Tom Cat and Fonz Pond

[K. R. J.] [?]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 8, 10 (Failure at target 6)
to†K. R. J.

[K. R. J.]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 9 (Success x 1 at target 7)
to†K. R. J.

[Thomas Taylor] It was dark, there was a constant wind blowing the air, it howled as it whipped over gravel, gates and walls. This was a common short cut for the brave or foolhardy, cutting between two areas of gangland this place was the neutral zone, also the war zone. No one parked here save the brave or the foolish, fewer dared walk it. The place had seen so much blood; so many bullets the locals named it the ëRed Leadí then of course there were the stories.

Gang meeting in the night and killing each other was the known tales, and then they talk of ghosts, gangsters that refuse to move on and on the full moon the locals say you can hear them fighting even now, looking to finish off foes they never beat in life. If you listen to the children they speak about Fonz Pond, the old swimming pool around the back when the place was an old hotel in the fifties, the water was never cleaned never emptied, and it was black now with crap, waste and sewage. Still the kids taunted each other to go closer, dared each other to put their hand in. For those that dared the car park they say on a full moon something crawls from the ooze to find another innocent soul and to drag them to the murky doom.

Of course one man thought all that was bollocks, still in the world he lived in it paid to be careful, so little superstitions like this he checked out, real or fake, but also places where reality was bent. Urban tales made urban hotspots. Places like this Thomas found certain magicís worked better, or reality did not slap him as much, after all if the locals expected ghosts every full moon reality might let him get one or two. Not that he did spirits or the like; in fact he hated that side of things, how very un-hollow.

The car park did have some cars in, most wrecks, none that could be driven away. Still he dared the gangs, the superstitions to look at the place. Sat on the bonnet of a car the cockney wander was sat back, cigarette in his lips looking to past the car park at a dark black pool. Head tilted to the side in mock wait. He is wearing those battered converse, faded grey jeans with rips at the knees that were either originally black or really faded or bought that way, it is hard to tell. Old battered and worn converse, an addidas original tracksuit top currently open with a black vest on underneath.

[K. R. J.] This might've been a place once upon a time (once upon another sort of full moon [lover's moon (not ghost's lantern, not ghoul's garish light)] teenagers and newly weds and people having affairs and husbands and wives rekindling something came and parked and did their deeds under glass surrounded by aluminum and the shadows of other cars. This might've been a place once upon a time where the needle on the ground wasn't just dirty; it was malicious. Was the bringer, the bearer, of death to at least five that night alone, and tomorrow who knows how many others? This might've been a bad place once upon a time (the stories came, then; the stories came, and they changed things for everybody, and now - ) but now it's rather lonely. This isn't to say the car park doesn't have a resonance all its own; eerie places do, places that've accumulated the sludge of urban paranoia [what if there really is something out there. There's gotta be. I see 'em in the shadows, sometimes. And he, he was cursed, didn't you - ] and the usual complement of tricks [and she heard the scraping of a hook against the door and then].

Lonely place. This.

Then: not so lonely. The sound of a car engine (truck engine, actually), a low rumble, something very low, very deep, resonant like a chest-cold. Then: the sound of the engine being killed. See? Right over there: someone just drove a big, big black truck into the car park, and parked it nearish to close beside volvo all falling to rust. The driver's door opens, and Kage climbs out. Maybe Thomas isn't in a position to note the intruder on what's been his little kingdom for a while now -- nobody likes coming here; not even the gangs (although, oh baby, believe it, they will). Kage: slender-thing, red of hair, hair as red as heart's blood, as autumn, a flag kept beneath a cap just now. Kage: jeans, a jacket with something flamboyant about the collar, and a button-up blouse benaeth, all sorts've demure, a slash of white [moon] to match the crescent moon above. Kage: totally,

totally, totally,
fucking innocent of all mischief.

Which is why she is of course in the creepy abandoned car park.

[Awareness!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 5, 5, 8, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Thomas Taylor] ((Sense anything? awareness))
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 4, 8, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Thomas Taylor] Head tilted to the side, he snorts smoke blown from his nose like dragon fire...then he heard an engine, eyes flick over as he sits up sharply. Eyes widen ìBugger...î It was a gang meet was it not; he had gone and picked a gang meet to check out ëFonz Pondí. By the time he gets ready to throw himself from the car and leg it...she got out.

Eyebrows come together, at this distance he only caught the red really, and the lights were few and far between. It took him a moment to catch the red hair and female figure red heads, he had a thing for red heads. Something new he imagines as he stands up on the car bonnet, the cherry on his smoke plain for her to see. ìHow you do pet?î His accent was English certainly but very specific. ìDonít take this the pete way, but if yer the bint for sum big black man with a shotgun an lots of lads behind ëim for rent, care to give me a heads up so I can get me bones outta ëere before I become there boy toyî There a smirk, still it is hard to tell if he is serious or not.

[K. R. J.] Hark! Thar be a mage! Thomas Taylor knows this. He can feel it in his bones, or prickling under his skin, or behind his eyes, or in his temples; whereever it is he feels Awareness. Kage's resonance is an ardent thing, the verbing of the word beloved, a kiss and a caress, a shining, burning sort've thing; it is coupled with a kindling, immanent, and oh, it's more too: the draining-away, leeching-away, withering diminishment [the act of] too, the art of wanting.
to†Thomas Taylor

[Thomas Taylor] His resonance is mixed, the air seems to fill up with wanderlust around him, around her something has to be moving, in motion, on the move, along with consumption, the need to devour, to be taking away, bringing into him constantly, to be feeding his needs in all senses. You can feel it around him, wandering from place to place consuming then leaving before he takes too much.
to†K. R. J.

[K. R. J.] His accent isn't the last one Kage'd expect to hear in the abandoned car park (the haunted one, where the old stories go to die), and for a second, it's almost incomprehensible to her. Maybe that's why, when Thomas stands up on the car's bonnet, Kage shields her eyes, sailor-watching-a-strange-island-which-may-or-may-not-be-mythical, and peers at him for a second. It's dark, because the car park isn't full of light; it's more a place for shadows to gather, to deepen and fall, to hint threats and sketch-out potential (unhappy [unsolved]) mysteries. Then -- and he likely doesn't mark it: her mouth crooks, a half-smirk; something touched, sardonic. She cups her hands around her mouth, calls back: "What if the black man wasn't very big; would you change your mind and linger, meet my theoretical buddies?" A beat, and also, called -- carrying: "You have an interesting aura, Mister Car Guy With a Spark of Flame."

[Thomas Taylor] He cannot see her now, the van light gave him his only real view (Red head, female) she calls out and he was at least glad he got that bit right. Still she was swallowed by the shadows as she drew closer he felt that twinge of her leaking out to him. First he felt burning, lips twist as he feels something familiar, it was completely different but he had felt withering before on another red head. ìWat are you pet the burniní want...îHe felt her aura too,as he takes the cigarette from his mouth as he jumps, tracksuit top catches the wind as moves upwards as he leaves the bonnet and gravity brings him to the floor with a thud and the sound of gravel moving aside. Still they were too far away to see each other clearly thought she had the advantage, he had a smoke.

ìíow big we talkiní pet an ëow many of is boys, an if yer giviní me sum holy till they get ëere robin an proper I give you me germans.î Said quietly with a smirk, a smirk she cannot see right now as he takes a few steps closer (always wandering). He stops out of sight still ìYer not sum gangbangers red toy are ya pet...î Relief perhaps.

[K. R. J.] Kage, for her part, climbs into the bed of her black truck -- see how it blends? There she balances, careful-now, now-careless, quintessentially poised, at the fender. The [Disciple of some Thing] woman tugs her cap down, so it's at a rogue's angle, rakish over her forehead; Thomas is out've sight now, behind something ruined, except for maybe a curl of smoke, a thread of it. This is the angle Kage is paying attention to, and really, this is true: that she pays attention; that she is pensive, contemplative. "I'll give you a confession," she says, conversational: "For free. Here goes. If your germans are anything like the ones in old 40s movies, I'm paralyzed with fear, but they're easily escapable, so I'll regain my wits at any moment."

