Roleplaying
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Seminars
| When: | 11 October 2004 |
| Who: | Alexander, Genevieve, Tyrr |
| What: | Alexander finally tracks down Genevieve to explain his earlier actions, only to find another Malakite waiting to deliver an edict regarding angelic action in the city. |
Back Room - Fado's
Tucked back along the far half of the second floor of Fado's lies an oversized break room, decorated in what can only be described as a highly stylized hunting lodge, complete with rich birch and pine parquet pattern inlaid on the floor. A large hand axe, its grip wrapped in deep brown leather, hangs on a plaque above doorway in such a way that it can be easily unmounted for actual use. A few sturdy tables provided by the best of urban outfitters feature gnarled oak legs and frames, and between their forest green cushioned seats and the trio of black suede couches on the far wall, provide room for about two dozen people. The few modern amenities include a sink for washing up and a kitchentte, along with a six foot wide plasma flatscreen television. Trophies from ethereal spirits, ornamentation with traditional clothing, and even a decapitated gorgon's head line the wood panelled walls, with the gilt and lapis inlaid flail and shepard's crook of Osiris as a feature centerpiece.
A pair of black boots, their laces haphazardly pulled from the eyelets, lie directly in the doorway. The faint trickle of water in the direction of the sink can be heard in the late afternoon, and Genevieve can be seen wringing out a small cloth before plastering it all over her left forearm. With a half-mutter and sigh, she raises one hand to place a second handful of papertowels to her left cheek, and pacing back to flop across one of the couches, flicking her normally bright eyes shut in a fair amount of pain as she swings one bare foot in the air. Rather large, angry red welts glisten in the light across her arms and face, even as she chews on her lower lip.
The door unlocks and lets in one of the few people with a key to the back room through. There's a rustling in the room that catches Tyrr's ear, making him immediately slide to a slight defensive stance as he looks over the room. Just about to reach up to the axe above his head, Tyrr catches sight of the short Ofanim lurking toward the couch with what looks like a fairly imflamed skin tone. "What the smeg happened to you?"
A discouraged squeak escapes from Genevieve as she looks up, one of the sheets clinging messily to her face. She puffs up her cheeks, and with a petulant glower, finally pulls away the wet paper to reveal the extent of her injuries. "I'll be okay by the end of the day. Mister Tevers gave me the day off. I'll be back at the store tomorrow, I really like that cockatoo too much to stay away..." A moment later, she mumbles, "Homeless dude, got riled up by some fucking fairy talking crap about how no one cared about him, and then pulled one of YOUR kind's Malakim-Be-Good specials on the surroundings. Including yours truly. Guy completely soaked the area with fire, including the one bastard, I *think* he was a demon, but I dunno. Could have just been some art student. ANYWAY... the cops showed up. And he disappeared, after showing off flaming green fists. I've seen that once or twice before," she gives Tyrr a pointed look.
A frown snaps across Tyrr's brow, not from the fact that a fight broke out, but the implication of Genevieve's words. "Wait. You /think/ he was a Demon? Did this Malakite know for certain himself?" Tyrr's not loosing his cool, his voice is dead stone right now, angry but calm. He's just one of those types to be calm up to his threshold then be the hurricane that destroys a small island. "What was this Malakite's name?"
Genevieve squints, and then emits a quiet 'ow' to herself as the swollen skin lances out in fresh pain in protest to the mobile motion. "I don't KNOW. He wasn't exactly you know, ALL there. And I was kind of BUSY having my flesh burned off my body. He used up some of his Essence to move through walls. Only WAY I knew it was a Malakim was because of the fire thing, although I've never seen you use QUITE that much..." She groans a bit, and then stands, pacing restlessly to dabble some more in the water pooled in the sink. "Damn, this hurts. Worse than cuts. I swear, burning and frostbite in this vessel..." She clamps her jaw shut, knowing full well that she didn't have any more useful information to provide.
It would seem Kronos's hand comes knocking as fate hearkens the door to be knocked from the other side just as Genevieve is talking. Tyrr's face is tight in consideration of what Gen's told him as he turns to check and see who is at the door. He told the floor manager not to disturb him unless the place was on fire so he could 'catch some sleep'. "I swear, Kurgan, if the place isn't already half burned down, I'm going to slam a bottle into your head," he says as he unbolts the lock and opens the door, only to see someone he's never seen before.
