Log Info

Title: Plans
Emitter: -
Characters: Jerry, Alia s'Harien, Ian and Claire Hastings
NPCs: -
Place: Bitter Grounds, an old-style coffee shop near campus.
Time: May 03, 2010
Summary: Four kids get to talking in a coffee shop. Nothing to see here, move along.

Back in the day, places like this were Ian's haunts. Hot Topic tended to bring about too many hangers on for his group's liking, and though he hung with literal Witches, Libraries just ended up being damn… boring. Maggie had agreed to the coffee place as a compromise and the rest was history. Or… was that history of history? Ian didn't really care to dwell. But in this new city, in the midst of the neohuman storm, sometimes history made a decent port of call. Thus he was here the moment school was out. Seated in the middle of the shop, the young man found himself leaning forward, scribbling on a notepad - Poetry more likely or not. At his side was a guitar case, half slung on a nearby chair, and a black coffee. Yes, black. None of that mocha latte half blend double drip with a side of seaweed. Traditionalist, right here.

Of course it's not quite that easy to get somewhere first, at least not when someone who has just arrived at school didn't have to attend classes on her first day and went into town after orientation to find something to do. This is why a young girl dressed so distinctively as to only be one thing, a goth, sits over in the corner, flipping through the latest issue of 'Fangoria' magazine and occasionally sipping at her own coffee. In her case, she likes things a bit sweet so she's ordered a half-caff, raw sugar, double mocha caramel latte with whipped cream. It's clear she's been drinking it for a while as there is a nice deep, red lip mark on the edge of the cup. Sitting to her side, resting against her chair is her black backpack, a bit tattered but covered in buttons ranging from a NASA pin to a Hello Kitty badge and a few patches advertising bands like the Misfits and Depeche Mode. A pair of earbuds rest in her ears, connected to the black iPod resting on the table in front of her.

Alia wanders into the coffee shop, moving briskly over towards the counter. She waves at the barista, and orders a coffee with a triple-shot of espresso, taking off the headphones she had on. Her eyes flicker around, and she takes in Ian, then the goth-looking girl. Shrugging a bit to herself, she then considers, and gives into temptation. Temptation, in this case, being a slice of cheesecake. With that, she looks again towards Ian, looking curiously at him for a few moments as she waits for her coffee. Or really, caffeine reduced to a hot liquid form, with the shots that are in it…

Jerry likes his chocolate and coffee together too much to give it up completely, so his mocha is dark to the point of being almost bitter; last classes were a one-two punch of economics and civics, so he's here to unwind and just let that stuff ooze out of his ears as he gets come coffee. "Dude, hey," he says to Ian as he passes, double-takes, recognizing the other teen from campus. He reverses a chair and drops into it, arms supported on the high back, coffee plopped lightly on Ian's table.

Jerry spots New Girl, too, and gives her a smile, then a 'join-us' nod over to the table. More company, the better, apparently. To Ian: "Heard there's a band forming up, but can't find the lead; you heard anything?"

There was another reason Ian had chosen the coffee shop: The smells. The changes to his body had made him regenerative, which was pretty useful when one got a hand lopped off. Not so much when one wanted a caffeine high. This was the next best thing as he took a deep inhalation, eyes closing for a long moment. Perhaps a bit too long - for his head turns straight towards Jerry as the young man approached, as if his eyes were still taking in a scene. Very slowly each lid lifts as he regards the other young man for a moment, before mentioned with an offhand: "I heard that 'So You Wanna Be A Superhero' is filming on campus on Monday." Read in: Rumors were funny things. "But you're probably referring to Sunday Knight. Chick's a beast on vocals and on strings. Hell, probably a few other things as well with the way she acts." He shrugs then before his eyes tilt over to the Goth girl that Jerry pointed at, features smooth and unreadable. He hadn't exactly expected company, and so as he talks, the notepad is slowly slide to the side - Hopefully deftly enough that it wouldn't be noticed.

It's only then that he notices the second look from the girl at the counter. That brings a brow quirk in her direction, equal parts 'I caught you', and 'Either you think I'm pretty, or there's a coffee mustache on me right now.'. He makes a tilt of his head, inviting. Might as well make the group a little larger, right?

