Roleplaying
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Seminars
| When: | 9 March 2005 |
| Who: | Edward, Kacela, Nicodemus, Uzal |
| What: | After practicing her newest Song in church, Kacela tries to get a better grip on the motivations of Nicodemus, earning scrutiny from others in response to the strength of her 'performance'. |
Midtown - Austin
Midtown is a mix of government, schools, and parks. Right in the center of Midtown is the University of Texas at Austin. It's an impressively large campus that has buildings all over this section of the city. The governmental buildings surrounding the Capital and it's massive lawn bustle with people moving to and fro. Being the Capital of the state itself, the State Senate and Capital Buildings are always open to the public, twenty-four hours a day.
It could easily be asked of some people, when they show up at a church, "What exactly possessed you to do that?" Some are driven by guilt, others have had an epiphany. St. Martin's Lutheran Church offers itself to Christians as a healing environment after being slighted by other congregations, and so, some that come here are in fact seeking to renew their ties with God. For Kacela to darken the grounds here, though, it takes an entirely differnt motive -- showing off. There's nothing too terribly unusual, she's dressed herself in usual business clothes as befitting a Wednesday service, although her choice of seating may raise some eyebrows. She's situated herself as closely as possible to the front. It's about fifteen minutes through the service, and she has her eyes closed, raptly singing along with the rest of the congregation in their hymnal, eyes closed, shoulders back, standing.
Nicholas Lyman is late for the service he was told he could not miss, not because a board meeting ran late, but because he only got Kacela's invitation before the opening hymn. Apparently, it is important enough to interrupt him at work with an unexpected cell phone call. So, the industrialists bursts through the archway, the church doors rocking back as if Lyman didn't know his own strength. His face takes the expression that many critics have tried to paint in the media, that of utter superiority and malice. With his aid trailing behind him, Lyman eyes the congregation, his jaw line tightening as if he felt like spitting. This disgust has nothing to do with Kacela's sudden invitation. In fact, while sitting down in the back, Lyman catches sight of her and manages a smile. It's the kind guys make from the front rows of strip clubs, urging the dancer to take off more. It's the rest of them that draw Lyman's ire.
The thunderous entry earns a few gasps and clucking of tongues from those closest to the door, although it's questionable just how much of the sound would carry in the atrium intended to seat over two thousand. The church is large, alright, yet another reason why Kacela chose it as her favored performance point. A sly glance is cast over her shoulder, and she gives a faintly approving smirk as she recognizes the form in far back. The congregation's swelling chorale dies down, and for a few moments, the pastor speaks, urging the congregation to make their weekly tithe. It's what Kacela's been waiting for, and as the pan begins to make its rounds, she follows the cue of the rest of those gathered for the more upbeat, contemporary service. A soulful, faint gospel influence tinges her inflection as she draws out some of the notes on "Night With Ebon Pinion". The notes take on a more fervent strength as her slim hands cup around the plate, and indeed, reality itself almost seems to quiver, briefly, as she casts in a few coins. She glances down towards a slightly balding, aging gentleman, flashing an indulgent smile.
Roll by Kacela: (1) (1) (6) [A medium to large disturbance is created by the song's success.]
Nicholas has come seeking a good show, some quality entertainment, and like a paying customer he is going to get comfortable. With his aid one row back, the industrialist stretches out, his arms reaching out to their full span overtop the backrest. As for his legs, he settles for resting one against the other knee for now. Still, it would be an easy transition to just kick both up on to the next pew. Hardly surprised by the notes from the symphony, Lyman keeps to his state of relaxation, absorbing the melody still that that smirk. It dies only for a moment, when another offering basket reaches him. Of course, he really isn't a paying customer, even if he intends to enjoy the show as one. Grabbing the basket roughly, he shoves it on to the nearest churchgoer. He has to settle his gaze on Kacela to smile again.
That's right, one of the richest men in Austin is unwilling to give a dime.
