shouldn't come as a surprise. But I'd happily never meet one. What about your--" Mm, but maybe he shouldn't talk about Eris. "Some day you're going to have to explain your exact feelings about the wolves to me, Massa, I can't quite square how you talk about them."

Massa smile up at Trey. "Why? I have nothing to hide. I am a man full of flaws and none of them bring me shame. Trent trust you. So I trust you. Be suspicious. We will see if your suspicions can survive my honesty. Ask anything you want..." he says with a sticky sweet smile as he treads water. "The man who first guided me down the path of the Low Magics counted himself as "Kin" amongst the wolves. He held no love for them. Considered himself 'escaped'. He told me much in our...Time together." Trent gets a look, a light 'eh' of a shrug, as if hoping this would answer his question as well.

<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Trent rolls Wits + Subterfuge vs 6 for -1 successes.
-1 -1 -1 -1 5
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->

Hands held up, Trey says, "Understood. And yes, both of us are clearly motivated by ensuring you maintain your guardianship here. And yes, my friend, they come in packs. Wolves hunt in packs. It's how they bring down larger game." He inhales slowly, and then blows out the breath, easing the tension rising in his form. "I think he is going to naturally be more comfortable speaking them to you without another kind of shifter here to hear," and he looks over to Massa. "No offense meant, but if you know this much about the Garou, you are probably assuming I'm just as dangerous. Which I am, in different ways, but... irrelevant. If you learned from a spurned Kin, it makes sense." He spares them the observation that many Garou don't treat their kin very well. "And I don't intend harm, nor do I intend to let anyone know what I know of this place."

Ooh. Okay. So we're lying. Trent looks visibly confused, and then visibly goes 'ohhh' as he figures out what Massa's doing, then visibly shuts the CHRIST up and doesn't say anything because he's hyper-aware that his face is a picture of And Now We Are Eliding The Truth. He dunks himself in the water and swims off to the far end of the pool to avoid participating in lies he doesn't feel up to maintaining at the moment, hopefully not drawing too much attention to himself. Massa can tell whatever story he wants! Trent will be...over here, rolling 1s, trying not to give anything away! Actually, this is his salvation, the black rooster Tom has been lurking at the far end of the pool well out of range of the boycat, and Trent resurfaces over there, fussing over him, glad for the distraction from the deceptions going on back at the nearer shore.

"Spurned.." he repeats, as if tasting the word. "I do suppose I should take that word into consideration when weighing how...Bias...His opinions may have been. Again, I’m sorry...I'll stop holding you to the image of your idiot cousins. Or is it offensive to imply you are related in any way?" Massa asks, swimming closer to Trent and posting up as close as he can get while still keeping his lower body fully under water. "To return to our earlier conversation...This is a place I would trade my life for. This is the line my /my/ heart."

Trey exhales. "Well, my people have our own history with them that is... unpleasant, let's say. But yes, not assuming I am like them would help, a great deal." A pause, as he listens, really listens, and draws in the scent of this place through parted lips. "This is one of your lines," he concludes, nodding. "Now that I know where you came by your knowledge, and know that, I don't see any problems on my part with you, Massa."

The attack of sincerity from Massa, or at least Words Trent Would Like To Believe are Sincere, are an adequate distraction to fish him out of that critical failure and be his normal self again. He opens an arm to Massa and pulls him in close, squeezing him wordlessly, lowering his nose into the boy's (older man's) hair and exhaling. It's all very sweet. "Well," he says, a little awkwardly, grinning and looking back up at Trey. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that, huh? Grove Defense Squad. A magus, a mageling and a boycat. We gotta get some girls in on this task force, this place is supposed to have a feminine energy." Tom the rooster flutters in offense at being so unceremoniously abandoned in favor of the boy.

"Why do you think I insist on the skirts? Trying to preserve your grandmas energy! With you and Tom running the place it /is/ a sausage fest." He says with a scoff, pushing against the hug with the slightest creep of a blush as he splooshes and flails away a foot or so. "I know this might be asking a lot...But I've always been curious. Do you have a...A warform? Randal spoke of ten foot tall rampaging war machines. But I've...Well. Is it the same for you?"

