chicago. [ian, in progress]

Ian

It's two days before Christmas in Chicago and the ambient temperature outdoors is still hovering at about 50 degrees. There's no snow on the ground, but the sky is overcast and a fine mist of rain has been drizzling the city intermittently since dawn. When Ian arrives at the airport, he parks his rental car (a 2010 VW Jetta - not quite a match for the Audi he left at home) in the hourly lot and jogs across to the United terminal, passing a row of cars idling at the curb. A few drops of rain land in his hair and on his jacket, beading up on the leather. When he gets through the second set of doors he pauses to look around. O'Hare is always packed this time of year (most airports are.) There's scarcely room to breathe amid the sea of travelers. Ian has to slip past the clogged over-spill from the baggage check on his way to the gate exit where Kiara will be arriving. On his way there, he glances at the arrival information on one of the overhead screens - checks to make sure the flight hasn't been delayed. He gave himself about twenty minutes to spare, which means he has time to kill before she gets there.

The rest of his company has already left Chicago. By now they'll be setting up the stage at the Overture Center in Madison. So Ian's here alone, and when he arrives at the waiting area he settles in at the back of the crowd, leaning against the windows with his phone out. For the next twenty minutes, he mostly ignores the people around him in favor of catching up on a few news articles. He also responds to a text that Emma sends him.

E: Don't be late, lover boy.

I: I'm never late.

E: Shannon thinks you're going to miss the show.

I: Why the fuck does she think that?

E: She's seen Kiara.

I: I'm not going to miss the show. Tell her to stop worrying.

I: I'll text you when I'm on my way.

Kiara

And here comes Spring, nourishing the depths of Winter.

Or so it really feels, with Kiara. The moment she appears through the gate wheeling a small carry on suitcase behind her Ian can sense it. Sense her, too. All that rejuvenating energy coiled away inside a slender brunette with long, wavy hair unleashed around her shoulders and a pair of over-sized sunglasses perched on the crown of her head. She's dressed to travel, Kiara, in soft cotton cargo pants and sneakers, a dark navy hoodie half zipped over a plain white v neck and save for the fact her lips are painted a glossy pink, very little in the way of make up; if anything, with the traces of a light tan she bears, it boosts the picture of vitality she offers.

As if she'd been drinking in the sunshine and was presently manifesting herself as some extension of the warmer summer days currently so distant from them.

-

She'd almost missed her flight.

Somehow between Denver to Hawaii and back to Denver again the Verbena's sleeping schedule (and her ability to stop) had become severely compromised. She'd found herself drifting, like a sliver of seaweed caught in the tide, traveling along without conscious thought to put a halt to the momentum and allow herself the time to recover; to recharge and contemplate everything that had happened recently.

Some of that was Her doing, of course.

Miles to go and she was restless and driven and the wind kicked up around Kiara the longer she idled.

-

She finds him the crowd. He's toward the back, his body back-lit by light, rays of it trickling through the dismal overcast skies outside and there's a subtle little expression of pleasure that plays into focus across her generous mouth, finds depth and surety in her dark eyes as she navigates her way through the throng toward him.

Of course she'd have found him but - there's a degree of urgency to this reunion.

Almosts and could-have-been's, you understand. Life was never a certainty for them and he'd been absent nearly a month, the type of woman that the Verbena was; her calling; meant it would never be a surety - that they'd reunite like this every time. That there would be a way for it to happen so seamlessly.

"Hey."

She greets as she clears the crowd, her eyes bright. "Waiting for anyone in particular?"

Ian[awareness, woo]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (3, 3, 5, 7, 8, 10) ( success x 3 )

IanHe does sense her. Feels the familiar stirrings of her energy before he catches her face approaching through the crowd. Kiara is dressed for traveling. There are sunglasses in her hair (which she likely won't have need of) and her skin's been kissed with this warm glow of life that feels a far cry away from the clouded winter sky hanging over Chicago. Ian isn't exactly pale (his skin tends toward a soft tan even in the colder months) but he doesn't bear the marks of the sun the way that she does. By the time she spots him, he's slipped his phone into the back pocket of his jeans and is leaning against the windows watching her approach.

He doesn't push through the crowd to get to her - not immediately. Instead he waits until there isn't a throng of people between them, then he lifts off the wall and...

Hey. Waiting for anyone in particular?

...closes the distance between them. It happens quickly, that part, and when he catches her he threads his hands into her hair and kisses her hungrily - inhaling (stealing) some of her breath when their lips make contact. It feels like it's been so fucking long since he touched her. Smelled her. Tasted her skin beneath his tongue. It's been a little over three weeks, but they've both traveled hundreds of miles in the interim.

He makes this little noise in the back of his throat. Soft enough that only she can hear. There's a hoard of people around them, any number of whom might be glancing in their direction, but for the moment he really could not care less.

"Yes," he replies eventually, teeth grazing her lower lip.

He doesn't really want to step away. When he does, it feels like tearing away from a magnetic field.

"Let's get the hell out of here. Did your flight go okay?" He starts to reach down to take her luggage, though if she seems content to hold onto it he'll let the offer rest.

KiaraShe's always had a strange relationship with flying.

Not a fear - not for a woman who had leaped out of them in the past - but rather with the static quality of the experience. Caged inside and yet as a whole moving - she struggles to remain in her seat for the duration for longer trips - fidgets and shifts and props her chin on her hand, staring out the tiny square window offered her; drifting among the clouds outside as much as retaining her awareness of what was going on inside it.

"Mm, it was frustratingly uneventful," she replies rather breathlessly when they draw apart; her hands framing his face in the way she liked - kissing him with equal (if not more) aggression - before they slid down to shape the remembered strength of his shoulders, curling in there and sliding around his neck; lifting her body against him for just a lingering moment to lean her face against him and brush her nose into the side of his cheek.

There was something luxurious in the motion.

"Not even a little turbulence." Something wry to that as she does pull away, traces a thumb over his lower lip where her lip-gloss has left the tinges of sticky-sweet residue. She cedes the luggage to him without much in the way of seeming concern; a touch of bemusement perhaps at the gesture but she seems satisfied enough to loop her arm through his and cast a doubtful look over his shoulder toward the weather outside.

The rain miserably pledging itself to falling in slow, sluggish deliberation.

"Everyone says hello back in Denver, by the way," she murmurs as they began to pick a careful path through the crowds. "I saw most of them at the house for Annie's Yuletide party." A beat, Kiara's voice notching into something less appreciative: "One of the Hermetics you told me about was there. Henry's son."

IanThis is something they've yet to do - take a flight together (skydriving excluded.) Perhaps on the trip home Ian will find himself amused by Kiara's restlessness. His own strategy for dealing with the long journey is quite a bit more meditative.

Kiara mentions the lack of turbulence as though it were a disappointment. There's a glint of amusement in Ian's eyes as they pull away (reluctantly) from each other's orbit. Some of the gloss on her lips has transferred to his own, leaving traces of her in his mouth. He rolls his lower lip between his teeth after she touches it with her thumb, sliding his tongue over it.

She lets him take her bag (with some bemusement,) and soon he's walking them through the crowd, mindful of stray feet and elbows as he picks up a purposeful gate.

He doesn't like airports. Doesn't like being stuck in this kind of crowd, where everyone is stressed and no one seems to know where the hell they're going.

He glances back when she mentions the others - that they said hello. "Yeah, Leah invited me. I talked to Kalen on the phone the other day. I'll have to catch up with the rest when I get back." There's a pause while he mulls over his thoughts on the holiday - on group gatherings, but Kiara's mention of the Hermetics derails that train of thought. A crease forms between his brows and he makes this little noise that might well be swallowed up by the crowd.

"What was he like?"

They get to the exit and Ian picks up his stride as the automatic doors slide open.

KiaraThe moment the automatic doors slide open the world rushes in to greet them.

The smell of the rain on the air fills Kiara's lungs and it's with perceivable pleasure that the pagan sets foot outdoors; making some tiny noise of such and tipping her face up to greet the flecks of rain washing down across the airport entrance as they pass through into Chicago proper. It's not really any less busy once they pass through the whirring electronic doors but the frenetic pace is given more breathing room out here, at the very least.

The people and cars; those milling about for taxis and buses and the near-constant rumble of planes as they soared overhead or descended and circled slowly in to bank and careen across the tarmac.

There was a family standing just outside the doors; a frazzled father balancing a small wailing child on his hip while another pawed and tugged insistently at his side, his wife yelling into her phone about delays and rescheduling and what about their luggage all the while rocking a stroller back and forth to soothe a newborn infant grumbling inside it. The Verbena opens her eyes on the scene and there's a beat where Kiara studies them as they glide past - not so much with sympathy as keen awareness.

They were so alive in the moment, this family, so full of vibrancy, even in the height of their agitation and they would, most likely, never have the slightest idea of it. How close they played their mundane concerns to a far more dangerous set of them.

She thinks, briefly, of Haoa and his Grandson; of Ali'ikai.

Tightens her hold on Ian almost in reflex and catches on to the tail-end of his words: What was he like?

"Honestly? I couldn't tell you. I spent most of the evening actively avoiding him. He mostly stood by the window in the living room and ignored everyone from what I could tell." There's a beat, Kiara's eyes tick to Ian's face for a moment; registering it in profile. "I don't think Annie and the others were happy, exactly, with his presence."

There's a quiet sigh from the brunette.

"Sasha said if he knew what Kalen and I had been up to, he'd have had to arrest us." A curl of that same derisive humor Sasha had heard in the Verbena's voice at the time. Something entirely darker and volatile flickering through the female's eyes, twitching her mouth into a frown. "Anyone would think we weren't trying to make things right."

With who, she doesn't quite make clear.

IanThat Annie and her cabal-mates might not look at a visiting Hermetic authority with much favor does not register as especially surprising to Ian. Kiara probably knows them better than he does, but from what he's gathered of Annie she does not especially care for either the Order or for authority figures.

The air outside the terminal has a particularly urban scent to it. Glass and metal and rain-soaked pavement mingles with the exhaust fumes of idling cars and vague hints of jet fuel. The humidity makes the smells worse. Catches them and holds them in the air. Ian makes this face when they get outside, his nose wrinkling slightly to add to the look of brooding irritation.

He shouldn't be feeling that way right now. Shouldn't be thinking about how this airport makes him feel like a residue is clinging to his skin that he might never be able to get clean of.

A drop of rain falls on his forehead, trailing down past the corner of his eye. He stops moving for a second to wipe it away, then adjusts his grip on Kiara's bag.

He doesn't look at the family. (Really doesn't want to.) He does look at Kiara though, and this causes his expression to smooth out a little. Whatever else, he is happy to see her. Happy to have her arm linked up with his own. The warmth and realness of her presence feels like this drawing pull at his side. The force of it is distracting, but in a wholly welcome way.

He shoots her a wary look when she says that Richard might have cause to arrest them. "Why would...? You know, don't tell me here." He steps out into the crosswalk and starts to lead them across to the parking ramp. "If he tries to touch you, I'll..."

What? Break the man's arm? Ian seems to realize midway through his sentence how much he's starting to sound like an overprotective boyfriend, and he stops himself with a self-deprecating huff. "Jesus, when did I start talking like this?" They reach the sidewalk on the other side and Ian gestures in the direction of the car. "I parked over here."