Claire looks up and closes her magazine with the rather lurid picture of the new Freddy Kreuger on the cover posing with his finger-blades painted red with wet, fake blood. She leans over and grabs her backpack before hefting it with a grunt and slinging it over her shoulder. She walks over, her shoulder a bit hunched, her rapidly cooling coffee in one hand and her iPod in the other before she shoves it into the left front pocket of her tight jeans and yanks the earbuds out of her ears. "Hey," she says in way of greeting, looking at Jerry, who was the one who invited her over. "Guess you guys all go to freak school to huh?" With that, she sits down at an available chair and sips at her drink, looking at everyone through her hair to hide her eyes.

Alia blinks a bit in surprise as she gets caught, then smiles a little sheepishly, retrieving her coffee and coming over to the table, "Freak school? I don't believe that is quite an accurate descriptor." She shrugs a little, looking over at Ian, "Oh, and hello… may I join the table?" She has a bit of a curious accent… almost Welsh sounding, and her words just seem a bit off, for some reason. She has a small backpack slung over her shoulder, as she looks around at the other three, eyebrow arching slightly at the picture of Freddy.

Jerry beams at the two girls as they come over, then reaches and gets the pad Ian is trying to sneak away, there, turns it and reads. Dark eyes quickly scan it, then he raises an eyebrow and flips it shut, slides it back to Ian. "Pretty damn good," he says, seriously. Then he beams again and takes a drink from his coffee. "Sure, settle in," he says to Alia. "And that would be one big 'yes', New Girl, which is not a bad codename but not much of a name. I'm Jerry," he says to Claire, and Alia. "What's up?"

Ian gestures to a nearby chair for Alia, but says little for another moment as the others settle in. For a moment, smells off coffee intersect with each's scent, each's unique identity imprinted and memorized as distinctly as a face. It all happens in a moment, before Reb opens his eyes for a second time. Only, it's not fast enough to stop Jerry from stealing his notebook. He does a fair job at being nonplused, the only hint of his desperation to hide the book only evident by the celerity it's stashed to a nearby Backpack. "I prefer unorthodox lifeform academy, myself. I'm all about the PC." Was he serious? By his expression, he was honest abe. Except for a moment later: "Or the Circus." The front pair of his chair legs become airborn as he tilts back, balancing without too much trouble. "Ian Stoker. Or Reb." Pause. "Or Mr. Stoker if you're feeling nasty." Yes, he was comfortable enough in his masculinity to para-quote Janet Jackson. And no, he didn't think this song was about him.

Ahem. Right. Back to the topic at hand. "So why the talks about bands, Jerry Mac?" He makes a slight gesture. "Cause a school like this, I figured the best way of chasing tail was laser breath, not a strong A-Flat bar. Or is it a legit inquiry?" A moment later, he changes gears. "I'm sure New Girl likes the name just fine, don't you?" His head tilts, regarding her for a moment, considering. "Don't mind the peanut gallery. I'm all cheek because I love." The eyes finally settle on Alia, most curious. "So, normally stare at random strangers?"

Claire hands the rather lurid magazine over to Alia when she notices her interest. "Here you go Encyclopedia Brown, I'm done with it anyway. That guy's no Robert Englund, that's for sure no matter how good he was in Watchmen." Taking another sip of her coffee, the goth grins a bit lopsidedly at Jerry before replying. "Naw, I'm Claire, my brand new codename is Voyeur. Nice t'meetcha." She's got the slightest hint of a Southern Accent but it's clear she's trying damn hard to hide it. Dropping her heavy backpack off her shoulder she takes a deep breath and sizes up Ian as he speaks. "Mr. Stoker… no relation to Bram I take it? Kind of like that name, 'The Circus'. Makes me feel like the 'rents sent me off to something a bit more fun than boarding school. Yeah, Jerry over there guessed it, this is my first day. Decided to spend my last bit of free time in town before I have to go to the conformity seminar tomorrow and get a uniform." She does seem a bit interested in the subject of a band forming at school, though it's clear she has a sneaking suspicion this involved flutes and band geeks more than guitars and big hair.

Alia shrugs a little, looking back at Ian, "Only the interesting ones. I thought I saw you on campus, but I was not sure about that." She steeples her fingers in front of her, "I am Alia s'Harien. Though sadly, I have little talent for music. It always is something that seems to just escape me." She follows the path of the book, but respects Ian's privacy enough not to pry, it seems, though she does ask a question back to Ian, "I wouldn't consider it staring, though if it offends you, I shall take care not to direct my eyes on you in the future." Her lips actually quirk in a faint smile, at that, as she looks a touch amused. "And it is good to meet you, Ian sr'Tohker, and you as well, Claire." Her eyes flicker back over to Claire, and she nods in a friendly way towards the other girl.

