amongst the ego and the savagery. [serafine, arionna]

SerafíneKung Fu Tacos is a big yellow truck parked on a little pedestrian square at the intersection of Some Street and Some Other Street somewhere in Lodo.  It's dusk and cool again and getting close to freezing - rude awakening after simmering sunshiney days in the 70s earlier this week.  The sky has this deep, blue-rimmed hue that saturates the low-hanging clouds and the downtown core is lit-up and there are strings of Edison lights slung across the street.  Vampire Weekend (M70) is coming from the soundsystem inside the kitchen and a blonde chick with a half-shaved head in a tight little leather skirt, torn fishnets and combat boots is ordering a Flock of Tacos.

Roast duck with mango salsa, one lemon pepper shrimp taco, and one mu shu veggie taco.  She asks for a beer but they don't have them to instead she orders a Mexican hot chocolate.

There's a flask in the inner pocket of her leather jacket that she can use to dose it liberally with something alcoholic.

The order entered Sera steps aside, standing on the edge of the pavement, watching the city's skyline as dusk deepens into night, waiting for the guys in the truck to call her order up.

She's alone tonight, for now and there's a cloth bag dangling from her right wrist.

She's alone tonight, but probably not for long.

Probably never for long.

Kiara[Let's do that thing, that tells us things.]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 4, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 3 )

Arionna[People like me?]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 6, 7, 9) ( success x 3 )

ArionnaDusk is when all the critters really come out. Sure there are birds and other small creatures in the daylight hours, sometimes even a cougar, but often times the best animals wait until the sun begins the long drop into the earth. It's beautiful, the way the colors play in the sky, and anyone who found such things displeasing could be considered aesthetically inept. Thus it is expected that Ari wanders along the city streets; what sort of animal would she be to miss the best hours of the day?

Now it's not necessarily for Tacos that she's here. It's likely on her way to whatever destination she had in mind, which might mean that destiny has a way of throwing the oddballs together at the best times...or worst. The three of them seemed unlikely to fit...well...Arionna didn't fit well with anyone it seemed, except maybe Danny on occasion, so it may simply be that nature had a very interesting sense of humor.

She moved through the people who still lingered, her nose in a book as was often the case, and hardly paying much attention except for the recognition of a familiar sensation. Her gaze slipped over the book and ahead, the scent of tacos sliding into her lungs, and searched momentarily for the source.

KiaraSerafine's probably never alone for long and it's true - tonight, at least, that she won't be. You could call it fate, or the fates or if you were leaning toward Kiara Woolfe's particular taste on things you might just invoke any number of Goddesses; any whim of nature's and call it so. This is where x decides to intersect with yz and so shall it be. The pagan's coming out of some establishment [a bar by the sign; some cocktail flashing intermittently on and off in sporadic unrest; all purples and reds with a neon green olive stabbed through its heart] just across the square.

She's alone; or on her way to be; sliding out the door and holding it easily for a pair of departing women; Kiara's smile tilted their way for a moment as they set off in another direction; calling wild farewells over a shoulder that are snatched away and carried across the open area. The Verbena unhooks her arm from the door; lets it click shut with snug fixture to block out the chatter of voices within and curls a coat around her body.

Boots. The brunette was forever in these tall; black knee high affairs that rustled the edges of her outwear and trumpeted her impending arrival far more dramatically than perhaps even her resonance did. That slow play of something eating at your senses; hunger; like that which drew the wandering to King Fu Tacos. Kiara doesn't halt, per say, when she gleans that touch of frost, that entrancing tug; a belly deep enthrallment; but she does smile.

Does lift her chin; the collar of her coat turned out against the dusking cool. Does reroute her footsteps.

She smells like a whirl of margaritas and change; the clever wind that blows through; that's Kiara. Wordless approach, though her eyes have already found Sera by the time she's closing on her. Would you call it predatory, that gaze? Perhaps only so much as the plant that strangles another. Unintended perseverance. Her lips are already bending in a smile as she clatters over; picking a path in those heels of hers.

