open your mind. [ian]

Ian
The leaves are starting to turn color in Denver. Across the landscape of City Park, trees are fading from green to still-subtle notes of gold and ruddy-copper. In a week or two, that color will start to pop in bright, vivid hues. Day by day, fall is creeping in.

There are people in the park: walking the sidewalk around the lake, playing games in the wide stretch of grass. It's around mid-afternoon on a Friday and the weather is cool enough that most of them are wearing light jackets or long-sleeved shirts, but not so cold as to be uncomfortable. Slightly crisp, slightly cool. Perfect weather for sports, actually, which might explain the large group of college-aged men and women currently engaged in a game of ultimate frisbee on the lawn. Ian isn't with them. He's sitting with his back against a tree watching a single mother try to wrangle a couple of rowdy young children, one of whom keeps insisting that she wants to swim in the lake even though a: the weather is too cold and b: the lake is not intended for swimming. They're far enough away that the shrieking voices don't sting his eardrums, but close enough that the unfolding scene is difficult to ignore.

He dressed comfortably today in dark jeans, casual shoes (they're black with white stripes down the side) and a heather-grey henley. He's sitting with his legs loosely crossed and has a leaf held in one hand, spinning slowly by the stem between his thumb and forefinger. This absent, meditative gesture.

This morning he texted Kiara to ask if she wanted to meet in the park. When he arrived, he texted again so she'd know about where to look for him. Now he's just waiting, absorbing the sights and sounds and scents that exist around him.

Kiara[Where is the Ian? Awareness.]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 5, 6, 8, 10) ( success x 3 )

KiaraIt was one of the Verbena's favorite times of the year. Unsurprisingly perhaps, she granted the first blush of spring as her time but this period, where the world began to shed layers and Samhain crept upon them in every curling leaf and dark, uncertain corner - she enjoyed the completion of it; the certainty of the wheel turning on as it should.

When there were very few things that could be counted on for reliability, in Kiara Woofe's mind, nature and her seasons were the steadiest. They would come, they would settle over the world and then, as needed, diminish.

-

He gets a text back from the brunette when she arrives but he may well feel her as she navigates her way across the verdant green slope. Like him, she's opted for comfort over high fashion in sneakers, faded jeans and a white tee but there's still an element of it lingering around the pagan in her glittering bracelets and the dark crimson shade she's painted her mouth today.

Her hair has been tamed into a ponytail that dances around her shoulders as she walks and seems to be deliberating already on ways to escape its prison; fine strands clinging against the slope of her neck as she approaches the lone figure by his tree.

"Hey." The sunglasses perched on her nose are large; they somewhat dwarf Kiara's fine features and he can see himself reflected back in them; cross legged at the base of the tree with his leaf as it was held captive in his fingers. "Sorry I'm a little late." She drops her bag down on the ground and the old, battle-scarred thing gives a small oomph as air rushes out of it; objects clattering together inside it.

It's worn fabric in a faded purple and teal combination; mended at points, patched with leather and who knew what else. It had personality, Kiara often defended of its depreciated state and she had yet to give up on its potential. She follows it down, settling on her knees and leaning in; sunglasses dipping down her nose to press her mouth to the edge of his.

Her breath smells faintly minty, it mixes with the sweeter tones of her perfume.

IanIt isn't really the sort of meeting that required punctuality. And though Ian himself was early (often is, in fact) he doesn't seem especially concerned about the time. There's a smile when he sees her. He sets the leaf down by his foot and gives a little roll of his shoulders, sitting forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Kiara drops her bag and kneels down beside him, offering that light kiss. He turns his head into it, letting his eyes slide shut for a moment. When she sits back, he looks at her thoughtfully.

"That's alright. Gave me more time to finish blowing this guy in the parking lot."

(He's kidding.)

There's a glance thrown toward some of the people nearby. "Want to learn how to read minds?"