Jerry flashes a slight smile at Ian. "A legit inquiry," he say, toying with his stirrer for a second, mixing the coffee and chocolate shots some more. "And hey, it's way more fun than a boarding school. Boarding schools don't have to fend off alien invasions as part of detention. Anyway.. yeah. 'Voyeur' is cool. They keep wantin' to stick 'Shatter' on me, but that ain't gonna work for me," he says, keeping his voice low and casual. He gives a smile at Alia, considering. "Now, she has some Georgia Peach, and Ian hasn't got anything, but you're got.. some kinda accent I haven't heard before…"

Fun? Well, it wasn't exactly the reason Ian had ended up here. Quite the opposite, but that was a bit of personal information he wasn't yet willing to share with near strangers. Or friends even. Instead of dealing with that can of worms, he murmurs out: "Bram's my great greatish grand uncle." He said it straight true, but it didn't mean much in way of glib. Ian spat out the whimsical the same ways other people fact. Some called that lying - He just called it creative talking. Only, in this case it was true. He doesn't elaborate, instead looking back to Alia. This time the looks more quizzitive, as if he were trying to figure out a second time. It was something about the scent that caught his attention, though he kept the same expression the whole time. "Look all you want, Alia s'Harien." It's as fair a job as someone might get for the first time trying to pronounce the last name. "I don't mind. Just a good ice breaker. You don't know a person until you accuse 'em of being a voyeur. It's what my mom always told me." Lie. But a good connector to Claire's codename.

To Jerry he gives a slow nod of the head before: "There's been rumors. Haven't heard about a decent drummer boy —" Pause. "Or girl. But like I said, Sunday has the pipes for it and knows her way around a fret. I'm half decent. Who knows? I haven't been in on in years." Not since his sister died, at the very least. As for accent? He was from the south too. Tallahassee in fact - but anyone would tell you that Florida was the North of the south. So accentless. "My name was less chosen and more given." But does he give it? Not quite yet. But luckily the conversation goes right back to someone else! "It is an interesting accent," and smell, Alia. "Exotic. From around these parts?"

Claire shuts up when Jerry mentions her accent and almost nails the location. He's only off by a couple of states but still. She looks down, letting her hair hang in her face some more, trying to hide the blush creeping over her pale cheeks and really showing off the pale spots of concealer covering her most recent outbreak of acne. She does keep listening, resisting the urge to grab her earbuds and shove them back into her ears.

Alia mmms, "Well, I would be a bit surprised if you had. I'm from the area of… oh, let's say 128 Trianguli. I believe that is the label your astronomers have given the star." She does look a touch amused at Jerry's comment about fending off alien invasions. "We call the world Eisn, however. My parents have recently arrived as ambassadors to the United Nations." She takes a sip from her espresso-laden coffee, and considers, "I have only started school about a month ago, it is quite… different, than what I was expecting."

Jerry whistles softly at what Alia says, eyes almost glinting with curiosity. "Um, wow, sorry. Never met an off-worlder, before," he says, losing that Cool edge for a few moments. "Sweet. Remind me to sign on if you have a party at your 'rents place," he grins. He glances over to Claire, then looks again. "Voy, you scuttle down any further, you're gonna be looking at the floor." His own accent? Northern, rapid, snappy.

Nostrils flair for a moment as Ian snorts at something amusing to only him. Perhaps it was the sudden blush, or the Alien Party idea. Or an alien in their midst. He shouldn't be surprised really: If the Beast had taught him nothing, it taught him that he didn't know anything at all about the world — or universe. "Don't judge Earth schools on this one. Actually, natch that. Judge away. From what I seen it's about the same, save for the cheerleaders who can heft boulders. In the end it's life in relief - We are the planet's soap opera." Read in: Emotions jacked up to 11, a sure way to turn any event into a prime-time soap opera. "Welcome, none the less to the Freak Show within the Freak Show. Not that I shouldn't be doing much in the way of welcoming. I've been an inmate all of what? A week, week and a half." Reb looks to Claire then, and Jerry's comments. He opens mouth, and closes it again before shaking his head, instead letting out: "So. Anyone know what to do for fun in this town?" Yes. He was pointedly avoiding "The" question. That being, 'What are your powers?'

