Lessons in Prime and Reason (Margot, The Doc)

Dr Sepulveda

[OOC: This post brought to you by a borrowed tablet and the world's tiniest Bluetooth keyboard.]

Sepúlveda knit his fingers together again like to keep himself from fidgeting as the youngest of them realizes she hasn't been keeping up. Or becomes overwhelmed. Or else loses track of what the Scientist is going on about.

Magic and science have been at odds with each other since the dawn of time. She's not wrong in the presumption that in order to learn the ways of her own craft she cannot learn from someone whose paradigm does not prescribe to primal ways of doing things. Not when his entire worldview revolves around the concept of progress.

No more mescal for the two of them. Him either. He's wound up enough as it is.

"Come," he says. "Come come, get your coats on."

If they're going to talk about dusty things like history and politics he wants to be outside while they do it. Pictionary and Astrophysics. They can exist in the same sentence sometimes.

Sepúlveda waits for the kids to collect their coats and leads them through the kitchen and out the back door. Slips his feet into a pair of banged-up old-man loafers on the way out into the yard and cloudless sky above.

His breath plumes. His hands go into the pockets. His eyes lift for theirs to do the same.

"So long as man has known darkness he has tried to light it. Yeah? And so long as the Awakened have known of others, they have tried to find ways to coexist. Some of those ways involve war. You ask two Awakened to describe, eh, say--"

He holds up a hand to indicate a constellation to the west. Thin fingers frame it in a thought he does not vocalize and then drag themselves down his beard.

"Well, there is the problem. Humans have no universal language. Never have. Possibly never will. Uniformity is not the ideal, eh? That we have differences, this is how we have evlution of ideas. The Traditions, this is the faction into which you two have found yourselves Awakening. There are others. The Technocracy is one of them. We fought in a very long war that ended when the Traditions lost in the year 2000. Then you have Nephandi, Marauders, Infernalists... people you never want to encounter. Their Avatars have inverted, or they are divorced from reality, or they have made deals with demons."

He is getting off track again.

"We'll come back to them later. Everyone you meet will wish to know if you belong to a tradition, and which one. Some ask because they are looking for their own tribe, so to speak, and others are paranoid, and they ask because they think if you are not with us, you are against us, and this is a crazy way of thinking, but it comes from a place of powerlessness, you understand. This is why I told you, when we first met, you were to tell those who ask that you are students of Doctor Sepúlveda of the Society of Ether, because I am known to the community for seventeen years and have a reputation and can vouch for you until such time you are initiated, and so on and so forth."

Though he clears his throat he does not give them time yet to interject.

"The Traditions make up what we call the Council of Nine. Nine Traditions for nine Spheres." He begins to count them off on his fingers. "For Correspondence, the Virtual Adepts. For Entropy, the Chakravanti. Euthanatos, we used to call them. They don't like that term much, not all of them believe their calling involves administration of the Good Death. Forces belongs to the Order of Hermes, but they have many Houses within their Traditiion and some of them specialize in other Spheres and I have heard rumors--" A breath. "I have heard rumors. Life, the Verbena." A glance to Margot. "Matter, the Society of Ether. Obviously the most intelligent and most talented and most good-looking of all the traditions, so we are, ah, difficult to join, without having read the Kitab al-Alacir before Awakening. Mind, the Akashayana. Akashic Brotherhood, but they have many women in their ranks, so 'Brotherhood' is not accurate. Prime, the Celestial Chorus. Spirit, the Kha'vadi .Dreamspeakers. And, ah, Time, the Sahajiya. Cult of Ecstasy."

He waggles his fingers and puts his hands back into the pockets of his cardigan.

"As I said, those who do not undergo an initiation to become part of a tradition, we call Disparates." He frowns. "I never liked this term." Anyway: "Some Disparates form Crafts, and these have their own names and Spheres for which they have an affinity, and they are very much like traditions which already exist, in some ways. In other ways, no. Other Disparates never find their tribe or they;re more comfortable, eh, owning the fact they choose not to subscribe to an ideology others share, and everyone calls them Orphans, themselves included." To Ned: "You, with drink being an instrument of focus, I would suspect would find your... Guide steering you towards the Sahajiya, but..."

A thought. He lets it go.

"Bah, you'll freeze before I have the chance to bore you to death."

Margot

Margot went and fetched coats from whatever closet or racked they were stored on and brought all three back to the living room.  She was glad to do so-- she felt sly for having escaped with aggravating the Doc well enough to drive them outside for fresh air, and with only one shot under her belt too.  Felt pretty proud for relying on being able to drive home tonight after all.

Once outside, Margot stood with a beanie pulled down over her head and ears and kept her hands in her coat pockets.  She stood still while listening, but looked up at the sky for much of the lecture about the traditions, eyes remaining there after having been directed in the first place.  She only looked back down again at the word Verbena, but that was only to make brief eye contact with their mentor before she found herself considering how the yard may look in the warmer months to come.  Next, to Ned when the Doc suggested he be aligned with the Sahajiya (Cult of Ecstacy?), pondering that on her own.  She hadn't stopped to think where her friend would end up, having been much too wrapped up in working her own shit out up to now.

"Look," Margot said and looked toward Sepúlveda once more.  "I'm not trying to bail out on you in a hurry or anything.  I appreciate what you've... y'know, helped with and all."  She was, of course, referring both to the information and structure he's provided thus far, as well as bailing her out of a stupid situation past midnight on a weeknight.

"But I don't think this has to be an exclusive relationship.  Like, how are we supposed to land on a Tradition without actually speaking with one of them?"

Dr Sepulveda

He's still looking up at the sky when Margot asks her question. He chews his lower lip and frowns before looking back over at her.

"'Exclusive'? Nah, girl, live your life. I don't do 'exclusive.'"

Says the man wearing a wedding band.

Margot

This is followed by a sigh that could be construed as long-suffering.  Chances are that she's had practice at it-- they don't really know much about her history after all, do they?

"Okay, good.  So how about helping me know how we're supposed to find people from the other Traditions?"

Dr Sepulveda

"Heh."

He scratches his beard then pats down his pockets in search of a pack of cigarettes.

"That depends. It's usually the other way around. My mentor, she--hah." They're in his hip pocket. He lights one before taking a step back from their young pink lungs and going on: "I know some people. They're not local. But Denver, she's always had Verbena and Chakravanti around. There was a Chantry here, couple years back, but the Technocrats burnt it down." A beat. A frown. "Where'd you say you're from?"

Ned

"Hold on."

He turns to look at Margot, brow perked and scrutinizing. Ned's been quiet since the shots and they had ventured out into the cold of the Denver streets. Sorting his thoughts out and forming new opinions over time. Now he's direct in interrupting the pair discussing terms.

"We talked about that." He doesn't make any bones about conversations Margot and he have had. "There is no guarantee outside of the Doc that others aren't going to try and be avidly manipulative and/or demanding. Don't you think we should at least get a basic understanding of the Traditions before courting? What about emnities between traditions or the threats the Doc is talking about? Even if he gives us names there's nothing to say those names will look at us or interact with us the same way they would with the Doc." He isn't infallible in his opinions in other words.

"Free education. It's what this is about. We're dealing with dangerous stuff and even if the Doc doesn't speak anything but Tech and Gizmos doesn't change the bare bones of what we're learning."

Margot

"Yeah, but I want to look into this Verbena thing."

Margot was quick to defend herself, and looked back to Ned with a small frown on her face.  She shook her head and took her hands out of her pockets.  Fished out a pair of cheap black gloves with them and pulled them on while she spoke further.

"I think we're both smart enough to know if somebody's trying to pull the wool over our eyes.  Or I'd like to hope we would have an idea of it.  I'm just saying, maybe a part of learning is taking more than just one class.  This isn't elementary school, after all."

Dr Sepulveda

Sepúlveda pulls a face they've seen in meme form on the Internet before. <I> Not bad. </I> Ned oscillates between impressing and aggravating him. Both of them do. Thus is the nature of an apprentice-mentor relationship.

He lets Margot tackle this one since she brought it on herself.

Ned

"We're both smart enough to know that ghosts don't like us, unless we've broken their necks. Being able to see or smell differently doesn't make us more badass and there are things people like him-" He points directly at the Doctor "-can do that you and I don't have any clue about. Power corrupts. Can see that everyday with those who hold onto paper and metal coins and call it profit or folks who believe in imaginary all-fathers living in the sky. Power corrupts,Margot. This is a whole new field of play and a whole new ballgame and until we know the rules we-" He pauses, catching himself in an analogy spiral. A deep breath taken because he can hear the agitation in his voice...concern? Irritability? The Alcohol? 

"In order to learn Calculus we have to learn how to add. Or even what numbers are. Right now I get 2 + 2, if that. You get 3 + 3 because unlike me you've seen what the...Paradox can do." A frown escapes him, turning now to face her fully, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. "Why don't you at least let the Doc explain more about how he views the Verbena and maybe describe the individuals he has had contact with from the Tradition. Form your own thoughts off those rather than just pluck at his Rolodex and hope the next guy has a care not to push you too much on what happened..."

Cause let's face it folks. Everyone and the next door neighbour's dog, knew Margot was having some avoidance issues. 

Margot

The irritability in Ned's voice was easy to notice, but Margot didn't think it unjustified.  For a 19-year-old girl who was being told she was wrong and reckless, she did a pretty admirable job of not puffing up defensively or cutting in to snap back and defend herself.  Her ears were hidden under her beanie so whatever they were doing was masked but her cheeks had bloomed pink patches on them that seemed very sudden to have anything to do with the cold.

All the same, by the time he was finishing up his caution with a warning of how she's bound to end up pushed for more details than she wants to give soon, especially if she goes asking around other Mages for advice, she was displeased regardless of how good a job she was doing of reigning in her own temper and pride.

"So, what, do you think all three of us are doomed for a path of corruption?"  Her nose wrinkled, bothered by the idea.  "Or should you and I just put down our instruments and give up now, to avoid the challenge of corruption altogether?"