Belief being what it is, the boycatmandude is willing to accept this as truth. It's at least a truth he can believe. It occurs to him that he really needs to stop making assumptions, but the conversation earlier -- it was surprisingly in depth, and surprising in other ways. "I do, but it's not quite as big or terrifying as a typical Garou's. I'm a small cat." Trey says this without any apology, just matter-of-fact ease. "Good at scouting, too."

"War...form?" Trent asks, equal parts intrigued and horrified. "Can we...see it?" Is that safe? I mean, what does Trent know about it one way or another? Tom struts about behind his head, very clear on it Not Being Safe. "I can grow claws and fangs but it's not usually worth the trouble. I'd rather pick fights with my bow, if I need to pick them at all."

Massa shoots Trent a little look of wide-eyed surprised. Oh, he actually ASKED TO SEE IT?! Massa may have wanted to but he didn't have the stones to be so direct about it...He just moves back, sinks into the water, leaving only his nose and eyes above as he watches and waits for an answer.

"It's about eight feet tall," Trey explains. "Is it safe? No. Of course not. A form called 'the warform' is never going to be safe. Is it safe to shift into it? Probably. I'm well in control of myself." He considers this. "Piece of advice. Don't do anything threatening. It... helps." He frowns, considering the wisdom of this given his current mood, and then shrugs. It'll be fine.

Treads-on-Thin-Ice(#4222PXc)

Huge paws and whiskers A coat of grey, black, brown, white Monster on two legs

This creature stands about eight feet tall and is the stuff of mixed nightmares. It looks like a what might happen if you crossed a lynx with a bodybuilder and grew it *bigger*. His maw is filled with sharp, predatory teeth meant to rip and tear flesh, and his pointed ears flick to take in sounds. His nose bears whiskers that also move as he does, aiding his grace, and there's a cunning in his expression that seems atypical and not at all animal, but his huge fangs drive home the idea that this creature is deadly and feral. Concealed in his fur, weirdly, is a leather braid around his neck and a copper circle around one forelimb. He doesn't seem to have any marks or scars of note.

There is intelligence in those eyes, but it's hard to tell much more about his mood than that. His big fangs kind of ruin any effect of calm, even if he's currently placid.

<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Trent rolls Willpower vs 6 for 2 successes.
1 1 4 5 +6 +6 8 9
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->

<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Massa rolls Willpower vs 6 for 3 successes.
4 5 +6 +6 +7
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->

Oh. Well. That's definitely a -thing.- Trent has never actually seen A Monster before, in the classical sense; he's dealt with humans of varying degrees of monstrousness, but they didn't look like, well, That. It's impressive! He doesn't pee or anything, but he does move slowly back against the rear edge of the pool, opens his arms to rest back against it, eyes widening. "That's very impressive," he murmurs. Well...understatement of the week. "And it's still you in that Ray Harryhausen monster, huh? You're not possessed by a berserker rage?" A thought occurs to him and he rolls his head back to squint up toward the moon, peekingly visible through the open spot in the canopy. "Moonlight isn't going to drive you into a frenzy?"

Massa shrinks back while the transformation takes place but seems to push the tension from himself rather quickly. "...Very interesting.." he says softly, swimming over to post up behind Trent, hands on his shoulder he totally doesn't use his boyfriend as a meat shield incase things go sideways. "Does it hurt? It looks like it...Hurts..."

While Trey replies, it's challenging. There is some difficulty at being understood through a Crinos mouth and all those teeth. "Still me," he says, but his voice is more like a growl. "No frenzy from moon," he manages, trying to keep the words short and easy to understand, "Still same person, different skin." He still looks like a lynx... just a really huge manshaped one. The ear-tufts probably don't seem as cute now. And those are some serious murder mittens. He draws in a breath, tasting the air in this form, and then says, "Hurts, but... get used to it."

I don't think we've actually seen Trey's other shapes, have we? This is our first exposure to shapeshifting. Just aaall the way in the deep end. Trent subconsciously shifts a little further in front of Massa; he probably couldn't react fast enough to stop the killing machine before it landed on them if it jumped, but if he could get a turn or two in, he could make a good effort! Still, especially when Trey speaks, he too grows more confident. "Is this something all twinks can do?" he asks Massa defusingly, leaning back to nudge him with his shoulderblades. "Well don't stay in killer catbear form for our sake if it hurts, please, adopt whatever shape's most comfortable," he waves. And whichever one will leave the fight or flight impulse a little further from the surface of the mind, maybe. "Can you still take your birth form?" Had they seen that?

