New Guy

[Isamu Drummond] Steady footfalls resounded upon the bustling city streets of Chinatown, as an Asian man jogged from storefront to storefront, passing them in a blur. His mode of dress was simple; a navy blue tee shirt with white kanji lettering on it, a pair of black adidas athletic shorts, and tennis shoes... A light sheen of sweat glistened upon his skin in the pale moonlight and darkened his shirt in places. Still... In spite of the sweat, he seemed little fatigued; he was obviously in good physical condition given the pace he set.

He continued steadily, up one street and down the next, undaunted by the crowd of late night shoppers or the possibility of being mugged... However, as he approached one vacant building he slowed to a walk, and then stopped before the paper indicating details on how the place could be rented.

[K. Jakes] [Awareness!!!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Isamu Drummond] The sense of things surrounding Isamu is that of fluidity... Like watching the motion and currents of a river rolling steadily past. Everything he did flowed into everything else. His run became a walk like a river peeling away into a stream, slowed by rocks and bends in the stream bed. There was little turbulence, little that seemed abrupt... One got the sense watching Isamu that he stood without the frenetic pace so many in the modern reality daily realized.

[K. Jakes] Isamu Drummond is just another asian guy in asiantown. Truth is: a lot of Chinatown's been coopted; the Japanese are moving in, Koreatown is nipping at Little Japan's heels, and the tourists really don't give a shit. If it's got funny writing, pictures of dragons or women with dark hair and pale skin, if there's any red at all to be found, then it's Chinatown and why doesn't this place serve wontons the way Panda Express does.

Here's another truth. Chinatown is full of spirit bridges: they're as red as red can be; as red as luck; as red as a red light district [as sin, as iniquity], and there happens to be one near the vacant building Isamu is checking out, just beyond the edge of light night crowds, people flowing and coming and going in loose crowds [we all choose our tribes (our people)], just beyond a bicycle rental place, a beat-up rickshaw in front with a sign hanging that's been defaced a couple've times by taggers.

The vacant building also happens to be next to a place, dark from the outside, but burning inside, which has the best sticky pork buns in all of Chicago, and it is to this place that K. R. Jakes has come. The Orphan (Disciple) is strolling down the sidewalk, her hands in her pockets, toward this place of divine foodery, when Isamu tugs her attention. Just another asian guy in asiantown: except that he's not. He's a river, and he's a stream, and he's the movement of water under the moon, something about the way he does things, something.

Which is why, when the red-haired woman draws abreast of him, Kage calls out -- easy, courteous: "Lost cat?"

[Isamu Drummond] Isamu turns to face the woman who called out to him, a curious expression upon his face. Then, with a dubious expression, he answers in kind.

"I've seen none yet tonight. You might check the Sushi restaurant two blocks East.

I understand the local strays enjoy the tidbits they find in the dumpster."

He considers the woman with dark eyes calmly, his breathing having slowed to a more constant, steady rhythm.

((Perception + Awareness, Perception Specialized(other mages), diff = 6))
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 4, 9, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1

[K. Jakes] "No. I thought you might be reading a lost pet notice," Kage says, and her gaze shifts from Isamu's face to the piece of paper with rental information posted on the wall of the vacant [empty/hollow/gutted?] building, and then back. "But should I ever look for a stray cat in this neighborhood, I'll remember your advice." A beat. And then, "Are you new to the city?"

[K. Jakes] He considers Kage. And -- oh; Kage is [Ardent] resonant. The woman in front of him feels like a burning, shining thing; like the verbing of the word beloved, like kissing; like the giddy fever of Spring, dynamic. And Kage feels like something kindling, immanent; cutting. And Kage feels like withering, like a leeching-away, a draining, a forever-falling-sucking, entropic. Winter, the action of ending.
to†Isamu Drummond

[Isamu Drummond] Isamu considers, before putting on a most sage expression...

"To the moon and the stars... Each of us is no more lasting than a single grain of sand within an hourglass. In that respect, everyone is new to this city. In that respect... Even the city is new."

Then, the mock gravity gives way to a simple, unassuming smile.

"What gave me away?"

[K. Jakes] Her mouth curves (sardonic [a touch of moonlight on riverwater]). Not quite a smile; not quite a smirk. There's some noman's land between these expressions, and that's where her mouth is just now. Kage also lifts her eyebrows, and gives Isamu a look, while he is mock-sage. The almost-smile almost-smirk deepens, briefly, when he's finished. A beat, and she glances down the street. The street is all blues, all shadows; it's dark, even with the street lights glowing, the neon lights in the shops glowing, red taillights and yellow headlights glowing, glowing, glowing. Just one beat, and she's already looking back, to reply in mind -

"I think someone put a sign on your back," Kage says. "Says 'new guy in town' in somewhat flowing script. Good hand, really." Another beat, and because she just can't resist: "And you know, if you're bounding the world in an hourglass -- the hourglass is eternity; that single grain of sand isn't going anywhere. In that respect, everyone's been around a damned timeless time."

"I'm Kage," she says, and offers her bare hand.

[Isamu Drummond] "Sam..."

He shakes her hand in a firm but not crushing grip, the merest moment spent before to wipe his hand off. His expression turns puzzled as they shake hands, however... As though it was a custom that seemed to him out of place...

Then again, given his heritage, perhaps a bow seemed more commonplace.

Upon releasing her hand, he elaborates... The merest hint of seriousness returning.

"The pieces that make up everyone have been around a very long time. But once the hourglass is turned, they don't stay in the same place very long. Just as the water that makes up you or I was perhaps once part of a primordial river, perhaps the sap of a growing tree, or even a cloud... The water has been here for a very long time. By comparison... It has been in you or I far less long."

Isamu takes a deep breath and considers the kanji on his shirt.

"So that's what this says... New guy."

He points to the first character as he says New and the second as he says guy, with feigned realization and no short dose of humor. He seemed almost infectiously pleasant, like a merrily bubbling brook on a fine summer afternoon... The grass swaying gently in the breeze, as clouds navigated the blue sky overhead.

[K. Jakes] "Sam," Kage echoes, and it's an easy name for her to say; she says it with a twang, although she isn't from the South: it's just force of habit. Kage has known a few Sams in her time. An easy name to say, to like. Her handshake is firm, see, and to the point. Then he's on again about primordial rivers and sap of a growing tree and clouds and if Kage didn't know what Tradition he was part of yet she'd definitely narrowed it down to a few, unless he's just pulling her leg. The red-haired woman gives him a look like she thinks maybe he is, but behind that look is something far more interested; something courteous, sure, but also easily ravelled into philosophical arguments-that-aren't-arguments. Poetical language: hey, she's there.

"Well. At least we've definitively established that all the grains of sand that make up the grain of sand that you, Mister Sam - Sammy?" Here, a raised eyebrow, a question: Sammy all right? No? ", are collectively just about equal in brand spankin' newness when it comes to Chicago." Her eyes are dark, and they're amused: briefly luminous. She smiles, lopsided, when he points to his kanji characters, New Guy, all feigned realization.

"And I'm just no good when it comes to talking to strangers, so I don't know what I should ask you next."