Now, shaking her head, she continued.  "We're lucky we found Doc, and that the first guy we wandered after turned out to be him.  But come on, we can't go about this scared out of our wits and presuming the worst in everyone else.  I'm not saying that we should go and sniff out an Infernalist and get their point of view on the world.  I'm asking about <i>Traditions</i>, people with structure enough to be a part of something bigger, and with structure comes rules.  I wouldn't be surprised if one of those rules isn't 'try not to murder the new kids or we're never going to recruit anyone again'."

Then, with a sigh as though that was settled, she glanced almost sheepishly back at the Doc.  Like she just remembered that he'd asked something before she and Ned started getting into it, and that could be used as a change of subject.

"I'm from Maine."

Dr Sepulveda

Right now his question may seem like a non sequitur. If they come back to it it won't be until the conclusion of this train of thought if not the conclusion of the night itself. Not all of the answers he seeks present themselves on the night he asks and science has always been a lifelong endeavor for the ones who really want to change the world.

"A lot of Verbenae in Maine."

That's the end of that. In the meantime:

"We've been over this before, have we not? You two are so impatient!" He sounds amused. Charmed even in the way that abrasive men sound charmed when they aren't sure how else to sound. Like he's been watching toddlers try to navigate spiral stairs before they can even walk. "You want to shop around and learn about each of the nine traditions from someone in the tradition, this is what I'm hearing."

He pinches off the cherry of his consumed cigarette and blows out the dying breath. Pockets the filter. Maybe he'll use it for fuel later. The back yard is not littered with butts as one would expect from a habitual smoker.

"Okay, if I may interject a few minutes, I'm going to tell you a story: the Society of Ether began with the philosopher Aretus of Troy, who, it goes, became a pupil of refugees from Atlantis. Atlantis, as in the island which exists now only as an allegory of the hubris of nations, having sunk into the sea, supposedly. Supposedly, also, it had harnessed the Aether, which... I will explain later... but the society harnessed the Aether to its full potential, and then... sank. Aretus recorded what the refugees told him, and this became the Kitab al-Alacir. The Book of Ether. It survived the sacking of Troy because of Aretus's pupil Parmenesthes, and then later Aristotle, who translated Parmenesthes' recordings and from them deduced the fifth element.

"It remained forgotten in a library until the Arabs translated it, and two mages who became aware of its existence separately, Lorenzo Golo and Simon de Laurent, met together in Paris to try to decipher the book. This is where House Golo of the Order of Hermes came from. Twelfth century. The traditions are very very old, which makes them crotchety and hard to reason with or change. House Golo only lasted a couple decades because of internal problems... I'm not as familiar with the problems they had with House Verditius. The two later founded the Natural Philosophers' Guild.

"This is where the Order of Reason comes in. We know them now as the Technocratic Union, or the Technocracy. Golo and Laurent, they came into conflict with the Church during their studies, and Laurent was excommunicated for heresy, which led to the guild seeking a patron who could protect them from mortal religious authorities. Golo later died while attempting to create an airship, and the Natural Philosophers' Guild became known as the Voltarian Order sometime during the Victorian Age, and then later the Electrodyne Engineers, when the Order of Reason came together as the Technocratic Union, but there was a schism between the two when the Union moved against a Croatian named Nikolas Tesla."

He waves his hand.

"The point: throughout history you will hear stories of the Traditions and the Technocracy being or not being, and the Traditions and mortals working together or not working together. Some of the Traditions have fought against each other, in the case of the Akashayana and the Chakravanti, or the Chorus and the Society, as I just told you. The Order of Hermes has always had infighting and Houses rising and falling. There is an entire world of which you are only just becoming aware, and that's fine! There is nothing wrong with not knowing, or with not knowing what you don't know. But to go out into the world, and seek out members of these traditions, and to say to them 'We are new-Awakened, we don't know what the hell we're doing, we wish to know more before we make a decision,' you may find yourselves, ah, lucky, and those you meet will encourage this and find it all well and good. Others will not. If this is what you wish to do, to speak to others of the traditions you're interested in, I have people I can call. If not..." A beat. "Well, time. Practice. Experience. These are the things you need. You're going to get a little banged up while you're learning."

He pats his left shoulder with his right hand in an illustrative move maybe only Margot will understand. He almost lost his damned arm recently and he's been doing this for almost twenty years.

Ned

Ned's a bit flustered. Or maybe just a bit fed up as Margot rants off about where she wants to be and how she wants to go about it. Enough that his hands jam into his pockets and his frown doesn't falter or bleed away at her finalizing statement. He becomes internal for the Doc's speech, words filtering through his mood over the course of time, though many of the names and identities (Was that Indian he was speaking at some points?) go through without leaving much of an impression. Ned was never one for history lessons or classes.

It isn't until he gets tot he tail end of things, about the Technocracy and the Traditions. About how infighting happens, how there are complex politics and how claiming to be newly-awakened could potentially end badly. It might not? But Lucky was not something to count on. Ned didn't feel lucky. Exactly the opposite. It made him nod in affirmation, foot kicking gently at the edge of a rock.

"Last I checked, this thing that happened to us was a statement. Reality, or the Guide or whatever purposeful thing tapped us to wake up. It didn't hand us ultimate power and a destiny, just some new tools that I don't know how to use properly. Or even what the hell to use them for but..." And he glances at The Doc, lips and jaw tucking a little deeper into his high collar. "You said it wasn't a choice. We were sort of forced into it. If I have to deal with this non-choice thing I've got then I want to be prepared or as prepared as possible, before I go making choices or shaking hands with anyone. Faust, Gandalf or Caeser though they may be..."

Margot

Margot looked over to the Doc when he began his history lesson on his own Tradition.  Enlightenment, bestowed by the people of Atlantis who had tapped something powerful and knowing, passed down through survivors accounts into transcripts and translated a few times over.  They feuded with the church, but of course they did.  The Church was also founded by a several-times-over translated story recalled by survivors.  They were too alike to not disagree with one another.

But fighting existed within the traditions, and the point was they were trying their luck just floundering about seeking the next person who just happened to belong to a tradition that were to come along.  However, the Doc knew some people, and he could put in some phone calls if they wanted.  "That'd be nice," Margot added, but quieted down for him to keep going.

When he finished and Ned spoke up, Margot glanced to him, then down to the ground between the three of them as she listened.  He wanted to do his own thing, feel it out before letting any doctrines influence his own personal mantra.  She could respect that, but all the same...

Well, she didn't argue any further anyways.  Instead, Margot looked over to the Doc and brought up, out of left field:

"I got that rabbit, like you suggested.  His name is Yorick."

Dr Sepulveda

His eyebrows wing up. "Yorick." Not judgment. Delight. Thank you, Alcohol or innate hyperactivity or whatever it is that makes him act the way he acts. Some combination of substances and traits. The world is not black and white. "'A fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy.' Good name. I look forward to meeting him."

And when he inevitably dies they can use him for a practical lesson on reanimation. Brilliant.

As for Ned and his conundrum:

"May I make a suggestion?" He's going to anyway. "... actually, first, both of you." He jerks his head towards the house. "Come. I want to show you something."

They're going into the basement. Prepare yourselves.

Margot

Margot smiled a little bit at the doctor's praise in her choice of a name.  She was pretty pleased with herself too, especially since her initial name for him was going to be Albus but she decided she didn't want to be shouting Albus! into a goddamn graveyard while chasing rabbits who chased spirits any time soon.  Yorick seemed way more suited to such adventures.

The Doc wanted to make a suggestion, but he wanted to show it to them rather than just tell.  Margot was thankful for the opportunity to go back inside where it was warm, and glanced briefly--searchingly, really, in Ned's direction.  First, to give him the chance to walk in first so she could bring up the rear.  Second, to meet his eyes and ask silently, with a raise of eyebrows: We okay?

They'd end up back inside and paused at a door that opened into the basement.  Margot had read enough books and seen enough movies in her lifetime to know that basements were exactly where mad scientists kept shit like laboratories and floating Frankenstein projects.  She made an anxious face and hesitated, but would ultimately wind up going down the stairs along with them all the same.

Ned

Ned's attentions are...not present and accounted for during their exchange. He's lost in thought and considering something distant and indistinct to this moment. When the Doc calls for them to proceed back inside, intent on showing them something, his attention half-forms to catch it, digest what's expected of him and follow along at a clip that'll take up the rear.

Margot's glance is caught and it shakes him out of the reverie, pausing slightly to motion her forward in the Doc's wake, a quick smile flashing over his features. Whatever was bothering him or running through his head, didn't seem to register around her or about her. The smile was passive, but genuine and handled with the sort of care and dismissal one attributes to getting past or over it quickly and efficiently. Guilt, hurt feelings or otherwise were...irrelevant? Or problematic?

"So Atlantis was real. That mean there's a Kraken living on the bottom of the ocean somewhere?" He chuckles, obviously a joke. Then, as the front door opens and he considers it, it forces him to pause in the threshold and stare at the Doc's back. "Seriously, is there a Kraken out there?"

Dr Sepulveda

They go back in through the door that leads into the kitchen but instead of heading up and into warm he shoulders open a painted wooden door that has seen better days and reaches into the darkness to fumble on an overhead light. The shoestring attached to its cord wiggles with decaying energy for a few moments and then Sepúlveda leads them into the basement.

"Kraken?" he asks. "What do I look like, a malacologist? I have no idea. Probably."

A comforting thought for their trip to the Mad Scientist's library.

The basement itself is half finished and not intended to support human life. Storage mostly. It is cold down here but dry at least. The vestibule in which they find themselves has been turned into a library. Not a mundane library like they're like to find upstairs but a mystical and scientific one. Shelves line the walls and crammed into those shelves they may very well find something useful.

Straight ahead from the stairs is another door. He indicates the door with his ring-bearing hand.