"Luckily," a beat, because she's listening; to Thomas, probably. That's how conversations go -- weave in, weave out; take turns, build a thing that makes sense, communication. Grand thing. "I'm not a toy, and no black man, big or small, is coming by with his buddies to entertain me. You don't have a hook hand, do you? Because I hear this carpark is haunted by a guy with a hookhand."

Kage rests her elbows on her knees, leaning forward, listening, intent.

And cautious. Strange new Mage.
Y'know.

[Thomas Taylor] Yes strange mages indeed. She did not feel like a fallen demon worshipping nut job, then again he never sensed one to have any bases of comparison for that, but he who dares wins!. He approaches the truck but again sating just out of view, perhaps he tried to get close bu the darkness just wanted to cover her so.

ìWell, me germans are me ëands pet, me german bands, rythiní slang. I ainít a nazi...well least donít think Iíam.î A joke a jest as he starts moving from side to side another cigarette brought out and lit off the last one, the need to be consuming. She can see two cheeries for a moment as one gets thrown into the gravel to burn on itís own, that light growing dimmer till it burns out (Or perhaps the darkness took it, who knew)

ìI ëeard ëbout Fonz pond...î A tilts of the head (still unseen) what were the odds two people like them show up here on the same night. ìYou got a ëandle pet?î

[K. R. J.] He is staying just out of sight. This is a conversation with darkness; with a reflection. Kage inhales, quietly (ardent [see?]), and sucks up some've the smells: cigarette smoke, the taint of it in the air; wet, creepy, damp growing things, verdant city jungle smells, less than nice. Doesn't move, not too much. When the red spark from his discarded cig scatters against the gravel, her eyes follow that; go back to where logically that wandering, wandering devouring [consuming] guy is. "Cockney, then," is her response, to rythin' slang: "London? Long way to roam just to hear some kids singing and clapping -- "

Here. A rhythm, drummed out against her thigh.

"Down by the pond it'll creep creep creep
Blackly the water will leak leak leak
Momma and Poppa weep weep weep
'cos Fonz Pond plays for keep keep keep."

A beat. Normal voice: "'Andle -- you mean name; or you mean a flashlight?" Brief pause; maybe he can hear the grin (radiant [sardonic] and earnest [all]). "I promise I don't mean to make the dark more scary."

[K. R. J.] ooc: ahem. 'more scary'? make that 'scarier.'

[Thomas Taylor] Thomas smirks, his cheeks hollow and he almost pouts in the darkness as she gives him a rhythm. He moves closer with every beat of her thigh to the point where they can actually make each other out. He has short blonde hair, a days worth of stubble on his chin but you expect an older face to have gone with that strong voice. Early twenties at best, skin weathered from lifes trials. ìPet me country got too small for me, you know ëow it is, all them potters...î He smiles one hand on the back of her van that turns into a fist and bangs once, twice then a rhyme back to her:

ìThe water's full with murky mud,
the trash is red like splattered blood.
In this pond a child died,
snakes and bugs replace his eyes.
Some don't believe and dared to swim,
sometíing under will pull you in.
ëidden deep in the wild brush,
if you know where it is then hush.î...He puts his forefinger over his lips, the cigarette left dangling to the right almost vertical.

He tilts his head from side to side ìAinít often I get to do the whole word play pet, so ëowís ëbouts we skip to the end...dodgy place for both of us pet.î The cigarette gets rolled around his lips. ìMe names Tommy, ëave been called the wanderiní magician an the hollow plague by the potters....please to meet ya.î He nods in her direction grinning.

[K. R. J.] There he is. No longer a shadow, no longer a reflection; no longer another shape, occasionally scattering Hell's red. There he is. Blonde, youngish, dissonance between the traveler's voice and the kid's (no [vagabond, still]) face. There he is: a person -- somebody who's probably real; somebody who's probably not a Nephandi. Kage plays Echo to Thomas's Narcissus, and once he rhymes back at her, she drums another beat, lifts her own finger to her mouth (hey, Longing) after he does, Hush. There's something unmistakably ironic about the cant of her eyebrows, and she is a pale-thing naturally, although her skin's summer-tinted just now, burnished at the cheeks, see? Kage's eyes are expressive, albeit difficult to read expressive; just now, they seem dark (and amused, and inquisitive, and cautious: and none of these things are lies).

"Tommy," she says, still Echo: "The hollow plague. Infectious?" A beat. And, then, "Tsk. What's a wanderer want to do with skipping to the end? Skip to the end, and there's nowhere to go. Hold a moment. I'm reaching for my bag; I'm taking out something that is not weaponry. Got it." The moon is scant; it's just a sliver. There's hardly any light at all, and what light there is is garish-gloaming from a fading street/neighborhood. Still, the tinfoil reflects, catches, scatters: Kage unwraps a crunch bar, and holds it out in offer.

"Isn't bread, but it'll break; isn't poison, either - let's share." Another beat, and: here -- a faint smile (touch of moon [glint]), something spare, something almost there. "My name's Kage Jakes. That's it for honorifics."

[K. R. J.] ooc: er, adendum, this should've C&Ped:

"No interesting epitaphs like wandering magician' or hollow plague.'"

[Thomas Taylor] Thomas smirks, his cheeks hollow and he almost pouts in the darkness as she gives him a rhythm. He moves closer with every beat of her thigh to the point where they can actually make each other out. He has short blonde hair, a days worth of stubble on his chin but you expect an older face to have gone with that strong voice. Early twenties at best, skin weathered from lifes trials. ìPet me country got too small for me, you know ëow it is, all them potters...î He smiles one hand on the back of her van that turns into a fist and bangs once, twice then a rhyme back to her:

ìThe water's full with murky mud,
the trash is red like splattered blood.
In this pond a child died,
snakes and bugs replace his eyes.
Some don't believe and dared to swim,
sometíing under will pull you in.
ëidden deep in the wild brush,
if you know where it is then hush.î...He puts his forefinger over his lips, the cigarette left dangling to the right almost vertical.

He tilts his head from side to side ìAinít often I get to do the whole word play pet, so ëowís ëbouts we skip to the end...dodgy place for both of us pet.î The cigarette gets rolled around his lips. ìMe names Tommy, ëave been called the wanderiní magician an the hollow plague by the potters....please to meet ya.î He nods in her direction grinning.

[Thomas Taylor] And she is no longer a shape (Save for the flash of red when she got out of the truck). He removes his hand from the truck, she had the higher ground (Tactically better some would say). His hands find his pockets as he stands still for a moment, a rare thing indeed as his eyes wander over her. She did not look like a fallen one... ìIt ainít wanderiní pet, yer wantiní side sud know that, skip to the end, decide if itís worth goiní through with, the ëappy endiní an that jazz...î He raises an eyebrow and tilts his head when she makes all that fuss about going into her bag.

ìPet wat do you think Iíam the Spanish inquisition?î He reaches out and takes it though ìdonít know wat me mum wud say, me takiní candy off strangers...î Then she says a name and his eyebrows come together in acknowledgement. ìKage...you donít need titles pet, met sum of yer buddies, speak highly of you...î He clicks his fingers ìExplains the kidís song, they say yer like a fairy tale an shit.î The smoke keeps pouring from his nose and he relaxes a touch now he at least had some connection. ìCall me Tom if you like pet, most folk do.î

[K. R. J.] "I don't know what you are," she says. "You're 'You' I imagine, and all that entails." He who dares wins: that's what Thomas thinks; that's his motto. Kage seems (for now, at this moment) to be far more wary. She is, at this moment, resisting the urge to make a nobody expects joke. Nobody'll expect it not to be made, right? Then he says he's heard her name before and her eyebrow quivers upward, just a fraction of an inch: a scintilla: a dust mote wouldn't know the difference. Not very much at all.