SerafíneI know these things?

Dice: 7 d10 TN5 (1, 4, 5, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 6 ) Re-rolls: 1

SerafíneSera is smiling and her smile is small and strange and a bit far away.  She's lost in something and perhaps it is called thought.  Then again, maybe it is sensation.  She can feel the subtle shifts of resonance in the air from miles away.

Maybe she's lost in Time.  She has that feeling about her, and she looks both forward and backward with near-equal ease, oracle that she is - though few others, even her fellow magi - understand that Time was in her bones and sinew long before she ever woke up.

Somewhere a door opens though, and three friends part.  Somewhere the trajectory of a strange little girl going from Here to There is interrupted by a riot of sensation, and it is cold outside and neither Sera's tiny leather skirt nor her fishnets do much to protect her skin from the cold and there's a hint of a pink glow to her knees and nose and thighs and it is cold enough that she has pulled her shearling lined leather jacket closed and zipped it up and tucked her hands into the pockets where she rattles around in search of a lighter and a clove cigarette, which she does not light because her Mexican hot chocolate is ready before she has lit the cigarette and well before her tacos.

"Hey - !  What the fuck are you doing out here tonight?"

This smile for Kiara, warm.  Open arms, a feckless hug if the other woman allows it, that lingers a moment longer than is strictly indicative of platonic friendship.  The brush of Sera's chilly cheek against and the vague scent of cinnamon-and chocolate wafting from the cup lifted carefully over Kiara's shoulder for the duration of that hug.  Held carefully behind Kiara's ear.

Then they are disengaging and Sera senses Arionna's resonance again.  Shivers.  Visibly, physically shivers.  "Feel that?"  Low-voiced to Kiara, dark eyes seeking out the source.

And settling there.  Sera watches Arionna pretty visibly, and something about that stare seems to be an open invitation to approach.

ArionnaSera...

With her perceived absence that Arionna doesn't understand. The politics, the names of their groups, the need to pull others into your own perspective, willing or not, and thus the breadth of the traditions is simply alien to her. Thus Sera's inclinations, the way her blood pulls her, the way she seems to be in some other place, are all unknown as anything other than someone who may be taking far too many substances to be even remotely healthy. Still, the group of magi she's come to know are interesting when watched from afar. They have their problems and oddities, and she knows well enough that she's not a 'part' of the lot of them, but they're still worth observing; that's precisely what she does for Sera. She watches, still and cold.

Kiara pours out of a building with others like herself in demeanor. Arionna lowers her book slowly, closing it just a little as her attention shifts to the new, changing wind. The affection the two of them might have is obvious, the sort of affection she still finds to be odd. The more she kept herself on the out of things, the stranger it all seemed. What -was- the purpose of a hug when not used for soothing? It felt, suddenly, like an odd cultural construction.

When Serafine looks in her direction, Arionna shifts her gaze back to the woman. Perhaps the invitation is gifted silently with merely a look, and perhaps Ari knows what it is. There's no movement as of yet. Approach seemed easy for some people, though for for her it was harder to approach than to flee. She had to decide if she wanted to join on the onset, and exactly what the entire meeting could provide; her recent encounters had been less fruitful than she had hoped, and had contributed to the reemergence of her inherent wariness.

KiaraThere's laughter; quick and bright and spirited as she winds her arms around the other woman in greeting, is greeted, with that emphatic demand. Kiara's hands span and easily rub in some brief foray of pleasure and greeting over the Cultist's back; scratching between Serafine's shoulder blades with her fingertips before she pulls away; still smiling; her dark hair drifting into her lashes.