"Never try to go in there," he says. "You don't belong in there, and the door knows this, and it will electrocute you if you try to pass through it." Anyway: "This is a library. Not like you'll find at the university or the public branch. A proper arcane library. Most of it pertains to Forces and Matter and Life, you know, physical Patterns, things of that nature, but... I have been meaning to learn Correspondence, myself, as I don't know it and I feel it would be useful. You're welcome to come over and use it whenever you'd like, provided I'm... well, I suppose I can give you keys. But I think this would be a useful exercise, yeah? Learning together? Not tonight, but, eh... going forward."

Looking at Ned even if the statement pertains to both of them: "You're welcome to practice using your tools here, as well."

Margot

Downstairs everything got Margot's careful regard, from the titles scribed on the spines of books visible to the door he indicated.  The door in particular got special regard, consideration for whatever quiltwork of protective magic may lay over the wood and hinges.  She wondered how that may look, through a scope of Seeing Resonance.  She bet that it was chilly to try to touch the knob.

He was thinking about using Correspondence, and Margot perked up.  She'd been considering this recently as well, for many of the rituals in the tiny cache of books that she owned took place from afar.  Concoctions and chants and what-have-you all taking place out in the woods or in the safety of your own kitchen with the wood of your table as the canvas and altar.  But the target?  Afar.  Anywhere in the world.  Curses were more insidious that way.

She had listed off to the side to look at one book in particular.  She'd plucked it off the shelf and cautiously flapped the pages, making sure they too wouldn't electrocute her before curiously opening to the title page.

"I'd like to learn about distance," she chimed in thoughtfully.

Ned

Ned's face drains a little at mention of a Kraken potentially existing, thus eliminating any need or requirement for him to ever go near the ocean ever again.

Ned's attention is everywhere at once. This is an arena that he and Margot share like-minds on. He pauses with the library, eyeballs the door briefly, lip vanishing between his teeth as he considers the length and space of it. Considers where the current might actually be running from and by extension, how to get around it. Cursory, hypothetical and safe considering he'd never make the effort to try (The safest dreams are the ones never to be).

The Doc offers his warnings and indications and Ned offers nods and acceptance in return. This was his realm and landscape, afterall. 

"I think exposure to information should proabably be done in tandem with someone else present. At least to begin with but...I would...be interested in exploring Distance as well. It seems like a solid extension of safety, precaution and planning." Ned doesn't follow Margot's immediate reaction to the books. He peruses but doesn't touch, reading titles to himself if any while frowning those without titles. 

"...But I'd like to hear about the Boogiemen, first." He turns, eyes hardlining toward the Doc. "You said you'd explain them and really, out of all of this, I want to know what I'm going up against. Traditions fighting are one thing, at least I have a hope of understanding them from the inside someday. I get the feeling if I'm on the inside circles of the others though, it's already too late."

Dr Sepulveda

This library is not yet set up to support group efforts but in time it may be. Their temporary mentor is a Disciple of Matter and an Initiate of Prime. If he decided he wanted to completely redecorate the place it would take some time but it would happen.

In the meantime there are a couple of banged-up old armchairs that have absorbed another's resonance. They are not consecrated but enough magick occurred there that they can hear the echoes of elemental and temperamental forces. Ned wants to hear about the boogiemen before he goes on speaking of history and things for which the two apprentices have no frame of reference.

The Etherite flops down into one of the armchairs and begins pulling what looks like detritus from his pockets. Paper clips and bits of paper and empty pill bottles. Idle as he does so.

"Yes," he says as his eyes are on his exploration of the contents of his own pockets, "once you undergo an initiation, the rest of the tradition tends to ostracize you if you decide you don't want to sit at their table anymore." The pill bottle loses its top and he begins to pack everything else he finds into it. "The universe is not all darkness, Ned."

A small unlabeled vial of clear fluid next. He removes a dropper from the vial and drips a bit of fluid into the pill bottle. That doesn't do what he wanted it to do.

"Son of a bitch," he says without enthusiasm. Does not give up yet. "And it's good for you to ask questions, but I think you also need to just... experience things. Open yourself up. Observe. Explore. Eh? I already told you, there isn't a handbook for this. What, in your life, have you ever tried to master and found yourself able to do so overnight?"

There it goes. A couple more drops of the clear fluid and the orange bottle full of pocket-junk becomes Quintessence. Pure Quintessence. A flickering will o' wisp of energy. He blinks and sits up straighter in the chair. Energy sure but it is the stuff of the universe and it will do as it damned well pleases if he isn't careful.

"Come here. Come here, look at this." His eyes leave its morphing color to find their faces. "I'll show you a boogieman in the morning. Quintessence, the stuff reality is made of, that's what this is."

Margot

Experience things, learn by doing, live life a little.  This was what the Doc was trying to tell them now.  They could stay there and talk and read until they were blue in the face and red in the eyes, but doing was how they really learned things.  Margot had to confess, she learned more about ghosts and what their binding laws of existence may be by her experiences in the frat house than she did from her two books on the subject tucked away onto a bookshelf at home.

When the Doc started messing with things including a dropper and a vial of fluid, Margot stilled and watched carefully.  Eyebrows lifted and eyes widened when the pill bottle began to glow.

When bade forward, Margot moved to the armchairs as well and took the bottle so she could peer inside.  Offered it to Ned after she'd taken a good look and swished it around just a little bit.

"It looks like Energy, and Everything.  What would happen if we touched that?  Or drank it?"

Ned

Once again, Ned is the more hesitant of them. He doesn't immediately approach the glowing container when offered for perusal but studies it from what must be a safe distance. Carefully, at that. Reality as they knew it was dependent on a number of variables and laws that before the awakening, they didn't fully grasp. That new rules had just been introduced contradicting the current laws or even subverting them made the foundations brand nee. New legs, new equilibrium and new respects. 

Operate like you're an infant, in need of education and process recognition.

Glowing pill bottles defined itself as potential hazard before they did actual benefit. The Doc's assurance was not proof of a law as much as it was assurance from a parent you could do this.

Reality vs assurance. Caution proved them both with minimal risk.

So Ned keeps his distance, sticking behind Margot to observe how it interacted with her and listened as she questioned. His frown had abated slightly in time for him to voice a single question of his own.

"What can be done with it?"

Dr. Sepulveda

"When you begin studying Prime, you can perceive and channel Quintessence. You'll find it in Nodes, Tass, Wonders, and Effects. You can use it to read others' resonance signatures, and absorb it into your own Pattern. As you learn to control Prime energies, you can divert it. Conjure new physical Patterns from thin air or, ah, enhance existing items so that they are stronger than they were. For protection and destruction both."

He considers the contents of the bottle. Shifts it a bit in his hand so that the flickering light washes against the inside of the plastic and then consumes it. The plastic disappears. Now the light is resting in the palm of his hand.

"It won't hurt you." As if Ned needs reassurance. He stands and holds out his palm if either of them want to try and touch it. "If you were to poke it, hold it in your hands, drink it, nothing would happen if you are not schooled in the Sphere. It would go back into the Tellurian. Reality. The Tellurian is everything. This includes our world, the spirit world, the world of dreams. You have to know what you're doing with it for it to be dangerous, eh?"

Margot

A short glance was cast over her shoulder when Ned came up behind her to peer past at the Quintessence.  Margot stared with wonder as the pill bottle vanished, eaten up by the light that it contained.  The sight of the little glowing orb in their teacher's hand had the young witch all wrapped up.  She leaned forward, one hand on one knee, and reached out slowly with the other hand with her index finger extended.  Paused just short of touching it and looked back up to Sepulveda.

"So if I touched it while you were holding it, it would just go back to a bottle filled with pocket refuge?"

She watched it thoughtfully, and added:  "I've sensed this before.  Went for a hike from one of the rest stops when I was driving out here, and I think I found one of those places you were talking about?  I thought I sensed it."

Update Time (Margot)

Ned
Ned's knocking on her door. Several raps, not exactly eager or nervous but genuinely loud enough to call on her should she be sleeping or showering. It goes once and would only come a second time if she didn't answer inside of thirty seconds or yell out that she was 'coming'.

She'd open the door to find Ned with his hands in jean pockets, jacket cinched tight against the cold outside, cheeks a bit flushed and eyes a bit wide.

"Hey. Update time."

Quick and to the point, he motions inside with a careful flick of a hand, moving past her threshold and reaching for the buttons of his coat.

"So the Doc and I are out on the town. I'm resisting the urge to use Analogies to explain my problems and he's being sarcastic when we go into Questor on Fifth. Little dive bar around the corner. We get inside and I'm looking for cheesie fries and there's this lady on a stool in a red jacket and the Doc's all "Hey look another Worker" and goes over to introduce himself..."

The jacket plops down across the back of the Sofa, his hands rubbing together for warmth, blown on between bouts of conversation.

"She gets a little weird, the Doc gets a little upfront-...he's just like that. Not just with us, apparently- and the pair square off and seem like they're almost ready to swear off one another permanently. A bit of paranoid fact-checking later...The Doc...pulled out this weird machine and the lady seemed to do the same on her phone....next thing I know she's introducing herself as a Mercurial Elite...or Virtual Adept as the Doc put it ."

He bends down to doff his shoes, plucking at the laces with slowly warming fingers.

"I ask her a bunch of stuff. What she can do, what she thinks of being what she is, what sleepers are like....and then she promptly turns to the Doc and warns him about the 'Technocrats' and the 'War' incoming...at which point I'm eating my cheesie fries and trying not to freak out because, War? We only just sorted out reality isn't all that it pretends to be!"

Shoes off, exhaling loudly, hands moving to scrub at his face.

"...And suddenly being on the ass end of this new lifestyle, with no real power to put to use, feels a whole lot more like we're destined for the Electric chair then any real sense of Destiny."

Finally coming up for Air, Ned turns to look at her, an apologetic smile on his face.

"How you doin'?"

Margot
Anxious knocking on one's door is an anxiety-inducing thing on its own.  Often times those quick-paced worried raps on the door had come from another particular set of knuckles before now, and she had to remind herself that the owner of those knuckles not only owned one less set now, but was also locked up on the actual other side of the country.

