Logs:Chance Connections

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Cast

Vorpal, Sierra Roen

Setting

Ridley Creek State Park

Log

Sierra Roen: Sometimes there is no point in waiting for the right weather. At least, that's what Sierra had committed to as she traipsed through the wet air and damp leaves, over slick and treacherous rocks that lined a hiking trail in Ridley Creek State Park.

The desire to re-visit the places that were affixed to her memories of home had bloomed into a full-grown compulsion, and now here she is, winding up the switchbacks of a mountain while fog -- or are those just very low clouds? -- curl around the craggy but tree-covered topography like a cat, lazy and slinking and entitled.

Dressed in her habitual dark colors, she's wearing boots that are worn, worn but well-cared for, suited to the task of uncertain footing, not that all of it is uncertain. Some of these rocks, amazingly, haven't moved in the fifteen years that she's been gone.

Up, and up, and up and up, until the switchbacks cease and the top is reached, plateauing into a little field that looked out on the view, the foliage that masks the mountains so tightknit, it practically looks like moss, and there, she just stops.


Jackie: It's exactly that awful weather that has Jackie out and about, wandering off trail with all the ease of traversing freshly set tarmac, smooth and level for days. Off trail was anything but smooth or level, and slick to boot with the weather, but it mattered not to the graceful creature, wandering through the misty mountains and keeping an ear out for any surprisingly enterprising mortals that might hurl themselves out her way and oversee her letting her proverbial hair down. Which... well, it was down, but in her case, it was the constant requirement to be fucking normal.

She wasn't doing herself any favors in that territory, but truth told, she'd given up on that front ages ago. The person she wanted to be didn't fit into mortal society and that suited her just fine. She could hang out with her Motley, with hobs, with the Freehold, keep anchored that way, and connect to the real world in moments like these- wandering around Ironside, indulging in the wonders of the perfectly real, and-

... was that grass crumpling underfoot just over that ridge?


Sierra Roen: Sierra pads across the field, more of a meadow, really, like a small flat-top that crowned the mountain up which she had dutifully trudged. But this is the end of her hike, or more appropriately, the halfway point, since the way back still waits, and so she makes for a large, flat boulder, touches its rough surface with her hand. It's cold, but not wet. And that will do.

So she unburdens her feet, and leans back against it, picking herself up and resting on it, minding only the view and her own pensive thoughts.


Jackie: Ah, so it was crumpling grass. Plus clothing, straps, other hiking accoutrements...

A moment's focus, and Vorpal's eyes widen faintly behind their shadows in her mien. She can't be sure what it is... but it's Something Special, and it's carrying Something Special too. Common sense would dictate departing in the other direction, unseen, unsensed, unexposed...

But she is of the Court of Fear, and she wields it- she is not Ruled by it.

So she starts that way, carefully layering her deceptions to keep herself from being immediately Inhuman. No telling what manner of thing this was.

And so she would eventually break the tree line behind the boulder, intentionally stepping on a few twigs to break the illusion of her preternatural dexterity and awareness. forcing herself to struggle faintly with the uneven terrain as she emerges.


Sierra Roen: Sierra ticks her attention towards the treeline at the little twig-breaks and and narrows dark green eyes at the New Arrival, and congenially upnods her head. "I didn't think I would see anyone else out here today," she starts, draping her gaze down and back up over Jackie with unvexed curiosity.

Jackie: "To be blunt," offered Jackie in placid explanation, drifting in Sierra's direction, clad in her odd leathers and striking handwraps, "-neither did I. I like coming out here because few come this far. It's usually quite a nice retreat- not that you've disturbed that, exactly. Just making conversation," she lays out, stopping at conversational distance, eyes aimed out over the world on display.

"It's a heck of a view, isn't it?"


Sierra Roen: Sierra curves a brief smile across her face at the mutual admission as she takes in Jackie's appearance, and is surely a testament to her Irraka nature that she doesn't quirk an eyebrow at her manner of dress, her manner of holding herself. She only bobs her chin in a nod of acknowledgement as the other woman talks. Stowing the information for later, she scans her attention back out across the sloping and cresting, green-covered, fog-hazed mountains.

"It really is," she echoes. "You come out here often, then?"