Claire looks up and offers a very nervous smile, trying to force the blush from her own cheeks by sheer force of will, which considering her will is pretty ease to do. She chuckles to release the tension and admits, "Sorry, I just really hate my accent. I'm from North Carolina, not Georgia. Little town called Missing Mile." Looking over to Alia, her eyes going a bit wider, the young woman seems to be seeing her for the very first time. "Seriously, you're from space? Whoa." Of course, Mr. Stoker admitting he is related to the famed Irish author of the most influential novel in the history of vampire books might make more of an impression on her if she hadn't just been informed she was sharing coffee and a table with a visitor from somewhere far beyond her little world. "What's it like… you know, your home?" For a moment, her facade slips in sheer wonder and her real accent slides out, rich and slow and oh so very Southern speaking of long hot Summers, swimming holes and Pulled Pork Sandwiches more than the dark and cultured appearance she tries to present.

Alia smiles slightly, "It is… well, beautiful. It actually is a real double-planet system. We colonized our other world some centuries ago, and it is just a majestic sight to see them orbiting each other." She hmms, "Not quite the same as your own double-planet system here. But thank you for the welcome, Reb." She sips her coffee again, "I am no musician, nor am I a cheerleader, but I have been thinking of trying out for the dance team. It seems quite similar to llaekh-ae'rl, and I have been taking dance classes here." She hmms, "I also have some holos of home, that I keep in my room back on campus."

"Lloyd Harbor, Long Island," Jerry offers. "Swimming pools, movie stars." He smiles a bit at Ian's more poetic comments, part of him off-balance from Alia's revelation. Claire, though.. "Nothing you got to be ashamed of," he says, voice low especially after her slip. He looks back to Alia, obviously curious as to the answer, and he whistles softly again. "Wow. I'm guessing that kinda system is pretty rare?" Apparently astronomy is one of the few classes he really pays attention to.

Ian's question, though, brings him back to Earth. "Lots of things, especially if you don't mind cutting down the local mook and wannabe population," he says with an easy smile. "Some good places to hang out. I was here last year, so I took the time to look around. Good table-and-booth theater not far from here, but we're officially too young to take advantage of their beers. Best hot dogs outside of New York, though. Good skate park if you're into that, and a good little independent music scene that kinda floats through five or six venues, at random."

Trying to hide her accent once again and covering it over with something approaching a more Northern tinge, the girl known as Voyeur looks to Ian when he mentions the locked indie music scene. "Really? Are there any clubs around here that let kids in or is it all 18 and over only? I really hate that. I've missed so many great bands on the rise because of age rules. Fortunately, well," she lowers her voice a bit more, "I have other ways of watching a good show than paying the cover charge." There's a tiny hint of pride and mischief as she says this last bit, totally unable to avoid hinting at the answer to that unavoidable question that hangs in the air.

Alia hmms, "I admit that I am rather fascinated by the music you have here. It's so different than back home, but in a good way." She glances over at Jerry, and nods, "It is. We have a few colony worlds as well, though I do not know this sk'eat thing." She looks over at Ian, as the terms he rattles off seem a bit unfamiliar to the young girl, "I think I might need a guide, more than I thought. I don't think my reference material has any of what you just said in it." She admits this with a rather sheepish expression, though she glances back at Claire at the comment of watching without paying, curiosity now plain on her features.

"Llaeh-ra-tum-la-wha?" Ian in the end decides to give up on trying to pronounce the words that come from Alia's mouth. Safer that way. He might be irreverent, but he wasn't about to be deeply insulting to someone he just met. Unless they were stupid, and Alia, Jerry and Claire were anything but. When the music talk gets heated up, he visibly perks for perhaps the first time in this visit. "Please, good music belongs to all, not just the legal crowd. It's why god invented bribery and a good fake ID." His hand flicks, and out of seemingly nowhere, his ID appears between fingers before slipping away again. A parlor trick, but it was useful in these rare occasions of first meetings. "Tell you what. This weekend, we'll go find ourselves a good band." He looks to Jerry a moment, pondering and thoughtful. "Hell, if this place got an indie scene there's bound to be a battle of the bands too. I've been gettin' that itch again to play in front of someone." It's only then he catches Claire's innuendo. Other ways? "Let me guess, the ability to spontaneously generate money." And yes, that last bit is just a bit too glib. He knows better, but life was about leading questions.