"Hold on," came the call from the other side of the door, and some dozen seconds or so later Margot appeared at the door.  Her hair was down and the side with the stronger part was swept behind an ear.  She was wearing a white tank top, an open black sweater, jeans, and socks to protect her feet from the cool hardwood floors of her apartment.  She looked surprised but relieved to see Ned standing on the other side of the door.  Ned was better than the landlord coming to give her hell for bringing a rabbit into the building when she shouldn't have.

"Hey," she greeted and invited him in, and didn't have room to say much else because Ned had updates and immediately launched himself into story while working on removing his shoes and coat both.  Margot stood back in the dead space of her small studio with her arms across her chest looking curious and listening well.  When he reached the part about war her brow creased with worry and thought but she didn't say anything and let him continue instead.

When he finally scrubbed his face and got his breath back from dumping information, Ned would find Margot with that worry on her face still, but already it was beginning to twist into doubt and skepticism.

"Why would this woman know more about the state of magical politics than the Doc does?  I mean, so she says there's war...  The Doc told us that the war with the Technocracy already ended, didn't he?"

But how was she doing?  She shrugged a shoulder and tried smiling back.  It was mostly successful, but clearly distracted and put up.  "I'm okay.  I saw the Doc yesterday too.  We didn't run into anyone, though."

Ned
"The Doc's pretty new here, isn't he? Maybe he hasn't been caught up to date with what anyone else knows. Hell, I'm not even sure who else is in the know or out there to be known."

Ned shrugs his way through the deluge of information he's laid out, already looking for a spot on her couch. Instead of sitting full, he pulls his legs up onto the couch to sit cross-legged, hands laid out on his knees and eyes focusing on some point on the coffee table. The burn mark Margot had left behind the last time he visited.

"He introduced himself and she did too and the Doc wasn't freaking out anymore than he normally did which suggests she was on the up and up. If not, a lack of threat. I'm inclined to believe her, because the Doc wasn't entirely unreceptive to the thought. They chatted a bit about things I wasn't clear on but...Yeah. Technocracy and War definitely got my attention."

He leans back on the couch, twisting to give her his attention.

"What have you been up to the last while? I haven't seen you for a bit."

Margot
The burn mark was left untouched, precisely as and where Ned would remember it.  Margot hadn't tried to cover it up, but was leaving it as a reminder when she sat to work or Work or think.  A black scorch in the dark wood of the tabletop, like a spot of acid dribbled from a beaker, telling her hey, this could have been you if you weren't careful.

While Ned sat himself cross-legged on her small loveseat that served as a couch in this cramped space, Margot remained standing on the other side of the coffee table with her arms still crossed over her chest.

"Huh," was all she had to say immediately after Ned further clarified.  Her brow was pinched with thought, and she looked away from her fellow Apprentice and past her right shoulder, through the glass pane in the door that went out to her tiny balcony.

She mused quietly to herself, then blinked and looked back to him when he asked after her.  It had been a little while since they'd spoken, he pointed out, and he was right.

"Ah...," she sounded hesitant, like she wasn't sure if she wanted to disclose or not, but realized soon as she made the sound that she'd already given away the game.  You couldn't go on pretending nothing bothered you after starting up like that.  So, with a relaxing of shoulders that came with unburdening them with confession, she tipped her head a little to the right and spoke with reluctance.

"I've been having an existential crisis, trying to process and sort all of this information and find where I'm supposed to be in it.  Where you're supposed to be in it."  She flicked her eyes back toward the door before continuing.  "Maybe this War with the Technocrats is real, and maybe it means something to me.  My Avatar might be a goddess of war.  Maybe that's where I fit in?

"But first," she shook her head and swallowed.  "I talked to the Doc, and I think I need to fix some things that I left back in Maine.  I don't know how yet, but still."

Ned
"Fix?"

Ned offers, though doesn't push farther than that. He seems to register the discomfort she has on her mind and much as he had been thus far, he doesnt prod or push her to sort out the details any. She'd come to it in time. They all did eventually.

"I'm of a mind to think that this life and brand new sort of existence, is one big Existential Crisis. According to the Doc, that's how we grow, right? Progress through our understanding of reality to achieve something greater than ourselves...or a greater self...or a self of greatness." Ned frowns. "Fuck how did he put it again?"

He's shaking his head, dismissing the thought.

"As far as you and I are concerned, we're on the same path. Different perspectives, but same path. I'm not beholden or waging a moral war with some Goddess or other, but there's something that needs solving in my life and I'm not going to get it by sitting around quietly waiting. Half of this is terrifying. The idea of a War, an enemy we don't know anything about yet and...well if you had seen the Doc and that lady...her name was Grace...They looked like they couldn't even be bothered with one another most of the time."

A pause. A frown to match her own.

"Way I see it, our type's not made to work together very often. Which makes you and me and the Doc, something a bit unique. He puts on fronts and airs about how much of a pain we are, but he's still here. That counts for something."

He glances back up at her.

"You still want to go and find some Old Maleficent witch type and get some answers? Or is that on pause?"

Margot
Fix?, he had asked, and Margot nodded to confirm.  But she seemed to be glad for a reason not to have to clarify further when Ned started talking about their existence and growth and paths and all of those philosophical things that you talked about when you could wield Reality its very self.

His last question had her pressing her lips together with displeasure, apparently not liking the idea of finding Old Maleficent.

"You know, I had something else in mind for who I was going to be talking to.  But I don't know."  She looked down at the spot on the coffee table from the short distance her height (or lack thereof) created from its surface and frowned.  "Because you're right.  About the The Doc, yourself and I."

She sighed a little and settled into quiet thought.  Glanced distractedly over her shoulder and offered a beverage, and whether he accepted one or not she went and got herself a beer (thank you Doc for the altered ID) from the fridge.  Came back and sat down beside him, either with her drink on her own or passing one off to him as well.

Only once she'd settled and taken a sip did she speak up again, sounding thoughtful and looking into the middle distance when she did.

"I feel like we need to get ready.  I didn't know what for earlier, but if this War is real?  I don't want to spend my life hiding."

Ned
"War." Ned repeats it.

"The idea doesn't...scare me as much as I thought it would. It's a purpose at least?" And Ned's frown returns, leaning out to catch the beer she offers with a nod and a murmur of 'thanks' before diving back into the discussion, free hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

"It's the lack of knowing. The Doc and Grace, kind of put me on edge about what it would be like to try and work together with others. They both seemed pretty strong and capable and comfortable with who they were but the differences there...were pretty significant and obvious. She was even using the same sort of tech...paradigm....similar...They were both using doo-dads and still...still tension."

His head shakes again, the frown turning to a grimace.

"To think we don't know anything yet about Technocrats, Nephandus, Marauders and Infernalists. We're blind and that's what I don't like. The Doc and I walked into a bar I goto quasi-regularly and Grace was there and I didn't even know it or think to look for it. She could have been something, done something or otherwise and I would have been some sitting duck." He gulps off his beer, hand coming down to wipe at his lips.

"That's gotta change."

He glances across his shoulder at her, a brow perked.

"The Doc said he's as much obligated to us about info. as we are to learning. So I think it's time we focused our questions and attentions on prioritized questions. Namely, keeping safe so we can achieve that greater self he's going on about." Another sip. "Starting with what we can expect to go up against..."

Margot
Margot nodded along and sipped her beer.  Glanced back to him when he looked her way.  She was frowning seriously.  Leave it to a couple of Apprentices to catch wind of some Bad News and take it way too much to heart.  Elsewhere in the city the good doctor probably sensed his shadow being walked on or a cluster headache start to bud.  Having kids getting themselves into trouble always caused those kinds of tremors.

"You're right," she agreed.  "We'll ask him about that.  How he defends himself against these things would be good to know as well."

She paused, sipped again, then leaned forward to set her bottle on the table.

"I don't like how the Traditions can't get along.  It makes me worry about how far that can stretch, from disagreement to hostility.  Even if we are all banded against some united 'Bad' or 'Evil', if somebody on this side of enemy lines has qualms then..."  She shook her head and frowned enough to wrinkle up her nose.  "No, I don't like it.  In-fighting only ever puts holes in boats."

Ned
"All the more reason for our little group to maintain cohesion."

Ned climbs to his feet, beer in hand. It's half-gone by now, the familiar buzz of alcohol in his system setting his thoughts up for analysis.

"It probably isn't as bad as all that but...given you need to have this firm belief? This structure to ensure you can work and craft and solve the way you do? It's understandable not wanting to listen to other people.You get stubborn and resolute that your way is how it works and you have these-" He gestures sharply "-fireballs and lightning bolts at your disposal so long as you're still believing. Can't afford to lose that or diminish it. Paradox comes along and slaps you for the weakness. Or someone out there with a bigger stick comes along and starts taking you apart."

Another gulp.

"I doubt we can count on anything from the Traditions to provide for us but that doesn't mean we have to be completely cut off. I'll work my job to earn the money to survive, but that doesn't mean I like my job. Just make compromises where it's safe to. I think that'll get us through." A pause. "I hope, anyway."

"...The other thing is, as much as I think these capabilities have potential, it doesn't beat knowing how to throw a punch." He looks at her, a touch amused. "Our zombie fight could have gone a bit better."

Margot
She frowned and sipped with a look on her face that told Ned she agreed with him but still didn't necessarily feel great about the entire situation.

"Yeah, I'm trying to decide on my degree now too.  If I should even...," she trailed off, thoughtful, content to listen to Ned move on to self-defense.  How to throw a punch.  His amused look was answered with a small smirk and a light of sheepishness.

"Hey, it did the trick didn't it?  Neither of us got hurt."

She thought for a moment, then spun off that thought.

"My brother taught me a couple of things about self defense.  I think that you were on the right track with that zombie, looking for and finding the weak point.  We can use things like that."  She frowned and added, reluctantly:  "Or guns..."

Ned
"Not a fan of guns and trying to sort out getting one, nevermind bullets and licenses is...well, it gives me a headache thinking about it. I can show you some boxing and I used to take Kendo back when I was in College. Sword fighting's not the most practical of efforts but you learn how to hold your wrists and not hurt yourself swinging things around wildly."