Jackie: "When I have time," admits Jackie, nodding faintly. "I often don't. A lot of plates in the air, as it were, and many time intensive. Still. When I do find the time, it certainly feels worth it to come this far- to feel the world fade away... or, I suppose," she corrects, "To feel the world fade in and swallow up all those distractions we make for ourselves."

She glances sidelong at her erstwhile companion. "Isn't that why you come out here?"


Sierra Roen: "Mm." It's a barely vocalized murmur of agreement, low from the bottom of the throat.

"I have not been out here in a very long time," Sierra replies, gesturing at the rock she's sitting on in silent invitation. "I just moved back to the area. Fifteen years," she rattles off, knowing or at least expecting that such a question might be offered. "I'm Sierra, by the way," she offers.


Jackie: "Are you? Fortuitous to meet a Sierra in the mountains. I'm Jackie, by the by. Pleasure to make your acquaintance. And I can relate to returning to stomping grounds after a long wait. Business take you elsewhere for a time? Fifteen years sounds too long for school."

Jackie keeps studying the wilderness. Its fascinating to her eyes. So much movement. So much life.


Sierra Roen: Sierra tips her head back and allows herself to enjoy the joke for what is possibly the eight-millionth time in her life, but when you get Noun-named like that, you learn to roll with the punches, and the punchlines. "Jackie," she repeats, cementing the name into her mind. "Ah, you know. Typical young angst. I grew up. I wanted to see the world. As big as it is, I couldn't see the point of staying in one place. I think I found the notion of perma-traveling romantic."


Jackie: "I can get that. Me too. I love traveling. Going to strange new places, meeting strange new people, learning strange new things... what's not to love?" Jackie murmurs, staring at the world passing them by below. "What's changed? Disillusioned? Or just had your fill?"


Sierra Roen: She shakes her head. "Nah, neither. Nothing changed. Just had to come back to take care of somethings. Family drama," she abbreviates the way that people do when the details are politely not up for discussion. "What about yourself, Jackie, you local?"


Jackie: "Mm. Family drama. Best fortunes with that. I'm quite done with my birth family, and my new family is kind enough to generally engage in the sort of drama that I actually prove useful in resolving." Jackie nods contentedly. For the most part, it's even true.

"Am now. Have been for a few years. I pioneered my family's stake in the city. Er. Conceptually. The bankroll that actually bought our place was someone else's. Someone who makes a lot more money than I do." Which is nothing. "Will you be in the area a while, Sierra? During or perhaps even after your family drama resolves? I know that when one finds themselves with a particularly... quirky family, such drama can take some time or effort to resolve delicately."


Sierra Roen: "I'm not sure," Sierra replies candidly, though her arms are folded across her best, but it's more for the warmth against the muggy chill. "I think so. I believe I am meant to take a trip in the coming weeks, but, only for a little while." A beat, and then a telling and impish grin tugs at the corners of her mouth. "You'd miss me already," she jokes.


Jackie: "I may already," Jackie intones woefully. "Are you staying in Philly? Or one of the other towns nearby? My family's settled down on a lovely parcel in Philadelphia that's embarrassingly bougie for how utterly plebian we all happen to be."

"Do you mind if I ask where your trip is headed? I'm rather... well traveled, as it happens. I may have some advice for wherever it is your family drama takes you on this road trip of yours." Johnnie is many things, but beguiling is not one of them. Her question is just thinly veiled enough that someone with no concept of the supernatural might take it for a globetrotter flex- but Sierra should catch the sense of "maybe I know some of the rules of the places you might be heading" in her offer.


Sierra Roen: "In Philadelphia, yeah, I've subleased a place east of Broad, north side of town. Month-to-month." She ticks her attention over to Jackie and gives her another, more searching look when the questions start to collapse into an offer of advice, and she pulls a stream of the air in through her nose, and feels a faint but certain tickle. Well, then.

"Europe," she replies, holding the answer out and then just silence for a long, slow beat. "Do you want to elaborate on that, and tell me who you really are?" It's a challenging question, but s he doesn't ask it challenging-ly, but more in a congenial way. "If you're hiding from something, don't worry," she preempts. "I've got no one to tell nor the inclination to do so. It's just us out here," she gestures around at the still-empty meadow. "But I can smell you now, and you... don't smell human." She glances over at Jackie again, expression still easygoing and friendly. "And you don't talk human either." A dip of the eyes, then back up. "I've seen worse disguises, though."