"As much as I like being one with nature," this, Kiara's little lip curl, her throw back to time spent away from Denver's heart and in another sort, "Sometimes a girl just needs to cut loose and get a little drunk with her lady friends." Her thin fingers tousle in and pry her mane of hair from under her collar; throw it over a shoulder and turn; twisting in some synchrony when the other woman asks -- shivers, because -- "Oh." Kiara's eyebrows rise a little; arching up in their fine little groomed lines as her eyes join Serafine's in their quest to pinpoint -

"That - would be Arionna." Something to the way she speaks the other woman's name; at once curious to find her out here too and ripe with some expectancy. There's another book in the Orphan's hands its presence draws the slightest flicker of reaction from the brunette for a beat. Kiara's dark eyes roving over Arionna with some cursory appraisal.

There's a murmur aside; toward Serafine's ear as Kiara turns momentarily to study what the Kung Fu Tacos might have to offer her. "I get the decided impression she doesn't approve of me." There isn't so much reproach to that; to Kiara's inkling; her assumption; as there is a warm sort of humor to it. An understanding, a recognition of the severing of ways.

SerafíneDenver is on a high plain and in the plains it is fucking windy.  No wonder Kiara's dark hair whips around her face, gets tangled with the sweep of her lashes.  Sera shakes her own face free of the long licks of bot. tle-blond curls and turns her face into the wind a bit, head canting as Kiara cranes to follow that glance, chin half-rising as Kiara supplies the girl's name.

This threading glance, from Arionna to Kiara's profile and then back again.

"Hah." She murmurs back, this grin spreading across her fine little mouth that is sharp and lively and challenging.  "Who the fuck wants to be approved of.  I bet the both of you are better off."

Meanwhile Sera is prying off the lid of her chocolate.  Steam rises, banks, and is carried away by the wind.  "Hold my lid, huh?"  This to Kiara.

ArionnaIt was a burnt sienna colored cover with a black square along the spine that wrote Magic in History as if it were part of a series. The tan box on the front which held the title was small, though Strange Revelations might have been made out. Probably not anything remotely important; she simply enjoyed reading.

She might not have come for tacos. But when one is standing near food without having had dinner, and whilst walking and reading, the intention can change. She wasn't hungry before, but the smell of the tacos is starting to stir her appetite, and the orphan slides her book into the bag at her side, pulling out her wallet instead. Ari wore black. The only bit of her that had been allowed some reprieve from her usual pattern, was the fur like material along the top edge of her boots, of which it had a grey peppered appearance; imitation rabbit or some such.

Stepping right up to the taco stand, once the line had been cleared, she ordered something simple with beef and cheese. There's no need to be complex tonight. Food is food, particularly when your stomach begins to growl. This didn't suggest that she neglected the appearance of the other two. No. Arionna paid attention, to what she could from her place away from them, but she certainly didn't pass them off as simply as she would anyone else.

KiaraKiara's tasked with holding Serafine's lid and she takes it easily in hand; running a fingertip through the chocolate dusting coating the inner side and stealing a taste of it as she does. It leaves an incriminating trail blazed across the plastic that she's unrepentant for as she licks at the sweetness and savors it; stroking at the edge of her mouth as Arionna encroaches; takes up a place in the line and puts in some order.

She watches her progress, Kiara, with this suggestive little squiggle shaping her red lips and waits for Arionna to claim her order before she steals over; lid in hand and cranes up to whisper something to the vendor before tapping the tiny serving counter with a palm and twisting back; hand raised against the breezy falling evening to face Arionna.

There was a tiny bit of ledge; a crumbling sort of brick facade just shy of the Taco Stand and it's toward this Kiara meanders; pauses mid-step to look again at the Orphan. "Hey - " Calls it out; her out; tilts her head. "Come join us, yeah? If you want to." Kiara's dark eyes settle there on Arionna for a long pause as if there's plenty more she'd like to add; her coat unfurling and wrapping back against her legs.

She doesn't though, add more. Just slides there onto the wall; crosses her legs and offers Serafine her lid back; if she wants it. Exchanging this little look with her as she does; some brief, enigmatic thing that reads of olive branches and persistence. Why not, it offers.