Claire shakes her head but seems really excited about the idea of going out with people for the weekend and seeing a show. "God, I wish that was what I could do. That would be the ultimate you know, unlimited funds at the tip of your fingers but no, that's not what I do. I see things. From a long way away. I could tell you what's going on on the Moon right now if I wanted to. Yeah, that far away." She gets a little more animated as she talks about herself, sitting up just a bit more straight, though she keeps her low tone, not wanting to really advertise in public what it is she can do. Looking back to Alia, she grins wide and adds, "And if you want any help with exploring music, just let me know." Hefting her backpack, she opens the flap and reveals the contents, her laptop and about a hundred CDs all in their original cases. "I never go anywhere without my tunes."

Jerry nods back to Ian. "There is, and there are," he says. "Cool. I play guitar, sing; sounds like a plan, dude. This weekend, the four of us, let's get out and find a place. Yeah, there's some under-18 places but they're locked down a little too much, y'know? Most of these places, they're cool as long as you don't get caught passed out and shit," he says.

He looks to Alia. "Be more than glad to show you a skate park, and 'around' as well." Claire's comment about what she does gets his attention, and he just goes on and puts his cards on the table. "So what's your special thing?" he says to her, point blank. "Me? I can fly, but mostly, um, blow stuff up. A lot. Kinda gets away from me, sometimes."

Alia smiles at Claire, "I would appreciate that, truly. I can offer some digital translations of music from my world, as well, in trade." She then nods at Jerry, "Well, it seems like it might be fun. I am curious about this." Which is definitely a sign of trouble, if nothing else. Then she looks over at Ian, and hmmms, "Well, if it is acceptable, I can find my way inside of places I shouldn't be going…" She looks a touch uneasy, perhaps at the thought of being caught.

"Life's all about going places one oughtn't be. A man," Pause again. "Or woman is defined largely along the margins in which they Rebel. Plus, over 18 clubs usually don't have chaperones. Just bouncers." He shrugs and lets his chair fall back to the ground again, taking in as Jerry and Claire give their powers. To Jerry: "Blow shit up huh? Ahnold would be done proud. I foresee a career in politics." He lets a hint of a grin before shaking his head. "Vocals, at times. Screaming if necessary. I play a bit on the Git, or on 4 or 5Bass, but specialize on the Black 'n Whites." Keys - Piano. As for powers? Not saying much yet. Instead he diverts again to Claire again, curious. "So super binoculars? Telescopic sight?" Coy perhaps, or just as likely not too keen at reading between the lines. With Ian one never knows.

Grinning widely, Claire nods to Alia and makes plans to teach her all about modern music from the 60s on with special emphasis on Metal, Gothrock and Southern Alt-Rock. Of course, she listens to the other talk about their powers and doesn't fail to notice Ian skipping over his turn. She doesn't mention it for now, but makes a mental note to find out more later. "Oh, no. I, um, I can project my sight to other places. Some call it Remote Viewing, others call it ESP. I can also, kind of, see into the future and… into the minds of people. Don't worry though I can't change the way people think or anything, I can just tell what they are thinking, when I want to."

Jerry grins as Ian says his peice, obviously agreeing with him. He nods as Claire says what she does, and gets a thoughtful look in his eye, obviously thinking about how they'll get into a couple places over the weekend. That ends, though, when his watch beeps and he frowns. "Crap. Gotta get back to the school; switched out with a guy and now I have to feed his bio-chem experiment. I really don't think it'll start to break down all organic matter around it if I miss a turn, but I ain't findin' out. See you guys soon. Serious about showing you around," he flashes a smile at both girls, then he's outta there.

Alia considers, "That is something I had not considered, Reb…" She then glances over to Jerry, and gives him a slight smile, "Let me know about the skate park." Then she hmms, "Well, I can manipulate light. And turn insubstantial." Insert obvious joke here. "But I think dancing is the closest translation for the art that I practice. It isn't quite just that, however."