It could have been the geuine delight that Kacela possessed while singing that tune about the Son of God masochistically taking lumps for the ungrateful monkeys, it could have just been that she's done enough self-deluding to insert herself ever so briefly in the good graces of the Symphony. As the song rings out, she gives a faint shiver of delight at the harmonics she lucked upon, and then lapses into a speculative hum as she turns to watch the offering be grazed upon by the hands of happy and sour alike, young and old, hands after hands, mutliplied upon hands, continue to carry the item slowly towards the rear of the main section of the church. The sides go much faster, and its with only the utmost of discipline that Kacela manages to supress a snorted laugh. She begins to move towards the aisle, murmuring apologies about needing to use the restroom to the more quizzical looks she gets, remaining ever-gracious. Still humming, Kacela saunters towards the rear of the church, a telling gaze settling upon the lounging industrialist. Perhaps she's joined the ranks of sour biddies glaring at Nicodemus's show of disrespect, or perhaps she's just grown tired of caroling like a spoiled songbird.
Edward pulls up in his black BMW and even manages to find a parking spot about a block away from the church, the Disturbance still ringing in his ears. He steps out and pulls out a long heavy black coat wich he slips on against the cold. He also pops his trunk and pulls something out, something fairly heavy by the way he handles it. He slips whatever it is under his coat and starts following the echos, moving briskly.
At the glaring grannies and shocked soccer moms, Lyman offers an acknowledging wave. He whispers an apology, as if not wanting to disrupt the service any further. Still, it is loud enough for a soothing charm to emerge, "My apologies if my lateness offended. A busy day at the office, I'm sorry." But, what follows is immediate contradiction, as his eyes refuse the other churchgoers and meet Kacela's gaze as she rises from her seat. To go right back to offence, Lyman applauds the women and lets his voice rise back to its usual volume, "Quite the performance, my dear." His gaze goes after the basket she touched, "But, I'm still waiting for the fireworks." To the congregation, he would sound just like a child in those first years of formal schooling, still trying to grasp the concept of inside voices...just with an air of complete confidence.
"The die has been cast," she says, before drawing her lips slightly tight at the man's bluster. "Now come on before they start throwing things or something," she hssts out to him, although she says, "It's good to at least see you inside these holy walls, Mister Lyman." She cruises down the aisleway, perhaps seeking to retire from the gawking of those in the immediate vicinity, although she can't quite help but grin wide, just a little bit TOO sweetly, as she spies a few people raising their hands to their mouths or noses, be it to insert gum, stifle a yawn, or whatnot. "They will come, and in spades, within the next two days, of that you can be sure. Patience is a trait that we all must cultivate, whether we like it or not, you know that. Although, if you wish for something a bit more immediate in gratification, I must invite you to a chat over dinner. Maybe a churrascuro." Her tone's faintly chiding, and as she paces towards the foyer, she practically lights up at seeing Edward's presence. "Hello there? Have you come to enjoy the singing? You must be sure to contribute some to the Lord's work," she urges him, "Particuarly the middle section's, since that basket's still out."
Edward slips into the church, crossing himself as he does so. Then he blinks at Kacela as she abruptly speaks to him "Err, thank you miss." Then he does a double take, reconizing her as the woman who approched Lucifer last Friday and sucks ina sharp breath, his hand sliding under his coat. It drops to his side slowly as he glances around the church and say though gritted teeth "Not the first place I'd expect to find you." Still, he keeps his voice low so as not to draw attention and moves to one side so he's not standing in the doorway.
After Kacela has gone past his seat, Lyman swings his gaze back to his aid. "You're dismissed. I'll call my driver when I need a pick up," he states blandly, until adding warmly, "Have a good night." At that, he rises from his pew, shifting his back as if to savour some comfort. No, definitely not the hardwood of his seat, but the disgust of the people around him. He gives a curt nod to all the eyes, as if the apologize once more. There is good nature, something genuine, in his own eyes, until he turns after Kacela. With his back to the churchgoers, Lyman allows his lips to sink into a sneer. God, the best liar of all is still beating Nicodemus. Still, that will be corrected...perhaps over dinner today. "Dinner sounds lovely," Lyman says, catching up to Kacela at the doors, "Shall wander into the downtown area?" At Edward he gives a curt nod.
Kacela was rather entranced with the First Balseraph this past Friday night, and as such, doesn't immediately recognize Edward as he stands before her in the church foyer. It's a credit to his wisdom of not barging into a lair full of demons, and in fact escaping without detection on that night. She folds her hands in front of her trim belly, eyebrows arching. "The singing is nice. And it's a good way to get over the workweek hump. Why wouldn't I be here? Is it because I'm black? I realize the congregation's mostly white, but they're good people, and the Lord is colorblind," she asserts. Glancing back towards Nicodemus, she purrs out, "Downtown would be nice, yes..." At that point, she slips into an easy walk, easily followed by anyone who dared.