See? There's a moment's pause; the pause waits, or balances; the pause is precise, and precisely poised. Her glance tarnishes up with some mood, not dark, not angry; still, cloud-blood, silver-linings. Wry: "I'm a regular Disney Princess. Listen to me sing: LaAAaa." That was deliberately descant: horrible, like one of Cinderella's stepsisters, or a strident voice, coppery in the dark. Water'sfull of murky mud, trash is red like splattered blood. After all.

"Tom. Tommy? True Thomas? Tom Cat?" A beat, and serious: "I do remember you now. You spoke, at the meeting. Have you looked yet?"

[Thomas Taylor] He snaps the bar in half and holds out his hand offering her half, like she said they would split it. ìYeah Lewis, am me.î He smirks ìDonít mind me calliní you Lewis do ya...î He carries on like she does not, cigarette still burning away in his lips, the cherry being consumed at a rapid rate. He cringes at the voice, his free hand brought to his ear ìJesus pet, you cud give an asprin a headache...î Jesting of course, he was far more relaxed now.

ìNah pet, waitiní on Info-slut to finish sum stuff up.î A pause as a look of frustration crosses his face ìApparently even a charge at dawn requires sum planniní.î He snorts the smoke being pushed from his lungs rapidly. ìAnyroad pet, nice to meet ya up close.î He winks

[K. R. J.] "Depends entirely on what Lewis you're referencing," Kage says, grave as grave-moss. "Lewis, of Clark fame? Lewis, of Carroll fame? Lewis, rhymes with - " a pause. "Lewis-y things." Thomas can ask a rhetorical question; rhetorical questions deserve answers, so says Kage. Her gaze flicks sideways, momentarily studious, and then back. Of course she'd accepted half of the crunch bar, back; she snaps her half in half, then gestures (casually, irreverently dashing) with it, as if she'd clink her piece against his. Which she will, say, "Cheers, Cat thing," with another quirk of her eyebrow, a deepening at the corner of her mouth which is a smile, or the shadow of one. And then: bite. Mm, chocolate.

Pause, listen. And then, this - "Well. If you're going to charge at dawn, you want to make sure you've the sun rising behind you, and to be, if at all possible, on a white horse dressed in all white at the top of a hill with an army dressed in a lot of shiny. That doesn't get choreographed on the fly. I didn't mean the crooked cop and all that black-road crap, though. I meant the pool, the pond of rhyme-clapping fame." A beat. And, "It's nice to meet you, too."

Courtesy. It's what Kage is good at.

[Thomas Taylor] ìIíll leave ya guessiní on that one pet...î He looks at the bar she wants to put against his and with a shrug he does so tapping it against hers. ìWell the witchiní hour is nearly on us, am not expectiní much, gave it the once over on me jog on, nowt there that I cud make out, but kids will be kids eh.î He bites into it with a loud crunch, teeth taking hearty bites.

When his mouth is empty (Well nearly) he takes his last drag the tab placed on his forefinger and flicked backwards flying through the air. ìYeah...well...Info will be bloody info, an thats the fuckiní issue, an no I ainít got a tissue for that yet.î He places his arms on the back of her van and leans ìI donít do white pet, grey yeah, but no white...i lie Iíll do a vest or T-shirt...maybe even a bloody shirt if needs must but bigger that if you see me in sum all white affair.î He snorts lips curling together in mock disgust.

He looks to the van ìYer brave pet brininí yer wheels, if the gangs show up you ainít gettiní far.î

[Thomas Taylor]
He snaps the bar in half and holds out his hand offering her half, like she said they would split it. ìYeah Lewis, am me.î He smirks ìDonít mind me calliní you Lewis do ya...î He carries on like she does not, cigarette still burning away in his lips, the cherry being consumed at a rapid rate. He cringes at the voice, his free hand brought to his ear ìJesus pet, you cud give an asprin a headache...î Jesting of course, he was far more relaxed now.

ìNah pet, waitiní on Info-slut to finish sum stuff up.î A pause as a look of frustration crosses his face ìApparently even a charge at dawn requires sum planniní.î He snorts the smoke being pushed from his lungs rapidly. ìAnyroad pet, nice to meet ya up close.î He winks

[K. R. J.]
"Depends entirely on what Lewis you're referencing," Kage says, grave as grave-moss. "Lewis, of Clark fame? Lewis, of Carroll fame? Lewis, rhymes with - " a pause. "Lewis-y things." Thomas can ask a rhetorical question; rhetorical questions deserve answers, so says Kage. Her gaze flicks sideways, momentarily studious, and then back. Of course she'd accepted half of the crunch bar, back; she snaps her half in half, then gestures (casually, irreverently dashing) with it, as if she'd clink her piece against his. Which she will, say, "Cheers, Cat thing," with another quirk of her eyebrow, a deepening at the corner of her mouth which is a smile, or the shadow of one. And then: bite. Mm, chocolate.

Pause, listen. And then, this - "Well. If you're going to charge at dawn, you want to make sure you've the sun rising behind you, and to be, if at all possible, on a white horse dressed in all white at the top of a hill with an army dressed in a lot of shiny. That doesn't get choreographed on the fly. I didn't mean the crooked cop and all that black-road crap, though. I meant the pool, the pond of rhyme-clapping fame." A beat. And, "It's nice to meet you, too."

Courtesy. It's what Kage is good at.

[Thomas Taylor]
ìIíll leave ya guessiní on that one pet...î He looks at the bar she wants to put against his and with a shrug he does so tapping it against hers. ìWell the witchiní hour is nearly on us, am not expectiní much, gave it the once over on me jog on, nowt there that I cud make out, but kids will be kids eh.î He bites into it with a loud crunch, teeth taking hearty bites.

When his mouth is empty (Well nearly) he takes his last drag the tab placed on his forefinger and flicked backwards flying through the air. ìYeah...well...Info will be bloody info, an thats the fuckiní issue, an no I ainít got a tissue for that yet.î He places his arms on the back of her van and leans ìI donít do white pet, grey yeah, but no white...i lie Iíll do a vest or T-shirt...maybe even a bloody shirt if needs must but bigger that if you see me in sum all white affair.î He snorts lips curling together in mock disgust.

He looks to the van ìYer brave pet brininí yer wheels, if the gangs show up you ainít gettiní far.î

[Thomas Taylor]
((bigger=bugger lol))

[K. R. J.] Kage doesn't look at the truck. Watches Thomas look at it, though. And she listens, to the sounds that aren't Thomas, Thomas's accent, the thick density of a foreign accent. Doesn't hear anybody, cutting through the car park. Doesn't hear anybody, driving another kind of car into place. Doesn't hear the drumming of footsteps, an 80s gang movie nightmare ready to happen. She does hear the wind, drawing itself out've the holes left behind by rusting equipment, rusting cars. Hears the wind, scrabble-finger, tugging at something in the old hotel, making it creak, slap open, slap shut, bangbang, misleadingly like gunshots. She hears the leading edge of rain, although Kage doesn't have hypernatural senses, doesn't even have particularly sharp senses, and she doesn't consciously recognize that sound. It's just: a sound; something you hear living in Chicago, summer night all blustery.

The smirk is brief; faint. Touches her eyes, when she says, "Noted. Tommy the Tom Thomas in all white means 'evil clone' or 'evil twin' or 'angel spirit ghost Tom.' Not 'to the rescue' Tom.'" And, shading more serious -- or more curious: "How thoroughly did you look? This side and that?" And, also, sans smirk: Kage pats the side of her truck, drops tin-foil (glitter, silver, sharp) down into the bed, says, "That's right. You and the criminal element. I think the truck'll be okay; happens that thieves in bad neighborhoods just lose interest in it. Are you actually expecting something to go down here tonight, or just cautious?"