Alexander inclines his head to Tyrr, glancing over the man's shoulder to see if the woman who fled is in fact here. "Jason sent me back here. I said you would wish to see me - so I am here." He draws himself up, meeting the other's gaze with his oddly yellow eyes. "And as far as I am aware, this place is not on fire."
It's always interesting to get newcomers to the loft, if nothing else, so she could try to get them to do the 'Bloody Mary' mirror trick with the Gorgon head that was situated in the tropy lineup. Such as it is, Genevieve's chirrup of "Hello!" fades into wide eyed silence. A wet paper towel soaked with cooling water slops to the ground as she drops it in shock, and even as Alexander's words end, she simpers out, "Not on fire, YET. Were you planning on changing that?" She then immediately raspberries the homeless guy, before zipping behind the convenient width of Tyrr. Such as it were, it looked like she was healed up fairly well, perhaps moreso than should be expected of humankind.
"Jason sent you here, really? For what purpose?" The all business atmosphere that arises is simply a means to keep any noisy patrons or reporters away from the backroom. But Genevieve's outburst quickly breaks that causing a glare to form in Tyrr's eyes as he crosses his arms, "Ah. You." The words aren't friendly at all, as Tyrr reaches out a hand toward a seat now, "Sit."
Alexander sighs as Genevieve taunts him, and then raspberries him. "I deserve that," he comments to her dryly, returning the glare with an even look of his own. He steps into the room, moving towards the indicated seat. "I have come to apologize, explain, and perhaps repay for my... actions last night." He settles himself in the chair, regarding the big man who Jason has sent him to see. "My name is Alexander, if you care at all."
Genevieve seems to lay off a bit after the words are spoken. As far as she's concerned, the two weren't even there. She clambers up to the doorway, and pulls off the large hand axe, wobbling some with a half-formed smile upon her face as she then hefts it and carries it with her towards the rear, where a few pieces of aloe lie awaiting for her to mince them. The faint chop can be heard in the background as she listens in, but for now, she lets the menfolk do the talking, as it were.
A moment or two later, a rather rapt 'ahhh' emanates from her as she smears the greasy fluid from the plant along her face and arms. However, that doesn't keep her preoccupied for too long, and in the background, the faint sound of a small coin, namely, a dime, rolling across the floor tiling can be heard, ending in a metallic rattle as it twirls a few times and then flops on its side at the end of the roll.
Tyrr isn't even phased as Genevieve climbs up part of the door and takes his axe... yet again. "Alexander." He says the name as if he's adding your name on a list of some sort mentally. "I care who and what you are when I hear rather disturbing things about a Malakite who is a bit too gunho." Tyrr takes a seat in a chair across the table from Alexander, resting his elbows on the table as he clasps his hands, "So you want to tell me how you /knew/ that guy was a Demon, without question, right?"
Alexander shakes his head. "I don't. What I do know is that the rage I was gripped by was NOT my own." He meets Tyrr's gaze, not backing down a bit. "I've felt that before - and the demon that did it to me is very, very sorry that he did." The faint smile is grim. "As for the man in question... I cannot be fully certain, but he was there the entire time, inciting, pushing... and he touched me just before the rage hit me." Folding his arms, the homeless man leans back and glares at Tyrr. "I'm not happy about what I did. In fact, I'm very very upset. And whoever is responsible shows a cruel streak." The smile this time is much more feral. "And I suspect you know how we feel about that sort of thing."
"I know that the younger of our Choir are far more unrestrained than many would like to see at times. But yes, I know the feeling just as much as any of our kind does." Tyrr's eyes seem to lighten some from the anger that was there a few minutes ago as he digests the information he's been given. "Either Habbalite or someone who knows histeria. Interesting." But, that moment of off subject passes quickly as he unclasps his hands, leans back in his chair some; all the while firmly looking at Alexander, "That does not excuse the lack of restraint you had. Provocation or no. What if they were a human, do you know what that would have done to you? What it would have made me or someone else who works with me, do?" The question is rhetorical, as Tyrr continues, "You're quite obviously new in town, as this other person sounds. There is an uneasy truce for the moment in this city. One which serves us to build up our own move to cleanse the city. Do not disturb that truce again without prior consultations from me or one of the older Angels in this city. I don't care /who/ you serve either. There is a plan that will not be easily tossed aside."