"So, wear at least swim trunks at all times. And avoid lurid thoughts of clandestine love affairs and furious masturbation. Got it." How Reb managed that entire statement so conversationally is a mystery. Perhaps his power? Who knew. Still, he subtly shifts, a slight more defensive. Not that he outright minded a telepath, but there were certain things in his head he thought better left there. The thought of it coming out.. well, it was rather disconcerting. All those thoughts lie underneath the current though, one of a dozen others. All soon buried by even more. As Jerry takes his exit, Ian gives a faux salute to the other fellow before turning back to the girls. "Light manipulation and EE-ES-PE. I would have to honestly say you guys got some nifty little abilities." And dangerous, but he doesn't mention that part. Odds are, they already knew that. "Anywho - If it isn't quite like dancing, care to elaborate?" He was curious, living a certain way as he had and never quite trying to find how other cultures experienced life. It held a certain interest.

Claire doesn't mention that she really has to concentrate to read anyone's mind. She does purse her lips a little as if in a pout, getting a bit frustrated that Ian won't share his powers. Still, she's not about to probe mentally. She just wants to get to know people like a normal girl and not let her ability get in the way. Looking back to Alia, she wants to hear the explanation about her not-dancing and finds the idea of being able to manipulate light and go place she shouldn't, which is waaaay cool in the opinion of a certain Freshman.

Alia blinks a bit at Ian, "Oh, well…" She looks a touch flustered at the latest comment, a hint of a blush touching her cheeks. Then she clears her throat a bit, "It is not just dancing, but also stylized combat, in a sense. If I had a sword, I could perhaps demonstrate, but I left it in my room." She tilts her head at Ian, "It really is best shown, more than anything else. Words do not quite describe it adequately."
If Ian notices the blush, he doesn't mention it, instead tilting his head to the side just lightly. Stylized combat? "Sounds like your people like their self defense." He even passes the chance to make another glib concept, shaking his head. Equal parts too easy, and too soon after he had caused a blush. "Like I said, ignore the cheek. People'v told me my mouth can get me in trouble. Then again, people also say I'd look good in guy-liner. So I tend to take it all with a grain of salt." Shifting his eyes to Claire, he notices the pursed lips, and again a brow quirks. "Displeased by something, Ms. Voyeur?"

Claire just decides to lay her cards on the table. "A bit," yeah, she's perturbed, she's letting the South invade her speech patterns again, "We tol' you about us and wha' we can do but you haven' told us anythin''bout yourself. Even yer name would be nice and yer powers. I mean, we're all sharin' here right, why can't you do the same? Or are ya scared a couple of girls might think bad of you for what yer powers are?" She chuckles, taunting an older student before she realizes that maybe, just maybe that isn't such a good idea but still, he hasn't shared much of anything about himself and that makes her uncomfortable, especially seeing as how she's given up more about herself than she is really happy with.

Alia shrugs slightly, "It does seem to be a common courtesy, Ian sr'Toker." She uses the full name, or her version of it, perhaps as a hint of formality, "We are all exchanging information, are we not? And my people value many things. Self-defense, honor, and mnhei'sahe above all else." She looks at Ian, arching a brow towards him, "It is entirely up to you what you reveal, of course."

It's a long moment in coming, but Ian levels a gaze at Claire for a moment, as if somehow he was peeling the layers of flesh and sinew aside to reveal the inner core the character of the girl so to speak. But then there's a soft chuckle, dry and semi mirthless. Only semi, however, with the rest given to ironic humor. He had made a promise to be more open, and even still it was only fair. He had a story, but so did others. And they all had their curses and lived in their own Electric Worry. Much as he pretended otherwise, he wasn't quite alone. "Mnhei'sahe?" He asks to Alia, as he leans forward, and with a click, pulling out a beat up acoustic guitar. "Actually, hold that thought."

Without much in the way of thought, his fingers run over the strings, plucking a haunting blues progression. "I learned this one in 'Nawlins while I was there. Interesting place, that city so close to both port and bayou. They have many legacies, and stories. I also got my name there my stake into this world under the world we like to know. While there I looked out for those that knew about things. One is of relevant interest. It came from a Mambo Lady." He pauses a moment, before hitting a resonant chord, the music playing foreshadow. "She say: Before time was time, there was a choice. In this choice there were two options. There was to Be, and there was Oblivion. Being was spoken and thus everything began anew. It was in this decision where Order took its roots. But Oblivion was always round the corner, ready to undo what was done. That Oblivion, it had many names, but it took many an age for it to form one of its liking. You know it, and so do I, for it is one that bit you good. It found the name Beast, that one. And you, my son be Le Nouveau Noir. Curse you be by that bite."