Let's see where this takes us.

SerafíneNot often is Sera quiet.  Not precisely quiet, not regularly quiet, nothing close to reserved.  But there is a sort of space she cedes to Kiara in between the beats of her invitation to Arionna, quick, wry twist to her mouth.  A certain way her gaze lingers on the bow of Kiara's red lips after that little look passes between them.

In the time it takes Kiara to lick that lid and toss off that invitation and return to the crumbling brick wall against which Sera half-perches, half-lounds, Sera has dug out her flask and topped off that hot chocolate with a healthy dose of Stranahan's and retrieved the plate of tacos she orders.  Three sprawling things wrapped in foil that smell heavenly but not quite as heavenly as alcohol-laced cinnamon hot chocolate.  So the tacos are set aside, and may not be consumed at all.

Steady eyes, dark blue - something about her that seems to be more contained, far more sober than the state of intoxication two nights before - a mobile mouth curled over the lip of the cup, this sharp profile.  All that sensation around them.

Sera glances at Kiara's profile, again.

Back at Arionna.

Waits to see what the shivery kid will do.

ArionnaAn invitation was the least of all actions she might have suspected, and she's still a little unsure as to whether it actually occurred, and why. Her lips tighten, brows furrowing just a little as she stands off to the side and waits for the tacos to be made.

The truth is, they're trying. Danny has been trying. Not just to include, but to explain the way others see things. These are not her people, but they are potentially better than all those others out there, blindly walking through life. Ari knows she doesn't much like the sort of people Kiara would be lumped into, and while she doesn't know Sera, those two are cozy enough that she suspects she wouldn't much like her either. And yet...

Ari takes her taco silently, reaching for some hot sauce on the bar to squirt in the food. When she stepped away from the truck, she made certain to step closer to the two women; within speaking distance but there would be no firelight dances or sharing of marshmallows anytime soon.

KiaraHow does Kiara Woolfe see the world; behind all those smiles and lingering glances there had to be much that she wasn't saying, right? There had to be story to that. To her. There was, always, after all, a beginning for all of them. For Serafine and Kiara and Arionna. Their interactions so far, the latter two had skirted rather perilously between awkward and uncivil. A corrosiveness that could not bend or soften to suit platitudes. They were, in short, who they are and there was a gulf between their vantage points of the world.

Kiara's might have been a gentler dismissal when it came to the ways Arionna seemed; the way she saw and pushed against; but it was there all the same. And yet -- there were times, there were nights, when it seemed almost a given that they gravitate together. That likeness should call to likeness despite the tiny nuances where they differed. Perhaps it took seeing certain glimpses to alter perceptions enough, to give pause enough to do what the Verbena did just now -- find the give; offer a little.

Keep the wolves at bay just a little longer.

Serafine is watching and Kiara cuts her a furtive look when the Orphan seems given to bridge the distance even a little. That tiny edge of a smile there; the tiny ghost of it giving humor back to her mouth. "You've met officially, right?" This, as Kiara is draping her coat over her legs to keep them warmer; her dark eyes shifting between the two women.

SerafíneKiara drapes her coat over her legs to keep them warmer.  Sera's legs are pretty fucking bare - shapely, shapely legs that seem long not because Sera is tall (although without the gentlemen around to tower over her, she is a perfectly adequate height.  Even tall, by Arionna's diminutive standard) but because her body is made in such a way that her limbs seem long.  And they're sprawled out in front of her, crossed at the ankles (boots so worn the leather is supple as a second skin, not stiff), pink from cold beneath the diamond weave of her thigh-high fishnets, torn in places.

If they were in Federal Sera might be taken for a hooker.

They're in Lodo, though.  She has tattoos on her hands, framing her palms, on her palms, on the inside of her fingers, all blackwork, visible when she lifts the mug in greeting to Arionna.  The scent of chocolate, thick and rich, and whiskey.
Always whiskey.