"I will do so unless my lady orders otherwise," replies Alexander. "It is a matter of... honor. I do not know her purpose in sending me here, but she chose to do so." He frowns slightly. "As for my lack of... restraint - I was perfectly restrained until my mind was attacked - I didn't come here planning to start a massive war." He draws himself up. "But in the interest of peace, I... /request/ permission to find the one who did this, and fullfill my duty. Cruelty MUST be revenged."
A few more wobbling rolls and whirrs can be heard in the background, and truth be told, at this point, the burn marks on Genevieve have faded to the point of looking like a sunburn. From time to time, she casts a furtive glance towards Alexander and Tyrr, a mysterious glimmer of a smile teasing the corners of her thin lips. It was pleasant, after a fashion, to have someone else try Tyrr's patience. She chucks the squeezed out spongy leaves, and finally paces up to listen more intently. The shine of aloe, as well as the plant's scent, vaguely reminicscent of chicken noodle soup, clings to her. "Lady? Who?" Although between the fiery display and the use of the female noun, it wasn't hard to guess, but she enjoyed making a game out of making the unspoken spoken.
A sigh comes from Tyrr, obviously this conversation he's had quite a few times through the centuries. "Cruelty and Evil must be destroyed wherever we see it. What you need to understand and learn is that it does not always mean /right now/." A conversation he's had with mostly the younger Malakim. "Temperance is a virtue, and by our nature if you are ordered not strike, as I am doing so right now, you will be fine. You will endure the dissonance that it gives you till I say you are allowed to strike who did this to you. If anyone questions your dissonance, you will point them to me. Our task here in Austin can /not/ be let loose this early. There is a much greater evil to vanquish in this city than you know."
Alexander narrows his eyes as Tyrr orders him to accept dissonance in the interest of some plan he's hardly even aware of. He rises to his feet, glancing over at Genevieve. "I am willing to wait to destroy it - I know that much patience. But unless Gabriel, or one of HER Angels tells me my duty to punish the cruel is satisfied, then I will continue to hunt him down." His eyes burn with a zealous fire as he speaks, his shoulders up, not backing down in the least.
Genevieve looks vaguely horrified as Alexander settles his gaze on her. "Don't look at me like that!" she yelps out and raises arms. The two dimes are joined by a penny, and the trio of coins lie flat on the ground as she recoils. A few doe-eyed bats of her hazel gaze are sent Alexander's way, and she scoops up the axe, which looks ridiculously oversized in comparison to her, and just squints at him, her lower lip poked out slightly.
Tyrr can't help but smirk a bit as Alexander stands and becomes just a bit zealous, "I'm guessing Gabriel or Soldekai formed you directly instead of being a fledgling." Tyrr remains sitting, "Now, calm down and sit back down, Alexander, I am not your enemy. And as Michael has taken an interest in the city and requested angels from those in the Council who are his allies, you can expect that I'm doing the bidding of all of them as we work toward our goal." Tyrr reaches toward the middle of the table and grabs one of the apples in the bowl, "Would you care to give me some more details on exactly /what/ happened now?"
Alexander blinks at Genevieve, and raises his hands, palms out as he thumps back down in the seat. "I... yes. Gabriel formed me directly. I awoke to the glory of the flames, and..." He shakes himself slightly, dropping his gaze back down with a harrumph. "I was out begging - mostly to watch for people who are fond of abusing the homeless." Nodding towards Genevieve, Alexander continues, "She came and started going through my hat, counting up my money - I said a few sharp things to her, and she... offered advice. That's when this dark haired... smooth fellow walked up, and started talking about how she should leave me alone." Alex pauses, glancing up at Gen, shaking his head. "I went up to reassure her, bumping into him on the way past. And that's when the rage settled over me - rage at her for daring to try and help. It gets... unclear about then. But I sung flame into the crowd, searing both her, and the dark haired one. That's when I came to my senses, and fled the mortal authorities."