Jackie: Jackie's lips curl as the deception is tugged down for both of them, and...

She relaxes, and the sense of her is just... palpable. Even without the knowledge she's not human, everything about her too-placid expression, her too-fluid movement, her too-aware lack of reaction as if nothing could or does surprise her... really, all told, it was a pretty good disguise, with that considered.

"You'll forgive me if I don't hand out my pedigree, as it were, but I think we can come to a bit of an understanding. Are you cousins, perhaps, with Diamond and Fox? Or- Jolene, maybe? It's a bit early in the day for you to be related to Henry, methinks, and I know you're not one of Mine." She aims for the most innocuous of names- this is Philadelphia, after all, and there's sure to be a few Diamonds and Fox's running around, plenty of Henry's, and- well, Salome isn't the most normal name she knows, but at the same time, it's less specific than Killy.


Sierra Roen: That seems to amuse Sierra. "Oh, your curiosity, but not mine?" she teases, but she tips her head back and mimes a howl in answer. "How's that for an understanding?" she prods, and it's playful. "You'll even give out others' information, but too precious with your own?" She clicks her tongue behind her teeth. "Savage. Gosh. How unfair to Henry the vampire. I don't know a Diamond or a Fox. So if you're not a wolf, and you're not a vampire, and given that every mage I've met has practically beamed to share that information as soon as they were lawfully allowed to do so, that doesn't leave very many options left, does it?"

She looks Jackie up and down again. "You're not spirit-infested -- that's good. And you have a family. Families are important to some and not to others." She scratches at her eyebrow with a fingernail, and exhales a breath, and by her expression there is utterly no telling if she has pieced it together and given Jackie the politeness of not voicing it.


Jackie: Jackie's smile grows more with every new idea coming from Sierra, and finally, she leans forward conspiratorially. "I'll give you a hint." She glances left and right, then murmurs, "Look around and tell me what's out of place here. If you're as well informed as you surely seem to be, I think you'll have an easy time answering that question."

Which... come to think of it, considering the completely un-seasonal and unreasonable number of brilliantly fresh Autumn leaves scattered around the clearing? That was actually a pretty decent hint. "And I think I will be forgiven for outing a single Henry," laughs the definitely not-Human woman.


Sierra Roen:

"I dunno, I think that's up to Henry," Sierra chimes, all good humor, extending the joke convivially and detectably meaning nothing by it, and following the clue, she takes a passing look around the field, taking in the yellow and orange and red leaves that might have well crumbled to shriveled brown things and beaten down with snow by now.

"The leaves. But you're probably not a leaf monster," she doles out.

She narrows her eyes and squints at the leaves and rakes through her memory, through the better part of two decades traveling the world and combing its strangeness, flipping through the file catalogue of All The Odd Things. But there were only so many Odd Things here in Philadelphia, or at least the last time she reconciled such information, which was admittedly quite some time ago... but leaves? Specifically, autumn leaves, here in the dead of winter. What a strange effect.

She drums her fingers along the surface of the flat rock upon which she's leaning and cants her head at a faint angle while she gropes for the answer, and she must come to it, because she turns towards Jackie with an expression of understanding. "Ah. You are a Freeholder. I can understand your predilection for discretion."


Jackie: Jackie brightens visibly with the understanding, and sweeps a bow- halfway through which, she dissolves into a spray of the selfsame autumn leaves, bowing just the same. She spins up into the air for a moment before descending gracefully and recorporating, speaking once she has a mouth again. "The very same. Thank you for understanding. I've met a few of yours, they were quite pleasant! I've even met some while I wandered in Twilight. It's always interesting, who you meet over there."


Sierra Roen: She blinks at the sudden leafyness display, watching curiously until Jackie reconstitutes as a more human iteration. "Freeholder and possible leaf monster, got it," Sierra chimes. "And some of them are pleasant. Some, less so. Like anything, I think. But if you're ever in the Shadow, or what we call the Hisil, and you see red brands instead of silver, you should run." She considers. "Or kill them. Those are the Anshega, the Pure, and they'd break this world if they could."


