Touchdown

[Administrator] Jarod Nightingale, welcome to General Chicago (Now)

[Administrator] Thomas Black, welcome to General Chicago (Now)

[Administrator] Arcanum, welcome to General Chicago (Now)

[Administrator] Callista Alexander, welcome to General Chicago (Now)

[Arcanum] West Division Street is one of Chicago's success stories so far as gentrification and revitalization goes. In a world that many say is spiraling down to an end [a truth many more feel even if they'd never think to admit it. then again perhaps all endings are nothing more than segues into new beginnings], where more efforts at urban rehabilitation fail than success, West Division Street has, so far, proven to be the exception. You can still see that it's a work in progress: There are, here and there, boarded up buildings amidst the eclectic boutiques and cafes. It's a neighbourhood that is growing, with the rent still affordable enough that young entrepreneurs can give their dreams and ideas a try... meaning the area also hasn't yet fallen sway to the major chains or ultra-expensive label names. These are the up-and-comers. Any shop you waltz into might be owned by someone who will [may] - in a year, two, a decade, never - make it big in the business. Whether that business be fashion, crafts, antiques, culinary, novelties, oddities, arts... you can find a wide variety here in the place that has a feel of what Greenwhich Village in NYC used to be in its fledgling years.

The night air is brisk, but a good 11 degrees above freezing, subtle whispers that Spring will, indeed, eventually make an appearance. It means the area is busier than it has been since the holiday shopping season: People out strolling. College students, middle aged couples, young families, these are the diverse cut the neighbourhood pulls, weaving out and about in this portion of Chicago between Milwaukee Avenue and Damen Avenue. Perhaps Jarod has an interest in Grow an up-and-coming hip childrens store that is fully eco-friendly, selling organic fiber clothing and sustainable-wood furniture. Callista might be scoping out curiosities in one of many boutiques herself or maybe she's heard about a nice restaurant... or maybe, as is so likely the truth with Tom, they are just passing through from point A to point B. Or she could be following up on a lead... and Tom could be staking out a potential mark.

Ah, the possibilities on a lovely nippy evening on the cusp of things.

[Jarod Nightingale] It was warmer tonight than the beginning of March in Chicago had any right to be, but most people didn't stop to ponder the environmental ramifications, preferring instead to enjoy the unexpected respite from the harsh winter winds. West Division Street was busier than it had been lately, but that was neither here nor there to the well-dressed man walking down the sidewalk with an iPhone in his hand. He paused for a moment to lean back against the brick wall of a building that housed a coffee shop to focus on finishing his text, fingers tapping quickly against the touch screen.

He'd come here earlier to meet with a student, but had ultimately gotten distracted with checking out the stores. One of them had a few things he thought he might buy his daughter, but she was getting to an age now when she preferred to pick out her own clothes, so he knew better than to buy anything without her approval.

It was dinner time, and she was probably hungry. Thus, about time to head home. (Assuming of course that the universe didn't suddenly converge to stop him from doing so.)

[Arcanum] [[Ahem, ST brain freeze: The scene setting is for the later afternoon/evening, the last hour or so of real daylight. Thank you. That is all. &+8976;.&+8976; ]]

[Callista Alexander] People, living. Groups gathering together to enjoy each other's company, taking the chance to forget the daily battle that life today tends to be. Bills. Rent. Commuting. Scaling mountains of paperwork, with little chance of respite beyond a few minutes at the water cooler to chat about last night's TV shows.

Callista's here for a couple of reasons. The first is, simply, that she's new to the city. The area has been picking up a great reputation, and she wanted to see if for herself. With so much of the city falling into decay, the inescapable drunks, and prostitutes with their pimps, on every street corner, it's a breath of fresh air to find something nice!

That leads into the second reason for her being here. Camera hanging from its strap off her left shoulder, she's getting ideas for a 'feel good' piece for the news show next week. She's aimlessly strolling through the area, taking the occasional photo of random stores, groups, street furniture. She's dressed for the coolness of the afternoon, with hefty boots, decent black jeans, and a battered leather jackets hanging open over a thick, wooly jumper.

[Thomas Black] Up and coming eh? Thomas looks around as he swaggers through West Division Street, each exhale of his smoke bring a touch of frost to his breath, he hated winter then again when it was summer he hated that too, but he was British it was his god given right to moan about the weather.

If was the only thing he had to worry about then it would be a brief moan but it wasn't, oh no the cockney had a moan list as long as his arm and he kept most of them to himself. Another day trying to get away from it all, and not give in to the darkside that has been dogging him for months now, truthfully it felt like years.