"The fuck are you even talking about.." Massa mutters back at Trent as he clings at his shoulders a bit longer before he pushes off and around him and aims to skulk right on up to Trey, seemingly uncaring for his own nudity, or the werebeast killing potential. As he draws close a hand lifts slowly. "Can I touch your claws?"

"Hurts to shift, not to be." He exhales, and then holds out one of those murder mittens, claws drawn, to show Massa. They're pretty goddamned impressive. Hey, Massa's being pretty brave about the whole thing. He tries not to loom *too* much over the small man.

<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Massa rolls Subterfuge + Manipulation vs 4 for 3 successes.
1 1 2 +6 +7 +8 8 10
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->

Trent admits the question hadn't been essential. He drifts up behind Massa, since it's show and tell time, but doesn't make a move to touch the living animatronic nightmare himself.

Massa reaches out slowly and presses a finger to the claw, slowly and carefully tracing along it until hes pressing his fingertip to the tip of the claw juuust hard enough to draw a pinprick of blood. He pulls back then, bringing the finger to his lips to briefly suckle the crimson from the digit. "...Sharp.." he says softly, managing to hide that manic swirl of excitement in his eyes under a placid facade.

Trent loses one Willpower Trent loses one Magical Essence Trent loses one Magical Essence Trent loses one Magical Essence <---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Trent rolls Arete vs 3 for 1 successes.
1 +5 9
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->
<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Trent rolls Arete vs 4 for 3 successes.
+7 +8 +10
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->

Trey's chuckle sounds threatening in this form, but what wouldn't? He watches the odd behavior, but hell, that could just be a weird human thing. He turns to fix his gaze on Trent, and says, "Yes. Can still shift to birth form." The sibilants are a little hissing as he talks, but it's otherwise comprehensible.

"Hey, I can have claws," Trent says suddenly, casually, touching Massa's back with the fuckoff talons he just manifested outta nowhere. He digs them into the boy's skin gently then not quite so gently, drags em down til he's resting them on his hips. He's not a particularly jealous man, but the way Massa had responded to that touch. Well. He's just gotta show he can do it, too! His are not agg damage, though, so not quite as impressive. But they're gonna last the rest of the night unless he puts em away, so he just leaves em dug a lil into Massa's hips there. "The whole range, huh?" he says, looking up at Trey with more calm than he'd had before he'd engaged in that little bit of clawmpetition. "Seems like a powerful gift. You're going to have to show me how to be a lynx the right way some day, when I work out the trick of a full transformation." Digging the talons in a little.

<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Trent rolls 1 vs 6 for 0 successes.
4
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->

A laugh that sounds like a growl comes from Trey at the sight of the claws Trent sprouts. He doesn't seem threatened, but he does seem curious about it. Of course, trying to swipe that magic would be pointless, he's already got them as a built-in feature. "Yes. Being lynx is... *being*. Not being man wearing catshape." He's not likely to be much more eloquent than that right now. He holds up one finger in a 'hold on' gesture, which just looks weird on a Crinos-form shifter. Trey takes a step back and shifts again, going from the huge crinos form and shrinking, reforming into a lynx -- a large example of the breed, but still, a lot smaller than he was. Of course, he can't really talk as a cat.

Canadian Lynx

Four paws and whiskers A coat of grey, black, brown, white Tufted ears -- a lynx

This lynx is a big fella for his type, probably weighing in around 40lb or so on a frame the size of a Labrador, though much leaner. His thick, coarsely-soft fur is patterned in black, grey, and brown on snow-white, and his green-gold eyes are canny, constantly moving to take in the world. There's a cunning in the expression on his whiskered face that seems atypical and not at all animal, but it would be a mistake to assume he's a floofy friend. Concealed in his fur, weirdly, is a leather braid around his neck and a copper circle around one forelimb. He doesn't seem to have any marks or scars of note.

He's not wearing clothes. Lynxes don't.

There is intelligence in those eyes, but it's hard to tell much more about his mood than that, except that he's not attacking anyone at the moment, so his mood must be relatively even.