[Thomas Taylor] Thomas tilts his head at the woman ìAm tryiní to decide if yer more mad hatter of white rabbit petÖî He tilts his head looking over the (unknown) Orphan. He does look around with some of the noises but more real world paranoia, he does not want any gang bangers doing a ëdrive byí and putting (as the Americans say) ëa cap in his assí

He looks back to her ìPet, if you ëave dreams with me in all white then robin for youÖî He winks making an audible click as he does ìBut angel Tommy, donít think so luv, first you ëave to believe in that bullshit an second, I rekon itís down under for me, an wen I go to ëell pet Iíll burn well!î He chuckles then it turns into a full blown laugh. Did no one tell Kage the world was fucked and they were tap dancing the last song?

ìPet, am like shit to flies, me luck is appaliní, trust me, if it can go turbo it willî He takes a moment to look around then back to her ìWhy do think I wander so much eh?î He offers a cheeky but somehow charming grin, an enticing grin some would say. ìYou wanna cough pet?î

[K. R. J.] He winks (click), and Kage laughs at him: easy, smoke and moonwater, contained. "Do you really believe in Hell?" is what she asks, however. Because these metaphorical conversations: well, they're often thinly veiled, when speaking Mage-to-Mage. "And not Angels? You might make an unusual one, mind. I'd be pretty disappointed if True Tom all in white wasn't also playing a golden harp and wearing sparkly gold shoelaces in his hightops, mind you."

He says his luck won't hold. He says his luck's bad, and that's why he's a vagabond: that's why Britain couldn't contain him. Her mouth curves, but it isn't quite a smile, and it isn't quite a smirk; it's a thoughtful thing, or maybe an expression just carved out've shadow -- meaningless. You wanna cough pet? "Do I want to cough," she echoes, clearly having absolutely no clue what he means, and then: "What I want to do is explore the hotel. Come with?"

She winks, a passable mimicry of Thomas himself, although only passable. Clicks her tongue, with the grave air of someone who knows she doesn't really pull it off [on purpose].

[Thomas Taylor] ìCough and drag pet, means fag, you wanna fag?î He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the pack of cigarettes offering her one. He then looks to her blankly a moment ìPet, who cares if ëell exists or not, depends on themÖî He thumbs the empty car park ìWood for the flame, all fire an torment, ëho gives two shit an a fuck, am ëere now, plan of stayiní that wayÖyou know, till it all goes bang!î He moves both hands by his face with the ëbangí.


He looks to her then the hotel ìPet, you after one of three things, yer actually ëere to check if Fonz pond is a myth or real, yer luriní me in there to kill me or number three an hate to shock ya.î He snorts zipping up his tracksuit top with mock indignation ìÖwell I ainít that sorta manÖokay I lie but I ainít into older chicks, but come on then lets ëave a goosey.î From the packet of smokes he places one in his lips as the wind picks up making something on that old, worn, abandoned hotel creeks and moans. Thomas starts wandering towards it, stopping perhaps 10 foot from Kage to light his cigarette then look over his shoulder ìI ainít got all the lemon in the world Lewis, move it or loose it.î He grins, and then carries on going the shadows stealing his form from her sightÖall save that burning light of his fire wand.

[K. R. J.] He clarifies. Cigarette, and there might be some longing, welling up, again, tarnishing up her gaze, but today is a day (is a night) she resists the lure of smoking. There have been more stressful days. There will be. Give it another day, and that'll be stressful. Now, her eyebrows lift, outward sign of revelation, and she shakes her head, holds up a hand (stay [no]). And then: "Well, why?" Kage asks. Thomas may or may not've been informed that, along with having a decided fairytale bent, Kage was full of questions: "Why not give at least one shit and half-a-fuck? Why do you plan on staying, 'til it all goes bang?"

Then there are three things she might be after. Kage is good at deadpan; that's what Thomas gets. Deadpan, and curve-of-mouth, not-a-smile, not-a-smirk, maybe-just-shadow, raised eyebrows, see? Just so. Then: Kage jumps down from the back of her truck, and flicks her collar up -- sharp against her throat (knife). When she catches up to Thomas, she claps him on the shoulder, says:

"Kid, I'll try my very hardest to keep your virtue safe as dead nuns, but- " a beat. "I might not be able to help myself. Sure you've heard it before." Then: a crooked grin. "And there may be bullyboys lying in wait, ready to bash you over the skull and steal your wallet. I can't do much about them. Piper must be paid," she says, philosophically.

And it's pretty clear she's not being serious; Kage is a wry-creature, hotel-bent.

[Thomas Taylor] ìWell pet, why give ëalf, no one likes ëalf, ëalf portions, ëalf measures, but most folks enjoy seconds so I go with two alriteî He says as he turns because her hand is on his shoulder. ìAn why do I plan on stayiníÖî Thereís a moment then, his cigarette cherry seems to light up as it is being consumed at an alarming rate, the smoke exits his lungs and pours from his nose like dragon fire as there is something deeply passionate and deeply dark about his statement and how he says it. ìI wanna see ëow it endsÖî his cheeks hollow out as his eyes half close his lips come together tightly and there is a moment when you might think he was a touch macabre.

Then in the blink of an eye it is gone and he is swaggering towards the hotel with her. ìPet if we get jumped an they want more than me wallet you can go first rite?î He smirk, if Kage wanted someone to joke with she met the right person. He liked deadpan; he could work with deadpan, and red heads he had a special place for. ìCos though Iíd ëave to ëave sloppy seconds, I cud so wait me turn.î He then brings his arm up putting an elbow on her shoulder was they walk, only a light lean not to much pressure. ìActually pet, it donít ëappen so often, you knowÖî He winks then he laughs, it was loud and boisterous his head tilted back and his cigarette taken from his lips between fore and middle finger. As he pushes off of her and grins as they hear the wind blowing through old smashed windows, the holes left by Uzi fire, and perhaps the broken fake walls where some unlucky person in the 50ís was murdered and they used the walls to bury them.

ìSo am Venkman rightÖ?î He looks to her perhaps serious.

[K. R. J.] He wants to see how it ends. And then, they're talking about burning things. About fire, unlacing; about fire, a flake of something, smoulder-bright. Kage isn't shy. Most people expect her to be. Demure, after all. Occasional flamboyance, but mostly: demure, poised, composed -- a piece of music; a mathematical certainty, sedate. Most people who know what she does for a living expect her to. Academic. Bookworm. The kind that doesn't eat the glue: just the words. Plain girl, even if her hair is very, very red, even if she does have a way to doing things. Kage isn't shy, and not just because she's confident, strongwilled, reality-changer. She just: isn't, any longer. All to say,

When someone's saying something, passion in their voice, behind the shadow of their tongue, she doesn't make any bones about looking somewhere else. She looks at them, even if they're walking across (swaggering across, strutting across, shadow-limbed things) an abandoned car park toward an even more abandoned hotel, because she wants to see how it looks. After the clap-on-the-shoulder, her hands found her pockets, and there they stay. Says, "Why? Do you want to see what comes after, or you just don't want to miss the final and most forgettable unforgettable party?" She's quoting someone, there.

And: "Aw, Thomas. I wouldn't dream of making it said that Thomas is an oldfashioned chivalrous sort. If we get jumped, ladies first needn't apply." Beat. "You're a blond Venkman, sure," she adds, and Kage is studying the hotel. The pool's in back: cradled, and the hotel's the broken [severed] hand which sprawls around it, caging it in. There's a revolving door, and the glass is broken in one of the revolutions. Looks as if it's all rust, all the time, in the frame. Kage steps (delicate [careful]) through the broken-glass part of the revolving door, and pushes against the dirt-smoke clogged-up still-whole glass pane.

Dark inside. Darker than the car park, and creepy. The whole place has a vibe. A something's-going-to-hurt-you vibe.