He takes a minute to assess what she says about identifying the weak-point, nodding as he goes.

"That was Life. The Sphere. I can scan for signs, symptoms and weaknesses in the body, but Matter will work the same way for inanimate objects. Knowing how to apply the knowledge we have is pretty important and we can make sure we're safe in a pinch at least. Getting a handle on our perceptual capabilities will also do a lot for preventions sake. I want to talk to the Doc about recognizing resonances. There's gotta be some easy way of detecting that we can use to at least safe-guard against being caught unawares and you've been sighing and nursing your beer for the last five minutes now."

He exhales, loudly and tilts his head to look at her from a new angle.

"You're also not finishing a lot of your sentences. So how's about in the interest of maintaining our little collective, you tell me what's really bothering you."

Margot
[wp]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 4, 8, 8) ( success x 2 )

Margot
His dissent with guns was accepted just as easily as she would have accepted an agreement to the idea.  Margot had seen the zombie and the goblin and she truthfully wasn't sure how she felt about that thing still roaming the city planting fungus in people to grow.  It made her stomach a little sick whenever that occurred to her.

The talk of spheres and resonances all made sense, but soon the subject changed and the metaphorical lamp was turned bright and hot onto her face.  Okay, you, what's the problem?  Out with it.  She looked up, wide-eyed and startled with being on the spot and for a moment looked ready to fret from it entirely.

Instead she sighed after a second and looked down at her hands wrapped around the beer bottle which now set upon one knee.

"Okay.  I told the Doc what I ran away from yesterday at coffee and it's been eating at me that he knows and you don't and I can't really explain why but..."  Breath whooshed out and she kept her eyes sternly on the bottle.

"Look, I ran off from circumstances that were written off on paper but probably drew a lot of attention from these... people that we've gotta be worried about.  My brother, he..."  Her voice shook and she paused to swallow, but just as she managed not to dissolve into tears the day before when speaking to the Doctor about this very thing, Margot again kept her composure well enough to carry on.  Looking at the bottle and hiding behind her hair helped.

"He wasn't in his right mind and he killed my mom.  I took off his arm and then resurrected my mom.  I was worried about the questions I'd get asked so I came out here soon after."

A pause, and she concluded:  "I just left her there, incomplete, and my brother remembers it all.  I shouldn't have just left that."

Ned
"...You have to make yourself right first before you can fix it."

Spoken like an inevitability. Like she would. It's almost off-hand the way Ned says it and one has to wonder how he maintains the composure he does when she offers up the story finally. Car crashes, Hospital work, Cancer patients and battling with drunks. Not to mention the Awakening thing and dealing with reality not being at all what it actually was. All of these add up to a particularly thick skin. If he seems unphased, that'd be a lie. He's just grown more comfortable with this sort of insanity in the last few weeks.

That said:

"I'm sorry about your Mother. And your brother." He sighs, the sound as...well,  helpless as the apology was. He moves back over to the couch to sit down, a touch closer then before and sets the beer on the table, brow perked at her with that careful sort of expectation.

"All things considered, I think anyone who might have asked any questions probably understands why you bolted. Most normal folks wouldn't know what to do with that sort of situation to begin with nevermind having to cope with being all Witch hazel in the meantime. Unique and unprecedented circumstances yeah?"

He wraps an arm around her shoulders, a comforting gesture, gaze returning to the odd burn mark on her coffee table.

"You said you're gonna have to go back. I don't see why we can't go with you. Well...I can't speak for the Doc, but I'm willing to make the trip. We can sort it all out as best we can and maybe get your Brother some help in the meantime as well." A pause. "Being able to alter reality has to be good for something, right?"

Margot
Margot the Morose.  That's how she had to look.  She sat upon the couch with her knees together and her head down, hair come loose from behind her ears to hang in brown sheets on either side of her face.  She was leaned forward, curved in like an armadillo weathering uncertain circumstances.

She stayed still when he said that she'd need to make herself 'right' before going back, and sighed quietly along with hem when he apologized about her small and broken family.  His apology felt helpless, but Margot wasn't the sort of person to consider a 'sorry' to be worth nothing.  It would be callous to disregard a gesture of comfort, even if it had no tangible aid in the situation.

When he came to sit nearer her hip and wrapped an arm about her slender shoulders she closed her eyes and exhaled slowly.  Maintained that grasp on her composure, but admittedly did have to release that death grip on her beer to reach up and hastily swipe a tear out of her eyelashes with a knuckle.

In a small, thick voice she spoke, reaching up to push the hair back out of her face as though suddenly aware of it being there.  "The Doc already offered to go back and help.  I told him no then, but maybe it's not so bad an idea.  Just... not yet.  I feel like I've got more to learn first.

"Besides, Luke's not going anywhere anytime soon."

Ned
"Definitely have more to learn."

He gives her shoudlers a squeeze, jostling her pent up ball of muscle and tension slightly in the process before reaching for his beer again. The last minute or so was worth draining off the last of the contents, the bottle set back on the coffee table with a soft thunk.

"Luke...Brother? Like I said before, reality altering power should have it's upswings. The Doc made mention of a Mind Sphere. As well as several others. I see no reason your brother can't be made to 'forget' what he did. New identity or some such. Maybe the Doc can even bring your Mom back." A pause. That one was a little...blunt and Ned seemed to realize that a moment after he said it. Enough to make him wince. He carries on though.

"I've been thinking some about it and half of what makes reality are the rules that convince us to believe they are true. Obviously with how things work now, we wouldn't necessarily be pigeonholed to believing that we die inside of a hundred years, require food and and water to keep living or even that the dead need to remain dead. When I said 'Fix' things, I meant it. Not some reconcilliation but an actual correction. It'll take time, sure but once you get there..."

Another pause, Ned exhaling slowly again, this time his gaze settled on a distant point somewhere directly infront of him.

"This all hinges of course, on your ability to stand toe to toe with this Goddess of yours. Above any and all facts, War, Family or Learning." He looks at her from his place on the couch, beer bottle held between both hands. "Maine can wait, absolutely but...I'm not sure She can."

Margot
[Okay you guys that's a wrap]

Meeting someone New (Grace, The Doc)

Ned
Ned's apartment is simple. It hugs the eastern most edge of the Mexican edge of downtown, the suggestion of upscale several blocks distant in favour of something low-key, uninspired and still moderately overpriced. Still he makes a decent wage as an Orderly and puts in enough hours to ensure he's comfortable. His lifestyle choices and efforts are mostly for lack of caring (especially in recent weeks) rather than for any true appreciation of an 'Aesthetics are for Hipsters' mark.

It is a bachelor. One large room on the third floor of a seven story tenement. Creaky hardwood flooring with ancient bannisters and doors that belong in some modern take on the old horror tropes. Rundown Kubrickian perhaps.

The interior is a modicum of former college life. Dishes in the sink, some in the dish rack, the smallest stove and oven known to man, a medium fridge. The room beyond is an assortment of piled clothes atop a dresser, and a bunch of hooks embedded in the wall for his 'nice attire' (a couple of shirts, pants and some belts at best).

The bed/futon is put up into a couch, facing a computer on a desk hugging the wall. The Computer is connected to a large screen TV also embedded in the wall, a connection cable transfering the screen of the comp to the screen of the TV for ease of view.

Ned is dressed in simple gray track pants and a black T when Sepulveda arrives, pulling the door open to eyeball the doc with his what by now must be patented frown.

"Alright so...what exactly are we supposed to be doing because I've got work in the morning and I'm not really looking to be hungover for it."

Sepúlveda
The Etherite had sent him a text message saying he was outside when he arrived to pick him up but for whatever reason Ned isn't ready to go when he gets there. Rather than coming out to the car Ned opens the door to him.

Opens the door and then immediately produces excuses. Work. As if work was ever as an excuse not to do anything. Sepúlveda has to be to work at the crack of ass himself too but if Ned has heard any of the stories going around he has heard that not only does the man not sleep but he can heal himself with a few swishes of liquid in a test tube.

"Then don't get hungover," Sepúlveda says in a cloying voice. Like Ned is being ridiculous. He makes a c'mon gesture with the hand not holding onto his keys but doesn't offer up any other explanation.

Ned
There's a blinking stare, followed by a 'Alright' that sends the apprentice into the apartment. A half a minute later and he's exiting again in jeans, a hoodie and his wool jacket, keys jangling with the door locked up, the apartment dark and shutdown.

He tucks his keys into his jacket pocket, checks his pants for his wallet and other necessities and the door knob to see that the door is actually locked before finally lifting his gaze toward the Doc and nodding, hands in pockets.

"So what is this about exactly?"

Sepúlveda
At this point Ned has already seen the house in which the medical examiner lives. It is not a palace by any means but it is well within his means and his means afford him quite a bit of breathing room. He has a laboratory and a library in the basement. So the fact that he drives a winter beater may or may not strike Ned as novel.

It's a Jeep Wrangler he leads him to. Not a luxury vehicle. A lot of room in the back not just for equipment and furniture but bodies. One could sleep in the back of this thing if one needed to. He has the back windows in place so when they drive the winter doesn't climb in with them.

So what is this about.

As they walk and approach the vehicle he says:

"I wish I had a, ah, what do you call it. An agenda. But I don't. I caught myself thinking about you and your friend Margot the other day when I ought to have been doing other things--" He unlocks the door and walks around the front of the vehicle before climbing in and turning the engine. "--and then I thought, 'Hey! Happy hour! I'll take him to the happy hour!'" A beat as they proceed into traffic. "I'm trying different, Ned, if you'd prefer a different environment for casual conversation I'm more than happy to take suggestions."

Ned
"It's more that the exposure is a bit off-putting for what we normally talk about."

He's conversational, or as conversational as Ned opts to be most of the time. Seemingly far more comfortable discussing the actual, then potential small-talk or chit-chat or whatever those crazy kids do these days. He sits in the wrangler, glancing around the interior with careful eyes (and no small amount of nervousness that had him considering waging a Matter glance at the engine and guts, to ensure it was within working condition and order. Air bags...did this thing have Air bags?!)