Genevieve looks up, and listens, nodding a bit, before sprawling out on the floor and spinning on small circles on her rump atop the well-waxed floor, her sock-covered toes wiggling slightly. She nods emphatically with each word, and shrugs slightly. "That's about right, Tyrr. And I already got told to not mess with the homeless people, so don't start. However..." She rocks backwards slightly, "There's a bit extra to add to it. One of the bricks in the wall behind him also kinda went all... crumbly and well blew up before Mista Alexander pulled out the flames. I don't think that's something that Habbalites do, though."
Tyrr's eyes cross as he shakes his head slightly at the recounting of the story. "Rage or not, natural or not, please for the love of Humanity do not ever throw fire into a crowd of unknowns. Gabriel, Michael, and a host of other of the Council will descend like the plague on you if you actually hurt that many humans." He holds up a hand as he figures Alexander may try and interject, "I know it wasn't your own fault. So do not bother to apologize again or get mad." Tyrr takes another bite from his apple, and is crude enough at the moment to speak at the same time, "But I'll tell you one thing Alexander, I don't think you have anything to worry about. Think about the conclusion of the situation for a minute."
Alexander considers for a moment, thoughtfully. He lifts his gaze upwards for a moment, as if in silent consultation. And then he laughs softly, and just a bit nastily. "I think I see your point. And... I do not feel the pull - the need to punish." He shakes his head slowly. "Even when angry, I am not so indiscriminate - but whatever it was that effected me made it nearly impossible to think. Do not mark this as an apology - I was and remain responsible. But it may provide a clue as to what was used against me." He smirks faintly. "We may be crazy - but we are not always stupid."
"Aht." Tyrr holds up a finger, pointing it at Alexander, "Speak for Fire's Malakite and not all of us. Not all of us serving War are nuts, thank you very much." Tyrr finally gets up and heads over to Genevieve, holding out his hand expectedly for his axe. "Just remember, Alexander, your current orders are to let evil sit for the next week. In the next few days I'll be explaining why, once I talk to Michael next."
Genevieve returns to dabbling the pieces of metal in tiny little twirling paths as she listens to the two. However, as Tyrr extends his hand, she emits a puff of air, causing her scorched bangs of air fluttering upwards. She swipes one of the paper towels over the blade's edge, removing the sticky smear of aloe, and presents it, handle-first, to the tall Malakite. "Here ya go, Mista Tyrr," she coos out, before breaking into a half giggle and half cringing away from any swats. She flicks one finger out, causing one of the dimes to hop and clatter towards Alexander's feet. If anyone were to look at the mint mark, it would say 1979 on it.
Alexander smirks again. "I was speaking of Fire's Servitors, not of my Choir. We have all heard the whispers, but we love her too much to pay them much heed." He nods his head at the orders. "I can wait for Michael's plan to come to fruition before I start my hunt in full - barring countermanding orders from Gabriel herself, of course." He glances down at the dime at his feet, glancing up at the woman. "I wanted to ask - why dimes and pennies?"
Tyrr squints as Genevieve blurts out the name and giggle, but refrains from trying to throttle her. He steps across the room and puts the blade up on the wall above the door again. "Good. As a note, you can come to Fado's at any time and knock on the door for safe harbor. If no one is here, hang out outside and let Kurgan know. He can get ahold of me at any time."
Finally, a question is directed to her. At the inquiry, Genevieve beams, "Well, it comes from the time when I was considering switching service to Jean. One of the Ofanim there pointed out something very neat about these." She becomes remarkably chatty at this point, primly picking up one of the favored coins, and pointing emphatically at its center. "They have a smaller circumference compared to quarters or nickels. And as such...." Her eyes sparkle, and she shares the reason raptly, as if she were imparting the secret to the universe, "They rotate more often for the same linear distance travelled when they're rolled! More motion," she chirps out, even as she catches Tyrr's glower with a sassy smirk, perhaps GENUINELY raising the question of how and why Tyrr does put up with her.
Alexander knows better than to inquire as to the working relationship between other Angels. Because Genevieve's words have finally pegged her as just that - but Fire gets enough questions along the lines of 'Why', that he's not going to go there. "Interesting. I didn't know that." He follows the path of the axe thoughtfully. "I'll remember. And when the time comes, I might just ask for one other thing." He smirks faintly. "I left my last sword in a Calabite. If you have one to spare when we act, I'd appreciate it. But for now, I should go. Need to start the fire for the other homeless veterans."
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