"The Order doesn't have any right to come into Denver and dictate how we do things. They can go fuck themselves."

KiaraThere's a moment where Kiara looks at him after he begins to make that threat and it's honestly difficult to know what she makes of it - his protectiveness of her; of the way it rankles him to consider the idea she could do anything so startling it would invoke some requirement of another Tradition to take her into custody. She doesn't need (or would likely ever ask) for his protection and he knows that.

Still - there's something to the instinct about it, the sudden, furious determination that sparks in his voice and in that wary look he casts her that has the Verbena studying him for a long moment before she looks away; a faint furrow etched between her brows.

A beat of silence that gathers steam as they move toward the car and Kiara uncurls her arm from his to tend to her hair; to push the heaviness of it over her shoulder where the humidity was beginning to paste it to her skin. She waits to answer until they're making their final approach to the car Ian's rented; Kiara's arms sliding over her chest; her hip coming to reside against the side of the car. Tiny drops of rain are landing on her sunglasses where she's left them unattended in her hair; beading and dripping down the reflective surfaces.

"No, they really don't. But since when has that stopped them?" There's a sardonic wisp to that, too. A deliberate barb that gleams in the brunette's eyes as she studies him for a long moment then - "Hey," - draws closer and reaches to loosen his grip on her suitcase. Gathering him into the circle of her arms around his shoulders; her eyes following the path her fingers track over his shoulders.

"None of that matters right now. Richard, the Order, my running around after stray artifacts ... " She smiles into a kiss, pressed against the edge of his jaw. "I don't care about any of it right now," she murmurs. It's not the truth, of course. He's seen the way concern etched itself into the pagan's features when she's mentioned the quest for the crown; the potential danger it posed.

It's an easy lie to swallow though, in the here and now, as her arms twine around his neck and she plays with the fine hairs at the nape of his neck. "The only thing that matters is that I missed you." She turns her face and presses her mouth to the other side of his jaw and mirrors the attention she'd paid the former. "And we have a whole month to make up for."

The brunette's eyes shine. "I hope your stamina holds up."

IanHe does know that. That she's capable, independent - that she's never been someone he could (or should) try to stand in front of. In truth, that's part of why he fell in love with her.

It doesn't make any of it easier though - the feelings he gets when she tells him she had to fight a dragon, or that a Hermetic might try to arrest her. There's something about that fear that feels like old ghosts. Especially here, in this city (where the ghosts are so fucking loud.)

They get to the car and Kiara stops him, makes a sardonic comment about the Order as she draws in close, reminding him why she's there. That she's missed him. That they have weeks of lost time to make up for. She says none of the rest matters right now, and he catches her eye with a suspicious little tilt of his head even as a smile starts to form on his lips. He left his jacket unzipped and there's a soft white t-shirt underneath. Past that, his body is warm and firm and alive under her hands. He lets his own hip lean against the car, surrendering to the contact. For a moment his eyes fall shut.

The only indication she'll have that he's about to do something is in this sudden, quick breath. Then his hands are on her waist and he turns with this sudden gesture to shove her back against the side of the car, lifting as he does so her legs can get some purchase around his hips. Her sunglasses might fall, but he's not thinking about that. For a few stuttered, electrified seconds, he also isn't thinking about the people getting in and out of their cars nearby, or the security cameras hanging from the ceiling. He just rolls himself against her body and kisses her roughly on the side of her throat, teeth scratching the delicate skin over her pulse.

He doesn't make any wry comments in response to her little taunt. Instead he just breaths, "God I want to fuck you..." like maybe he's considering actually trying it...

He isn't lying. She can feel it readily enough, pressed together like they are.

But there are people. That's the thing. And when he pushes her weight against the car it shifts on its axle, giving this little creak of protest. When he hears it, a man glances over from where he's pulling luggage out of the trunk of his own car. There's a moment of amused surprise when he catches sight of the two of them, and he gives a little cough. Ian's eyes tick to his face just in time to see the guy toss him a thumbs up gesture. Then he leans his forehead against Kiara's neck and sighs like maybe he'd rather cut off his own hand than stop what he's doing.

"We should get out of here before I get us arrested."

Kiara

There's a moment where Kiara looks at him after he begins to make that threat and it's honestly difficult to know what she makes of it - his protectiveness of her; of the way it rankles him to consider the idea she could do anything so startling it would invoke some requirement of another Tradition to take her into custody. She doesn't need (or would likely ever ask) for his protection and he knows that.

Still - there's something to the instinct about it, the sudden, furious determination that sparks in his voice and in that wary look he casts her that has the Verbena studying him for a long moment before she looks away; a faint furrow etched between her brows.

A beat of silence that gathers steam as they move toward the car and Kiara uncurls her arm from his to tend to her hair; to push the heaviness of it over her shoulder where the humidity was beginning to paste it to her skin. She waits to answer until they're making their final approach to the car Ian's rented; Kiara's arms sliding over her chest; her hip coming to reside against the side of the car. Tiny drops of rain are landing on her sunglasses where she's left them unattended in her hair; beading and dripping down the reflective surfaces.

"No, they really don't. But since when has that stopped them?" There's a sardonic wisp to that, too. A deliberate barb that gleams in the brunette's eyes as she studies him for a long moment then - "Hey," - draws closer and reaches to loosen his grip on her suitcase. Gathering him into the circle of her arms around his shoulders; her eyes following the path her fingers track over his shoulders.

"None of that matters right now. Richard, the Order, my running around after stray artifacts ... " She smiles into a kiss, pressed against the edge of his jaw. "I don't care about any of it right now," she murmurs. It's not the truth, of course. He's seen the way concern etched itself into the pagan's features when she's mentioned the quest for the crown; the potential danger it posed.

It's an easy lie to swallow though, in the here and now, as her arms twine around his neck and she plays with the fine hairs at the nape of his neck. "The only thing that matters is that I missed you." She turns her face and presses her mouth to the other side of his jaw and mirrors the attention she'd paid the former. "And we have a whole month to make up for."

The brunette's eyes shine. "I hope your stamina holds up."

Ian

He does know that. That she's capable, independent - that she's never been someone he could (or should) try to stand in front of. In truth, that's part of why he fell in love with her.

It doesn't make any of it easier though - the feelings he gets when she tells him she had to fight a dragon, or that a Hermetic might try to arrest her. There's something about that fear that feels like old ghosts. Especially here, in this city (where the ghosts are so fucking loud.)

They get to the car and Kiara stops him, makes a sardonic comment about the Order as she draws in close, reminding him why she's there. That she's missed him. That they have weeks of lost time to make up for. She says none of the rest matters right now, and he catches her eye with a suspicious little tilt of his head even as a smile starts to form on his lips. He left his jacket unzipped and there's a soft white t-shirt underneath. Past that, his body is warm and firm and alive under her hands. He lets his own hip lean against the car, surrendering to the contact. For a moment his eyes fall shut.

The only indication she'll have that he's about to do something is in this sudden, quick breath. Then his hands are on her waist and he turns with this sudden gesture to shove her back against the side of the car, lifting as he does so her legs can get some purchase around his hips. Her sunglasses might fall, but he's not thinking about that. For a few stuttered, electrified seconds, he also isn't thinking about the people getting in and out of their cars nearby, or the security cameras hanging from the ceiling. He just rolls himself against her body and kisses her roughly on the side of her throat, teeth scratching the delicate skin over her pulse.

He doesn't make any wry comments in response to her little taunt. Instead he just breaths, "God I want to fuck you..." like maybe he's considering actually trying it...

He isn't lying. She can feel it readily enough, pressed together like they are.

But there are people. That's the thing. And when he pushes her weight against the car it shifts on its axle, giving this little creak of protest. When he hears it, a man glances over from where he's pulling luggage out of the trunk of his own car. There's a moment of amused surprise when he catches sight of the two of them, and he gives a little cough. Ian's eyes tick to his face just in time to see the guy toss him a thumbs up gesture. Then he leans his forehead against Kiara's neck and sighs like maybe he'd rather cut off his own hand than stop what he's doing.

"We should get out of here before I get us arrested."

[reposts!]

KiaraThey were both capable, independent souls in their own ways.

Neither one of them required (or particularly enjoyed) the assistance of others to solve their problems. There was a certain reckless stubbornness to the Verbena's insistence on it at times, however. Her deep set need to handle situations in her own way, in her own time. A measure of necessity was mixed in there too, of course. Kiara Woolfe had long ago had her hand forced into adapting to the world she found herself mixed up in.

You didn't evade the attention of the people she'd so far managed to by chance alone.

No, there was a recklessness to this creature currently roughly delivered back against the side of a car, but it was not altogether a bad thing. To possess that liberation of spirit, to be capable of allowing the moment to seize hold and drag you under; along. Ian lifts her and she curls her legs around his waist with a breath of startled laughter, pressing her body against his like a rather determined barnacle.

Her sunglasses clatter to the ground.

He kisses her throat and her fingers sink in tight to his shoulders; curling up under the folds of his clothing and lightly exploring, stroking along the warmth of his skin before there's a polite cough from somewhere nearby and a sigh from her would be captor. The brunette's body vibrates with repressed laughter as she cranes her face back to glimpse their startled audience.

We should get out of here before I get us arrested

"I don't know, we might have made his entire year if we'd kept going," she murmurs against his lobe, nipping it gently with sharp little teeth and letting her legs slide regretfully from around his hips; she shifts past him, stooping as she does to collect her glasses. "But the other dancers in your troupe might not be as understanding if you miss the show because you were arrested for having sex in an airport parking lot."

The Verbena's mouth curled as she leaned both arms on the roof of the car and set her sunglasses back in place.

Ian"I'm not that much of an exhibitionist," Ian murmurs his response with closed eyes as he exhales against her shoulder. Her teeth are on his ear and her body is right there and the act of pulling away seems so impossibly difficult. The truth is, he isn't an exhibitionist at all - though he's been accused of it many times (and justifiably so.)

There are ways in which he can be (like her) a little reckless. He's always been prone to following his instincts. And if he'd ever been self-conscious about his body, the last shreds of that disappeared back when he was modeling.

Kiara slides away and Ian leans forward with folded arms on the roof of the car, watching her with this borderline dejected expression that, given the circumstances, may come off as somewhat comical. When Kiara makes that comment about the other dancers, he lifts an eyebrow knowingly. "Shannon already thinks I'm going to miss the show. Emma was texting me about it before you got here. Apparently everyone I know assumes that I think with my dick."

Says the guy currently leaning against a car trying to will his erection to go away.

He presses his thumbs to the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes for a moment, exhaling. Then he steps away from the car and moves to unlock the trunk so Kiara can stash her luggage. The black Jetta is clean and in good condition. All things considered, it's not the worst vehicle for a three hour drive, though it doesn't have the soft leather seats or the handling capacity of his Audi.

"If you need us to stop for food, let me know. But I was planning to grab dinner once we get into Madison."

Once they're both settled into the car, Ian shuts the driver's side door and reaches behind his seat for something he left on the floor. He comes up with a small purple box tied with silk ribbon. The top of the box has an embossed silver label that says: Vosges. It looks like the kind of box that might contain high-end chocolate, which, in fact, is exactly what it is. He hands it across to Kiara with a subtle smile. "I grabbed this over on Mag Mile this morning. If you don't like it, I can give it to the other dancers. They'll eat anything."