That little flash of possessiveness from Trent isn't quite unexpected. If he’s going to feel 'jealous' over anything it’s going to be appreciating another mans 'sharpness'. Blood mages, go figure, amirite?! He sets his teeth firmly and bristles against Trent’s clawing. Luckily he was used to this sort of thing, from, well... God. Too many people in his life, just casually slicing him... "Easy." Massa hisses when the claws settle into his hip. "He’s got nice claws it’s not like I'm going to stick it in my mouth." He mutters, blinking slowly at Trey as he shrinks down into his breed form. "...Well. That is decidedly less intimidating, huh?"

Oh yeah, everybody wants to stab Massa. At least Trent is careful about it! He still has to concoct some revenge on Eris for shivving the boy the other day. Illegal. Too much violence against the small. "Sorry," he says, relaxing his grip and shaking his hands til they revert abruptly back to their human aspect. "I'm possessive. About your blood. It's my blood. Don't like sharing." He turns the scary clawgrip into a simple hug from behind and peers over Massa's shoulder at the littler big cat now parked in his garden. "Ohhh hello!" he says, becoming an idiot like 70% of the human population does when confronted with a cat. He approaches the edge of the pool and pushes himself up to a seat, holding out a hand. "You're very handsome. I mean, you were handsome before, in both shapes, but handsome in a whole new way now." Tom is still having none of it, though. Off in the bushes, murdering worms.

Canadian Lynx lets out a chuffing sound that might be the best approximation of a laugh that this form can give. He has no remarks to make about the blood and possession thereof, but he's starting to feel like he's a little *de trop* in the gathering, or something. He walks up, nosing the hand with an easy, 'go ahead, you can pet me' move that is known to cats the whole world over.

"Don't talk to him like he last IQ points just for putting on a more comfortable skin." Massa says, giving Trent a little elbow in the ribs. "And its /my/ blood. You aren't the only one who need their bodily fluids intact for ritual purposes." he says with a sneer. Somehow, for some reason. the Lynx form gives Massa more pause than the warform. He makes no move to touch it. Just watches as permission is given to Trent.

"My blood," Trent insists absently, distracted by the cat. "I didn't meant to imply that he had become stupider, but that -I- had. Big difference," he says, going all pet-pet-pat and skritchskritchskritch. "When I can do this, and I'm -going- to learn to do this, -you- are going to become an expert at petting me," he shoots back at Massa. "Then Trey will teach me to be a noble and dignified lynx and I'll have to unlearn loving it, for the sake of the species. So this is your natural shape, huh?" He peers into Trey's eyes, seeking the intelligence there. "What I was saying before--my point is, shapeshifters still orient themselves around the man-shape, right? It's not like there's anyone who starts as a lynx and then gets a second buzzard-shape or whatever. It's like the universe decided humans were the main characters everything else would exist in reference to, or something." He shrugs. "I'm not overly committed to this line of thinking, to be clear, it's just how it kind of seems to me from what I've known."

Trey-cat nods sagely, or serenely... or maybe just cattishly. Who the hell can read the intent on a furry face? Another cat, maybe. He tilts his head to lean into the ear-scritches, content with the contact in catform in a way he doesn't seem to be in manshape. He then draws back into a sitting pose, and shifts back up to his normal self. "You started that conversation again because I couldn't answer as a lynx," he accuses mildly.

"Buzzards won't start a crusade against you for being different. Buzzards won't burn your home and drive you from the village for being spiritually misaligned. What good would learning to walk amongst them be? One need not hide from the beast of the land who have remained in-tune with nature.." Massa mutters at Trent, seemingly to be firmly on Treys side of this issue.

"I would never be so devious," Trent grins. "It was an accidental upside, though. I assume it means I won?" Hopeful. But of course he didn't win, because Massa could never entertain such a possibility! "I wouldn't imply that humans were the -moral- centers of the universe," he says mildly. "But we're certainly the only animals with much ambition. Hence all the malignant shit you indicate. Everyone else is content to let the world swing and tilt as it balances...only we put our fingers on the scales. For better and often for worse."

Trey considers Trent with a hard-to-read expression, and then says, "I should've coughed up that hairball while I had the chance." He's probably kidding. "As for humanity's domination... well, you're definitely right about not being the moral center. We can all take manshapes because of just that. Because we have to walk among mankind but not be of them, to serve as we are best made." He exhales. "More than that, I cannot delve too deeply into. Pacts and oaths given must be kept. But think of it more as a corrective measure of blending in."