The strumming stops as he lets out a breath. "So, my name is Noir. Or The New Black if you go by the names thrown by Mambo Ladies, and Witch Women. And I am, for lack of a better words. A werewolf." There is a breath before Stoker lets himself strum again. "And no, the dude from Twilight ain't got shit on me."

Claire swallows and shrinks back just a bit at that look Ian gives her, swallowing hard and reaching for her backpack in a shock of sudden, unreasoning, primal fear that passes just as quickly when the man breaks into a chuckle. Of course, then he begins his tale and she finds herself drawn into it, the words, the images calling to her sense of the darkly romantic and love of the darkly occult. She leans forward, eyes wide as he strums and speaks, the music cutting her to the core as much as that glance did but more like a slow, steady progression rather than the sudden stab of fear. Then, he reveals his true nature and she finds her heart skipping a beat as she bites her bottom lip. He's a werewolf! The shock is apparent on her face.

Then he goes and ruins it by mentioning Twilight, which makes Claire sigh and shake her head. "That's not hard, those books are crap."

Alia, in contrast to Claire, doesn't shrink away at all. Perhaps it is just a question of cultural differences, but she seems fascinated by the tale from beginning to end. She listens, then nods slowly, "I have heard tales of these… fascinating. And mnhei'sahe… is hard to describe. It is many different things, depending on the situation, but it defines every one of us. Everyone has it, at least a bit, or else they are completely lost." She looks back at Ian, a smile sliding onto her lips at the mentioning of Twilight, "These books… these are supposed to be… popular, yes?"

"Two points to the Voyeur for Sense - and sensibility. If you can dislike those books, we have hope yet of being friends," Ian murmurs. He answers Alia's second first, thinking it better to open and shut the Pandora's box of Stephanie Meyers before it can unleash any more. "Popular? Yes. Inane? Definitely. It's the pussification of the occult. Some things were never meant to be tame. Man learned fear for a reason - In this world, where things like that really do exist, the worst thing one can do is give little pre-teens the thought that snuggling up to one is a good idea." All the while, the blues notes continue - slow and deliberate. Each tone resonant to the context of the conversation. He wasn't the best with the instrument, god knew, but he and it had an understanding. So it sang of bayou for a little while, with nary a slip. "And I believe here, that's similar to what we know as a Soul. You have it, until you sell it, or give it up for forfeit by playin' the games of the wicked and wrong." The strumming begins to fade before ceasing all together, the guitar spinning from Ian's lap as he places it against the case. "Sounds like your culture and ours got a bit of similarity, which makes me wonder. Do you guys have your own version of Lavern and Shirley?" Glib to the core. "So. Any other questions? I promise no subject is taboo. Really." All part of the opening up thing.

The teenage goth cannot help but add her own comment about the aforementioned book series, which she will NEVER mention by name. "One thing you will quickly learn on Earth is that popular does not often equal good. How else would you explain the record sales of pap like Britney Spears and Lady Gaga or the monetary earnings of films based on toys from 25 years ago directed by no talent hacks masturbating," she only uses the word because Ian did it first earlier in the conversation, "over his massive explosions like a middle aged man-child. There is an old axiom that 90 percent of everything is crap and I can no more argue with that than I can argue with Ian's assertion that glorifying, glamorizing and neutering the very figures of darkness and the unknown that wait to prey on the unwary and naive seems more like a plot concocted by the fiends themselves to lure in more victims than the innocent tweeny porn it seems to be." She blinks at her own words and then looks back to Ian, "No offense about all that. I was… just getting caught up in the moment."
She gathers her thoughts again before continuing, "And um… well… I guess the question that comes to mind would be are all the old legends true about the moon and silver?"

Alia blinks in surprise, then nods, "Well, you certainly seem to have your own sense of the Ruling Passion, this is true. Though some parts of it seem to be quite lacking in your culture as a whole. You have… factories dumping things into water and oil spills, and you aren't even executing the criminals responsible for such abhorrent behavior!" She gets a bit heated herself, "You only have one planet for the moment, you need to preserve it!" Then she takes a deep breath, calming down, "Forgive me, sometimes the culture shock is… jarring." She glances curiously at Ian, "Though I do not know of this L'vrn and Shr'lie. Are they older leaders of this world?"