Kiara"As long as you've been making constructive use of your time," she returns lightly to that claim of his, settling down near him and stretching her legs out so that she's facing him; a hand behind her back balancing her weight, the other sliding those sunglasses over her brow to rest in her hair; giving her dark eyes visibility and allowing him to see the amusement in them as they regard him.

It's a pleasant enough afternoon that City Park is thrumming with people but the Verbena seems unperturbed by them, as she always appears when allowed direct interaction with the natural elements of the world, there's a trace of pleasure in the way her fingers move against the blades of grass, in the way her face tilts back to appreciate the lick of a breeze on the air, carrying across those sounds of humanity; to soak in the warmth of the sun.

Her eyes open at the offer. Want to learn how to read minds?

She straightens a little, her gaze shifting to take in the direction his had. Her pulse quickens. "Yeah." There's a flicker of apprehension, it battles with the smile that wants to settle across her lips. "I do." He knows, of course. That she does. That they're both aware of how vulnerable it makes her not to be able to protect her thoughts from those that wouldn't hesitate to push inside her mind and take what they needed.

There's a beat, then she sits up, eyes scanning his face. "Show me."

Ian[Mind 1, practiced, plus extra for sharing]

Dice: 3 d10 TN3 (1, 2, 5) ( success x 2 ) [WP]

Ian[extending]

Dice: 3 d10 TN4 (2, 3, 6) ( success x 1 )

Ian"I don't know... how the Verbena do this. If it's similar or not. For me, it started with this understanding that our minds and our bodies are not separate things. You already know how to read body signals. Picking up basic thoughts isn't actually much different. When you feel physical pain, your mind responds to it. And emotional pain has physical effects. Everything connects. The hand is an extension of the mind and vice versa. I can touch you with both. They're both... me. Both part of how we use ourselves as instruments for affecting change."

They haven't spoken much about paradigm before. Ian... hardly at all. He doesn't have a guidebook for how to do this; has never attempted to teach another willworker to see auras or guard their thoughts. But there's a gravity to the way he speaks about it that suggests it is something he's put thought into. Something that perhaps informs a great deal of his life. (He speaks of himself as an instrument - like his body and his mind are things to be tuned and trained and perfected. And that can't be much of a surprise, given what Kiara already knows about him.)

He stands up slowly, brushing a bit of grass from his jeans. "Come on, let me show you." He offers Kiara a hand up, and when she joins him he walks with her a few yards, turning to face the gathering of students playing frisbee on the lawn. He positions himself at her back, his body pressed close behind hers. From a distance, it looks like an embrace, but there's a ritualistic quality to it. He slides his hands over her shoulders and down the slope of her arms, trailing the tips of his fingers over her wrists; the back of her hands. Finally he slides his fingers between hers and folds their hands together - forging a connection (first between their bodies, then their minds.) His breath is warm where it ghosts across her neck.

"Close your eyes. Let your body and your mind go still. Don't think, just listen. When you're ready, open your eyes and focus on the people out there."

His body goes still, and his voice drifts into silence. Focused. Meditative. The air is cool and gentle where is brushes against their skin. It smells of grass and earth and hints of alkaline from the nearby lake. In the distance, children are laughing. A mother scolds her daughter to come down from a tree. Closer, the sound of running - of bodies colliding. Panting breath and elated cries of victory. Ian absorbs these things without judgment. They are there. They are part of the living, breathing world in which they live. As real and alive as the trees rustling in the breeze.

Finally he opens his eyes and looks. Lets his focus and his senses open up. Kiara will feel it when it bridges the connection, this sudden awareness of new things. Sensory impressions: feelings, colors. The people out there on the grass - they are vivid in ways they weren't before, wreathed in these intangible auras that shift and change with the flow of their thoughts.

KiaraThey haven't spoken in any meaningful way about how they view magick. Not beyond surface, passing considerations. What Ian does know about Kiara's ways of connecting to her own is that it is rooted (both metaphorically and ... less so) in the world around them. In the earth and air and vitality of the planet they existed on. Her beliefs, her sorcery, as she's teasingly referred to it, have everything to do with it. Magick was not, to Kiara, a new discovery.