KiaraThere's a particular way the brunette's thin brow arches as she slides into the car that speaks volumes on her thoughts when it comes to the assumptions of Ian's fellow dancers. The edge of a smile playing at the corners of her lips suggests she clearly finds some aspect of it - the idea they'd be incapable of resisting each other long enough to make his show perhaps - rather entertaining.

(They hadn't been entirely wrong, after all).

The small purple box is greeted with faux suspicion; the Verbena's fine little fingers unlacing the ribbon with deft handiwork and peeling the lid back to peer inside it at the delicately arranged confections. "Are you kidding? These are absolutely all mine. Thank you." She leans over and kisses the edge of his mouth without lingering into the contact; as much as she might have otherwise considered doing.

She settles back against the seat. "We can have dinner once we get there, you can show me around the city." It feels like it has intention, the soft spoken way Kiara offers that, turning to take in the expanses of the parking area as Ian pulls out and the car swings around. The Verbena's fingers neatly framed around the small box in her lap. Less any instruction and more - an invitation. A willingness to see the place that she knew had history and threaded, deep root in his memory.

Her thumb strokes the slightly raised indentation in the box's cover, feeling the edges of the embossed lettering.

There's a beat and then, with only the smallest of hesitations: "I got you something, too. Nothing big or - " She turns to glance at him, her mouth shifting a touch toward some subtle humor. " - worthy of being hung on your wall but - it reminded me of you."

IanKiara thanks him for the chocolates, kissing the edge of his mouth in this way that's a little mindful of not lingering. Ian tilts his head into it a little; slides forward in the seat like he means to chase her back to her side of the car, but in the end he doesn't follow through on that impulse. Instead he rolls his lower lip into his mouth and smiles.

They pull out of the parking stall and he swings the car around toward the exit, leaning over to grab the parking ticket from the space beneath the dash. There's a small line to get out, so they're forced to idle for a minute. When Kiara mentions she got him a gift as well, he tosses her a curious look. "Oh?"

Truth is, the chocolates were more of a: hey, I missed you than a proper gift. Perhaps there's a part of him that would like to be able to afford expensive paintings, but for now he'll have to settle for smaller gestures. He doesn't tell Kiara that he's saving her real present for Christmas.

They finally get to the front of the line and Ian pays for the half-hour of time he spent on the lot, then he rolls up the window and turns onto the main road.

Traffic in the city isn't so bad at 3:15pm on a weekday as it might be during rush hour or on the weekend, but it's still perilously close to Christmas and there's enough cars on the roads to keep them frustratingly congested. Ian seems to know his way around the roads, and there are points where he takes them down a couple of less-frequented side streets in order to bypass the main throng of traffic. They aren't going to get to see much of Chicago today, but if Kiara looks out her window she'll be able to take in the sight of Lake Michigan and some of the downtown high-rises.

They don't drive past the neighborhood where Ian used to live. He did go there briefly this morning: walked into the Asian market across the street and looked around like he half-expected someone he knew to jump out from behind the displays. That didn't actually happen though. The only person he recognized was the girl working behind the counter. (She'd been all of thirteen the last time he saw her. Now she's in college.)

He's felt a bit off since then. Like pieces of his life are colliding. Maybe that's why he didn't voice any disappointment when he found out Kiara'd be arriving too late to show her around. They'll be back in a few days though. Perhaps by then he'll feel differently.

It takes too long (and way too many tolls) to get on the highway, but finally they do get there. After that, the drive goes much more smoothly. As they leave Chicago and head Northwest, the landscape goes from urban to rural. Northern Illinois is not especially picturesque. Not the way that Colorado is. Mostly this area is just flat farmland and old industrial sites and tall, trailing power lines. At some point Ian pulls off his jacket and tosses it in the back.

"There's something I should probably tell you..." his voice trails off a bit as he glances over at Kiara. "I didn't think to earlier. Naomi... the girl I dated in high school? She lives in Madison. It's possible we might run into her."

Kiara

Oh?

"Mmhm, it's in my bag. You'll get it later." There had been a touch of the coy to the way the Verbena offered that, her fingers reaching over to slide through his hair and play, briefly, with the tiny hairs at the nape of his neck in a fleeting caress before they drew back to settle against her knee. In truth the gift had been less of anything relating to the seasonal holiday and far more something that had caught the brunette's eye in her recent travels. Kiara spoke of Christmas not by the Christian idea of it after all, but by its older, far more ancient roots - it was Yule to the dark eyed woman beside him, much as the other holiday celebrations had their pagan namesakes to her.

She'd never given him a gift, not quite like this and the expectation and awareness of it - the strangely somber quality it brings to the pagan for a moment - feels weighted and fragile-spun.

It's not until they're well clear of Chicago and the landscape has begun to change before the Verbena's sleepy gaze (her lids rising and falling in gradual progression toward finally remaining closed), her head resting idly back against the edge of the window that the mood seems to shift; that the brunette's expression clears (even as she lets herself be lulled by the motion of the car) and she stirs when he pulls his jacket off and throws it over the seats; sitting upright and stretching her muscles out.

There's something I should probably tell you - her eyes are suddenly focused on him, her weariness feels abandoned in the sudden tension that arcs into her mouth; touches her brow.

Naomi, the girl he dated in high school lives in Madison. They might run into her.

Ian

Kiara prepares herself for something ominous. Next to the dangers she's faced recently, the prospect of an ex-girlfriend might seem almost laughably mundane. She seems to take it in without much care, offering that neat little shrug. Ian watches her with a focused expression. After a moment he pulls his eyes away to glance at the road.

"I didn't for a long time. Last year I ran into her and we talked a little."

He's quiet for a long moment.

"I think we both needed to be away from each other, after everything that happened. I ended things with her really badly." Some shadow of guilt passes over his eyes. Old and aching and private. The next glance he affords Kiara is softer, more vulnerable. He reaches out to grasp her wrist, pulling her left hand gently into his chest. She can feel his heart beating there under the thin cotton of his t-shirt. "I'm glad you're here," he says softly, dragging his thumb over her knuckles in a slow caress.

Kiara

It's never easy to listen to talk of old wounds.

To feel the reawakening of stale emotions and long neglected scars that litter a memory - that can be traced and mapped as potently as if they could be drawn with fingertips along a sliver of exposed skin. She's prepared so many times, in her head, for this moment. For a thousand just like it where the conversation steers itself with an unyielding sort of destiny about it toward the same conclusion.

She's imagined what her expression would read as when it did.

How cool-eyed and level headed she'd be as it played out.

She's known some of it already, the glimpses and mentions of his past, the phantom girlfriend of the time. There's something different to the reality, though, to sitting strapped to a passenger seat and speeding headlong toward the point where the lines (where the past) intersects the now. To be fair to herself, Kiara had also known for all her idle considerations of the moment that she wasn't built to contain her feelings as anything but what they were. To feel the spark of something violent and protective and fierce unfurl itself in her chest and rake its talons over her heart at the idea of his past self and the girl whose heart he might have broken.

(She knows he did, break Naomi's, somehow, the Verbena doesn't seem to doubt that as a truth)

I ended things with her really badly. "I know a little of how that goes." An echo of distant grief, too. Quiet and whole, a simple truth from her own long buried past.

He reaches out for her and captures her hand, she turns it inward and splays her fingers there against his chest and holds his eyes; a familiar, edged little smile stealing across her mouth; sweetening her dark eyes for a lingering beat. "I am too." She drops her focus to where his thumb rubs over knuckles and breathes out carefully, glancing at the road ahead where it stretched outward; on and on.

(miles to go, Ms Woolfe)

"We traveled out to this little island, Moloka'i and rented a boat, took it right out to this spot where Henry's map had pinpointed the first of the missing stones to be located. We dove down and it was - " She's quiet for a moment, the Verbena, then stirs and turns her face, smiling. "Beautiful, down there. We ran into what we thought were - are - sharks, but they were different. Stronger. Smarter." She's reminded, for a moment, of the creatures Ian had told her his blood made him one of; the affinity for the tiger in him; part of him. "They called them Rokea. The stone was in the keeping of a sea witch known as Ali'iaki deep under the water, she had - magick, of a kind. She said her bargain for the stone would be us finding her son and bringing him to her."

She shifts a little, the brunette. Her fingers returning to slide the chain around her neck.

"We tracked him down, this man, Haoa and his grandson Jake, and convinced them to come with us." There's a beat, some gleam that catches in Kiara's eyes, a particular inflection in her voice. "She left, you know. Chose her duty over him. Over her family. There was a lot of deep mistrust and resentment between them. I still don't know if we fixed anything, not long term but - they came. She agreed to part with the stone and we brought it back." Another pause.

"I still don't believe it should be used, assuming we can even find all the stones, that crown. If I had the power to - I'd destroy it." A tick of her eyes toward him, a tiny curl of humor. "How badly do you think they'd want to arrest me, then?"

"Tell me what happened in Hawai'i?"

Ian[quietly moves that last line back up to Ian's post where it belongs. (no idea how it even got there.)]

IanMemories can take on a certain power, the way they haunt and linger. Perhaps, had Ian and Naomi been given a chance to let their relationship run its course without the introduction of tragedy, those memories would not possess the same kind of weight. Young love isn't meant to last, because people need to grow - to collect experiences - before they can know who they are. But natural evolution wasn't ever in the cards for them.

Perhaps it would have been a fraught subject regardless. But Ian changes the subject, and Kiara responds with the story of her time in Hawai'i. This time she gives him more than just the pretty snapshots (horseback riding and waterfalls and tantalizing stories of time spent alone on the beach.) As she speaks, Ian releases his hold on her hand. His eyes drift occasionally to the road, keeping just enough attention on the highway so they aren't liable to crash if something unexpected occurs, but most of his focus remains on her.

There's a suggestion of concerned surprise when Kiara mentions the sharks: subtle inflections in the set of his eyes when he looks at her. But whatever the specifics of that encounter, it doesn't seem to have been anything she and Kalen couldn't handle. Truth is, the whole thing sounds like something out of a fairy tale. Dragons and sea witches and enchanted crowns. That things like this could still exist are part of what makes their lives both dangerous and inspiring.

He should be upset at the prospect of the Order taking some kind of drastic measure against Kiara for what she's been up to. And he is - of course he is (worried about her,) but right at that moment? Alone together and miles away from any known threat? What he sees is her stubborn defiance. And that... just makes him smile. Like he's remembering all over again why he missed her.

"Well if you're going to piss them off, may as well go all the way."

His hand drifts to settle on her knee, one finger tracing a slow circle just inside her leg.

"For what it's worth, I'm glad the sharks didn't eat you."

KiaraThis too, in a small way, is progress for them.

It feels a far cry from the first mission the brunette had been tasked with in the Umbra and the intentional way she'd sought to keep the details from him. Then only extracted with confrontation on a sandy shore-front when Kiara had no way to escape or distract him from hearing the particular details that the Verbena had sworn she'd keep concealed.

Details she'd shared with Samir over shots with some small measure of self disgust. It had to be self inflicted damage, really, the way the woman deliberately hid the worst parts of her life from a man she claimed openly to care about.

But then - neither of them had ever claimed to be anything but damaged, in their own ways. It was part of what had naturally drawn them together, the simple acceptance that they were flawed and there was no cure for the bruises their lives had left lingering on their psyches. Impressions seared into flesh and bone; pressed into their interactions with each other; with others.