"De nada. Eloquent even," he murmurs in Claire's direction. And indeed, it's only half glib. "Though I do tend to think it was less Fiendish in origin as much as a sexually frustrated housewife." And shame on Claire! Do as Reb say, not as he do! He's a potty mouth! Le shrug before he looks to Alia with the slightest of brows. Executing polluters? That sounded very Earth Liberation Front, but then again different cultures. "You'll find here a lot of bad things are gotten away with. It's the marvelous system called due process. It's ze mindset of: 'Better 100 guilty men go free than 1 innocent man paying a price.' At least in theory. Usually just ends up that the highest paid folk, often the ones who dump for large profits get off while the poorer folk end up getting the wrap just to get by." And then Alia mentions the leader thing… and Ian begins to laugh - the first time he actually breaks into a mirthful expression. After a few moments, he finally lets out: "Nah. They were a television show back in the 70's. If only they were leaders. Then again… we do have Ahnold as the Governator." Pause. And reconsider. Perhaps that was going over Alia's head.

Claire snorts as Alia asks about Laverne and Shirley, then covers her mouth to hide her growing smile. She lifts her coffee cup to her lips and finishes the exceptionally cool drink in one gulp, making a slightly disgusted face as she gets a nice lump of congealed, damp sugar from the bottom. She swallows and tosses the cup into a nearby waste receptacle. "Well, maybe that's something we can work on in the future. Heroes uniting to take on those who threaten not just society but our entire world with their unrestrained greed and thoughtless… wow, I sound like Captain Commie there. Sorry." She shrugs and then her phone beeps at her. Leaning back in her seat, she fishes it out of the front left pocket of her jeans and flips it open. "Oh fudge," the teen mock-curses, "I hate to dash but I have to get back to the school." She grabs her bag and hefts it over her shoulder again, the CDs inside shifting and clattering against each other. "Oh, what dorms are you guys in? I'm in Rider."

Alia finishes her coffee, then nods, "I… see. How interesting, I might have to do some more research on this." She shakes her head at Ian, "If you know that these people did such crimes, then why do they go free? I respect the laws of this world, for it is mnhei'sahe to do so, but I have to wonder at the logic of some of them." She sighs, "But I think we should talk about this later, as I do have a dance class early in the morning, and I should rest in preparation for it." With that, she rises, and smiles slightly towards Claire and Ian, though the smile is a bit larger for the latter, "Good evening, and stay out of trouble." Her eyes dance a bit, before she takes her backpack and moves towards the exit. How did she find the time to finish her coffee and cheesecake with all the conversation… will remain a mystery to be solved later. She then pauses, and looks back towards Claire, "Oh, I'm in Taylor. You should come over, we can exchange music at some point." She gives Ian another curious look, then smiles to herself, making her way out of the coffeeshop.

"The problem is that. Logic. We can know all we want that someone's guilty. Unless we can prove it, it means shit." Not that he was complaining or nothing. He didn't see a much better way of things. Except eye for and eye, and that was only a personal policy. As the two girls begin to leave, Ian chuckles, and murmurs: "Oh I see. You get my deep dark secret and have to run." Glib again. For one, he knows better than that. And for two, it wasn't his deep dark secret. Not remotely. It was just an inconvenience, a curse that he didn't usually share because it tended to freak people out. Shaking the thought from his mind, he stands, leaving the coffee behind. "I'm Rider too." A fitting place, given the color motif of black and red. Did well for a wolf guy, didn't it? "We'll see about the club thing. I'll grab Jerry by the collar iffen I have to." There's the faux salute again before he kneels to put guitar in case, to prepare for his own exit. "It was good meetin' yeahs. Voyeur," he enjoyed that name. Fore and middle finger go to his eyes before he points at hers. "No using that mind voodoo to be scoping me when I'm writing now. That's Stoker's private time. Shower's fine, but a no-no on the writing time." He straightens then, catching Alia's smile. He returns it with the slightest of nods, and a half smirk. "Trouble? Now why would you think I ever got in trouble."

After all. He is just a kid who happened to be part monster. And she an alien with a clear view of what was right, in a very, very gray world. And she a young Goth who could see near everything. And the other one? Well he could blow shit up.

Trouble? Naw.

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