Massa just nods and now that Treys back in human form seems to suddenly remember his shame as he sheepishly retreats back into the spring to hide his body beneath the rippling water. "So, unbalancing things makes them the center? So, by that logic, Cancer is the center of the human condition as humans are the center of the cosmic condition?" Was he referring to humanity as a cancer? Well, that counts you, Massa, but from the half disgusted sneer on his face he might forget that sometimes..

"I'm not sure that analogy holds up, because cancers swiftly dispatch their hosts," Trent says slowly, "whereas reality is still here, taking its shape from the thoughts and concerns of the Masses." Oh right. These guys don't necessarily know about the whole consensual reality thing, nor would they necessarily be inclined to believe it if he told them. "It's...complicated," he says, screwing up his face. "What people believe matters. Like, -really- matters. Not in an abstract way, but in a 'can I cast Fireball without being sent to the Time-Out Zone today?' way. Humans write...all of this." He gestures with a big hand. "The Consensus, we call it. Or so I'm told. Seems pretty hard to prove. But my people take it as an article of faith that the aggregate beliefs of mankind -are- the world we move in. Which does, unfortunately, make us the stars of the show. If ya believe it."

"Um, not... precisely," Trey says. "But what I can tell is thus: where there is something that takes up an excess of time and effort to counter, that thing is the primary problem, because it takes all that time and effort away from other things in need of it." He nods eagerly. "You see my point. Humanity is... both problem and solution, at turns. Less solution these days, but some among them are." He inhales, exhales. "Some of all this is by design. Not of humans but of higher forces that guide them."

Comparing cosmologies is always going to be a headache, in Trent's view. Do the Wyld, the Weaver and the Wyrm map onto Dynamism, Stasis and Entropy? Are they personifications of it? Are the one set bad while the other are neutral? Trent doesn't know enough about any of it to comment, and neither did the people who wrote the Mage books! "We are certainly both the problem and the solution," he settles on. "That much is clear. What we know and what we think we know are the broken cup of the world. Heaven pours into the glass, and life runs through the fissures and over the sides, and there's no time to build it taller for the cracks in the structure." He considers that analogy and nods, deciding he likes it and that it's just the kind of thing to stimulate a lynxian mind.

Is Mage the dominant paradigm? Do the Shifters have the right of it? Stay tuned for Advanced Universe Studies 201! "There is definitely no time to rebuild, there's barely enough time to catch the flows running away from us," Trey agrees, continuing the metaphor. "Assuming we wish to try. Some prefer to join the dance of destruction and become the lemmings diving over the cliff's edge. Too many prefer to pretend none of it is real."

<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Trent rolls Arete vs 6 for 0 successes.
2 3 5
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->
<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Trent rolls Arete vs 7 for 1 successes.
3 5 +10
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->

"Yeah," says Trent, frowning. "The Nephandi. And the Marauders. But I've probably overloaded you with enough lore for one day." Chattering about the Consensus is enough to make anyone wonder how sane they seem. "Aaanyway," he yawns. "I think I'm beginning to run down. Revelations stacked on top of mysteries. What a strange and beautiful world we live in. We should keep it that way, if we can." He reaches out with both arms and lowers his head and speaks a sentence aloud in some elder continental tongue, and flowers spring into bloom on the trees and bushes around them. There are no seasons here; there's only Trent's care.

Massa knows when to bite his tongue. And he is biting it hard. His player is still mostly AFK, but the character is slipping away into the water, eyes above, watching and listening with a narrow gaze.

"On that, we can always agree," Trey offers, and he watches as Trent brings forth flowers to bloom all around them. He smiles, and touches one gently, almost as if checking if it's real. "Then let me go, and let you rest a bit. I strongly suspect I'm overstaying my welcome at this point." He rises to his feet and says, "Don't worry, I know the way out, I'll lock up behind me."

"Not at all," Trent grins re: overstaying his welcome. "You're always welcome here. Almost wanna offer to let you crash here, but...I think Massa might kill me if I were -even less- secure about this place. I should probably send you home. Thanks for comin' by. It's always enlightening, Trey-between-two-and-four."

Trey smiles. "Likewise." He offers Massa an easy glance, one that probably doesn't catch more than rapt interest. "Good night, and I appreciate the trust with this..." He motions to the font and then smiles in a softer manner, then shoulders his pack and heads out.