(Perhaps that too, was a key to survival in their world. Embrace the scar tissue, it would buffer the soul against the worst tumults yet to come).

Now when he asks, she tells him. There are aspects she leaves out, naturally. Sidebars and moments and conversations she and Kalen had shared that don't find an easy place in the flow of the story she recounts to him but the bones of it feel honest enough - laid out and presented for consumption and when she cants that gleaming look of defiance and sharp humor his way - his hand finds her knee and she offers him a momentarily brighter smile.

Her eyes returning for a beat to the road.

"Well, you know me," she murmurs, "I've never been one for doing things half way." Her hand finds his on her knee and she idly runs the tips of her fingers over his knuckles. "As weird as it might sound, I'm glad it gave Kalen and I time to talk a little. I wasn't sure, when he found out about us, how awkward it might be."

She throws him a look for a moment, it's searching and keen. "Potential war mongering from the Order aside, he seemed in a good place." She breathes out, once. A bare little gust of laughter. "You know, for Kalen."

IanThere's a smile at that (because yes, Ian does know Kalen.) It feels a bit weighted, threaded through with whispers of memory. But these memories, as complicated as they may be, are not the same kind of heavy that talk of his more distant past dredges up.

"I think Kalen does relationships the same way I do sex. Or... used to." It's an odd revelation to come to like this, mid-conversation. The realities of how much his habits have changed. "So I don't really know what he thinks. If it matters to him. I suspect that even if it did, he might not say anything. But he did seem alright when I talked to him the other day."

Kiara's fingers trace over the details of his hand. Ian glances over and slides his palm a little further up her thigh. There isn't anything hurried or especially determined about it (not the way he was back at the airport.) But she's there next to him and now that he's touching her he doesn't especially want to stop. The lazy circling of his fingers changes briefly to a figure-eight.

At some point the landscape outside the car starts to change. They pass a sign that indicates they've left Illinois and entered Wisconsin and the most immediate difference will be the absence of those massive power-lines, followed soon by a shift toward more picturesque vistas: trees and rolling hills dotted with these postcard-charming farmhouses.

You'd think the difference wouldn't be that noticeable across state lines, but it is.

"When we get into Madison, there's this gastro-pub I thought we could grab dinner at. It's right by the capitol. Then we can check into the hotel. I think after that I'll have to go get ready for the show, but at some point... maybe tomorrow? We could maybe visit one of the chantries, if you feel like mingling with the locals. The Cultists will probably have some big winter party going."

KiaraIn truth it's been a long time since she's set foot into another Chantry.

Denver had been her first true venture since events in New York and even then it had been gradual, an invitation at first and then subsequently more returns before Annie Pierce and her Cabal had resurfaced and the visits had become far more frequent and slid (with surprising easiness) into a pattern.

"Mm, I think he enjoyed the prospect of an adventure." It's not entirely an answer on the subject of Kalen (or the way Ian used to view sex versus relationships) but the conversation steers toward Madison, as the landscape dotting the road outside transforms; nature beginning to swarm and reclaim back morsels of green-flecked hills and looming trees as they start to appear. It draws the brunette's focus for a time (always does, when it came to nature and her capacity to retake what was, by right, hers) even as he suggests somewhere they could get dinner.

That they could could visit one of the Chantries. Mingle with the locals.

That, more than anything, draws a response from the brunette. Pulls her eyes from the roadside and back to his face; the edge of her mouth curving up. "Trust the Cultists to have the lowdown on the best parties." There's a twinge in there somewhere that speaks of affection, perhaps mostly for Serafine and Dan, the inflection of fond recognition. Then: "That sounds nice." She moves her hand, then. Slides it around the back of his neck, his only warning the gleam in Kiara's dark eyes before she cranes across the distance between their seats and presses a chaste, if warm and suggestive, kiss to the underside of his jaw.

She's back and safely ensconced in her own in the blink of an eye - but resting back into the nook of the door and seat; her body half turned toward him, watching with a small expression of satisfaction. There was, occasionally, something entirely feline and capricious to her, Kiara, when she offered gestures of physical affection. A sudden surfacing before they receded.

"You're going to be great tonight." A half hooded tick of dark eyes over his profile. "We can celebrate afterwards."

IanTrust the Cultists to have the lowdown on the best parties.

Ian lofts a brow at that, tossing Kiara a wry expression. He doesn't mention that he suspects Naomi will be there. That it's possible another man he spent a weekend with last year might also be there. Mostly because he doesn't really want to think about them right now.

And after Kiara kisses him like that, he isn't thinking about them. The quickness of the movement surprises him a little and he laughs as he lifts his chin to allow her better access. Then she's back on her side of the car, leaving a lingering shadow of warmth where her lips and her breath touched his skin. He looks at her with his mouth slightly parted, contemplative and suddenly a little more sharply focused than he was a moment ago.

"Which performance are you referring to?" he asks in a deliberately coy tone.

(She means the dance. But he can't avoid taking the bait.)

---

It takes another hour or so before they arrive at their destination. Signs for Madison start to appear about half an hour out, and eventually Ian takes a turn that brings them off the highway and onto a pretty residential street. The areas around the outskirts of the city are not wholly impressive in their own right. Mostly it's the same sorts of things one might expect from any mid-sized city in this part of the country. There are houses and commercial properties. The street they're on contains not one but two new-looking strip malls, the buildings constructed of sandy-colored brick and boasting the kinds of stores one would expect to find in an upper-middle-class neighborhood that's trying to cater to both families with children and young professionals. In between them lies a park and an elementary school.

(There are, in fact, a lot of parks in Madison. Much like Denver, whoever constructed the layout of the city seems to have given a high priority to green spaces.)

Past this neighborhood, they take a turn onto a main road that leads them toward the heart of the city. Residences turn to more commercial properties, then to towering academic buildings as they find themselves driving past the University. UW-Madison's campus sprawls across a good portion of the downtown area, with eclectic buildings that range from endearingly dated to modern in their architecture (depending on how well funded the department is.) The roads are busy and a little chaotic. This part of town was built more for pedestrians than for cars. Despite it being winter break, there are still a lot of students walking around. The sidewalks are dominated by 20-somethings in hip winter gear: waiting for buses, walking to and from buildings, spilling into warmly lit coffee shops and dimly lit bars.

They drive past the more bohemian area spilling off of State Street as they enter the Capital Square - where the architecture gets a bit more upscale and urban. And there - oh.

The capital building is beautiful. One of the tallest in the country, and lit up with gleaming lights that make the gold on the dome's statue shine. There's something else, too. Even in the car as the drive by, Kiara can feel a whisper of it ghosting up the back of her neck. Drawing her attention towards the city's heart like a beacon.

It resonates. Like hope and justice and idealism.

Ian glances over at her as they drive past, watching to see if she notices. "There's a node in there," he offers quietly.

They don't actually stop on the square (because there isn't any parking there,) but Ian finds a parking ramp not too far away and leaves the car there. Getting out, he takes a moment to stretch the kinks out of his arms and back and neck, rolling his head loosely from side to side. He seems pretty glad to be done with the drive.

the sea witch. [kalen] [silver crown SL]

The Sea
They get a call from a gruff-voiced Haoa early the following morning. It's just past dawn when the phone rings, and he arranges to meet at his place because, as it happens, he has his own boat and diving gear and trusts himself to navigate better than he trusts a couple of basically-unknown tourists. The request isn't especially impolite, but it is direct. It's evident from his tone that he still has mixed feelings about the trip, but he doesn't try to back out.

By the time Kalen and Kiara arrive to meet him, it's later in the morning and the sun is high and bright in the sky. Haoa is already out checking his boat, so it's Jake who greets them and walks them down to the dock that stretches out past the beach behind their house. Haoa greets them with a nod, but doesn't make much attempt at small talk. Jake seems happy enough to fill in for him though, asking the mages how they've liked the island so far and if they had a chance to visit any of the parks. He makes an effort for Haoa's sake not to let his bubbling enthusiasm get the best of him, but it's pretty clear that his feelings about the trip are markedly less ambivalent than his grandfather's. There's a bright, flashing charismatic smile that keeps appearing on his face whenever Haoa isn't looking.

Haoa's boat is older and less flashy than the one that Kalen rented, but it's in good shape and it gets them out where they need to go. Haoa keeps good time as they dart out over the lapping waves, heading away from shore and into the blue horizon. He only asks them once for the coordinates. After that, he seems content to sit at the helm and drive the boat, keeping his thoughts to himself.

At one point, a school of spinner dolphins breach the surface near the boat and start to swim along beside them, hopping elegantly through the waves. Jake leans out and runs a hand over one of the dorsal fins, which gets a brief smile from Haoa.

By the time they reach their destination, the dolphins have drifted away. (This isn't their territory and they know it.) Haoa drops the sea anchor and begins to pull on his wetsuit. Jake doesn't bother with a suit, instead pulling the straps of his oxygen tank over his bare shoulders. He does grab a mask and flippers though. There's a certain deliberation to the way Haoa prepares himself to dive. Like he's about to go off to battle. He's the last of them to finish readying his equipment, but when he's finished he doesn't speak. Just steps out and drops into the sea.

Kiara[Life 2, Turning on the Auto Defrost/Warm for Ms Woolfe. Coincidental, Base Diff 5, -1 (Taking her Time), -1 (Focus)]

Dice: 3 d10 TN3 (5, 7, 8) ( success x 3 )

KiaraKiara doesn't wear a suit, either.

She peels a breezy cotton beach dress over her shoulders and carefully casts it to one side with a pair of sunglasses. Beneath there's another set of swimwear; a simple white two piece - if she has any notions of modesty around the men she's out on the water with, they are buried deep. She tucks the end of her pendant into the join of the bikini top between her breasts, adjusts the weight of the tank over her shoulders and reaches for a mask and a set of flippers.

It's when she's carefully seated on the edge of the boat, pulling on the first flipper that she seems to grow a little distracted - her eyes closing beneath the bright glare as the sun bounced off the surface of the water. She lifts her chin and lets out a low, steady breath. Her fingers flexing at her sides.

It's only Kalen that will have a sense of it - what the pagan is actually doing while she looks as if she's calming herself for the dive. The bloom of Kiara's magick twisting and thriving; crawling and twining around the air itself, it's as if reality gave a little pulse when she works, the earth witch. Out here, on the water - it's a sudden reminder of the solidity of the land; the smell of the earth after the rain; the crisp air of a forest.

She carefully rises when she's ready and allows her gear to be checked over, tying her dark hair back from her face and watching intently as Haoa simply drops into the water - she exchanges a brief little glance Jake's way and her hand presses the younger man's arm in a vaguely comforting gesture before she sets her mask in place - and drops down into the water in his wake.

There isn't the shock of it, the way there might have been, it feels pleasantly warm against Kiara's skin; like bathwater that had slightly cooled. She waits there for a moment for the others to join them before diving down under the water; taking a moment to adjust to the weight of the diving gear on her back.

KalenKalen is, by the morning, much less moody.  Once again it is more of a casual coffee-on-the-way kind of Kalen.  He brings something with him this time in addition to all of the gear, in a small white box like jewelry comes in.  If Kiara asks, he will show it to her, a pendant made of a real orchid; if not, the first she sees of it is when Kalen offers it to Jake on the way to the dock.  He had meant to give Ali'ikai something, some other gift to have and remember; but, probably, she would rather have it from Jake.  Kalen is not so attached to the actual act of handing over the gift as to neglect to realise that.