Edward lets out a soft breath and keeps his voice low "Yes, thank you for that information." He manages a smile "I'm sorry, I thought I reconized you from somewhere." With that he turns and strides out.
Lyman tracks the sudden departure of Edward from the church with a critical eye. When the man is out of earshot, the industrialist follows after Kacela, keeping to the same casual pace, "Did you know him?" The question is low, reeking of immediate suspicion from the industrialist. Still, his voice quickly brightens, "The man seemed a bit...put off, when he saw you. So, dinner. Where shall it be?" Through the conversation, Lyman scans the parking lot curiously, as he wonders who might be responding to Kacela's disturbance earlier.
Uzal slinks down the street, moving at a faster pace than his usual casual saunter, his violet eyes scanning the area. And there he catches sight of Kacela -- with Nicodemus. His eyebrows lift, and a slight smirk comes to his lips. Then he drops his pace back a bit, still keeping a covert watch on the pair, as he follows in their direction. He may not be a Djinn, but he's known a few, and learned some tracking tricks...
Kacela looks back towards Mister Lyman the Third, and says, "Oh, I thought that he was one of yours. Do you think that maybe he heard..." Instinctively, she sweeps her gaze across the area, as if making sure they were not descended upon by a brigade of blackwings. She trails off, before she says, "Then again, I annoy any number of white middle class types, given my day job with family services." She considers for a moment, stuffing hands deep in pockets, keeping apace with Nicodemus, but not displaying any contact with him -- perhaps it was just easier to navigate the sidewalks that way. As he asks for a place to eat, she ahs to herself. "I've been having a craving for papaya lately, and perhaps some mahi mahi... Roy's Hawaiian fusion?" She slides him a grin fitting of the cat that ate the canary -- someone had expensive tastes, certainly outside the budget of a simple social worker.
Uzal trails behind the two, hoping to cross that magic 10 yard line...
"That was my first thought," Lyman replies, not glancing back at his comrade or bothered much by her refusal to walk side by side. It can be a dangerous business being seen with public enemy number one in Austin and so, the industrialist seems to have mastered this form conversation. As if he were just observing the streets, Lyman seems unaware that Kacela is even behind him. Yet, he goes on, "Next time you decide to play with any congregations, notify me before hand. We'll try to find you adequate back up. Though, considering the level of organization on both sides here in Austin, we may find a lone angel wandering in to investigate." At this possibility a smile hits Lyman's face. He almost misses the battlefield, the direct confrontation. But that quickly passes, the lies and subterfuge are more fun. At the name of the restaurant, Lyman nods, "That's fine. Mmmm. Perhaps you should lead the way." With that said, the industrialist pauses, as if to check an address from the sidewalk.
The unspoken game of musical backstabbing chairs could easily go on for the entire night between the two. As Nicodemus slows, Kacela scowls, and turns upon her heel. "Well, don't hang THAT far back, I wouldn't want to lose you, I do walk fast. And what's with you abusing that poor sports car anyway? That thing's worth more than a lot of people make in one year," she teases out, as if seeking to change the conversation. "And lone would be fun. Could they possibly be that stupid, though?" She squints towards him, curious, but doesn't speak yet of what puzzles her. In due time, they find themselves at the warm, orange-lit grounds of the upscale restaurant.
Uzal continues trailing the two, looking like any other casual nighttime stroller. Another mild smirk touches his lips as he glimpses Kacela's scowl. With well-practiced steps he gauges the distance, close enough to catch their louder utterances.... yes. Now. He extends his perceptions, seeking the relationship between the pair.
Roll by Uzal: (4) (1) (6)
What the resonance tells the curious Uzal is quite an amusing tale of curiosity and distrust. What lies between these two is a primal recognition of the other's abilities and origins. They know enough of each other to know that they serve the same Superior, have each other's contact information, and meet regularly to jeer at the lesser beings of this universe. Despite those similarities, here is a circling, finely balanced, prickling berth between the two, that prevents them from knowing the other's band. It's a precarious balance, the same kind found between two competing top predators in an ecosystem -- one that could yield a staggering synergy should the two come to terms and realize the similarity of their ultimate goals, or one that could very quickly disintegrate into an ugly mess of self-destructive, cut-throat competition to be the best in the same niche -- sibling rivalry honed to a razored edge.