The young man was dressed in a black pull over hoodie and then over that his 'wheeler and dealer' tan overcoat, fingerless gloves, long dark blue jeans and very worn green converse. Perhaps early twenties if that he stops to offer an older lady a light, showing the chivalrous side then two seconds later telling a beggar to 'Piss off an get a job wanker' showing his...well selfish side. Swings and roundabouts.

As he plucks the cigarette from his lips between forefinger and thumb his index finger slide over his lips and he felt that dry chapped feeling setting in so he detoured for a coffee, cigarette placed back on his lips to rush the last few drags worth from it. He see's a flash go off next to him as he instiviely throws up a hand and then peers through his fingers just in time to give Callista a two finger salute for her next feel good piece. He smirks as he turns just in time to see the coffee shop door close revealing his most favourite person in the world. The cigarette falls from his mouth and he curses

"Bollocks!"

Jarod Nightingale
AKA
Catman
AKA
rich son of a bitch
AKA
COCK!

"Sud'ave stayed in the sack."

[Administrator] Thomas Black has left General Chicago

[Administrator] Thomas Black, welcome to General Chicago (Now)

[Administrator] -Kittie on a wall-, welcome to General Chicago (Now)

[Arcanum] As the day winds its way towards evening and then towards night the pedestrians traffic flexes, stretches, shifts, yawns. Children making their way home from after school programs. Parents making their way in from the Loop or the Mile or the industrial areas of the city. The neighbourhood still has a strong middle-class Latino community as its backbone of residents: It is not at all uncommon to hear salsa, Shakira or regeaton drifting from cars as they pass by, though by and large most are not obnoxious about it. Several of the restaurants and cafes in the area share those Latino roots: Besos del Mar is a busy little joint no so far from the mid point between where Jarod leans, Tom swears and Callista snaps pictures. The small restaurant/cafe boasts tapas of all sorts, to-die-for paella and a decadent array of homemade flans that will send your soul to heaven and your hips straight to hell...

It's getting on towards dinner time - for those who eat around 6pm or so, anyway, and the place is gaining more and more attention. One family is making their way in -- their teenage daughter spots Jarod and, Omg, omg! You were in Fashion Week, weren't you!? Omg, I saw you on Style! Oh can I have your autograph, oh please, oh please? the father is eying Jarod with all the signs of paternal disdain [you can almost see the hackles rising] while the mother pretends not to admire the mans perfect features right along with her daughter... and at least tries to calm her daughter enough that the 15-year-old isn't pawing all over him.

Callista, looking for feel-good pics, spots a golden one: Outside of Besos a man in black slacks and dress shirt is lifting up a young boy - maybe eight or so - who is painstakingly writing on a chalkboard next to the front entrance: Try the Pan Dulce pancakes! My favourite! Adam - 7.

For one moment - random, chance, happenstance - both the boy and the waiter, and the mother and the daughter seem to turn to look Eastward. It's just a breath; barely a heartbeat... then they return to whatever it is they are engaged with. Tom notices that a businesswoman passing beside him stops walking just a beat and does the same. A moment. Random. Chance. Happenstance. She blinks... looks down...
"Pick up that cigarette, young man, this isn't the slums."
And walks on.

[Jarod Nightingale] [Awareness for the win!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 4, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Thomas Black] [Per & Awareness for the loose!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 5, 7 (Failure at target 7)

[Callista Alexander] [Still writing, Awareness while I do...]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 3, 7, 10 (Success x 2 at target 7)

[Jarod Nightingale] [That should have been diff 7, sorry. Same result though.]

[Jarod Nightingale] [Per+Alertness, diff 8 -1]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 5, 5, 8 (Failure at target 7)

[Callista Alexander] [And altertness - diff 8 - 2 suxx]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 4, 5, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Callista Alexander] Callista's in a really good mood, so the moody guy's attempt at ruining her shot actually makes her laugh. Poking her tongue out at him, she looks rounds for her next unwitting model. She immediately forgets that he's even there.

She finds some parents trying to herd their kids towards the bus stop, while struggling with a large number of shopping bags. Their little boy keeps running off to climb over the street benches, while the girl keeps sitting down and griping about being tired and not wanting to walk any more.

Life goes on.

*click*

Then, the little boy being lifted up. Perfect! One of those shots you wait months before, and it's right there! Lifting her camera up to take aim, the boy and waiter suddenly look away from what they're doing. Callista lowers the camera and looks in the same direction.

[Arcanum] Feel it? Feel the hairs on the arms rise up? The tingle of something on the air; something in your core that stirs and shifts. It's like... an ache. Like when you just want something - wish for something - so hard, so bad. As we grow older we know need more: But as children we wished with more of an open heart, with a belief that anything might be possible. It's like that, this feeling.. the need and the belief.