Haoa is greeted with a nod, and Kalen too tries not to look excited at the prospect of returning to the sea witch.  Still, by the time there are dolphins swimming alongside the boat, Jake's bright smiles are met with answering ones more often than not.  Kalen is, for all his enchantment with them, clearly a little too unsure to reach out in an attempt to touch the dolphins.

Kalen puts on scuba gear, not with the deliberate care that Haoa does and not with the casual ease Jake does, but with at least a sense of familiarity.  He's done this often enough before.  Soon, if the world can keep itself from threatening to end a few more minutes longer than usual, he will be doing this with Grace.  For fun.  With tropical fish in place of sharks.  Grace will be delighted.  Kalen will...be delighted that Grace is delighted, but let us be reasonable - Kalen will miss the sharks and the artifacts and the quests.  There are some things he has never really learned to do.  Vacation is, unquestionably, one of them.

He follows Haoa into the ocean with as much grace and as minimal a splash as he can manage.  Scuba gear, however, is only so graceful outside of the water.

The SeaWhat must this feel like for Haoa? Descending into the ocean to visit a woman he hasn't seen in... what, fifty years? A woman who once gave birth to him; raised him (in part.) A woman who no longer much resembles the person she used to be. Does he have an inkling of what he will find when they reach the trench?

If so, he doesn't speak of it. And now that they're in the water, conversation is moot. One by one, the four divers drop into the sea. It's different, swimming like this. More encumbered. More human. The tanks on their backs are a reminder that the ocean will forever be something of an alien landscape for them. They are visitors here, in more ways than one.

They make their way down through the clear water, descending into the depths at a measured pace. Jake is the strongest swimmer of the group, but every time he starts to kick out ahead he slows to wait for his grandfather to catch up. Haoa, for his age, does not slow them down too much. He has been diving since before any of the rest of them were born. This is instinct for him.

Later, he will be very tired. But right now his kicks are strong.

This time, nothing is there to interrupt their journey. The sharks (were they the Rokea that Haoa referred to?) are nowhere in sight. So by the time they reach the dark shadow veiling the trench there is no reason not to simply press on ahead.

Haoa though - sees it and stops, treading water slowly as he gazes down into the abyssal blackness. Then Jake swims up next to him and puts a hand out to grasp his shoulder comfortingly. It's the only way they have of speaking, but it says what needs to be said. (I am here. Whatever happens. You are not alone.)

He took the pendant from Kalen earlier with a brief flicker of appreciation. It hangs about his neck now, floating in the dark blue water.

After a few beats, Haoa gives a purposeful kick and heads down into the trench. Jake follows him.

And just like before, once they breach the veil the landscape comes alive around them, lit up with all that bioluminescent sea life. Corals and plants and jellyfish and algae. It makes the two men go still and look around with amazement.

KiaraUnlike the first time they'd ventured down here, Kiara now takes the time to take in the beauty of the world around them; her progress is slower and far more measured as they kick down toward the yawning black trench; the Verbena situates herself toward the back of their little party and she slows down as they near the point where the sharks had first appeared.

They seem disinclined to show themselves and the brunette can't say in all honesty that she's let down by their absence.

She waits, once they reach the trench, for Jake and Haoa to swim down first, then, with a brief turn toward Kalen, Kiara follows them down. Unsurprisingly, the two men marvel once they encounter the vibrancy of life inside the trench; a jellyfish drifts by the Verbena and she deftly maneuvers herself out of the path of its tendrils. She isn't feeling the chill of the depths against her bare skin this time so it doesn't take long for the brunette to begin to move down, through the colorful coral, kicking out toward the place where the sharks had led them before.

It won't be the last time Kiara feels a tiny wedge of uncertainty, she feels it stirring again now they're here. Now they've brought Haoa to see his mother.

They have no idea what sort of creature the sea witch really was - whether she would honor such an agreement (and whether they'd brought Haoa into a situation that posed real danger to him and his grandson). She swims to a point and waits, the Verbena; her pendant suspended above her head, the crystal winking conspiratorially.

KalenKalen is content to return.  If he has any doubts about the magical sharks or the sea witch, they do not show.  He stays back a little as they enter the trench, with Kiara.  He and Kiara may have started this coming here, but this reunion is far from about them.  This meeting.

Kalen watches for Ali'ikai.  Watches Jake's eyes in the hope that they, like the eyes of someone that he adores but cannot show these things to, will light up with wonder and joy at the sight of something incredible.  It may not be the same.  But Kalen loves that look regardless.  It is, after all, why he is taking Grace to Australia.  Why he loves teaching new Mages.

And so he waits and he watches.  Just those things.  For now.

The Sea[Mind 3, doo be doo]

Dice: 6 d10 TN4 (1, 5, 6, 7, 10, 10) ( success x 5 )

The SeaIf Kalen is hoping for wonder, he will see it in Jake's eyes. More than that - there is something like dawning belief as he swims through the coral gardens, reaching out to touch (very gently) the schools of darting reef fish that move through the water around him. Were it not for the complicated and bittersweet nature of this reunion, he would likely be over the moon right now.

This place is not a place that could exist without magick. Ali'ikai's resonance has seeped into every pore of stone and every grain of sand. Beneath them the wreckage sits, broken and decayed but teeming with new life. As the four divers draw closer, something moves inside of it, uncoiling in the shadows of the ship's interior. Haoa notices and stops still. Nearby, Jake glances over and mimics him, watching the wreckage with rapt attention.

The witch appears more slowly this time, her motions careful and hesitant. They are in her domain. She could, if she wished, probably kill them all with a push of her Will. But to look at her now is to look upon someone brought low by guilt and fear. She glides up through an opening in the wreck, the luminous green stripes on her sides adding to the glow of the landscape. She looks the same as Kalen and Kiara remember, though likely not the same as Haoa does. Her long tail undulates gently in the water as she swims out to greet them. When she gets close she stops, leaving about ten feet of space between herself and her Haoa. Her dark hair fans out around her face, and as she looks at him her stripes glow brighter, lighting up the details of her undersea features. Her black eyes look both sad and wondrous.

And this is all that Haoa can take before he gives a sudden, ungraceful turn in the water and begins to swim away.

Ali'ikai looks startled for a moment, and Kalen and Kiara will feel the bloom of her magick like an echo passing them on the tide. This time it doesn't reach out to them - only to Haoa. Whatever it is they have to say to each other, it is only for them to know.

There's a sound, too, when she does this. A long, mournful cry that resonates across the trench like a whale call. Ali'ikai follows her son, but though she could easily catch him she keeps a respectful distance. Somewhere about halfway to the top of the trench Haoa stops and goes still. Ali'ikai approaches behind him carefully. From a distance, they resemble two disparately formed shadows treading water in the cool glow of the bioluminescence.

Jake watches this with a combination of total shock and dawning concern. After a moment he starts to swim toward his grandfather, then seems to think better of it and stops. Bubbles escape into the water as he exhales hard.

Haoa swims away again. Then stops. Ali'ikai follows.

Finally he turns to look at her, and they stay like that for a while.

After an almost interminably long moment, Ali'ikai swims forward and wraps herself around her son, holding him with her arms and her tail. As though she would, if she had a choice, never let him go.

When they're done, the two swim back toward the group near the wreckage. Jake kicks out to meet them and Ali'ikai reaches out, touches him gently on the shoulder (mindful of his soft skin and her sharp claws) and opens her mouth to utter this sweet, bubbling laugh. She makes another one of those eerie whale sounds, and Jake, true to form, just surges forward and wraps his arms around her.

Like she might be possibly the coolest thing he's ever seen in his life.

Only then does the witch turn to Kalen and Kiara, reaching out with her mind to touch their thoughts.

I didn't think you could do it. Thank you.

She pulls away from her family momentarily to swim toward the mages. When she reaches them, she unties the strip of leather around her neck and offers the stone out for them to take.

KiaraSome very complicated and personal expression passes across Kiara's features as she watches the reunion unfolding before them. She moves respectfully away from the small gathering and observes it from a distance. They are beneath the water and her face is concealed by a mask and for that the Verbena will perhaps be forever grateful.

She can experience the things she does and nobody will see fit to question her about it (or glimpse it easily).

Haoa and Ali'ikai work out their problems enough that they swim back toward the wreckage where Kiara and Kalen are waiting. Jake embraces his grandmother and a small cluster of bubbles trickle out from the Verbena's direction. Hard to know what causes them but when the sea witch turns to face them eventually, the brunette does swim forward to greet her.

There's a beat after Ali'ikai touches their minds with her thoughts and then a slight inclination of the Verbena's head: We weren't sure we could, either. She gestures toward Jake and Haoa. They want to be part of your world, however that works out. I'm sure it won't be easy but you have the chance to make it happen now. 

Don't take it for granted, seems to be the Verbena's underlying opinion, a flicker of that same indecipherable emotion playing there on her face; shadowing her thoughts, if for a moment. Kiara accepts the strip of leather and the stone carefully, curling her fingers around it and studying it for a moment before she looks back to the sea witch with her gleaming scales and dark, wild hair.

Thank you. I promise we'll take good care of it.

What will you do now?

KalenKalen is relatively still in the water, moving only enough to hold his position in the current.  Whatever his reaction, muffled by the water and obscured by a mask, they are his own.  He trails Kiara out to Ali'ikai.

The sea witch thanks them, offers out the stone, and Kiara takes it.  There is a part of Kalen that wants to hold it and see if it responds to him as it did to Ali'ikai.  Mostly, he is just as glad Kiara reached out for it first.

Oh, the conversations they will have soon enough.  But not now.  Now they are beneath the sea, for at least another moment, in a magical landscape.

And so he focuses on this moment and this place and this wonder.

He cannot know what Kiara is saying to Ali'ikai.  All he offers is, 'Of course.'  But that is flooded with warmth and wonder.  Transformed into something else by the manner in which they must speak.

The SeaThere is a resonant hum that sounds in their minds when Kiara says she promises they'll take good care of it. It does not so much feel like doubt or disbelief as it does contemplation. The last time the two of them spoke with Ali'ikai, she didn't give the impression that she had much faith in their ability to care for the artifact they'd acquired. Perhaps being reunited with her family has put her in better spirits, because she does not offer such ominous or condescending claims now.

Kiara wants to know what she plans to do now, and the wash of Ali'ikai's thoughts shifts to a note of uncertainty. She turns to look back at Jake and Haoa.

I don't know.

It is an honest and human answer. When she turns back, she looks first at Kalen, then Kiara. And she offers this final piece of advice: Be careful, when finding lost things, that they are not meant to stay lost. And if they are not... then use them wisely. Either way, this will change you I think.

When she's through, Jake swims up to them in a rush of suddenly remembered excitement.

Elliott got this. He gave it to me to give to you. I think he meant for me to leave him out of the story but... I can't do that. One gets the impression that if Jake were capable of smiling at that moment, he would be. He reaches back to slip the orchid pendant off of his neck. Ali'ikai regards it for a moment curiously as Jake hands it across to her. Pops loves orchids. Maybe you can think of him when you wear it.