Lyman chuckles at the prospect of being left behind, "Oh, my dear. This body may be getting on in years, but I still keep it in decent shape. The boys like it when they see that I can still do my own dirty work." In case Kacela looks back at this, the industrialist throws a few quick jabs combined with short, precise breaths. But, it is then, when Kacela mentions a sports car, that it's Lyman's turn to frown. His arm comes back in just in time to shrug and the industrialist's eyes narrow questioningly. However, it clicks before Lyman can verbalize his question. "Oh, the RX8," he says, the light turning on, "Depends on how you look at it. I'd say I show it more love and attention. I drive it the way it was meant to be driven."
Uzal's smirk widens to a happy, amused smile as the Symphony yields its wealth of information. How intriguing. He continues following.
"Do your pour your own concrete shoes prior to dumping someone in the Colorado River, too?" coos out from Kacela upon spying his motions. "And rot, we both know you'll not age a spot unless you choose to." That last bit is said obliquely, as she casts her gaze towards the non-existant line at the restaurant, and ahs quietly to herself. "I think I can taste that mahi right now," she breathes out. As he mentions the car, she flashes a grin. "An interesting philosophy. How many miles and how much wind have you taken before realizing just how far you've gone in that thing, anyway?" She seems content enough with small talk for now. Mollification by her earlier success has dulled her eagerness to secure Nicodemus's failure in pleasing Lucifer -- for now. The clean scent of a high-temerature grill and fresh fish and ribs begins to fill the air as they await the hostess.
The happy Demon of Insubordination watches the two go inside. He waits a few minutes outside the door so that he won't bump into them when he goes in.
The conversation is put on hold as Kacela enters the restaurant and Lyman, a few steps behind, is left laughing heartily on the sidewalk. Once inside, he is bold enough to stand beside the social worker. "You have a wicked sense of humour," Lyman comments, laughter still glittering in his words. But, his voice quickly drops, to a note most dark and serious, "I never like to give away my favourite methods of dispatch." What goes unsaid is, you never know whom you might have to turn around and kill, so it's best not to ruin the surprise. Certainly, Lyman is thinking it and he doesn't rule out that his comrade is also considering it. As talk turns to the car again, the hostess, with menus under an arm, arrives and begins to lead the pair to their table. On the way, Lyman chuckles lightly, "I've only had it a few weeks. Lots of wind, not many miles. Yet." Sliding into the seat, he maintains his grin, "You know, you've been asking a lot of questions. Giving me all the opportunities to misrepresent myself. Please, tell me something about yourself."
After standing around for a few minutes, cracking his knuckles, Uzal enters. The hostess looks him up and down, noting his casual attire. Just before she opens her mouth to speak, Uzal offers her a warm, glittering smile. "I think I am dressed quite appropriately, don't you?"
Kacela coos out, "Oh, I can imagine you'd not want to incriminate yourself in public," she glosses over the matter, in a way lying for him to preserve the bucolic atmosphere between the two. Once seated, she crosses legs under the table, leaning forward in a hushed voice. "Tell you about myself, mm? And ruin all the fun?" She shrugs slightly, and then admirs, "I'm just happy to exist at this point, and pleasing those in charge is the best way to contiue that. Granted, WHO I have to answer to is an entirely different matter..." A faintly baleful air settles upon her, and body language suggests that it's not personal -- she just doesn't like the thought of being dominated. "You've been to Gehenna, lovely place. It was so much fun getting the damned souls to soul kill each other in a war to prove that their version of God was the right one, even if they had been forsaken by him." To the waitress, she gets right down to business, "Pinot grigrio, please."
The hostess blinks slightly, then nods, smiling back warmly. "Oh, of course. That black leather jacket looks rather suave on you," she compliments. He smiles back, "Thank you," not even bothering to smirk. He's so happy when humans agree with him. He follows the woman in, then points to a table, situated where he can watch Kacela and Nicodemus, from behind Nicodemus' back. The woman nods and leads him to it, and he settles down comfortably. Kacela, opposite from Nicodemus, is directly in Uzal's line of sight. Violet eyes shining brightly, he flashes a wide smile to her.