"Not officially."  Which may or may not be true.  That is to say: " - or, if we have, I don't fucking remember.  I'm Sera.  That was quite the dance, you getting over here.  You always that fucking shy?"

Her voice is wry, warm.  This spark to her gaze.


ArionnaIt was true that they had commonalities. Nature, life, older magic, more primal magic. It was all there. The outlook were widely different, with Arionna embracing the darker aspect of their natures. Sometimes the similarities shine brighter than the differences, and maybe..just maybe..that was what was happening now.

"No." Arionna says simply.  She can't recall an official meeting between the two of them, or if they ever exchanged any words that would have meaning. Her weight shifts a little, moving to the right leg and and further from the two of them. They're an interesting set of three. Kiara seemed relatively normal, at least by Arionna's standards, and Sera seemed to move to the end of the spectrum that she found personally distasteful fashion wise; that was unfair, she couldn't deny she had a few skimpier clothes in her wardrobe that she pulled out for summer. She was more interested in the ink on Sera's skin, though unwilling to press in enough to examine it.

"Arionna." Spoken after a small bite and a slight swipe on her lip with her finger to transfer the sour cream to her mouth without using her tongue. "If you mean to inquire as to whether I am often timid, then the answer is no. I find timidity to be a trait of the inferior. If you mean to question whether I often dislike the presence of others and therefore refuse an attempt to engage in social behavior, then the answer is yes. I suspect that's a bit new for you."

KiaraNot officially, gets this little twitching suggestion of mirth. Then: or I don't fucking remember, which gets the briefest flash of white teeth. Kiara's sharp little mouth widening in a smile before she lifts her chin and waits to see if the foundations of introduction need laying. They do, but - they happen without her input and the Verbena takes the chance to rise and reclaim her own cup of chocolate, pushed out onto the tiny counter for her when its ready; steam rising from a tiny slit in the plastic lid.

She steps back; fingers curled around the cup to the tune of Arionna making it known she's not timid, that she dislikes the presence of others, often. Kiara, prying the lid off with one hand, turns her focus on the petite black clad female beside her, commenting with the quickest, curling, throaty noise of amusement. "I had noticed that, actually."

It's hard to deduce if Kiara's making fun; she could be. Her eyes are bright; there's a way she smiles that's suggestive of something close to it. She doesn't press at it, though. Put her fingers to the wound and wait for the blood to well to the surface. "What brings you out here tonight, I'm supposing it's not -- " She gestures in a brief cutting gesture; arc back over their shoulders; toward the bars; the restaurants.

Social behaviors, seems the unspoken commentary.

"People." She finishes; lifting the chocolate to her lips.



SerafíneKiara drapes her coat over her legs to keep them warmer.  Sera's legs are pretty fucking bare - shapely, shapely legs that seem long not because Sera is tall (although without the gentlemen around to tower over her, she is a perfectly adequate height.  Even tall, by Arionna's diminutive standard) but because her body is made in such a way that her limbs seem long.  And they're sprawled out in front of her, crossed at the ankles (boots so worn the leather is supple as a second skin, not stiff), pink from cold beneath the diamond weave of her thigh-high fishnets, torn in places.

If they were in Federal Sera might be taken for a hooker.

They're in Lodo, though.  She has tattoos on her hands, framing her palms, on her palms, on the inside of her fingers, all blackwork, visible when she lifts the mug in greeting to Arionna.  The scent of chocolate, thick and rich, and whiskey.
Always whiskey.

"Not officially."  Which may or may not be true.  That is to say: " - or, if we have, I don't fucking remember.  I'm Sera.  That was quite the dance, you getting over here.  You always that fucking shy?"


SerafíneOOPS.

Here was the real post:

Arionna might find Sera's wardrobe even more distasteful if her leather jacket were unzipped and unbuttoned, for all she's wearing beneath it is a somewhat transparent black and pink bustier, the cups studded with little silver rivets.  So, yeah.  Skimpy as fucking hell, on a blustery day when that shit just seems unreasonably revealing.  That and a line of studs and hoops crawling up her ear and a heavy silver spike right through the cartilage.  A bar ring across three fingers of her left hand and a copper one on the index finger of her right.