Oh. Ali'ikai's voice registers softly with surprise. After a beat, she takes the offered necklace and slips it on carefully. She'll need to make it tighter to keep it from floating free as she swims, but from the look on her face, she's pleased with the gift. Thank you.

We have to go, Haoa interjects quietly. Or we'll run out of air before we get back.

Yes. I know. Ali'ikai turns back to her son. You're welcome here, you know. Anytime you wish to visit. Both of you.

Haoa doesn't answer, but he nods as he turns around. Jake takes a moment longer, pausing to give his great grandmother one last lingering embrace. This place is amazing. You better believe I'm coming back.

A bright wash of warmth radiates across the mental link.

And then, with reluctance, the two divers kick their legs and begin to make their ascent back to the surface.

The Sea[Edit: Be careful, when finding lost things, that they are not meant to stay lost. And if they are not... then use them wisely. Either way, this will change you I think. (should be in italics)]

KiaraThis will change you, I think.

It's not altogether a new thought, that whatever the outcome of these quests to restore the crown to its former glory, it will come at a cost. One that may well be more than any of them can begin to guess. The Verbena had already felt it - the power of the crown, the cost that it had wrung out of its former owner. The potential in it to cause great suffering and misery for the sake of absolute power.

There's a certain way the Verbena holds the stone that reads of that same sense.

A tentativeness, an awareness of it. She watches as Jake swims up and offers over Kalen's gift with a flurry of excitement. Kiara's body turns slightly to witness her companion and she reaches out with her free hand and closes her fingers around Kalen's forearm, gently squeezing down. The gesture could amount for so many things she cannot say aloud but the sense is one of pleasure. At the sight of Ali-ikai accepting her gift, of her appreciation for it.

Of the thoughtfulness inherent in Kalen to think to bring it.

Before they depart, the Verbena turns to the sea witch one last time. She doesn't venture to 'speak' her thoughts but she has a sense that Ali'ikai will feel them anyway. The hope in the brunette for this reunion to be the beginning of a better time for her family, the uncertainty of what lay ahead of them, the desire to return, at some point, when there wasn't some urgency to the visit.

And perhaps, somewhere, a kind of gratitude too, for her willingness to assist them despite her reluctance. Despite the misgivings in their quest. Eventually, after a long pause, Kiara kicks off and begins to follow her family upward, leaving the majesty of Ali'iaki's domain behind as she rises toward the trench's opening.

KalenAli'ikai gives them a warning, and Kalen nods.  He is hoping that they will not be so greatly changed, but only because he is hoping they can unmake the crown.  If some power remains in the stones, perhaps they can share those.  But the crown...the more he considers it the more he wants it gone from the world.  Perhaps they can sense that over their link.  Perhaps not.

Kalen does not say anything in response to Jake's excited presentation of the necklace.  He had not known, when he bought the necklace for Ali'ikai that Haoa loved orchids, he had simply meant to give her a part of a different world down here to her.  To give her something she would otherwise not see.  Of course, fate weaves around him and through him and he does not any longer really feel surprise.

But he is undeniably pleased when Jake manages to tie Haoa into the gift.  It is not like an unfamiliar gleam of sunlight in oceanic depths that is Jake's warmth.  And pleased too, when Ali'ikai accepts it.  His fingertips graze lightly over Kiara's hand on his arm.

And then it is time to go.  He gives Ali'ikai a last lingering glance, surrounded by a landscape sustained by her magic.  He would smile, hopeful and warm and a little regretful because he wants to stay here.  Explore this place.  Hold glowing sea urchins on his palm.  Coax out the story of the wreckage.

Instead he lets Ali'ikai taste that hope and longing and warmth, and then he turns, with the others, to head back to the world from which they came.

the son. [kalen] [silver crown SL]

Kiara
[Int + Investigation. Oh right, you can LOOK PEOPLE UP without resorting to magick.]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (8, 9, 10, 10) ( success x 4 )

Kalen[Int+Investigation]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 8, 9) ( success x 2 )

The SeaTurns out it doesn't take much effort to locate someone on an island as small as Moloka'i. And Haoa, as it happens, is not an unknown figure on the island. Typing his name into Google reveals a handful of articles about the local preserves that mention him by name. Over his long career, Haoa Ka'ana'ana has fought hard to preserve the natural landscape of the island, making more than a few enemies among the corporation that owns Moloka'i Ranch. He was one of the instrumental voices involved in shutting down the ranch's attempt to branch out into the hospitality and tourism industry (for better or worse.)

These days, of course, he's retired. After some digging, Kiara is able to find a listed address and phone number under his name. The house is on the island's East coast, near the Moloka'i Forest Reserve.

They could call ahead, or they could drive out and surprise him. Either way, they know their destination.

KiaraIt had been evening by the time they found their way back to the shore and Kiara's entire body had ached relentlessly. She'd worked to push back the worst of her muscles protests so they could begin their search for Ali'ikai's son on Moloka'i that night.

The Verbena settled back against a myriad of pillows in their rented accommodation with a laptop open on the bed before her; dark hair pinned up in the warmth of the evening air and an open window letting in the sights and sounds of the island at dusk. All said, it takes Kiara until the following day to unearth an address and number for Haoa Ka'ana'ana. She scribbles it down on a notepad, the Verbena and then rises and stretches out her muscles, padding to the window to take in the slanting rays of the sun, the way it dapples when it hits the water.

When (if) Kalen leaves and returns while the brunette does her digging, he comes back to find Kiara in a vibrant sundress; her shoulders bare and sun-kissed; the swirling pattern of greens and reds and blues somehow only working to highlight the Verbena's presence, the way she feels like a heady reminder of the world around them; the verdant wilderness of the island itself.

Her dark hair damp and tied back from her face in a haphazard knot.

"I think I've tracked our guy down." She taps her pen against the paper. "I've got an address and a number." Kiara's brows lift. "Feel like going on a field trip?"

KalenKalen is quiet on the way back to shore, attention caught in places that are not here and not now.  There is a mythic stone to get, a man to find, a mythic crown to perhaps unmake, and a witch at the bottom of the sea about to trade with them the only thing she has left of her mother.  He cannot do for her what he wants to do; still, he knows who can.  And, as she has acquiesced to so many of his requests already, he expects that this one she will also.  For now, though, he finds something else for Ali'ikai.  In case he cannot come back here with what he plans to.

Kiara is working and Kalen lets her work.  Opens a bottle of wine and offers to bring her a glass and then disappears again, out onto the lanai with some wine and a book of poems.  Again, he spends the night out there with the starlight on the sea.

When he gets dressed in the morning he is less dramatic than Kiara; almost always less dramatic than Kiara when it comes to how they look.  Blue jeans and a white shirt and a knotted bracelet with dark cord framing pale, shimmering pearls.  He is only fractionally less pale from his time in the sun.

"Of course," he says.  "Coffee on the way?"

The SeaFeel like going on a field trip?

Of course. Coffee on the way?

Whether coffee is part of their plan or no, Kalen and Kiara take their rented vehicle and head out to the East end of the island. The drive is pleasant and calm. The island today is as picturesque as ever, warm and bright and teeming with both local and imported flora. If they ride with the windows down, they'll hear the sound of local birds calling to each other on the beach. There are people as well, of course. Locals sitting in fold-out chairs on the decks of their small homes or walking along the side of the road. Many of them smile and wave when Kiara and Kalen pass by.

The island is small enough that finding Haoa's address on a map is a relatively simple affair. And sure enough, when they arrive at their destination - a small but pretty 2-bedroom beach house, the name on the mailbox reads: Ka'ana'ana.

There is one car (an old Jeep) and one scooter in the driveway.

KiaraKiara rests an arm on the window on the drive over, a pair of over-sized sunglasses obscuring much of the brunette's features from the locals, though her smile is pleasant enough where it's canted in their direction as they pass here and there.

Her glasses reflecting the scattering of homes and vibrant, tropical plant life as they wind their way across the island toward their destination, her hair drying rapidly into a wavy mass as the breeze played in the loose strands left liberated at the nape of her neck, a few escaping her knot to stir in wild abandonment around her face.

Her familiar silver necklace gleaming in the sunshine where it rested, the pendant tucked beneath the vee of her dress. There were take away coffee cups stowed in the holder (it had, apparently, been part of the plan after all) and for much of the drive over, she's seemingly content to watch the landscape passing by them, idly commenting here and there on some landmark, or pointing out a particularly gorgeous vantage point of the water.

When they pull up outside of the beach house, the Verbena is the first to climb out, carefully closing her door and lifting a hand to squint into the distance. She cuts Kalen a look across the car that may have passed for how do we want to approach this before she slings her bag over a shoulder and begins to approach, carefully reaching out with her senses to get a feel for the who (and what) might be present.

It couldn't hurt to be prepared, even if Haoa was (in theory) entirely human.

Kiara[Life 1/Mind 1: Knock knock, anyone home? Base Diff 4, Coincidental, -1 for Foci]

Dice: 3 d10 TN3 (1, 9, 9) ( success x 2 )

Kiara[Adding in Corr 1 and extending. Get your perceptions on, Ms Woolfe.]

Dice: 3 d10 TN4 (2, 2, 2) ( fail )

Kiara[Kiara, you do this to me EVERY TIME. Just ... be cool. Kalen's judging you.]

Dice: 3 d10 TN5 (2, 6, 9) ( success x 3 ) [WP]

The SeaThere are two human patterns inside the house. One is likely Haoa: male and elderly, somewhere close to 80 years old. The other is young and also male, around 19-21. The older man is somewhere in the back of the house, sleeping. The younger one is moving about in one of the rooms. From her mind scan, Kiara can tell that he's in a good mood, and possibly listening to music.

There are a number of plants inside, as well as an old parrot who is presently consuming its breakfast. Other than that? Nothing tremendously surprising or worrisome.

KalenKalen is certainly not oblivious to the fact that they are on a beautiful tropical island.  He is not oblivious to the fact that Kiara is gorgeous, perhaps even more so here framed by life and the sea spray and the tropical sun.  Even so, he is less evidently pleased with this place; particularly for someone who has seen him reach out to a sea witch with an awed kind of wonder.

He drives them to get coffee and past people who smile and who wave; eventually, by the time they have reached the home of Haoa Ka'ana'ana, he is smiling back.  Less wide, less open; but Kalen is not overly prone to expressing welcome or joy in such a fashion.  (For that you have to watch his eyes.)  The way that people exchange leis though, that fascinates him.  The meaning of Aloha.  Not that superficial 'hello, goodbye, I love you' explanation for the tourists.  The real one.

"I think I am at a loss here," Kalen says softly to Kiara.  "I cannot imagine what it would be like if my mother wanted me to come and see her at the bottom of the sea.  My mother, after all, couldn't be bothered to want to see me when it would have been so easy as walking into the next room.  This is...not a thing I understand at all."  There is, perhaps, some regret there.  Not so much sorrow.  Kalen is well beyond mourning his loss of a mother.

KiaraKiara does something ... vaguely odd, en route to the house's mailbox. Or, perhaps, odd was a relative descriptor but certainly very singular to the sort of Awakened she was. She drops down to her haunches as if she were studying something she'd noticed underfoot and reaches into her bag, closer approach (and the familiar sensation of casting in the air) revealed she was tracing along the ground with a small piece of chalk, her other hand curled around the pendant and her face tipped up and slightly to the side as if she were listening attentively to something.