Lyman is still all smiles across the table. His relationship with this other demon, what is quickly becoming a partnership and a rivalry, is just so unique. What she says and does inspires such distrust and competition. Yet, Lyman cannot help but admire these same qualities and her ability to play the game. It is such enjoyable contradiction. "There is no offence taken," he says, raising a hand at the body language. The warmth from this comment is quickly overtaken by something stern. Not threatening, just stern. "But understand this, you will not have to fight for survival under my direction. We will all enjoy prosperity here, forge an Earthly capital for our armies to work out of. I would hope you'd be happy for more things than just existence." Then, another smile arrives and an encouraging gesture toward Kacela comes the industrialist, "I'd like to think you would do the same for me if you had the opportunity. Which you may have. He is merely considering me."
Lyman is still all smiles across the table. His relationship with this other demon, what is quickly becoming a partnership and a rivalry, is just so unique. What she says and does inspires such distrust and competition. Yet, Lyman cannot help but admire these same qualities and her ability to play the game. It is such enjoyable contradiction. "There is no offence taken," he says, raising a hand at the body language. The warmth from this comment is quickly overtaken by something stern. Not threatening, just stern. "But understand this, you will not have to fight for survival under my direction. We will all enjoy prosperity here, forge an Earthly capital for our armies to work out of. I would hope you'd be happy for more things than just existence." Then, another smile arrives and an encouraging gesture toward Kacela comes the industrialist, "I'd like to think you would do the same for me if you had the opportunity. Which you may have. He is merely considering me."
"The same for me," Lyman says, breaking from the conversation to fire an order at the waitress.
Kacela's gaze becomes a bit unfocused at the temerity of Uzal. "You've got stones the size of Rushmore," she projects to Uzal's location. A bit more softly, she says, "But then again, being the Morningstar's plaything would probably make anything ELSE seem trivial." At Lyman's description, she mmms to herself, "Don't say you can't, just do what you would do for me, eh? Sadly, the principle of 'you watch my back, and I'll be there to cover you' doesn't work very well in the real world." Another glance is cast towards Uzal, and she says to Nicodemus, "You know, I don't think I can do this right now. I think you're letting him tag along to irritate me into making false accusations, and we can't be having any of that, now can we?" She wrings the napkin in her hand, before coolly standing. "Try again another night, Mister Lyman. You'll find me more complicit once the title's solidified." WIthout even savoring the wine to come, she twists on one heel, and begins to cruise back through the door from whence she only so recently came.
Uzal keenly watches the interactions between the two, noting the body language, the smiles and sternness. Interesting, oh yes, intriguing. This demon who would rule all others will make a fitting adversary for Insubordination. And the other, the charming damsel -- what a delightful wild card. As he catches the name of 'Gehenna', his eyes narrow. Baal -- one of the tyrants he most direly hates, only after Asmodeus. His hand clenches under the table. Then, as Kacela speaks to him, he grins widely. Even though she's exposed him to Nicodemus, this is just /so/ amusing. He gives her a wink as she stands up to go, grinning and smirking cheerfully.
Twisting in his seat, Lyman turns to regard the snooping Uzal. "Back so soon?" he states dryly, apparently unfazed by the appearance of the insubordinate demon. "Really, he is too kind," the industrialist says, shaking his head as he waves for service. "Yes, you can cancel the wine and I'll need the food to go," he instructs the responding waitress. Before she can get to far, he adds, "Yes, I'm sorry to put you through the trouble. I just don't think I could enjoy myself here today." With those last words, a side glance goes to Uzal. That is until, Lyman turns back to eye him directly, "I suppose you overheard my hopes for Austin. You know, I had considered it being a haven for all of us to come together in cooperation. To unify our goals and achieve them. Until now. I forgot, there will have to be some exceptions. A pity you always wrap yourself up in such pettiness."
Hearing the foot steps and the rustling of plastic bags, Lyman rises to meet the waitress halfway. He grabs his meal, nods in dismal thanks to the service, and walks out of the restaurant. There is no look back to Uzal's table.
Uzal just smirks, like the cat who's been caught sitting at the mousehole watching the mice. Not looking at all disturbed, he settles back to enjoy a leisurely meal.
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