She turns to look... the pedestrian traffic is heavy but her eyes is drawn towards a woman. A woman who may be of Indian [as in the Asian country] descent if her clothing is any indication. Lovely and flowing in sun-on-wheat hues and mocha skin. She stands out when you can spot her amidst the people who move around and by her... she's standing near a bench several yard away, looking towards the Besos cafe... watching with the barest hint of a smile on full lips. Watching.
to Callista Alexander

[Callista Alexander] ((Sorry, quick addition))

Callista's attention is drawn to someone in the crowd, someone who's caught her attention. A quick shot or two with the camera, and she looks from one area of the street to another. Waiting for... Something?

[Thomas Black] Thomas obviously looks in the same direction as everyone else does eastwards, mainly in disgust that Jarod has been pulled away by his fans...

The man has fans...

This puts the business woman in the direct line of fire, and he has had enough he looks back to her "An this ain't the kitchen pet so were both in the pete, bloody piss off..." He scowls, as he curses under his breath then looks upwards like the universe had conspired against him. Not for the first time in as many seconds he wonders why he got out of bed today. Still there's no way he could handle Catman and his Jarodettes. Pulling his overcoat around him Thomas is about to make a sharp exit.

[Jarod Nightingale] He was wearing a knee-length black wool coat, left open at the front to reveal a wine-colored sweater layered over a white collared shirt and a pair of black dress pants. The weather today didn't call for any more extreme winter gear, so he didn't have his scarf or gloves with him.

In the distance, someone cursed in an irritatingly familiar voice. For the moment, he chose to ignore it. When he'd finished texting whoever it was he was talking to, he quickly dialed in his daughter's number and waited until she picked up.

"'Lana, hey, I should be heading home in a few minutes. I'll probably get there in about half an hour, alright?"

There was a response on the other end of the line, and he quirked a smiled. "Good for you. Anyway, see you soon."

...And that was when his ears picked up the telltale squeals of a teenage girl. Jarod glanced up as he slipped his phone back into the inside pocket of his coat and let out a long, quiet sigh. This had been happening more often lately. Sooner or later it would die down though. That was the thing about the fashion industry - if you stepped out of the light, people started looking at something else. After a moment, he offered the girl a grudging smile, and if it lacked much in the way of honest warmth, well... she probably wouldn't notice the difference. It was attractive all the same.

"Sure, got a pen?"

There was a chance that he agreed in part to see how the girl's father would react. And as he was signing the autograph, he looked up and smiled at the mother knowingly.

And then, there it was... that feeling. Just a light touch, but there. It made him glance up and look around, curious.

[Arcanum] This is the cusp.
The moment between the normal afternoon with its ups [like catching that awesome 'feel good' shot; like getting to egg on an overprotective blue-collar father] and it's downs [like stumbling out of bed and home to find out that too-perfect man has fans!; like, fuck, having fans]...
...and then what comes after. [when the universe intervenes and says, no, Jarod, you won't be home in thirty minutes. And, no, Tom, you shouldn't have gotten out of bed.]

A strong breeze full of winter gusts round a bend: Chicago is known for its wind [though it got its nickname from 'windy' politicians, not the strong gusts off the lake] and natives are used to it but this is a particularly strong one and it carries on something more than stirred air and bits of litter. It carries the feeling that Callista and Jarod noted with curiosity and intrigue and stillness. Strong enough that surely Jarod will notice it now...

...it carries more than change. It carries reversal.

[once you Awaken you cannot go back to Sleep.
Once you Awaken you cannot go back to Sleep.
No good night Moon.
This is not Sleeping: This is Shielding.
Feel it? You can't miss it.
Feel that connection to something More, something Other, something with yourself that lets you change the threads and weave of the Tapestry itself?
Feel it. Savour it.
Now feel it... not sundered, but blocked. Like someone slipped a translucent but solid wall between You and your Awakened Self. So it's just out of reach.
This is not Sleeping.
You cannot Awaken again.]

This time it seems as if everyone within a 10 foot radius of the three Magi all stop for a second as the wind dies down. They look Eastward. They blink and resume again except...

The businesswoman whips around and slaps Tom backhanded across the cheek. "Little shit! You'd be so lucky to work in my kitchens, you pissant!"
Christ, how did a woman that spindly and dry looking and middle-aged hit that fucking hard and fast?? And how the.. what the... is she getting... taller? Larger??

[Arcanum] [Damage for Tom, the pimp slapped!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 5, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Thomas Black] ((Whoa, crazy 'ho! Soak))
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 6, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Thomas Black] [No darling, I don't have ICQ anymore I'am on AIM, send me your thingy *s*]

[Administrator] -Kittie on a wall- has left General Chicago

[Thomas Black] He staggers with the blow, eyes widening at around the same time he feels the magic in his veins fade away. Thomas was not like other mages, he never believed he had an avatar, he has never had dream seekings or finding your innerself. He feels it fade like a switch, just like that...