[K. R. J.] He wants to see how it ends. And then, they're talking about burning things. About fire, unlacing; about fire, a flake of something, smoulder-bright. Kage isn't shy. Most people expect her to be. Demure, after all. Occasional flamboyance, but mostly: demure, poised, composed -- a piece of music; a mathematical certainty, sedate. Most people who know what she does for a living expect her to. Academic. Bookworm. The kind that doesn't eat the glue: just the words. Plain girl, even if her hair is very, very red, even if she does have a way to doing things. Kage isn't shy, and not just because she's confident, strongwilled, reality-changer. She just: isn't, any longer. All to say,

When someone's saying something, passion in their voice, behind the shadow of their tongue, she doesn't make any bones about looking somewhere else. She looks at them, even if they're walking across (swaggering across, strutting across, shadow-limbed things) an abandoned car park toward an even more abandoned hotel, because she wants to see how it looks. After the clap-on-the-shoulder, her hands found her pockets, and there they stay. Says, "Why? Do you want to see what comes after, or you just don't want to miss the final and most forgettable unforgettable party?" She's quoting someone, there.

And: "Aw, Thomas. I wouldn't dream of making it said that Thomas is an oldfashioned chivalrous sort. If we get jumped, ladies first needn't apply." Beat. "You're a blond Venkman, sure," she adds, and Kage is studying the hotel. The pool's in back: cradled, and the hotel's the broken [severed] hand which sprawls around it, caging it in. There's a revolving door, and the glass is broken in one of the revolutions. Looks as if it's all rust, all the time, in the frame. Kage steps (delicate [careful]) through the broken-glass part of the revolving door, and pushes against the dirt-smoke clogged-up still-whole glass pane.

Dark inside. Darker than the car park, and creepy. The whole place has a vibe. A something's-going-to-hurt-you vibe.

[Thomas Taylor] She says Ladies first need not apply but there she was stepping through the broken glass first, placing her hand against the smoky dark still intact paneÖwas that movement in there, no it must be rats, a place like this a hive for scum and vermin, perhaps so crack heads, perhaps some gang bangers, perhaps little Billy, 8 years old went out to play and never came homeÖthey found a show you know, a shoe in the pond you could still read itís label, it said ëBillyí but the B was backwardsÖ

ìWhy petÖî He asks back as she is close to the glass. ìBecause why bother, I mean really, why wake through this fucked up world if there ainít no reason to try an crawl out till the end, no one likes beiní a loser pet.î He steps up to the revolving door but does not step in with her yet, there was only ñjust- room for two and Kage and Tom were not that close yet. ìI just wanna see ëow it ends, give me reason for liviní you knowÖî she most likely does not.

He takes a few drags on his cough eyes go to that dark sludge that perhaps 60 years ago was one of the great pools of Chicago. You can imagine the very best (and worst) bringing there ëdamesí to enjoy the pool, the hotel and itís wondersÖ

ìSo Lewis, yer knickers in a twist or you gonna knock already, itís like the monkeyís out ëere.î

[Thomas Taylor] ((show=shoe))

[Thomas Taylor] ((Per & Awareness because those deaths at the edge of the water are no mistake)
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[K. R. J.] [Am I still very Aware?]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 6, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[K. R. J.] [Uh. Strength of Ra!]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 4, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[K. R. J.] His answer, final answer, causes Kage's gaze to flick away from the opaque glass: studious, of the man the 'potters' call the Hollow Plague. This time, the corner of her mouth does curve up; leans into a smile which approaches something luminous, although doesn't quite spark. Says, "That sounds like a good reason to want to see the end. I approve. Applause, applause. I am not delaying," and see, how easily she segues into something that's almost self-deprecation? Although self-deprecation isn't something that holds hands very often with Kage, still, sardonic-thing, she, "going into the haunted hotel. Just: applause."

Maybe that movement was rats. Or, maybe, brightside, the movement was a murderer or a ghost: it probably wasn't rats. Kage pauses, though, squinting at the blear of movement that isn't, the shadow-song, shadow-dance-thing, and then she pushes. Has to really push, because that revolving door doesn't want to revolve. It's comfortable, in its static state of decay, and it groans in its frame, grumbles at being woken up, then Kage goes disappearing into hotel darkness,

where there are no rats.

[Thomas Taylor] ((Her awareness goes a little crazy as she enters thr hotel, perhaps it was her imagination, perhaps it was her avatar, perhaps it was Thomas but in a cockney voice she can hear:

Fight for air,
something strong is pulling me under pulling me under.
Fight for air,
something strong is pulling me down.

she turns but Thomas is not speaking, he is silent...in fact she can barely see him through that smokey glass))
to†K. R. J.

[Thomas Taylor] ((move damn door, Strength))
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 6, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Thomas Taylor] He turns back to her as the revolving doors does not turn it creeks, it fights it scrapes across the floor like chains dragging another soul down. And then he looses sight of her. His gaze flicks back to that pond then back to the dark hazy shadow eaten door as he grumbles ìÖbuggerÖî

He moves up to the doors and places a shoulder against it ìíang on petÖî He calls out (though right now Kage my be experiencing something else)

Now where it moved like a cog of a clock for Kage there is the sound of a crackÖ

ñSMASH-

This was a moment where time seemed to stop, everything seemed so slow and he got a chance to ask himself where did it go ëpeteí (wrong) as he slumped there a moment perfectly still in time as a delicate web like pattern of cracks spread through out the thick dark and smoky glass as it fell apart and Thomas collapses inwards. Falling into the hotel behind Kage, the glass after so many years of abuse could not take his strength and it all comes crumbling down.

He puts his hands out landing with a thud, a grimace of pain as he stands, glass has cut into his palms and the blood leaks onto the floorÖthe shadows suddenly seemÖhungry. ìOuch, soddiní piece of ancient crapÖî cursing fingers spread he kicks the metal on the door an audible clang echoing around the hotel making him go silentÖî Wasnít meÖî blatant lie.

[K. R. J.] There are children's voices in Thomas's accent. They're in her ear. And her skin, it's crawling; it wants to crawl right off her bones. That's what this place feels like to her Awareness. And there's more, of course; what Thomas gets, too. Hint of something, grandeur, lovely; hint of something, song-bright, wishful, wistful, beginning to turn, something that sets their bones vibrating like a tuning fork, says come, come, come. Thomas pushes his shoulder against the opaque glass, and Kage, hands still in her pockets, has glanced sharply to one side.

Then the glass is breaking, and Kage is jumping to one side, hands out've her pockets, arms partly raised, as one does when one is wise and doesn't want glass shards to go bulleting toward their eyes. A beat, and then she lowers them. Wasn't me, Thomas says, and Kage replies with a cool - easy: "Of course not. Didn't see a thing. You were right beside me this whole time. Must've been the ghosts." A beat. And: "There are ghosts. And there's a knot of energy, gathering in the pool."

"Do you feel that?"

[And, just by the by, we're going for Spirit-sight. Practiced -1. Foci (Thomas, providing the blood!) -1. ]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 4, 8, 8 (Success x 3 at target 3)

[K. R. J.] The place feels rank. Really, it does. The place feels like bad things happening, like a thinning, world-against-world. He's Aware of this. Not strongly so, but Aware. And he's Aware of that thing: that turning, fate-kissed, un/lucky gathering of energy, although he doesn't know what it is, doesn't quite understand it. Does get that it's gathering, up ahead: faint, but beating like a pulse. Pulse, pulse, pulse.
to†Thomas Taylor

[Thomas Taylor] He looks at his hands ìTis alrite pet, only a flesh woundÖî His right hand goes to his left and he grits his teeth as he pulls a chuck of glass from it, holding it up almost admiring how his life just dripped from it before throwing it to the side.