Jackie: "You know, I don't think I've been fortunate enough to see any of you in a state that shows off any brands," murmurs Jackie- though it's also possible they're visible in human forms on wolves, too, and the player just didn't think to describe them. "Yours, you say, are silver?" She sounds distinctly amused. "I used to have silver on me, as well. I had to break that thread to free myself, though. I don't suppose you know anything about how to intentionally snap silver threads, do you? The spiritual sort, I mean. The mundane kind is very easy to manage. And you say there's horrible, awful wolves out there that want to break the world, and they're conveniently visually identifiable in the- Hisil, you called it?" Jackie seems very intrigued by this. "Would you say they're likely to be capable warriors?"

Why did she sound so excited?


Sierra Roen: "Yes, they're visible in the Shadow realm. Our word for that world is Hisil. And, we can flex them out even here, in the physical, if we want to, but it's usually for a good reason. Mine are silver," she confirms with a rumble of a chuckle. "But I'm afraid I don't know anything about silver threads, beyond that I would rather not have them sewn into my clothes," she admits. Her cat-like grin extends. "Why's that, Jackie, you lookin' for a fight?" she cajoles.


Jackie: Jackie heaves a deep, sincere, soulful sigh. "I have been looking for a fight for literal years. The closest I've found doesn't work out, because she's so tough, her only states are "fighting" or "dead", and I'm not willing to kill her or sign up to lose on purpose. She was one of the first in years to actually hit me, though. So that was exciting!"

"Hm. I'll keep an eye out and keep that in mind. I take it from the fact it's intrinsically, deeply reliable that the difference between your sort and the Pure is more than just philosophical or political? Spiritual, on some level?"

"Mm, I can relate to the "I could show off here but maybe not" concept, for sure. And if I ever find my thread, I'll make sure not to weave it into a fashionable scarf or such for you or yours," chuckles Vorpal. "It's funny, isn't it? How much truth hides in the old tales?"


Sierra Roen: "Eventually, someone must either choose to keep fighting or to die. I would probably not spar to death, but to each their own," she raises her shoulders.

"As for our differences, it would take a very long time to explain all of them but the key highlights are, as mentioned, they want to break the world. As in, merge the Shadow with this one. And they have a much more cavalier opinion about killing humans."

And she raises her shoulders. "Ah, well. Thousands of years; things leak into mythology, somehow. I wish that bit about the only way to kill a werewolf is with silver was true, but sadly, there are other ways. I appreciate the vote of confidence, though," she chuckles.


Jackie: "Oh, I don't really think she would, but I do think she recognizes that as long as she acts like she would, nobody else will be willing to kill her to win a sparring match," Jackie explains.

"Oh." She intones, expression deepening, darkening. "I see. That's indeed monstrous. I'll keep that in mind, and if I come across any, I'll bring word of it to you and yours- er. Once I figure out how to get word to you and yours, at least."

"Hey, the misinformation is awfully useful, I find. The things the legends get wrong, and don't mention- they protect us as much as anything else does."


Sierra Roen: "Texting works," Sierra chirps back, digging her phone out of her pocket. "Well. Not in the Shadow. And not in your thorns, I presume. I haven't been," she adds. "Only stories.."

At the mention of the misinformation being useful, she bobs her head from side to side. "I wonder how many vampires have had garlic thrown at them," she buzzes, handling her phone once she's retrieved it and gesturing with it in the universally understood this is when you tell me your number manner.


Jackie: Jackie fishes her phone out and displays her number for Sierra to take down, nodding. "Good call. And no, the thorns don't exactly get satellite coverage. If you get a call there, it's very much a toss-up if you want to answer or not. I lean towards not- the things that can make a phone ring there aren't usually the sort I want to chat with. And honestly, it's maybe best if you haven't been to the thorny side of things. It's- magical, in its own right, but it's all of it trying to steal you, and I can't but imagine that the, ah... well, you know the terms all roads lead to Rome? I imagine the "Romans"," she says, complete with air quotes, "-would consider those like you particularly exotic pets-and their menageries are... notoriously resistant to escape."


Sierra Roen: "So I've heard," Sierra hums as she keys in the number displayed and sends a message to it, completing the exchange. Then she shoves her phone, and both hands, back into her jacket pockets.