Still it's pretty crap when you find out your would be demi god powers have either run out...Or been shut off...No other options spring to mind...which means he is being back to good old Tommy or someone around here is targeting mages, hopefully Jarod...he ached a little, he face furrowed up a touch. He had gotton use to that feeling being there.

Please let it be Jarod!

Still it leaves him with the woman next to him and he rubs his eyes as he must be imagining her getting bigger right, because there is no shazam right now...Unless it was targeted at him. "At least this Jhor crap might go..." Glass half full, lets go glass half full thinks Thomas. "Look, Lady 'am sorry, shitty day we all 'ave 'im right?" He offers up his most charming smile and most gracious bow surely she will let him go.

[Cha & Expression....please let me go *Queue Queen*]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 4, 5, 5, 9 (Failure at target 6)

[Callista Alexander] Callista shivers, as the winds pass along the street. It's not just the cold air making her shiver, though, it's a loss. Something recently gifted by the universe, now unreachable. A feeling rises in her, a feeling of need. A need to get that special something back. Given how little she knows about all things Arcane, and not having even the faintest idea of what on earth just happened, she may as well start wishing on a star for contact with her avatar to return.

"What was that?" she asks, close enough and loud enough for the others who have been affected to hear. To anyone who hasn't just had AT&T Universal cut off the line, she'll just seem like an out-of-towner who's not used to the weather..

Callista glances back at the focus of her earlier attention, to see if anything's happened there too.

[Thomas Black] [Okay thats it Kas, SHE WILL NOT LET ME GO! Re-Roll]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 3, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 7) Re-rolls: 1

[Jarod Nightingale] Truthfully, egging on overprotective straight men was probably one of his greater joys in life. But now that he had a daughter of his own, a certain amount of parental empathy was present that hadn't been there before. Two years ago, he might have done more than just smile at the teenage girl and her mother. Today, that was all that he did. At that point, he'd intended to disengage and move on with his day, heading towards the M3 he'd parked about a block away, but, of course... he didn't do that. Because that was when the wind hit.

And then... the rest is silence.

For a Disciple who had been Awake for a little over a decade, the sensation of having one's Will cut off from the greater tapestry was... not just unnerving, but panic-inducing. It was like being struck blind and deaf at the same moment.

Forgetting about the Sleepers around him completely, he took a few steps away from the family and tried, without success, to reach out around him with his senses... to feel the ebb and flow of life that he knew was there. It didn't work. His nostrils flared as he pulled in a harsh breath, and he put a hand over his mouth. This was the look of someone who was trying very hard to keep his shit together while quietly feeling his lungs collapse.

Dimly he registered the sound of a woman slapping Thomas in the face. At another moment, he might have found that entertaining. What was that? the reporter asked, and he lowered his hand and glanced at her, then looked at the sky. As if that would help, somehow.

"I don't know."

[Arcanum] Tommy boy [Kid Black; Sticky Fingers Black -- whatcha gonna steal now?] lucks out. Oh, his usual charm is, well, a little less than perfect today, but given the bad start to things who can blame him really? Luck comes less from his white-flag words [jay-sus, amazon woman, don't hit me again!] than the fact that the burly womans [for yes, she is burly now; her once-immaculate pantsuit now ripping at the seams and joints] attention is diverted by a car passing by from which rap music is playing and it's something about dancin' ho's and her face turns a livid red and she launches herself after the car, thick, muscular thighs bulging as she sprints after it while she banshee shrieks something about chauvenistic assholes needing their fucking balls ripped off...

...Oh, Tom: Do you know how lucky you are? How blessed?
Do any of you?

People notice of course, but people are good at making up excuses and Apathy rules the World these days or hadn't you heard? A few car horns blare. A few people stop to gawk and stare.. then move along, move along.

Callista: New to town. New to Wonder and now feeling Wonder.. not severed but distant, just-out-of-reach... she raises her voice slightly and asks with the hopes that someone around might feel what she is feeling, might understand. Jarod [keep your cool, man. keep calm. breathe in deep: Hold that breath. This is the universe: It has other plans for you.] responds. [Convergence. Mages tend to realize fairly early on that they are drawn not just to the supernatural after Awakening, but to each other as well.]

It isn't only Jarod who responds, though.

A woman in a jogging suit coming from the East.
A man pushing a stroller coming from the West.
An elderly man steps out of Besos and prepares to light up a cigar.
They all stop in a triangle formation roughly before or between the three mages. They turn [convergence] so that one is facing each Awakened [are you still? are you?] fellow present.
But speak in unison.

Now is a time for Harvest.
Now is a time to Reap.
When you cried out for help: None answered.
You dreamed for Ascension of all: But what price?
Would you give it up?
Would you trade?
Now is the time for Harvest.
Now it the time to Reap.
She comes on the Winds and leaves in the Flood.