Then he pauses, he sniffs the air like a dog, like an animal that got a scent of preyÖor a predator. He looks around as he leans down and picks up his cigarette (The cherry still burning) and has a drag. If Kage looks to him she will see his bloody fingerprints on the cigarette, but they look too small like a childísÖno it must be the darknessÖ

ìI feel a beat pet, like the linger pulse of sumthiní that ainít long for this worldÖî and that was him trying to make it sound better.î He looks to Kage a moment as he steps forward moving in front of her ìTell you wat pet, Tommyís first ehÖî He snorts; his cheeks go hollow as his eyes half close and he takes a deep breath ìCUM AN ëAVE A GO IF YOU THINK YER ëARD EíNUFF!î It echoes around the place, filling it with noise, sound. He looks to Kage and blinksÖ

ìI ëad a plan pet, a crafty plan, it was real smart, but then I got cut an thought fuck it, I ainít tip toeiní ëround ëere pretty as you please, if these sumthiní ëere lets get on with itÖî He smirks, grins ìdonít mind do ya Lewis, all be robin trust me.î

[Thomas Taylor] ((wits and Alertness))
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 1, 8 (Failure at target 6)

[K. R. J.] [Me too!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 7, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[K. R. J.] Kage misses the bloody thumbprint on the cigarette. There's too much darkness. Thomas's blood doesn't look red in the dark. Kage's hair just barely remains red; she tucks most of it underneath her cap, and her neck is very pale, in the dark. "I was prepared to be impressed," Kage says, as Thomas steps in front of her, "with the craftiness of your crafty plan. Ah well." Beat. Half-a-beat. Thomas doesn't like halves, but this time: there is a half. And the half's followed by this: the Orphan, grabbing the back of Thomas's jacket or shirt and trying to haul him sideways and back - with a sharp: "Watch out!"

[K. R. J.] He didn't hear it. Didn't notice it. Didn't feel stirred to respond to it. But: this -- out've the dark, some spidering blackness, splattering like [all red like splattered blood] the decorating committee for Carrie's prom. It's coming at Thomas, coming out've a shadow. Up ahead, there's an old desk. There's a door, there's a hall, hall that'll lead to a pool, eventually. There's also a gutted elevator shaft, the doors open, no elevator in evidence. A luggage rack, on its side. Grafitti.

The point is: something dark, flicking toward him, flashing.
to†Thomas Taylor

[Thomas Taylor] ((Dex no dodge))
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 5, 7, 8 (Success x 3 at target 5)

[Thomas Taylor] ((Willpower....I ain't afraid of no ghost))
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 4, 6, 7, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[K. R. J.] [No way, man.]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 5, 6, 6, 9

[Thomas Taylor] And he goes with Kages movements moving back and to the side and something hits the wall behind them. Thomas only half glances his eyes ahead of him, the evelvator shaft, the doors, the luggage rack, Fonz pond plays for keeps keeps keeps.

ìFair play pet I was peteÖî his voice was steady, but more serious soken to the darkness, a challenge to the Fonz Pond ìBut if you think sum casper is gonna rattle me chains you got another thing cuminíÖyeah you ëeard me spook, been brought up with the goths I ëave, bloody hollowers invented the term ëfraid of the darkÖî He snorts to the darkness as he tilts his head to Kage.

ìThanks for the save petÖî He winks to her and smirks the cigarette nearly a tab now. ìWe robin to go on?î

[K. R. J.] [Am I ... perceptive and alert?]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 8, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Thomas Taylor] ((what about me?))
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 9, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Thomas Taylor] ((She hears what sounds like rain, the pattering of something on somethingÖ
Thomas looks to her then blinks looking upwards as he grabs her and tries to pull her out of the way this time. ìBuggerî as all the blood on the floor (Thomasí blood) had run onto the ceiling. Nature had been perverted and gravity had shifted and above them a pool of dark crimson gathered, and like a icicle some of it had once more begun to obey natures laws once more and Kage feels a drop hit her forehead. But the blood was not red, no it was black, The water's full with murky mud,))
to†K. R. J.

[K. R. J.] [Eep! Dex, no dodge. I don't wanna be blood splattered. Or MUD splattered. =( Or splattered.]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 5, 6, 7 (Success x 3 at target 5)

[Thomas Taylor] ((Move it or loose it Tommy, with the cryptic red head, Dex & Alt))
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 6, 6, 8 (Success x 1 at target 7) [WP]

[Thomas Taylor] ((strength))
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 3, 3, 6 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[K. R. J.] [Whoa, man. What?]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 2, 4 (Failure at target 6)

[K. R. J.] The water's full of murky mud. And gravity, it seems, reverses for what just black-dash dash-quick (you want an answer, you called us out, Poltergeist, harmless haunt, harmless, harmless, but chill-you-to-the-bone, scrape-your-marrow-out, give-you-fever) splatter that'd nearly got Thomas. This time, Thomas is quicker on the uptake, and he helps Kage jump (leap!) to the side, avoiding it. It's eerie, this. Things moving. No reason: something else-wise, Other. Kage, her vision twinned, ghosting, swallows, puts a hand to her forehead, wipes away the black blood, looks at her fingertips, says, "Not too shabby, Tommy; you deserve your paternomer, Cat. We're 'robin.'"

And they are. They are robin. But there's also this: the ground; it quakes. Vertigo; it descends. The floorboards start to collapse, they're just that rotten: they're sinking, dessicating; they're re-meshing, re-melding, and the broken revolving door behind them starts to spin, slowly, slowly. Thomas, he wants to get a move on, with all of this. Understandable. There'll be a moment's resistance from the rowan-haired Orphan, which Thomas won't even feel, once he decides to book it.

[Thomas Taylor] ((shards, shards, holy shit....and with the red head!))
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 6, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 7) [WP]

[Thomas Taylor] ((Carry, carry, come on Lewis drink the potion become smaller))
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 5, 8 (Failure at target 6)

[Thomas Taylor] ìPet I donít wanna be ëere for the snakes an bugs replaced there eyes bit.î After moving her out of the way, he looks to the revolving doorÖsomething nasty, something new, something trapped in here with a vengeance hue.

He grabs her hand and starts to move as there is once more a moments pause as she fights back resisting, he looks back a moment and grabs her waist with his free hand (ambidextrous did you not know) and pulls her upwards, half over his shoulder half hitting the floor he runs with her into the hotel.

The glass shards suddenly ring like a fine crystal glass plucked with a folk as shards start hitting the wall where they had been, but that just seems to make Thomas move faster, he hops, skips and jumps till something hits the back of his knee, he screams for a moment as his strength gives out and he fallsÖ

He tries to keep hold of her, he desperately tries to keep the white rabbit in sightÖAs he hits the floor Kage goes spilling from his grasp.

There last sight of each other, Thomas was on the floor blood pooling around a wound in the back of his knee shards of glass still being flung around him like bulletsÖ


But Kage,she was sliding into the elevator shaft, hand held out and there fingers meet for a moment, a burning, consuming moment then she is gone into the darkness, into the cold, the empty the hungry, the darkness, the depthsÖ

[K. R. J.] [Holy shit! Wits!]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 3, 6 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[K. R. J.] [and we pause.]

[K. R. J.] [Corr 3 - NOOOOOOOOOO, OPEN A DOOR, aka, BAMF. Basediff 7. -1 FOCI. -1 totally practiced. -1 QUINT. WP.]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 4, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 4) [WP]

[K. R. J.] [man, is my landing -at all- graceful? dex+athletics]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 3, 6, 6, 7 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[K. R. J.] Thomas doesn't want to be in the hotel for the snakes and bugs replace their eyes bit. "Touche," Kage says, and she is wondering whether the strength of these manifestations has anything at all to do with a shallowing, with that knot of energy in back, at the pool, which is waxing stronger, which is a shining thing both Aware-keen magi can feel, Hollow one and Disparate, and then: it's true; after the initial resist, Kage doesn't struggle against Thomas or beat him until he puts her down. Kage would rather not distract the [you say you don't wear white, but I bet it'd shine] man hauling her bodily across a lobby of glass and -- stabby glass, glass that is stabbing.