"The strip club was a good measure of exposure that allowed you to put on that silence bubble. Proved some points and made it clear what we're going to be up against but I hardly think publicity and Working are within the spectrum of normal. That said...casual conversation's not really my forte, though I would prefer to get some clarity on a few things if you're open to some questions."

A pause. A beat.

"Analogy free if I can help it." A joke. A small joke. He can joke....sometimes.

Sepúlveda
It's a small joke and Sepúlveda doesn't seem like he's rooted enough in the same reality as the rest of them to have a sense of humor but he's trying. These goddamned kids are going to have him undergoing Grinch-like alteration of personality at the rate they're going.

"Your analogies are terrible," he says. Teasing. "Why do you rely on analogies? It's like listening to someone try to translate Cervantes into Modern English word-for-word when they don't speak Medieval Spanish."

Ned
"Because we're not part of this reality anymore...and yet still walking around in it. It's a contradiction. We can do fantastic things but get punished for it by our current circumstances and setting. As hilarious as it is to consider this a destiny or some sort of fate, I'm half expecting someone to slap me across the face with a rubber chicken and laugh most days I wake up..."

Ned's glancing out the window as they progress through the city in the Doc's old Wrangler. He catches sight of something that draws his attention every so often before they are speeding past it.

"Brand new rules, brand new system, brand new ugly to look over my shoulder for and no real handbook beyond the dozen or so Traditions that conflict and don't bother working together so well, if you're to be believed. How are you or we or anyone expected to get anything done that way?"

Sepúlveda
"Is that a rhetorical question?"

He doesn't sound defensive. They're driving. It's city driving so there isn't much to look at but it doesn't look as if they're going to a local dive bar where they can knock back tequila and stare at mirrors and neon signs until the world starts to go fuzzy. In a few minutes they will be on the highway headed further west. He didn't have a destination in mind.

A sigh. Ned has to be figuring out by now that if he didn't want to help Ned he wouldn't text the kids every single week to check in on them.

"Most of us don't interact with the other traditions, to tell you the truth. I don't believe I met my first Virtual Adept until I was..." Think. Age and time. He waves a hand. "... I don't remember. It was a long time ago. Where was I? Do I have a point? What is it?"

Ned has time to redirect him. Or remind him. Whichever.

"Oh right. You--I said this to Margot, and you'll have to forgive me if I'm repeating myself, but I had the thought of the both of you, but for different reasons, which is why I'm separating you two like this, you see--" The car starts to beep as his hand-talking results in a less-than-ideal trajectory. That isn't magick. That's Fiat Chrysler wanting to cut down on side-impact collisions caused by distracted driving. He stops talking with his hands. "The entire world is open to you now. With time, you'll learn to do whatever the hell you want to do, pardon my French. You have never been more free or alive than you are, right now, and yet the two of you, this wracks you. You, especially. You're anxious. Are you not?"

Ned
"Exit after the next. There's a a dive bar called Questor. Good cheese fries."

He points to a sign on the highway, indicating the Doc's directions. He can get a bite and the Doc can get his drink on.

"Anxious is a word for it." He pauses, sucking in a slowing breath that doesn't do much to alleviate that sensation that's been rubbing him raw for...well weeks. Since this all began. A hand comes up to rub across one side of his face, then over his mouth and jawline.

"I'm not used to being in an unknown. Having..." He gestures infront of him, trying to keep in mind his previous promise about analogies.  "...a focal point to concentrate on has always been a part of who I am and what I do. 'Give it time' isn't much of a reassurance though, given that I could walk around a corner tomorrow and run into one of these...Technocrats? Marauders? Nefastus people?" Another pause. Another breath.

"Which is to say that yeah. It's going to take time and yeah we're new to all this but, given the Traditions don't really interact, despite the fact we're all sharing the same type of Reality and Freedom? Given there's a small host of 'bad guys' out there and no few of them are just other people like us with a different world view?" He chuckles. A genuine thing, as if he suddenly find a moment's humour in what he was describing.

"You cant really be surprised that we're anxious, can you?" That....was not rhetorical.

"We're also college kids or...at least I was-" Something there. A flutter under the tone that get crushed under a reflex "-and college is where you start to sort out what it is you're supposed to be doing, even if that's wracking up debt and working a shitty job for years just to pay it all off. That's a plan. That's a focus. A really shitty focus but...well, do you want to know what your average 20-something year old does with 'The entire world open to them', Doc?"

Sepúlveda
"I was sixteen when I went through my period of enlightenment. I do kind of want to know."

There's the exit. He's turning onto it and steering the Wrangler towards the place with the cheese fries. Nothing will get this particular forensic pathologist into a place faster than food and clientele that is capable of killing him.

That said:

"Ned, I am not anxious. I am... calling you out on the fact that you are anxious, this is how the kids are saying it these days, yes? Your life prior to this was an unknown. You were in just as much danger, perhaps more, than you are now. If you are never going outside, never exploring, never... well, I don't know what you're doing now. I'm supposing. In terms of the statistics, as far as you knew before, you and I could have died on the freeway. That is more likely than you meeting a Nephandus, or a Marauder. The Technocrats, last I checked, did not give a shit what we were doing, but, ah..."

They're almost there. One more red light. He kills half the wait at the red light drumming his thumb against the steering wheel.

"No. I'm not surprised. But, this whole time, I haven't heard from you what it is you're passionate about. Eh? What is your passion. Why don't we focus for tonight on this?"

Sepúlveda
["Ned, I am not surprised you're anxious," that line should say.]

Ned
"Bliss. Ignorance. Something."

He says it almost dismissively of the Doc's assurances he was in a lot of danger prior to Awakening. He might have waved his hand off-cuff were it not for the fact the one driving them was capable of Electrocution and Zombifying techniques. Ned's gaze remains out the window, glancing up at the red light as it chooses to take it's time so close to their destination.

"I'm passionate about solving the Puzzle." He says it odd-hand. Like it's a standard that doesn't really need explaining. He explains anyway, sitting back in his seat. "It's got no rhyme or obvious reason identifiable to this reality. No real value or strength that I can compare to anything else and yet it's got this familiarity to it that...." He pauses. More analogy sifting. "It feels comfortable and it's rewarding whenever I put the right right with the red sound and shape."

That might not be what the Doc was looking to here mind you, but Ned is switching gears rather suddenly, frown returning to his face.

"It's not really about exploring or going outside though. Never's a strong word and it doesn't fit it's more...if I'm going to be out here, I want to be ready. Prepared. You don't go into a gun fight, with a knife and you don't go into a knife fight holding your dick." A pause. "Pardon the language. Right now it feels like I'm naked, with a few second head start on whatever's out there and the best thing to do is keep running and hiding when I can, until I sort out how to throw a punch."

A pause.

"Which I suppose I'm rather passionate about as well."

He looks out the passenger window at the bar they've stopped infront of. Plenty of space on the street to park with nary a working parking meter in sight. Half of them were probably broken by the clientele just to ensure they could drink in peace without standing up every hour or so to go out in the cold and re-fill the damn things.

Ned
(The right red with the right sound and shape^)

Sepúlveda
"Can I tell you something, before we go in?"

As if it matters whether or not Ned wants to hear the something. He knows his mentor is more than capable of throwing up a force field and keeping their conversation contained. This has less to do with a desire for privacy and more a recognition of the presence of a demarcation. They will be changing scenery in a moment. If Ned had suggested any place else they would be there right now.

"We all come into the world naked. I know you don't want to hear this, but I'm telling you anyway: naked we come, and naked we go. Some of us, naked more than others, during." Gross. "Have you ever been in a knife fight?" Rhetorical. "I have been in a knife fight. I did not have a knife. Was not holding my dick, either, maybe next time I'll try that, but with knowledge, Edward, if you do find yourself holding your dick in a knife fight, you can escape the fight unscathed." Scowl. "Terrible. Terrible analogies."

He takes the keys out of the ignition and gets out of the car.

Grace is already there. Welcome home, Grace.

Grace
When Dr. Sepulveda and his "apprentice" get to the bar, they might just find they have company of the Magickal persuasion. Perched at the bar, and halfway through her bowl of cheese fries is a woman who bends reality just so. If you catch her out of the corner of your eye on the right night, you might swear she had a knife to bring to that metaphorical fight. Something sharp, at least. Maybe she is the knife? But no... Just a woman.

A woman neither of them has ever met before. Blame Australia or her unnatural urges to take pictures of penguins there. She hasn't been around. There have been too many new people to meet, and too few old faces. Perhaps, soon, she will learn why Alex isn't showing his face much anymore, but that is a council for another time.

Tonight, she counsels a plate of cheese fries on why they need to be in her mouth. Leave the heavy shit for later.

About all they can see of her, if she's even noticed, is the back of her red coat drooping over the barstool like a set of wings.

Ned
"I went an entire car ride talking about what we talk about, without making one. You owe me a medal of valor." He throws it back into the car as he exits but before the Doc has climbed out himself.

Ned stuffs his hands into his pockets, eyeballing the sign of the Questor...missing it's 'o'. The interior was little more than shaky stools, a peeling bar vaneer, a tender that didn't speak much except to espouse how much he hated the local sports teams and how 'Player X' was 'A turd-shit shame in the making' to those who blunder into that sort of conversation.

What few occupants were here, were here to ensure a healthy buzz and maintenance of their apathy to the rest of the world, the Questor representing their greatest comfort zone. Ned's here for the cheese fries, about the only real item on the small 7 item menu list that helped to identify this place as a 'Restaurant' in the local ads and papers, worth anything.

The pitchers are just shy of ten bucks as well which, on a college budget, you could make it rain.

"It isn't so much I don't want to hear it Doc, as I've heard it. Several times. It doesn't change my outlook. I could get into a Car accident, but statistically speaking it's unlikely. Except I did and it went pear-shaped real fast and the only thing that got me clear was the trade-off. Stop being you now...it's time for you to be This." This, was awakened. He glances around the interior, noticing a small table off to one side of the wall, his jacket already slipping off his shoulders.