Blink
They look dazed. Then all three just go on about their business. They move along, move along.

Jarod: Remember that fan?
The teenager followed him while her parents went on the restaurant.. hell, maybe she said she had to run to the restroom while they took their seats. But either way she's right there and she's breathing heavy and she's wide eyed [pupils slightly dilated] and lips parted and, "Oh god, I want you..."
Science speaks of human pheromones. Some back it up. Some refute it. Where a scientist available to test such a subject as this here and now they would have irrefutable proof. She all but reeks of it, all wide eyed and hopeful and lusting and more... [oh please, oh please - the teenage heart-cry - notice me! want me!]]

[Thomas Black] Thomas considers himself very lucky when she goes Hulk. He watches her run past his expression one of utter confusion. He was newly awakened by any stretch but he lacked some of the years the others had and this was just so very new to him. You'd think if someone (something?) could take away your powers someone else would have let you know.

The convergence happens and as they are speaking as one he takes a moment to place a cigarette in his mouth, pull out his zippo and light it as he listens intently to what they have to say. "Tis always 'bout bloody reapin' ain't it! Though it does sound like a pop number this one!" But they just go about their business. "Bet this is another fuckin' spook tryin' to rattle my chain, not fuckin' likely, go find Henry talk to 'im an you'll find none of that fear 'ere, piss off." He turns around, to Jarod and then Callista (Oh great, another new one). "Catman, you got Shazham, yo new chick, 'ows tricks." He blinks and looks back to Jarod, even now he gets....okay yeah that would be wrong even for Thomas. "Cat's keep the zippa up otherwise it's soap on a rope for you."

He backs up towards the pair, when in doubt strength in numbers...or at worst he could trip one over so he could escape. The cigarette hangs between tight lips as he brings his knuckles together and cracks them. "I got the drinks after if one of you can tell me wat the fuck is goin' on?" He grins. Yes grins, this was kind of exciting and for a man that tried to relish the emotions he had left (How else could he [try] fight the Jhor but to live the other emotions left to him).

"Maybe we cud just wish 'im hat, can't you feel it, lil' kid wishin' it's in the air...that means sum others Shazam is as well."

[Thomas Black] [was=wasn't newly]

[Callista Alexander] Callista starts slightly at Jarod's reply; not some random comment about some strange weather for the time of year. She looks around to see where the reply came from and looks Jarod in the eye. She gives a brief nod, guessing that she's happened across another of the city's Awakened. He looks familiar, but she can't quite place it at the moment.

A slightly longer glance at Tom, as he says hello. He looks familiar, but... had she seen him around earlier? Another nod in recognition. "Been better," she says in reply.

Patterns appearing in the randomness of the universe, patterns drawn to each other for safety in the chaos.

And then the speech. Where... Who..? Probability throwing up runs is one thing, but three completely unrelated people forming up and saying the same thing, at the same time? Coincidence can only go so far, there's got to be someone controlling all of this.

"What do you want?" she yells, turning around and looking for someone taking more than a passing interest in the strange happenings.

What's another crazy lady shouting today?

Assuming there's nothing particular standing out, Callista turns to the east and starts heading to where the woman who had caught her attention earlier had been stood.

What has she got to do with this?

[Jarod Nightingale] [Awaaaareness]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 5, 5, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 7) [WP]

[Jarod Nightingale] He listened with quiet worry as the voices spoke. Harvest, they said (though it was winter yet.)

The three mages drew nearer to each other. Thomas he glanced at but said nothing to. Callista he was more likely to engage, and he glanced at her and said, "We shouldn't be here." Then he noticed the girl....

For all the complaints that one could level at Jarod Nightingale - that he was arrogant, elitist, an unrepentant, selfish asshole... that he slept with everything that moved and never particularly cared for the emotional consequences (and that might be an unfair oversimplification, but it might also be at least partly true) - he had never, and would never, take advantage of someone who was underage. Frankly the idea made him both angry and uncomfortable.

So when he looked back and saw the girl (look at her eyes) watching him, his reaction was rather like that of most 30 year old men who happened to find themselves approached sexually by a fifteen year old in broad daylight - slowly dawning discomfort. Even without his enhanced senses he could pick up on her aroused state. That kind of body language was second-nature to him. But like the woman who'd attacked Thomas, the picture here was grossly exaggerated. Anyone within half a mile would know what this girl was feeling right now.

"You should go back inside with your family," he told her, firmly but quietly.