Of course, then he drops her. Not only does he drop her; he's bloody, bleeding. Not only is she dropped, but [vertigo] it feels as if the floor is tilting, as if there's nothing at all solid and tangible to hold onto, and she is sliding into the elevator shaft, reaching to grab, hold, no no no, and then -

This is what it looks like. This is what Thomas sees.

The redhaired woman disappears; of course she looked afraid. Of course her dark eyes were wide; shadows. Of course her lips were parted; see? Just so. No scream, though; just an inhale, for a scream; just an inhale, for the inevitable yell. Then: just darkness. The sort've shiftless, unshifting darkness that shadow-shapes coalesce out've; the sort've dreaming dark that's too thick [just swallowed a woman whole], and it's an old elevator shaft, and the chains, the pulleys, the wires that operated the elevator once upon a time rattle, the only sign of Kage's passage [and no sound of a body hitting, none at all]. The glass shards don't move again. They stay where they were stuck or they stay littered on the ground. There is detritus, litter, in the corner - just there. See? But everything's still.

There's a flare of resonance [burning, ardent, kiss-unlacing].

This is what it looks like. This is what Kage sees.

Thomas, reaching; then Thomas, gone. The edge of the elevator, and scraping across it: skin off've her side, off've her ribs, something, then nothingness beneath, and she sucks in a breath. If she'd lost her wits, she'd've maybe just screamed -- final yell, Hey, I'm here, I'm alive, motherfucker, I am. As it is, she hastily grabs a something out've her pocket -- a coin; fine, that'll work -- and slams her palm against the side of the elevator shaft, and she's falling, and she's falling, and then she opens a door, the coin's just a handle, and then

then the 'door' yawns beneath her, and she drops to the ground behind Thomas. With grace. Knees soaking up the impact. She is already bracing herself for what dox is going to do.

" - c'mon, Tom Cat. Let's get the fuck out of this ghost story, or at least to the end."

[K. R. J.] [Paradox: Punch!]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 7 (Failure at target 6)

[Thomas Taylor] That what he sees, sliding from his grasp, fingers make a vain attempt to hold on but that ardent star that was Kage was like sunlight, you can feel it, you can see it but you cannot hold it. ìLEWIS!î As she enters the darkness. Thomas snarls he hated ghosts, spooks; spirits...most Hollowers loved the dead, dance the macabre conversing with them taunting them commanding them. Not he, too grounded in this reality was Thomas though with the Cliques, the clubs, the firms he had danced to their tune, seen the other side. ìEnoughî As much to himself as the darkness around him.

ìFair play, thought youíd scare us out, two lilí people lookiní for a spook, thought weíd slip through the cracks eh.î Hands push on the floor, cut bleeding hands as he lets out a grunt of discomfort, body turning to pull the glass from his knee and thatís when she appears.

ìBloody ëell pet.î He is just looking up at her, she just teleported, this woman was a disciple? Fingers go around the sliver of glass and pull it out as he pushes off the floor and gets to his feet, bloody hands, bloody jeans, bloody knee. He nods to her ìLemon up, rules change!î

[K. R. J.] Kage is a cautious creature (so she says, so she behaves; mostly), and she is cautious now, standing behind Thomas, waiting for the boundary to rubberband twang at her because she opened a door. There's tension in the line of her shoulders; tension in the cant of her jaw. There is no rubberband smack. Not yet, anyway. Kage'll wait for it for another hour, before she realizes that she really did get away with that. Maybe reality looks kindly upon desperation and elevator shaft-inspired Doors. And because Kage is a cautious creature, she says, "Can you still walk -- or, y'know; run as necessary?" She looks concerned.

He nods, and Kage steps back. There's a hall. The hall leads out to the pool. The revolving door, with its fangs-of-glass, is an unappealing exit. So is going upstairs, as far as Kage is concerned. Upstairs: that's always the big mistake in horror movies. If Thomas is good to go, she'll turn: head right for that door.

And the air, well. The air gets cold.

[Thomas Taylor] ((Rolly Rolly. Wits and Awareness))
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 6 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[K. R. J.] The air gets particularly cold around his wound. His bloody knee. The blood on his fingers. On his jeans. The air gets ice-cold and then colder: frigid, a knife that pokes itself just under his skin and starts to freeze his blood (almost, it feels like, and then: a numbness). His breath shows itself in the air, and he feels, oh yes, he feels two small hands at his back. Just above his belt, or the waist of his pants. They press in, and then disappear. And the cold, it spreads.
to†Thomas Taylor

[K. R. J.] [Percept + Linguistics or Percept + Alertness. Same DP either way!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 5, 5, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Thomas Taylor] He just nods to her; it could be in response to the walking or running perhaps both. Thomas was a cautious creature as well, but he had a consuming wanderlust that often made him darling...rubber bands...his had snapped. He looks past her to the hall as his eyes glance upstairs ìYeah, Tommy ëad ëis fun pet, this is the part where Venkman legs it, trust me....î

Then there is the coldness, the feeling of being frozen. He takes a breath, when it is released it is frosted almost. Hands, cold hands like a child on his back. He had danced this tune before, the man run over, the child with teeth...so sharp, so sharp. It had entered him, made a void, emptied him and made him want to end it, the cold so bloody cold.

ìNot again...î He mumbles as he looks to Kage ìPet, sumthiní touched me, lemon to go...î He starts walking down the hall, so and steady with Kage by his side (Cannot leave her behind now).

[Thomas Taylor] But Kage had her vision, her sight, her spirit sight and see can see what seems to be an 8 year old girl, stood behind Thomas. She was like a black and white picture save for a splash of red. She was short with long black ponytails, a dirty (grey) dress is on her. Older than now, younger than the 50ís. Perhaps the 60ís or 70ís. She is carrying a teddy bear, it was rag eaten and maggots can been seen spilling from its belly as a spectral snake moves from his mouth through the moth eaten bears eyes (The buttons long fallen off). She has on her finger a drop of red blood, so bright the only colour on her as she licks it, dead eyes light up and she speaks, but Kage cannot hear her just watch her lips.

Kage could read them clearly, she mouths ìTastes like strawberries...î Then she raises a daintily little finger and places it over the groove in her lips. ìSushî She mouths as she moves past Thomas touch his belt and she does not walk out the other side.
to†K. R. J.

[K. R. J.] [Manip+Subterfuge: Don't look creeped out, man!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 5 (Botch x 1 at target 6)

[K. R. J.] [...How expressively creeped out -are- you? Char+Exp!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[K. R. J.] Kage glances at Thomas when he says something touched him. Then her gaze shifts, to his back; stays for a quiet moment. There is a child there who is dead. He doesn't see her, although he feels her; the cold that knives under his warm flesh and lays against his bones. Kage sees her, the dead-thing, and although she tries to just look ahead again, nothing to see there, it's fine, she doesn't manage it. Kage shudders, and her dreading-something gaze meets Thomas's for a silent second. Says it all, Something horrifying, just there, at your back, and now more horrifying, gone. She takes him by the crook of his elbow, and pulls him a little more quickly down the hall. There's a door, falling off its hinges.

Beyond the door, there's a pool. The pool is empty; there's no water in it at all, just a spiderwebbery of cracks. They'd see those cracks, if they looked more closely. Cracks, and some rainwater, gathering into brackish, dark-shadow patches of puddles: unclean thing, puddling, pooling. The place is trashed: it looks as if people have been partying here, or as if people have been stocking for the apocalypse, and then forced to abandon their apocalypse-stock right quickly.

The air feels sweet, after the close confines of the hotel. The hotel sags around the pool, and there's still fences to be escaping, still an outside hallway to be pushing through, anything to get back to the car-park -- right? Thomas's awareness still pulses, that there's something unusual in the pool: not a spirit, just a temporary singing-thing, quintessence. Beginning to diminish; the moon is a hook.