"Statistically speaking, I'm curious how many of Us, exist vs. Them...sleepers?" He glances at the Doc for assurance that's the right word. "...We're just as unlikely an incident as far as I can tell and yet here we are. Proof positive that the odds don't work that way anymore."

Ned
A glance is paid to the only splash of colour in the drab and dreary place. Grace's coat catches his eye, for a long moment, his frown creased with something like curiosity before 'Staring is impolite' takes over and he's driving his eyes toward the bartender, ordering a plate of Cheese fries and a Glass of water.

Sepúlveda
[perc + aware: ARCANE ONLY APPLIES TO ALERTNESS ROLLS SUCK IT GRACE]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 3, 7, 9) ( success x 2 )

Grace
[You suck it, other Mages... Perc + Aware]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 2, 4, 5) ( botch x 1 )

Sepúlveda
[*falls off the bed*]

Ned
(Those some gooodddd cheese fries, apparently)

Sepúlveda
Soon as they walk through the doors the Etherite loses his concentration for a moment.

It isn't as if he is making a conscious effort to scan the room but he has been around long enough that it becomes more of a background application than an active one and he seems scatterbrained because he is. Not from tunnel vision but from having a powerful brain inside that skull of his.

This is the first time Grace is seeing either of them. The younger of them is a fair doe-eyed young man who cannot be very far into his twenties. He stands several inches taller than his companion who has at least a decade on him and comes from a more equatorial part of the hemisphere. Wearing a suit and black-rimmed glasses his black hair is close-cropped and dusted with gray while his beard is trimmed but planning on staying for a while.

He feels like a cold chill up the spine. Noticeable resonance even without having one's eyes open to the rest of the world.

Ned throws the doctor's ministrations back at him. Sepúlveda takes his thin-boned hands out of his jacket pockets and holds them up in a supplicating gesture.

"Argh, you're too smart for me!" Lighthearted sarcasm before he claps him on the shoulder. "Sit down, I'm going to the bar. Keep an eye on that lady with the red coat, would you? She resonates."

Ned
"....Oh c'mon, you can sarcasm better than that."

The Doc interrupts his attempt to order, instead turning him out toward a nearby table which he glances to and shrugs himself convinced. A glance is cast toward the indicated Red-Coat (Heh) and Ned's reaction seems to sharpen and shift from the vaguely jovial exchange the Doc and he had struck a moment before to something...more-Ned.

He takes to moving a bit slower around the tables and folds the jacket over a nearby chair, pulling one back (without scraping the heels on the ground to draw attention) and setting it down for him to climb into.

Then he waits. Quietly. Without obviousness.

Grace
That lady with the red coat was treating fries like airplanes before. Not anymore. Something awful this way comes. The exact kind of awful is hard to say for certain, but it's as though the dead have arrived. She's been witness to some creepy resonance before, even some that made her want to vomit, but this? It hardly feels like the two are even Mages...

Like they're vampires. Or maybe they'll start using Qlippothic shit to make everybody in the bar try to kill each other (no, not likely, but still).

Two of them. And one of her. As if she didn't already have fifty other things to worry about right now.

She throws some money on the bar, enough for a good tip, then slides off of her chair. She can get cheese fries somewhere else.

Sepúlveda
The problem with Grace's escape plan presents itself thusly:

In order to get to the door and go somewhere else she has to walk past Sepúlveda. Not that he is the most intimidating figure anyone has ever cut in the history of intimidating figures. The first thing people tend to notice about him are his eyes which are green which means even in wonky bar lighting and behind eyeglass lenses they stand out as bright. He is handsome but he is short.

She would have to know him better to know whether he is as skinny as that suit makes him look. Ned doesn't know how strong he is yet. He hasn't been the recipient of an awkward there there hug yet.

Anyway: she starts to bail out. One of the strange fellows is right in her way when she slides off the chair.

"You're not leaving already, are you?" As if they've met before. They haven't. She would remember meeting him if they had. "No, listen, stay a few minutes, my friend over there--" He puts a hand on her shoulder and if her coat is not on yet she can feel how cold his fingers are through her blouse. Poor circulation. Argh. His other hand gestures towards Ned. A wedding band is parked on his ring finger. He has a faint Mexican accent. Child of immigrants. You know how it is. "--is new to the area, and he hasn't met very many people, and I am beginning to think he's depressed, clinically, which is not my area, I'm a forensic pathologist, not a psychiatrist..."

Sorry Grace. The dude is a little hyper. He's been attempting to make eye contact this time and his writer is banking on her social awkwardness for there to not be a ton of resistance I'm so sorry.

He takes his right hand off her shoulder and pirouettes a bit to angle himself so he can offer it to shake.

"Sepúlveda. Andrés Sepúlveda. Society of Ether. Hi."

[mind 1: read surface thoughts. gonna call it diff 7 bc he normally needs his dumb instruments for this and 'eye contact' isn't one of them, -1 bc quintessence.]

Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 7) ( success x 1 )

Ned
Ned's tucked into the corner at his table, eyeballing the exchange between the Doc and the Red-coat and is suddenly struck by the odd behaviour of the man out of context with his apprentices. Teachers/Mentors were expected to be somewhat eccentric especially outside of a classroom environment. To see the Son of Ether in a more natural state express the same level of...oddity. It was a bit of a small treat.

Ned is covering his mouth carefully.

Grace
The problem with Sepúlveda's plan is that he doesn't know what she thinks of him as he plops his hand on her shoulder (!) and then introduces her to the other (dead) man. His hands are freezing, and in Grace's eyes are a mix of fear and anger when he touches her. How dare he fucking touch her?

"Yeah, well, I'm not new to the area," she says, trying to squirrel herself out of his grasp by the shoulder. "And I really have to get..."

Society of Ether?

Surface thoughts? Right now, it's all about how to put some distance between herself and these guys. And then? That thought changes as soon as he says those magic three words.

Her eyes narrow. "Bullshit."

She slides her phone out of her pocket, because that wrong Resonance just slid over her like a giant, cold slug. Should have done this sooner...

[Mind 1: Stay out of my head, Sepúlveda!]

Dice: 3 d10 TN4 (3, 5, 8) ( success x 3 ) [WP]

Sepúlveda
"Bullshit?"

He'd taken his hand off her shoulder not so soon as she starting squirming but so soon as he reached the point where he was taking it off anyway because he was trying to introduce himself. Some wires crossed somewhere and she doesn't believe him and he's flipping through his Rolodex of possible explanations because how the hell would he know what her problem is. They just met.

Anyway: he took his hand off her already. He's trying to shake. She's not having it. He holds up both his hands like to show her he's not armed but they both know that's--

"Oh!" Lightbulb moment. He takes a step back. They're starting to draw attention to themselves. "Look, lady, I don't want any trouble. We can laugh about this at the next..." He lowers his hands. Another lightbulb comes on. "Ohhhh, riiiiight,this is why we lost the Ascension War, I'm remembering now." He gives her a left-handed salute and steps up to the bar. Gets out of her way. "Ciao."

Ned
Ned's sobered by the time the pair have their moment. Fiddling with some errant peanut shell he's found on the bar table. A second later and he flicks it onto the floor, wiping the playful finger on his hoodie at the memory of realizing where they are exactly.

His stomach rumbled slightly. His thoughts turn to cheesie fries. Mmmm, cheesie fries.

Grace
Her eyes flit between the two of them, up from her cell phone game of 'MindShield', utterly confused. The words and behavior aren't matching the feel. Would a Nephandus seem this awful? If so, they'd be quite easily spotted and put the fuck down.

And this guy knows a hell of a lot about Mages if he's a vampire. It just doesn't add up. Maybe they're something new, like a couple of Mages newly returned from the Umbral Realm of Everything's Dead Here.

Another thought. She returns to her calculations on her phone, a shift to a new Program.

"Say that again? Who you are?"

[Forces 1, Entropy 1: Lie Detector!]

Dice: 3 d10 TN4 (6, 8, 10) ( success x 4 ) [WP]

Sepúlveda
The bartender isn't picking up on the tension in their interaction or if he is he isn't listening. He's just trying to make it through the shift tonight. With a Hang on a minute finger the Whatever He Is turns from Grace and orders a Corona and a Coke and two shots of tequila no lime or salt and an order of cheese fries. Pays for it with a twenty and doesn't wait for change.

While the bartender fills glasses he sighs and turns back to Grace.

"Doctor Andrés Sepúlveda. I am a medical examiner with Denver County, and before that I was with Miami-Dade County, in Florida. And so on and so forth. I am with the Society of Ether. My wife was Hinata Ueno, of the Verbenae. We had been discussing moving back to Denver, where I'm from, because of events that have occurred involving the Technocracy and her tradition, but she died in April of last year, so I am here for her."

Oh look there's his drinks. He loads up his right hand with the pint glasses and waggles his fingers at her phone screen.

"Now if you'll excuse me, if I leave my student alone any longer he's going to think I've abandoned him. You and Siri have a good night."

His left hand takes up the tequila glasses and away he goes. Everything he told her was true. Even the things he didn't need to tell her. Like he was well aware of what she was doing and why.

When he returns to the table he begins distributing glassware between himself and Ned with a, "You see? Car crashes are a very real threat."

Ned
"...All the more reason to protect and secure myself before I end up overly exposed and vulnerable." He leans in after a moment and whispers rather intensely. "I didn't even recognize she was something, but you did...and she obvious thought you were something off. If I was in here alone, which I've done before, she might have-" He pauses.

He's eyeballing the Doctor, firmly, carefully and then abruptly-

"Excuse me, Miss?" Ned is standing, calling out loud enough to get the Bartender to pay him a frown for the noise. Several other patrons murmur and lift their heads out of their own stupors at the noise but Ned doesn't seem to pay it any mind. He's waving at Grace before she has a chance to retreat or gain some distance or react much beyond the Doc's dismissal.

"You mind coming over here? I have some questions." Then down at the Doc. "If you're comfortable enough to go telling her your life-story, you should be good enough to keep us safe when she turns out to be some Faustian Soul-drinker." Ned just...just stop.