[Manip+Expression]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 6, 7, 8, 8 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Arcanum] What do you want!? Callista yells at everyone, no one, something or someone or whatever/whoever is behind all of this. To three people here and now this much is abundantly clear: Things are terribly amiss. And what is worse is that outside of small stares here and there, people are just chugging along. Moving along. Move away. In a city you learn to keep your head down when the shit starts to fly and chug along, move along - maybe, just maybe you'll come out clean.
We live in a time of Apathy.
We live in a world of Wonder, for all that it be dying.

No one answers Callista. No one immediately answers Tom. Jarod says they shouldn't be here...
Tom is the only one among them who even remotely dabbles with Fate: Maybe he knows that sometimes in the midst of the rising madness - chaos - is precisely where you are supposed to be. [and besides which: He is not afraid. He knows no fear. Deadly thing, that.]

Callista moves Eastward [Jarod feels that pull, too]... searching for a dark skinned woman in sari of sunset of wheat fields or desert scape or Hindu temples. Here again is the push and pull: Here again at the Tides.
Because what she looks for actually comes towards her... but not alone. No, no, not alone...

The Indian woman - or so she appears in such garb - is in the midst of a group of college aged young women and men: About Tom's age and not so terribly younger than Callista or Jarod. About six of them in total, maybe four girls and two guys. With the unlikely addition in the midst of them though this seems to draw no notice from any of them as they talk up a storm moving like a poorly formed phalanx. You can hear snippets and pieces of their conversation: They are speaking of the Summer, longing for the summer. For Summer break, for Summer heat, for Summer beaches and parties and hot Summer screws. And all the while the woman among them glides with grace and ease, hips rolling, legs striding but fluid more than purposeful. Fertile goddess; Knowing wisewoman, earthen knowledge. Fundamental Will. Deep, golden, warm eyes slide to Callista as her curvaceous full lips slip into a knowing smile... her gaze glides to Jarod. To Tom.

The conversation from the co-eds.. shifts. No: It grows, somehow. Not in volume or anything overt but somehow there is a new layer of intensity to it. Of fervent longing for these things of which they speak. Of wishes and dreams and the potency of these abstract things that so few truly believe in anymore.

...the air starts to grow warmer.
The next gusting breeze starts off cold then carries with it a trace of the South and then, at the very end, something more like the Tropics. Fragrant. Humid. Hot.

Meanwhile, oh Jarod. Oh, don't you see? His words have an impact: They break her heart; they frustrate her loins and her breasts and she wavers between the urge to turn tail after this firm rejection from the much older [so gorgeous] man... but somehwhere inside she knows, she just knows she has an advantage right now that she normally wouldn't and if only she could press it, use it...
...because Jarod's response makes her waver the man does have warning for what happens next: How she asserts herself and presses forward, presses closer, darts an untrained hand down to his crotch and - thank god - doesn't squeeze, but rubs and roils there and whimpers. "Please? C'mon... I won't tell. I promise I won't tell."

As if she isn't doing this before god and everyone.

[[consider that a WP spent for Pheromone girl who only has WP 3.]]

[Callista Alexander] [Awareness]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 3, 5, 8 (Success x 2 at target 5)

[Thomas Black] [Per & Awareness]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 3, 4 (Botch x 2 at target 5)

[Arcanum] What Callista feels is more of what she felt before: Longing, desire, wishes, dreams... fundamental and raw. Without shape or form just there to be grabbed and seized and used. It's stronger now than ever.
to Callista Alexander

[Jarod Nightingale] The woman and her companions approached, and he wanted to go to her - to talk to her, and not this silly teenage girl who was quickly becoming more than just an aggravation. You could see the frustration in his eyes when the girl dove at him like a small dog that couldn't seem to realize how much trouble it was getting itself into. All told, he felt a little bad for her. But... he didn't have time for this, and when she continued to try to seduce him (pheromones - he wasn't entirely un-susceptible to those... breathing them in made him blink and pull in a sudden breath) he jumped back quickly and physically pushed her away. Not hard enough to send her falling, but enough to make his meaning clear.

"Get out of here!" he shouted. "Now!"

He could feel the brush of summer's breath on his skin, and somewhere very far away... a snarl of righteous anger like a wildcat howling into the winter winds. But it didn't matter. No one could feel it but him. Summer had stolen Winter's voice.

[Being not-nice this time (poor girl) - Manip 4 + Intimidation 0]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 5, 5, 6, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6) [WP]

[Thomas Black] Smoke coils around his nose, even with his magic gone he can feel the chaos, just like the Chinatown Black Monster and perhaps....perhaps like Vinnie, but that was a jumping guess at best. He looks to Callista because Thomas had no idea who was centred where but when he follows her gaze to the black skinned woman, all hips and summers wants he tilts his head. "She 'as groupies...just bloody great never on there todd are they." He offers a side glance to Jarod then wishes he hand not. Under aged girl foundling man he disliked...that will stick with you.