They are too far for Arionna to get more than a flash of the ink, something open and curving on the inside of her left palm, though, curling down over the tender inner skin of her wrist.  And: these cramped lines framing the palm that seem certain to be letters or numbers of some sort.  Perhaps Roman numerals.  They have that officiousness to them.  That narrow heft.

Arionna introduces herself and Sera's mouth quirks into a small half-smile and she's probably about to share some pleasantry like Hey or something else when Arionna continues, annoucing first that timidity is a trait of the inferior.

Sera breathes out all at once.  Laughter like a blow but there's something disbeliving to it - "Jesus fuck - " she swears beneath her breath.  And that laughter turns into something else, just a supple note of disbelief, something intermediate.

"Naw.  It's not new to me.  I just think it's a shitty way to treat yourself and others, you know?"

Arionna"I like to wander." That's the best reason she can ever give for finding herself in some street at some part of evening for no other reason than because she wanted to. "Before the winter leaves us and the nights become shorter." Because soon enough that's what will happen. The sun will return to shine on them for far longer than the moon will breathe, and poor Ari will no longer feel the strength of the darkness. Something about the sun made her skills less...capable. She lets the potential teasing from Kiara slide, but then she's accustom to such things and to misinterpreting them.

She eats, crumbles up the foil and slides it in a nearby dumpster. There isn't much to her mannerisms most of the time. When she returns, she remains still, curling her hands in front of her and holding them there as they talk, never wavering her attention.

But Sera laughed. She laughed and Ari moved her attention, focused it entirely on the tattooed woman. "Ah, an original perspective. The dislike of social isolation is something that many humans express disdain for. Not surprising you'd express the same sentiment. I enjoy my place. I fail to see who I ill treat myself, if I find it pleasurable."

KiaraThere's something to the way Kiara listens to Arionna's words; head tilted just so toward her; that thick, dark hair of hers falling loose around her shoulders; the slide of her tongue along the edge of a tooth. She's watchful and perhaps -- quizzical, the draw up of her eyebrows; the smoothing down of a momentary shift; the curve of her supple red mouth into a line; a frown.

Emotions working there as the Verbena's throat moves to swallow. Her eyes shifting to encompass Serafine's reactions; a smile captured amidst her body's stillness. The impression of momentary perplexity in the dimple that arises; surfaces and fades as Kiara regains her momentum. Gestures at the book; always one; always something; found in the Orphan's clutches. "You keep some company, though." This as she moves to resettle herself; her coat flaring open as she slides one leg over the other.

She's got tights on, beneath her coat; black; winter thick but they strain at the knee; draw thin enough for her skin to be glimpsed beneath. Kiara rocks one foot a little; the lacing on her boots rattles against the leather. There's zippers somewhere; an impressive heel one imagines must sink some inches into soft earth. "All those authors, their impressions, their thoughts. People aren't so bad. Well," There's a brief, consolidating smile. That edge of the tease again.

"Some of them. Some of us." Here another glance at the Cultist; Kiara's long lashed gaze shifts back. "I can't say I blame you avoiding others, but - " She takes another sip of the cooling chocolate. "Get messy, sometimes."

Serafíne"You ever been in love?"  Sera asks Arionna.  It sounds like a quip.  There's a supple curl to her mouth, lips pressed together, contained but - " - or lost someone you love?  Ever found yourself eating an ice cream cone, your favorite fucking flavor, and suddenly you're just sitting, there and you realize you cannot stand anything about it.  Ever piece of it is offensive to you?

"Or broken down in the bathroom of a dive bar off Seventh and Fifth.  Had a strange hand you scratchy toilet paper under the stall because yours was out and you needed to blot your running mascara so you could get up and wash your hands and go back out and keep making out with the guy you're taking home that night, and he's got this smell of onion on his breath okay fine and a little bit of a paunch but these yawning, yearning eyes.