The shape she's drawn was the rough approximation of a pentagram; she pushes herself to her feet after a beat and carefully runs the toe of a sandal through the figure; obliterating it and tucking the chalk away. Her sunglasses are lifted up.

"I can sense two men inside. One of them feels ... older, maybe in his eighties or nineties. That must be Haoa. There's another person, too. Younger." She casts a curious look toward the house. "Maybe a son." A moment, then, as Kalen offers his thoughts. Kiara's expression isn't easily read for a beat as she studies his face. "Well, she did say he knew what she was, so maybe it won't be a total shock. To him, at least."

Kiara's eyes returned to the door.

"Family never tends to be easy. Even without the complication of an ocean." A tiny quirk of the Verbena's mouth as she starts forward, again. She knocks on the door and takes a minute to unpin her hair; shaking it loose and tousling it into a wild display that falls around her bare shoulders; her sunglasses are tucked into the vee of her dress.

She spares a sidelong glance at Kalen and a single eyebrow notches up, just a touch.

KalenKalen's head cocks just slightly to one side as Kiara explains the people she senses inside.  "Were you planning to tell them both?"  There is a brief, faint smile.  "Though, I suppose, I am hardly the very model of discretion in all moments."

There is no real response to the assertion that family is complicated even without oceans for a few seconds.  And then, quietly, "at the very least complicated means this should be interesting."

Even so, Kiara may get the feeling that behind the calm enough tones and steady enough presence that Kalen might rather be trying to handle a sea witch and some dire sharks than an elderly man and his...son?  Grandson?  Housekeeper?

The SeaIt takes a moment for someone to answer the door. Inside the house, there's a muted thump (as though something dropped, or someone ran into something) and Kiara, with her senses active, will sense a brief flash of pain coming from the young man inside. Nothing serious - just a stubbed toe.

It gives Kalen and Kiara a moment to discuss the complicated nature of family. And to decide whether they intend to deliver their message to Haoa alone. Then the latch in the door turns, and the two of them find themselves gazing up at a very fit and very tall young man. His hair is dark and wavy, his skin boasting a deep tan, but unlike his (great?) grandmother, his eyes are blue. There's a little moment of surprise when the young man regards them. He doesn't seem displeased, just uncertain of who they are. His eyes dance over Kalen briefly before landing with a significantly longer beat of fixed attention on Kiara.

"Hey. Something I can help you with?"

The man is shirtless and barefoot and wearing a pair of red board shorts. There are earbuds hanging around his neck. A tinny echo of loud music seeps into the air, emanating from the tiny speakers.

Kiara"Not unless we don't have a choice," Kiara murmurs back before the door opens and her attention (and a rather deliberate, toothy smile) are focused on the bare chested young man who greets them with what she can only assume is the typical response of someone when a pair of strangers turned up on their doorstep apropos of nothing.

In the climate, the Verbena has foregone much of her usual dramatic make up save for a faint application of mascara and blush on her cheekbones, her dark eyes seem to radiate a keen interest in the young man. She doesn't go as far as to drop her eyes over his body, but she does take a minute to deliberately push the heavy fall over her hair over a shoulder.

"Hi, we're hoping so. Is this the home of Haoa Ka'ana'ana?"

There's a certain way Kiara pronounces the name that speaks of uncertainty with it, a tentative flutter of apology that curls the edges of her mouth as if in clear recognition she'd made a mess of his relation's name. "We're not selling anything," she rushes to add, the Verbena, before the young man can (potentially) protest (or close the door on them).

"We were just hoping to speak with him." She exchanges a look with Kalen, gesturing between them before she offers a hand out. "I'm Kiara and this is my friend, Elliott."

KalenAnd the young man is more obviously not oblivious to Kiara.  Kalen breathes out softly.  Just this once, it might be nice to let go of a situation long enough to see how someone else approaches it.  And it is hardly as though Kiara cannot speak.

He offers the young man a quick smile.  "Hey," he says.  Beyond that though, at least for now, he lets the young man settle his attention on Kiara and leaves the speaking to her.

The SeaKiara makes an effort to assure the young man that they aren't there to sell him anything, though judging by the fairly rapt attention Kiara is receiving from him, he might very well be just as happy to stand there and listen to her try to pitch him something. He nods amiably when she asks if she has the right house. "Yeah yeah." If she botches the pronunciation at all, he doesn't bother correcting her. "Oh, sure. Um, are you friends of his?"

He tosses his head back and bellows across the house. "Hey Pops, wake up! You've got visitors!" Nearby, the parrot echoes the sound with a brief, raucous cry. In the back of the house, Kiara can sense the old man stir and rouse himself into groggy wakefulness.

"I'm Jake. Nice to meet you." Jake grins and offers a hand to Kalen, then Kiara. Once introductions are through, he steps away from the door and makes a lazy gesture toward the living room. "Come in if you want. He'll just be a minute."

When they step inside, they'll catch a brief glimpse of the parrot - a Blue and Gold Macaw - sitting in a cage near a window in the kitchen before Jake ushers them into the living area. There's an old sofa in the room, its fabric decorated in a faded floral motif. There's also a TV set that looks as though it might have come out of the 1980's. A number of the surfaces in the room are decorated with potted orchids. Someone (likely not Jake, though one never knows) has taken very good care of them.

Kiara
Given what she did professionally it's probably not entirely surprising that Kiara found it easy enough to slip into conversation with the young man at the door (even if she rather intentionally avoided any direct answer to the question of how they knew the older gentleman).

Certainly, there was an element of intent to the way she shifted the heavy fall of her hair over a shoulder and made sure she held Jake's eyes for a lingering moment when he offered a hand but it was subdued - her engaging smiles, the appreciation in her dark eyes when he invites them inside.

"Thank you, Jake. We'd like that."

Kiara's hand brushes Kalen's arm when she sights the parrot, she casts him this brief, curling little smile before passing on into the living area, her eyes roving over the sofa, the smattering of orchids around the space. They draw her over to one almost unerringly, the Verbena and Kiara's fingers lightly brush the edges of one, turning an appreciative look over a shoulder toward the young man.

"These are beautiful. Are they yours?"

KalenKalen shakes Jake's hand, which involves less shaking from Kalen and more a single, firm squeeze.  There is, again, a brief smile.  He does not try to guide Jake's reactions to them, does not try to detract from Kiara, but his pale eyes are alert.  Interested.

The parrot gets his attention for a few seconds, and then the orchids get another smile.  Not because he thinks about smiling, but because those orchids remind him of other orchids which remind him of the taste of sea spray and the sound of Neruda being read aloud.  His fingertips trace lightly over not one of the delicate flowers but along the curve of one of the thick green leaves.  Kiara has already commented on the orchids.  And what would he say, anyway?  That orchids could mean love and beauty and refinement?

He stays silent instead and watches Jake and Kiara interact.

[But we have habits.  (Almost certainly) unnecessary Perception + Empathy on Jake.]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (3, 3, 7, 7, 8, 8, 8) ( success x 5 )

The SeaThe orchids attract both Kiara and Kalen's attention. And who could blame them? The flowers really are beautiful. Jake follows them into the living room at an easy gait. His gaze dances a moment over Kalen as he pauses to note the macaw in the kitchen, and there's a brief grin of amusement. "That's Icarus. We tried to teach him to talk but mostly he just shrieks a lot."

The music is still blaring out of his earbuds, which Jake finally seems to realize because he fishes his cell phone out of the pocket of his board shorts to turn the sound off. That settled, he shoves the phone and the earbuds back into his pocket. He's in the midst of this when Kiara asks him about the orchids, at which point he gives a low, hearty laugh and shakes his head. "Nah, I'd probably kill them. Pops takes care of all the houseplants. They're kind of his babies."

"Just an old man's hobby," another voice joins the conversation as Haoa steps out into the living room to join them. He's dressed in a pair of cargo shorts and a white tank, barefoot with slightly ruffled white hair. His skin boasts a dark tan, and he smiles when he spots Kalen and Kiara, though his eyes still have a bit of sleepiness around the edges. He's in pretty good shape, all things considered, for a man his age. There are weathered lines on his face and a bit of extra weight on his mid-section, but aside from an apparent tendency to nap in the middle of the day, he doesn't seem to be in poor health.

"You two look like you aren't from around here. What can I help you with?"

KiaraThe brunette straightens as another voice joins in the conversation about the orchids.

There's a smile tinged with real warmth directed Haoa's way and, as she throws the flowers one last, lingering glance, affection, too. "I know somebody who'd appreciate your hobby. He grows some of his own." She touches the edge of a flower and then brushes her hands down the sides of her dress, it flows around the Verbena's body as she moves, the vibrant colors shifting with the material in such a way as it almost feels alive.

"We're not." Kiara concedes with a little glance at her companion, fine dark brows rising in tandem, the female's dark eyes ghost over to Jake and then return to Haoa. She seems to be deliberating, the Verbena, on the best manner to proceed, her expression betraying a hint of consideration, her voice tipping into trepidation at points. "We're actually here on behalf of your mother. She asked us to come and find you as a sort of ... favor." Kiara pauses, throwing out another glance at Kalen.

She seems to weigh up what else to offer before her dark eyes return to Haoa.

Softer: "She'd like to see you again."

Kiara[Perception + Empathy on Haoa: that's quite the news to unload on a guy when he's just woken up, Kiara.]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 4, 8, 9, 9) ( success x 3 )

KalenKalen's eyes track to Haoa when he comes into the room.  Takes in his age but his relative lack of frailty.  What would it be like to love and then watch as everyone you loved in the span of your first lifetime died?  He thinks of the sea witch with her sharks and the way Marcellus adopted him and-

Here, Holliday.  Now.

Haoa gets a brief smile and Kalen does not, lulled into something like tranquility by Jake's warmth and the orchids and the way Haoa slips into their conversation, have to summon warmth for it.  He means that smile.  If Kiara is paying much attention to him for those few seconds she catches a glimpse of what, in another world, Kalen might have been more than for these fleeting moments.

There is a little flicker of surprise across his features.  Concern.  Empathy.

"I know this must be unexpected," he says quietly.  It is, almost, an apology.

[And one more Perception+Empathy]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 6, 6, 9, 9, 9) ( success x 5 )

The Sea"Ah. Whoever he is, he has good taste." Haoa offers Kiara a wink as he makes his way over to an old recliner. There's a little sigh as he lowers himself into it. Once he's settled, he gestures toward the couch. "You can sit if you like." Whether either of them do or not, it doesn't seem to matter to the old man too much.  He covers his mouth as a slow yawn catches him, but as Kiara goes on to explain why they're there... something in his demeanor changes.

He lowers his hand and looks at her, dark eyes sharpening into something closer to alertness. For a long, awkward moment, he doesn't say anything at all.

Jake, meanwhile, leans the tall weight of his frame against the wall in a pose that might have approximated something a bit photo-shoot worthy were it not for the fact that he looks rather a bit unsure of what to do with his hands. First he starts to fold them across his chest, then he thinks better of it and drops them, shifting his weight on his feet and trying to look nonchalant. It takes a moment for him to react to Kiara's news, but when the reality of what she's just said hits him, he looks up suddenly. "Wait, I thought Grandma Ali'ikai was dead?"