"Well that answers that then." He starts walking eastwards, the land of the rising sun no less [he gets it]. As he plucks the cigarette from his mouth then lets out one hell of a wolf whistle hoping to get the black skinned goddess? attention. "Yo, 'ows tricks pet, now am generally a germans on kinda fella, so 'ows 'bouts we take off the shazam then go get pissed like adults, sound robin isle?" He is grinning, he feels it. He touches his chest smoke wandering around him as he holds back that consumption. Not quite the real thing, but close enough to give him some hope.

Fear[ish]

[Cha & Performance, Wolf Whistle]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Callista Alexander] Callista's mind is screaming at her: This is wrong!

Mages cut off from their avatars.

Sleepers - this sleeper - altering reality in way that she shouldn't be able to. Consensus should have shredded the smug bitch by now. Influencing, controlling people like this. Callista pushes down the urge to headbutt the freak of nature to break her concentration, knock her out, return consensual reality to normal. She glares at the woman as she passes, feeling for her essence, her resonance.

Feeling... wrong. Feeling the emotions, the pheromones, the desire pouring out of the woman. But not like looking at other Mages. Different. Just... wrong.

Is this what a marauder feels like? Insanity-fuelled magic fooling reality into looking the other way?

Marauder or not, the realisation that she's vastly out of her depth hits home. She's outnumbered, outpowered. She has possible allies in the other mages, but she doesn't know them or what they can do without their arcane tools to hand.

Time to go.

She backs up to the two men, keeping her eyes firmly on the Indian-esque woman.

"Unless you have a plan, I think we need to get out of here. Now."

Only Tom's already moved forward. Callista pauses to watch.

[Arcanum] This time Jarod doesn't have time to play nice: He shoves the girl back, not so hard she falls or hurts herself but between the physical action and the fierceness [snow leopard. cold. sharp fangs and tearing claws and unmoved eyes] strikes home and too harsh for her to overcome. Bursting into tears all sense of overwhelming lust, overbearing want me, fuck me, please, please, please notice me drains away leaving naught but a 15-year-old girl with acne and braces and sobbing, heaving sorrow...

...she flees for the restaurant.

Tom's piercing wolf whistle should have broken through to the group of young men and women still walking, still moving forward but slower now even as their voices seem to intensify and...
...they aren't speaking English anymore. Just what they are speaking is anyone's guess. Linguists present cannot discern any human tongue here. It sounds, without a doubt, primordial and arcane and the heat in the air just keeps rising, rising, rising...
...grass is shooting upwards on barren patches around likewise barren trees that line the sidewalk here and there. Weeds push up through cracks in the cement. Oh, other people are noticing now, that's for damned sure and they are stopping like cattle or the proverbial deer trapped in headlights, jaws dropping, heads tilting. Eyes wide with awe, wonder, shock.
The late afternoon sky above them is clearing... but almost as if in a dome around and above them. Just beyond you can see the overcast steel grew of Winter clouds and where warm air touches cold you can see steam and begin to smell...
...ozone.
Frisson.
Above and around this freak Summer weather thunderheads are starting to roil and loom an ugly greenish tinge. Raw magic like this without thought for consequences... Paradox may not be slamming down on anyone [or is it about to?] but Nature responds all the same to this unnatural flux; this sudden shift in atmosphere and pressure. Two fronts are clashing over head.

Tom wold whistles and the sari-draped, gorgeous woman looks to him, smiling with ease and grace..... and something closer to a clinical interest.
"We can only do what we are made for. I only finish the work given me."
Her voice is low and rich; sweet molasses and steamy nights. Sensual without physical desire attached to it: Beyond that. Above it. She looks skyward... then looks to Callista who says they need to get out of there, echoing what Jarod said earlier. And when she speaks again it is almost matter-of-fact if it wasn't for that continued smokiness. "Sad creatures. Sad, sad creatures. They drown themselves in honey. They move mountains and then are crushed beneath them."

And then.
And then.
"Look up." That is almost sing-song teasing.
And then... she's gone. Poof -- all it lacks is a puff of smoke. The group of co-eds around her are stumbling now, dazed or drunk or entranced with a sound like a rising swarm of bees...

Someone screams: "Holy FUCK... that... that... That's a fucking TORNADO..."

Look up.
[Nature will seek to correct these anomalies itself.]
Indeed... a sinuous dark spiral is dipping down from about a block away -- not yet making contact with the ground but that, ladies and gentlemen who may never have seen one... that is a twister.
This is not Kansas.

[Administrator] Breeze, welcome to General Chicago (Now)

[Administrator] Breeze has switched to In Character Room (Now)

[Jarod Nightingale] It was too late. She'd disappeared. The girl... he'd hurt her. He knew that. She was a casualty, and from the brief twist of empathy on his face (this never would have happened before - having a daughter was softening him) it was evident that he wasn't happy about the way he'd had to handle that.