[Thomas Taylor] ((Willpower, I am not scared, it will all be Dandy....right?))
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 6, 6, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Thomas Taylor] He felt something cold, that void he felt before threatening to overwhelm him. He meets Kages eyes and her horror says it all, he could just imagine it now, an army of bullied kids behind him, all wanting revenge for being pushed, pulled or dragged; made to touch the pond. An army all seeking revenge on the closet living thing that represents that pain and rage...him. He does not know how many Kage has seen and for a moment his face is blank, hollow in that silent second.

Then he snorts defiantly, his cheeks hollow and he almost pouts in protest ìJoy ridiní me, not fuckiní likely.î He had will this one, the wandering magician, the hollow plague. She takes his elbow and he moves with her outside by Fonz pond. There were shoes, trash, they could even see a bit of a shopping trolley upside down one wheel refusing to be sucked under (Or there as bait perhaps)

Then there is a thing, magic pure and simple...the pool had power (Perhaps it always did, perhaps just now) as he looks to Kage ìíkay, I was expectiní demon kids you?î A small grin, humour.

[K. R. J.] The pool is something special; at least for now. This won't last. Kage, glancing over her shoulder, back at the hotel [and is that a shadow, human-shaped? Child-sized, pressing against the door? Cold-handed? Yes. Yes it is; it isn't imagination]. Thomas's breath is normal, again. Doesn't fog, doesn't mist. His knee aches, just the same. He feels frost-bitten, but unbullied, un-hag-rid, and Kage --

Kage flicks her gaze back to the Hollower, who is much, much taller than she, and she gives him one of her rare smiles, something radiant, something luminous, something sharp and lovely, gorgeous -- because hey, they are both alive. That lasts for a flicker of a moment: then it becomes a shade wry (still lovely), easy humor, right back atcha: "Maybe. But if they swarm us now, I'm going to tell the story like Thomas jinxed us."

A beat. And, "Do you need a moment?" With the pool, magic pure and simple. All juiced up. Kage lets Thomas's elbow go, and cuts a narrow circuit around the pool, studying it cautiously, inquisitively. A window opens, slams shut. Wind. That's all.

[Thomas Taylor] He looks down on the smaller woman; he was getting use to this looking down at the female mage population. Of course Kage entered a rare bracket currently occupied by one, the red haired mages. She smiles, he smiles, as bright as he smile gets she cannot help but feel Thomas could take it all, consume all that radiant, luminous...if she was the radiant core of a star he was the back hole that was at the end, gnawing, consuming so much even light ever escaped. He winks as she lets go of him and he cuts a narrow circuit around the other side of the pool.

ìA moment to wat pet, wack one out, ëave a piss?î It was all humour, sick and dark but humour as he looks around ìYer seeiní dead folks, donít say yer not.î His hand comes up and points at her, back then in the hotel her eyes were looking past him not to him. He looks to the pond ìCud be dark, full of ëate an torment...î

[K. R. J.] "Want to see them as well?" Kage says, by way of offering. Her tone says, Because she'll show him, if he really wants to. The rest of his response, for the most part, gets a smirk. And there, on the other side of the pool, there's a gap in the hotel buildings, and a little chain fence, heaps of boxes in front of, and on the other side of the chain fence [more trash, a mountain to climb over, careful now, careful nothing grabs you from the dark gaps of the trash heap], the car-park. Kage heads that way, but also: "It doesn't feel like it's full of hate and torment. Could be, though. And a bitter brew to quaff, so to speak."

[Thomas Taylor] He nods, he stops a moment to touch his leg. He felt a tinge of something then, like perhaps a child and put it finger in to the wound...Tastes like strawberries. He stands straight and walks on over to the chain fence...does not look that bad he thinks, a hop skip and a jump and there in the car park. He looks over his shoulder ìPet you ëport back, Iíll be there in a jiffy.î And he agrees about the pool, the magic the bitter sweet pill it must be.

[Thomas Taylor] Kage however can see that little girl following Thomas, she skips over by the pool and as he stops and feels his knee she can indeed see her stick her finger in and pull it out, red like candy as she licks her finger then feeds but a drop to her bear that now seems to be moving in her arms squirming (No thatís the maggots)
to†K. R. J.

[Thomas Taylor] ((Dex & Alth, there is some time taking to be had, bloody knee here you know))
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 5, 7, 8, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[K. R. J.] [Ditto, man. Not gonna teleport. Reality didn't kick my ass that one time.]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 9, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[K. R. J.] Kage -- well; she shivers. The shiver is fine; salt-fine, dust-fine: fine. Not because it's cold. Not at all. The corners of her mouth turn down, the shadow of a frown, and she says, "You should clean your knee right away, Thomas. Get the blood off of you." He suggests that she teleport; to that suggestion, there's just a shake of her head -- a brief, rueful touch of something, to her mouth, see, just like that, and this: "Didn't anyone tell you, Chicago is crawling with mirrorshades? 'Caution' is the watchword."

Thomas gets over the fence first. Kage follows. Thomas -- well. Maybe he does acrobatics. Kage just manages to make it. Absolutely no finesse, and she was being careful. When she lands on the ground, outside of the hotel, she shoves her hands into the pockets of her jeans, and stares hard at the air around the Hollower, 'lest he truly have gained a haunt.

That, and walking away from the hotel, takes her attention pretty much up, so there's nothing else said just yet.

[Thomas Taylor] Thomas smirks, mirrorshades, caution. He nods as they both make the fence climb. Thomas did football, allot of it, plus running, fighting, not acrobatics but you would not imagine it watching him go. All feet moving like quick silver, even as the garbage moves around him he keeps his balance, he practically glides down the other side on a plank of old wood like a surf board. He looks back to Kage when he is at the bottom, never leave a man behind and all that.

As for the cleaning of the knee, no not yet, getting away first.

[Thomas Taylor] Kage seeís the girl go after him, try and keep up at first it seems like a game, all wicked glee and hungry eyes but she just cannot keep it, the girl gets to the top of the garbage and it happens...she drops her bear.

The falls through the garbage of course, it was a spirit, an imagined thing not real, not solid. The girl looks upset, she screams as red crimson blood pours from her eyes, she falls to her knees the bloody forced through childrenís fingers as she cries for mommy then vanishes.
to†K. R. J.

[K. R. J.] It's sad, the crying child. Thomas hears it, too: a keening in the wind; something distant. To Thomas, the sound of the girl crying sounds like a girl crying somewhere inside the hotel. It's all wrong, reverb, echoing. When they're far enough away from the hotel, when Kage's big badass black truck is on sight again, Kage gives Thomas a side-glance, and then says: "Well, Tom Cat. Was a pleasure. If we substitute the word 'interesting' for pleasure. Sentiment remains the same."

[Thomas Taylor] Now he looks at his knee, cigarette placed in his lips as he looks down, bringing up a bloody hand then looks to Kage as his other hand (Still bloody) goes into his pocket pulls out a zippo and lights his fire stick. ìAye pet, was a bit of a slap an a tickle, Iíd shake yer germans, but am a bit red...î He holds up both hands, cuts and scrapes over both, red raw. ìBut it was nice to finally meet ya, you ever want sumone to go around do this urban legend crap with, give Tommy a call, I live for this shit...î He smirks, grins as he half turns ready to be on his way...ready to wander.

[K. R. J.] "Here," Kage says, and she hands Thomas a business card. K. R. Jakes and an e-mail and a telephone number. "I'll see you around. Careful now." And then Kage? Kage is getting in her big back truck, and Kage is driving it away. Turning on music, too. Playing it loud. A Well Respected Man by the Kinks.

The wind kicks up, higher, highest, high-unto-highness.
And the car park is abandoned

(lonely)
again.

[Thomas Taylor] Thomas snorts, head held high as Kage music is playing in the distance he picks up his own tune, voice out loud. A football chant, they know he was hear they'd hear him but then he'd be gone, wandered back out like he came in.

[K. R. J.] [roll credits!]