Sepúlveda
No time to sit down. Time enough to offload his drinks and then stand by as Ned calls out.

A flick of his eyebrows before he clarifies as an aside:

"Was more of a death-story, eh?" He claps the kid on the shoulder in an unspoken affirmation of back-having and then knocks back his tequila shot.

Grace
"Wha... Faustian... Me?" More confusion. If anything, they are the Faustian Soul-drinkers here.

"Look," she says, sighs. Walks over toward the Good Doctor and his associate. "I think we may have gotten on the wrong... feet." It's a butchery of a saying, but she means it. Their interaction was like stepping on toes intentionally.

She leans in to whisper, "You realize you both have the 'feel' of the walking dead? I thought..."

Don't bother with what she thought.

"But yeah. Everything you said?" she shoots a look at Dr. Sepúlveda. "Checks out. I'm uh... Grace. Mercurial Elites."

Ned
"Makes me wish Margot were here. She'll be bummed she missed out on a chance for more info."

Ned slips back down into his chair, watching Grace's approach with careful eyes and a sort of...solemn nature that speaks of nativity? A directness, less charming and more eased. When she gets within conversational ear-shot, Ned gives her a quick once-over just to attest that she is something or other. Or maybe scan to see if he can sense or recognize whatever it is the Doc sensed or recognized. Which...he isn't quite sure how to do.

So when he comes up with 'It's a Woman' in his head, there's a pressing of lips that stifles a laugh followed by.

"So not a Faustian Soul-drinker intent on our destruction? Just another- What do you call us again, Doc? Workers?- Just another Worker making it in this crazy world of ours? Also, what's your  passion in life? The Doc says passion is important and I want to make sure you're on the up and up."

If he's joking it doesn't come across as such, though he does fold his hands on the table with an air of put on sophistication and expectancy. Then a blink and a more common frown.

"What the hell is a Mercurial Elite?" He eyeballs the Doc quickly. "Sounds like a Band from the 90s."

Sepúlveda
Sepúlveda did bother with what she thought. Being as he's already referred to the kid as his friend and his student and even if this is irrelevant he tends to do as most organisms will in situations that are otherwise controlled: as he damned well pleases.

So Grace approaches. Ned and Sepúlveda both sit. The older man licks his lips quick to get the lingering alcohol off of them and leans in towards Ned while maintaining eye contact with Grace. Indicates her with his left hand while tucking the right away in the pocket of his jacket. Speaks in a stage whisper.

"Close. The Mercurial Elite are what the Virtual Adepts call themselves now. They're part of the Council of Nine, tend to Work with the Correspondence Sphere, and prefer to use computers as instruments. Don't make any sudden movements, it's rare to see one out in the wild like this."

End aside.

Grace
"Faustian Soul-drinker sounds like a band from the 90's," Grace says, still quite... unsure about these people. Like a wary cat. "My passion huh?" Geez, is he trying to hit on her? Gross. No thanks, dead-guy.

"I suppose... information. I get it, I let it go where it needs to go. What's yours? If I want to make sure you're on the up and up?"

Sepúlveda just gets an eyeroll for his efforts at making a joke.

Ned
"Solving puzzles and securing my future. Or a least, making sure I'm pushing back when the Bad Guys...come...and...uhhh...get me." Ned was listening to himself as he spoke and realized with steady and dawning consideration that he sounded like a child with his blanket cape and teddy sidekick just then. There is a thoughtful frown and a re-evaluation, eyes flicking toward the Doc for a moment before re-orienting on Grace.

"I want to make sure I'm strong enough to push back if pushed." Succinct and straight-forward. He considers the phrase and finds it comfortable. A brief smile touches his lips.

"Information. Huh. Computers-" A glance at the Doc. "-and Correspondence. One of the spheres. Distance and space, yeah?" He looks up at Grace again, a momentary pause for the Cheesie fries that appear on the bar counter. Arrival imminent.

"Does that mean you can teleport? Or travel through phone lines? Can you Neo? I bet you can Neo."

Sepúlveda
The man works with dead bodies all day every day. He and Grace are roughly the same height. They are both geniuses in their own right. Surely she can appreciate that he wasn't trying to be funny.

Can you Neo? I bet you can Neo.

This is better than any hypothetical situation he could have come up with sitting in a parking lot drinking out of a brown paper bag. Sepúlveda bites his lips to keep from interjecting and reaches for his beer.

As opposed to the time he brought the kids to the strip club and didn't plan ahead all that great this time he has a device for situations like this. A sound dampener. Looks like a small white noise machine. Not all that inconspicuous but no one is paying attention to what they're doing anyway. He just figures he might as well cut down on the amount of weird shit other people are overhearing.

Besides: can't get a hangover if the bartender can't serve you.

[forces 2: swear to cthulhu this is going to be a botch some day. -1 practiced.]

Dice: 3 d10 TN4 (2, 4, 10) ( success x 2 )

Sepúlveda
[It's late. I forgot a sentence in there somewhere. One of his hands is beering and the other one is taking the device thingy out of his jacket pocket.]

Grace
 "Shit, dude. You are new as... like, what? Wednesday?" He talks like someone new, at least. Full of 'passion' and 'I bet you can Neo'. "I don't Kung Fu."

If that's what he means. Maybe he means the jumping?

She sees the white noise machine, understands what's going on. "But yeah. I teleport. I don't stop bullets in the air, because that's a great way to look like you're full of lead anyway..." Not because she can't, mind you.

Ned
"But you can teleport..."

He seems entirely wrapped up now. Thoroughly on the ball of examining just what Correspondence could potentially do. Stopping bullets is one thing, he had been giving that some thought and might have come up with some sort of way to define kinetic energy or negate it, given enough-

"Yes I'm new. About a month now, give or take. The Doc-" He nods at Sepulveda across the table "-is my Mentor. He's been teaching me about you-...us, for a couple of weeks. Says the Traditions really aren't that organized or interactive. That true?" Ned's gaze holds Grace pretty steadily, the questions coming bolder and more confident. One could potentially see Ned in his element during a Lecture or Class Discussion.

Sepúlveda
Other than a shrug of both his brows and his shoulders he doesn't given any indication that he's even listening to Ned right now.

Yeah. I said it. So what.

He isn't fiddling with his cellphone or any other devices during this exchange. Just drinking his beer and watching the two of them interact. Letting Grace field that one. That's what she gets for being an asshole.

Grace
"Being organized and interactive is how you're going to get strong enough to push back when pushed. You call somebody to help you," she says, mother hen tendencies taking over. So what if he feels dead to the world? He's a month old. So he says. She checks her phone to be sure of that, and yup...

"And yeah, we could do a lot better at that. Especially now. The 'Bad Guys' really are coming for us all," she says, turns to Sepúlveda. "You said you were here because of some Technocrat shit? You might be in the right place. There's talks about the War starting up again, and some people's attempts at it."

Ned
War....

Ned's agitation suddenly spikes and his head whips around toward the Doc. War? Didn't the Doc say something about a few wars and one being over and Techno-...

Sepúlveda
"'The right place'? This is Denver, is it not?"

He's not trying to be sarcastic. There is nothing charming or manipulative about him. Earnest sure and earnestness can come across as arrogant at times. He claps a hand on Ned's shoulders and says in another audible aside:

"Don't panic. I survived the end of the Ascension War, alright, if they wanted to wipe us all out we wouldn't be sitting here having this conversation right now." He widens his eyes across the table like thanks a lot Grace and breaks from the huddle.

"I hear the old Chantry is no longer, and a place of significance to my wife's people is no longer. 'Technocrat shit,' she says..."

Grace
This is Denver, is it not?

"You sound like you know the place pretty well," she says, half-smirk on her face at the shared sentiment of the city.

"You got a number I should call if... You know, proverbial manure hits proverbial wind mixer?"

Ned
"...Wait, what war? Is there a War? Doesn't that mean fighting?" He whispers harshly under his breath, as if the Doc's White Noise maker weren't a thing. "I don't even know what the hell a Technocrat is."

And then Cheesie fries arrive. The bartender breaks the sound barrier and Ned is immediately straight backed and wide eyed, looking at the rotund fellow without blinking as he sets the plate down, gums clapping around some non-verbal noise.

"Thank you."

The man goes wandering off again, barely aware of his surroundings. God love the Questor.

Sepúlveda
"War means many things, Edward, and there are roles within war that don't require fighting, and I explained to you the origins of the Technocracy already. The Mercurial Elite and the Society of Ether were once part of it. The Order of Reason, they were called, remember?"

Fuck it. Sepúlveda takes the second shot he was going to force on Ned and pours it down his own throat. No chaser. The burn gives him something to focus on for a couple of seconds besides the internal debate he has going on right now which has nothing to do with what they're currently discussing but does cause him a bit of distraction.

Sepúlveda
"A number for you. Yes. Hang on."

He produces a business card and it would come with a description but it is late. The business card contains the contents of his earlier confession. County ME's office. Numbers. Email. All of the means of contact in the case of shit and fans.

Grace
"I don't really fight much," Grace says. "I just track things down. You'd be surprised how much damage you can do with the right information in the right hands."

Hence why the not Kung Fu. Hence why she just wanted to get the fuck out of the bar at first.

She takes the doctor's card, looks it over like she's inspecting it for possible... not-niceness. That resonance isn't easy to get over.

"You don't have to fight. Not really. Just be prepared to -- always a good idea."

And with those not entirely comforting words, she gives the two a flash of an awkward smile and finally makes it out of there.

Ned
"You explained where they came from Doc. What do they look like now? How do I identify one? What do they want to do to us that makes it so-"

Ned stops himself with a deep breath, eyes flicking to the table full of cheesie fries. It's a moment of considerable effort but he reaches down and pulls apart a stringy morsel, popping it into his mouth.

"I've got work tomorrow and...lots of stuff to think about." He glances at the Doc again, chewing rather forcefully. "Need to talk to Margot too. Updates so we're on equal ground."