But there wasn't time to process it. There wasn't time for anything, because above them the sky churned with rage. (This wasn't meant to be - this was against the order of things - cycles must be respected...)

"Follow me if you need a ride," he shouted over the wind at Callista. The reporter might very well have her own means of escape, in which case, she wasn't his problem, but the offer was made. As for Thomas... he glanced at the Hollow One, but didn't say anything. (Tommy could probably get himself out of just about any mess he ended up in, anyway.)

Regardless of what any of the others decided to do, he didn't wait around. He turned and started running for his car.

[Thomas Black] There's just blinking from Thomas as he plucks the cigarette from his mouth and tosses it to the side business woman stomping around somewhere be damned. His lips purse as he starts trying to put something together in the big scheme because if she wasn't coming out of that crowd there was no doubt he wasn't going in. He looks to her as she address him and his eyes perhaps contain a touch more lust then he would hope, then again she was something to be fearful of, that made her even more wanton to his eyes.

Then chanting and he takes a few steps back, it's never good when there chanting all the films teach you that. Then she teleports. "Bloody 'ell, 'ow ain't she been taken out hat and reality slappin' the bitch silly...

Her last words...

Look up!

His jaw drops, this was something he had only ever seen on the news, he had never seen one in person. Once more he should feel fear and fells nothing, still it is only a second of awe filled wonder. Jarod had called out for Callista which meant he didn't need to risk his hide, that's a bonus. He noted how his name wasn't mentioned and grinned slightly, who knew the pretty boy had it in him, new rules of engagement he liked that. Then he remembers there's a tornado! "Sod this!" He turns 180 degrees from it and runs as fast as his legs will carry him which for a smoker is quite fast!

"BLOODY WEATHER!"

[Dex & Atl, Run Forest fucking Run!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 5, 7, 7, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 6 at target 6) [WP]

[Callista Alexander] From bad to so much more bad! Surely it can't get any worse.

The entourage start chanting. Not English. Not Mandarin. Nothing vaguely European. What the hell is that?

Some automatic reaction, ingrained through use, draws Callista's hand into her coat pocket. Always carried, just in case there's an impromtu discussion that's newsworthy, she pulls out a small dictaphone and hits the record button.


...as plants start pushing up through the pavements. Too much, time to go. Backing away again, dictophone still held out to record as much as she can, Callista heads towards the road.

Until it does get worse. As the woman finishes speaking and disappears, Callista looks up. Unsure of what she's seeing.

That's a fucking TORNADO...

For a few moments, she's struck with a feeling that so few people have ever seen this before. Her camera is pulled up, the button held down for a second or two...

*clickclick...*

...taking in the view of the twister, the fleeing crowd...

*...clickclick...*

...until sanity takes over again. It's a fucking TORNADO

No chance of outrunning it on foot. Not much point in hiding in one of the buildings, it would just be shredded by the winds and air pressure. But where to go?


"Follow me if you need a ride,"

The universe provides.

With a last glance around, at the rapidly clearing street, Callista runs after Jarod.
Hopefully to safety.

[Arcanum] What happens next is precisely what one expects would happen in a situation like this: Pandemonium. Mass panic. People lose their heads entirely once the initial moment of sheer shock wears off. In situations like this the best and worst aspects of humanity manifest. Like a shop keeper who hearing the uproar and tumult shouts from his front door: "I have a basement! I have a basement!" and then beelines for it but leaves the front door open. Other shop owners have basements too: Some follow suit. Other lock their doors frantically fearing the looting of their merchandise. Some are trampled as healthy, heartier, bigger people flee. Others step and help people up. A skinny teenager sees a mother struggling with a toddler and a baby in a stroller: He grabs the toddler and the others hand and urges her onward for one of the shops with the doors still open.

Traffic jams up, but to Jarod and Callista's favour this is not an area with heavy road congestion [as part of the gentrification they are pushing 'eco-friendly' hard and trying to make this a pedestrian zone as much as possible] and the congestion is behind Jarod's car and leaves a clear-ish path for him to maneuver with speed and get the fuck out.
...And if Callista thought you couldn't outrun a tornado, well, Tom Black is sure as hell putting that theory to the test.

Tornadoes are, in part, so dangerous because they are so unpredictable. They skip. They leap. They loom and threaten then disappear. They spawn twins. They form giants. It's nature's game of Russian roulette and then the first funnel touches down it does so on the back side of the far end of the block, giving the three Mages just that much more time to get away...
...though for the souls in those apartment buildings or anywhere else the twister should hit...


Sad, sad creatures...

[Administrator] Thomas Black has left General Chicago