"Ever gotten stoned and watched the sunset or remembered, suddenly, this perfect slant of childhood or lost an earring in a cab and had the cabbie track you down at a priest's house two days later and return it.  Sweetly you know?  Expecting nothing because he though you were a prostitute?

"Ever stop a sixteen year old girl from jumping to her death from the roof of a hospital with the power of your mind - I mean, tell me you've done one of those - just one of those fucking things, or just kissed a boy and made him cry - and I figure then you'll stop talking about humans on the whole like there was any such thing and just think of them as people.

"I mean, though."  This quicksilver smile.  That rant was low and lovely and passionate and bright and even at the end there are equal parts of irony and beauty in Sera's eyes.  "The hell do I know?  I'm only human, and I gotta piss."

She straightens, then, Sera.  Looks around and spots that bar that Kiara came out of not long again.  Takes her coffee and leaves behind her tacos and says, "Be right back - " to Kiara and even Arionna, and then, to Kiara, " - hey.  Are you meeting your ladyfriends later?  Or wanna come home with me?" even as she's on her way past, heading for the bar and presumeably - bathroom - within.

Arionna"No." That was the simplest answer she could provide Sera from the beginning. Just 'No.' All those list of things that she had hoped Ari might have done, and Ari could break it down into a 'no.' "Though from the sounds of it, you should be a playwright. Seems like you have a bit of an imagination for it and the need to provide some sort of narrative. Your narrative, though, is very one sided."

They were left, she and Kiara, with one of them getting comfortable in the cold, and the other standing in it, still, calm, and very much a part of it. Her lids blinked slowly, the dark shadow overcoming her green eyes briefly as she looked away from Kiara to those passing by. "Books are not company. Ideas are not company. They are only ideas, or knowledge. Of only humanity, of course. "

"I'm not sure exactly what you mean by messy, as it implies dirt or uncleanliness. I venture into nature often enough. I just don't find humans all that appealing. They're monstrous bipedal things with too much ego and not enough restraint. " When she brought her attention back, there was a slight tilt of her head. "If you mean to suggest that there are a select few that may have some redeeming qualities, that is true. Yet they are a minute percentage of the population; so small it's practically irrelevant. "

KiaraSerafine rants. It's a lovely sort of rant, that being said. Spun with passion and yearning for life that Kiara warms to; smiles against the ripple of, as it unfurls and she's watching Arionna as it happens with this privately contented sort of smile on her mouth that speaks to something like agreement; yielding perhaps to the poetry contained in the pictures that the Cultist paints.

No, is all Arionna offers back. Such a small, flat, round stone of a response and Kiara's smiling beyond Serafine's words and somehow bigger at Arionna's response and catching the other woman's eye as she gets up, heads toward and calls back, asks -- "Sure. I'll be there in a minute?" -- because when they're just the two of them, Arionna and Kiara, there doesn't seem a rush to the way the Verbena rises to her feet, then. Gathers her coat around her; presses the lid flat down onto her coffee cup.

"I mean - messy. Life is covered in mess, kid. You can't contain every last morsel of it. Or you shouldn't. I'm not saying you need to go out and fuck every person or get drunk in bars or - " Kiara's eyes shine bright, there. She searches the other woman's features plainly. "Just - make mistakes once in a while. Fall in love with the wrong guy, get your heart broken once or five times. Ask Elijah on a date."

She lets a smile curl her mouth a little, there. Wraps her coat a little tighter around herself; begins to pick a path toward the bar she'd emerged from and Serafine had vanished into. Turns, as she does, calls out a parting few words. "Throw yourself amongst the ego and the savagery. Feed the wolves. Run wild. And get home safe, okay?"

She makes some abortive gesture, the brunette; a flashing, brief smile that's hopeful as much as measuring and twists; clatters away back into the bar.