"Not dead," Haoa admits coldly. "But she may as well be." It's a surprisingly turn in demeanor for a man who moments ago seemed quite happy to welcome perfect strangers into his home, even though they'd interrupted his nap. Family trouble can bring that out in people though.

"I'm sorry she asked this of you. I don't know how you know her. Perhaps you're Kahuna too. But it doesn't matter. She made her choice years ago. If she wanted to see me she could have come here herself. We aren't her family anymore. The fish and the Rokea are her family."

The SeaAt first glance Haoa appears to be about as open and easy to read as his grandson. He's a bit sleepy, but pleased enough to welcome company into his home - even when it takes the form of strangers. The set of his shoulders is relaxed when he sits down. But that changes when Kiara tells him why they came. When she mentions his mother and her request.

Then suddenly all of that easy warmth just folds in and locks itself away.

He is, at that moment, possessed of a very old and very bitter resentment. Anger and sadness seeps into his voice and his eyes. He is pretty clearly resistant to the idea of visiting his mother. Though perhaps not as disconnected from her as he would like them to believe. (It's hard to get over that kind of rejection.)

KiaraKiara Woolfe would be the last person on earth to argue against the idea that family (and in particular parents) were not complicated areas to navigate. Her own familial issues were not small - and they didn't even press into the aspects of her life beyond the entirely mundane. She hadn't spoken to her mother in over a year and it had been far longer since she'd stood in a room with her father for anything other than brief, uncomfortable moments.

Resentment and anger were fine bedfellows and they bred together a deep and dark gulf.

She does sit, the Verbena, crosses her legs on the edge of her sofa and folds her hands in her lap; her dark eyes slipping from Haoa to his Grandson. She studies Jake for a long moment before returning her eyes to the older man. "We're not Kahuna and we don't know your mother well. In fact, we only met her yesterday but I do believe she's sincere in wanting to see you."

There's a beat.

"I think she has things she'd like to tell you. I have no idea what happened between you, but - " Kiara's eyes shift back to Jake for a moment, she leans forward. " - it might be one of the last chances you get to see each other. Whatever she did, whatever she chose, she doesn't seem to have forgotten you.

Maybe that should count for something."

KalenKalen drifts over toward the couch.  Hesitates.

For a moment he tries to imagine what it would be like to expect to have waffles on Christmas morning again.  He tries to remember what maple syrup tastes like.

And...there.  That is what that loss feels like, when it is not safely shut away and slumbering.  You have to be quick to catch that flicker through his eyes, but it does.  Sharp and hot and unwelcome.

Kalen takes a careful breath and resolves to ask Alexander over for waffles.  It does not, entirely, banish that particular sense of loss into its customary slumber.

"I don't know about what choices she may or may not have made before.  Perhaps she was wrong, or perhaps they were more complicated than they seemed.  Perhaps they were exactly what you think they were.  Those things are done now.  They cannot be undone.  I don't whether or not they can or should be forgiven.

"The only thing I can tell you, is that she does consider you her family.  Them too, perhaps.  But she loves you and she wants to see you."

The SeaHaoa gives a quiet laugh when Kiara mentions that they've only just met Ali'ikai. There isn't much warmth in it, but there is a note of slightly absurd humor. "I can only imagine the circumstances that might cause someone to run into an old witch who lives at the bottom of the ocean."

"Oh come on, Pops. That's just an old story."

Haoa turns his dark eyes to regard his grandson. "It isn't a story, Jake."

Jake lifts an eyebrow and looks for a moment like he's about to argue, but then he breaks into a sudden laugh and says, "Well then hell, I'd like to go see her."

Haoa gives him a sharper look that borders on anger, but whatever it is he's thinking, he keeps it to himself. Instead he shifts his attention back to Kalen and Kiara on the sofa. "She always loved me when it suited her. When I made her feel less alone. Then she'd disappear again. She may have left for good after I got married but she was never really there before that either. Once when I was ten she disappeared for an entire year. Never told me why. There comes a point when you have to let people go. She was never meant to be a mother. She's always had bigger worries."

He takes a long breath, exhaling into a sigh. "I'm sorry you came out here for nothing."

KiaraHe can only imagine the circumstances that might cause someone to run into an old witch who lived at the bottom of the ocean. There's a tiny twitch at the edge of the Verbena's mouth, she dips her chin. "The truth is, Ali'iaki was given something by her own mother. A small stone. We came to find it."

Kiara gestures between herself and Kalen, catching his eye for a moment before glancing back to Haoa. "The stone is part of a crown, something that was, for a long time, hidden away by our people." Kiara pauses, her eyes drifting to Jake. "Our hope is to restore all the missing stones to it. I suppose you could call it a historical pilgrimage." A touch of a smile surfaces. "Ali'iaki's price was finding you. Was - bringing you to see her."

Kiara leans forward again, eyes searching Haoa's face for signs he understood, for some hint that despite everything, what she was saying was reaching beyond the years of hurt and neglect. "The stone clearly means a lot to her. She's willing to give it up for the sake of seeing you again."

She sits back, the pagan, her brows drawing together.

"I don't get the impression it's something she's doing lightly. Whatever her failings as a parent." The brunette casts a look of scrutiny the younger man's way, then. As if she were turning over another possible avenue. "I'm sure she'd like to meet you, too."

KalenKalen sighs.  "You don't have to go," he says quietly.  "We've told you what you should know about your mother.  What you do with that knowledge is not our place to tell you.

"Officially, that's really all I came here for."  He swallows and for a few seconds his lips press together.  "Personally, I would consider it.  She may have been a terrible mother, but at she cares about that.  You may not have this chance again.  Just be very sure, whatever you do, just be very sure.  We can leave a contact number and give you a day or two."

And then he looks away from them for a few seconds.  Steps away from the couch.

His attention drifts back to the orchids, first one and then another and then another.  All the distinct variation between varieties.  The tiny variations between the blooms on each plant.  But, he does not, at least not yet, abandon Kiara to try to finish this on her own.

The SeaI'm sure she'd like to meet you too.

Jake tosses a hopeful glance towards his grandfather, who doesn't offer any response to either confirm or deny that claim. Haoa listens to what Kiara has to say - about the stone; the crown - and a deep furrow makes its way onto his brow. She and Kalen can see him thinking. Processing. Can see the way his mind wants to discard the information.

Kalen adds, afterward, that he doesn't have to go, to which Haoa gives an abrupt little grunt (which might mean something to the effect of: you're damn right I don't.) He's a stubborn creature, this man. He had to be, to accomplish the things he's done in his life.

He mutters something in his native language, standing up from his seat with a distracted glance out the window.

"Hey Pops, you okay?" The tone in Jake's voice drops to one of gentle concern.

"I'm fine. Just... give me a moment." Haoa waves off his grandson and turns to make his way to the back entrance of the house. Jake starts to follow, then hesitates, watching him go. There's a light slap of metal as the screen door opens and shuts.

"Uh... sorry about that." Jake turns back to Kalen and Kiara, offering them an embarrassed smile. "He gets like that sometimes. Don't leave yet, okay? Just... let me talk to him."

And with that, Jake jogs out to join his grandfather on the deck.

Their voices reach a low murmur. Then go silent.

Finally, about five minutes later, Jake walks back in.

"He'll come. He just needs some time alone right now. Is tomorrow morning okay?"

KiaraWhen Jake jogs out after his grandfather, Kiara watches the younger man go with a trace of concern; she gets to her feet in the absence of both men and begins a slow circuit of the living room, her fingers idly pulling at the pendent around her neck, dragging the chain to and fro, a vaguely distracted frown etching across her mouth.

"If he doesn't want to go, maybe we can convince Jake to come in his stead." She offers after a pause, glancing in the direction both men had departed in, she can feel both of their presences, as well the soft rise and fall of discussion. The brunette's eyes betray her concern, as she adds with a tiny frustrated flourish of a hand: "Of course, even if he does come, the question remains how we get him down to her. I feel like almost anything is going to be a risk."

She adds, lowly: "I hope we're doing the right thing."

When Jake returns, Kiara's back is to the room, her attention on the window; she turns at the sound of footsteps and her expression, when Jake offers that Haoa has agreed but needs time, reads a flicker of both surprise and gratitude. "Tomorrow is fine. We can give you our number where we're staying if anything changes and come and collect him in the morning."

A pause, she offers Jake a brighter smile. "Thank you, for talking to him."

Kalen"Between the two of us," Kalen says quietly.  "I imagine there will be only so much risk.  We'll have to be careful, but if nothing else we can try to have her swim up to us.  I would hope that that much she would do."

He comes to join Kiara at the window.  Close enough to touch, though he does not reach out for her.  "Here?  Or in bringing this thing back together at all?"  There is, for a second, a quick smile.  It does not, quite reach his eyes.

"Here at least, I like our odds."

Kiara agrees to the time for them and thanks Jake.  Kalen just gives him a little nod and another of those there-and-gone-again smiles.  This one slightly more real.  "See you tomorrow."

The Sea"Yeah." Jake accepts Kiara's gratitude with a nod. "If it's okay, I'd like to come too. To keep an eye on him. And... I mean... I'm still half convinced you guys are trying to pull some elaborate practical joke, but I love to dive and if my great grandmother has somehow managed to survive all these years in the ocean, then I definitely want to meet her." There's an edge of excitement in the young man's grin, despite everything. And who could blame him, really?

He steps into the kitchen for a moment and grabs a pad of post-it notes and a pen out of a drawer. "Here you go. Elliott and Kiara, right?" He offers the pad and pen across to Kiara. There's a beat while he waits for her to jot down their phone number, then he asks, in an only slightly awkward voice, "So... are you two like... together?"

KiaraThe Verbena's handwriting is as large and bold as much of Kiara was, flourished with loops and underscored when she's done with a sharp line drawn beneath the information. She's holding the pad and pen back out to Jake when he asks if she's with Kalen.

Her eyebrows shoot up and the brunette cants an assessing look over at Kalen for a beat, her mouth curving up in a smile that verged into something crooked. Her voice was threaded through and warm with amusement and clear affection as she answered: "Oh. No. We're just friends. My boyfriend couldn't come with us." She adds the latter with a tiny hesitation, as if the title for Ian were still new and a little uncertain.

There's also a twinge of gentle sympathy in it, as there had to be when you had to find the kindest form of extinguishing hope.

She offers a smile and then adjusts her bag against her shoulder. "So I guess we'll see you both tomorrow?"

KalenKalen does not seem terribly surprised by the new title.  He does, after all, know that Kiara has been into Ian's home.  Ian does not take many people home.  It is enough that his eyes track to Kiara, but beyond that, his only real response is a tiny congratulatory smile.

Under other circumstances, perhaps Kalen would have said something more playful.  About Kiara, about Ian, about Jake.  But not even at Kiara's assessing look can he be bothered with that.

The SeaThere is a very brief moment when Kiara can see a spark of hope forming in Jake's eyes. Then Kiara says: my boyfriend couldn't come with us, and that spark fades into something like low-key disappointment. He doesn't let it kill his mood though. Just smiles a little and nods. "That's a shame. That he couldn't come, I mean."

(That's not really what he means.)

He takes the notepad and the pen back from Kiara and taps the pen against the wall. "Yeah. I'll have him call when he's up. See you guys tomorrow."

As the two of them leave, Jake leans out to hold the screen door, offering one last lingering smile in their wake.