It was an ancient power, her craft. It slumbered in the roots of the trees, it soared above them in the wings of the watchful eagle; it laughed and gurgled as part of the forest stream. Magick was - is - everywhere. A natural part of the whole and her body; every bruise and cut and heartache it endured, was as beautiful and necessary as that power was to the world.

So, she lets Ian show her his own. Tangles their fingers together and leans into the cradle of his body and closes her eyes when he tells her to.

At first, all she can feel, all she can focus on, is the vibrancy of life around them. The pulse of the earth; the fluctuation of the air as it moved and writhed around them. The immediacy of their bodies where they connected. And then - her eyes open and she breathes it out - feels it creeping under her skin; the brushes of his awareness; a sharpening and honing of her appreciation for it.

Hearts racing. Children's fevered laughter. The insects humming their satisfaction. The cry of an infant far away; sudden and demanding and - secondary.

She makes a quiet noise, stirs herself slightly in his arms and he can sense the way her entire body feels the connection; latches on to the new sensory input. "Oh. It's - " She's searching for a way to describe it for long moments, content perhaps, just to absorb it. "I can see them."

She breathes out carefully, as if cautious of severing some tentative connection to this new layer of the world.

"It's beautiful."

Ian"See that girl in the red shirt? The way her emotions keep shifting..."

The girl in question is tall and blond, her hair tied back in a tight ponytail. She's hovering somewhat on the periphery of the group, her eyes trailing between the frisbee and one of the other players. At one point she makes a run for the frisbee, darting off in the direction of its trajectory, but when someone else beats her to it there's only a mild flare of disappointment. See, her heart is only half in the game. The colors of her thoughts shift and flow in this complicated pattern of yellow and blue and fuchsia, going bright one moment and dimming the next. The pink/red tones blossom and die whenever she looks at one of the boys (someone with dark hair and an athletic physique.) She likes him, see. But her interest keeps giving way to doubt.

"She wants that boy, but she doubts herself. You can see it her body too. The tension in her shoulders and the nervous way she shifts her feet." There's a pause as Ian's eyes shift to the boy in question. His aura feels much more confident: bold and vibrant in shades of orange and red. He's in his element, assertive and exuberant. Even a little flashy. But see, his colors get brighter whenever he meet's the girl's eyes. (He's showing off for her.)

"He likes her too. But she's too much in her own head to notice. People show who they really are. We communicate all the time, whether or not we intend to. You just have to pay attention."

Ian looks away from the players to take in Kiara's profile. He can see her aura too. The way it grows bright with wonder at what he's shown her. There's a quiet smile at that, and he allows himself a moment of selfish distraction - tilts his head and leans down to kiss the side of her neck. His lips are soft and lingering on her skin. Where their hands meet, his fingers tighten around hers.

KiaraIt's fascinating and, to a certain extent, rather terrifying, just how evident it becomes. The radiation of thoughts and feelings; the bleed over into the aura of the group playing frisbee. Kiara can glimpse it now, see the shifting, undulation of colors as they weave and fade, brighten and then - as the girl meets the eyes of the boy - diminish and extinguish as newer, stronger emotions take precedence.

The wash of it; the new awareness; the connection between her senses and Ian's has a flush staining the Verbena's cheeks and as entirely transfixed as she is by the sight before her, her aura flickers with shades of pink and red when he kisses her neck; a sudden, unbidden flux that crackles with the bright wonder sufficing her.

"How do you ever focus on anything with all of this," she murmurs and then: "There's so much. We give away so much and we never have a clue." Her eyes on the group down from them as the object of the blond's affections makes a daring leap for the frisbee and overcompensates; rolling onto the grass with a grunt and his aura jolts into a splash of darker, muted shades.

The blond's too, Kiara can see it now; the uncertainty; the affection and relief as he climbs to his feet and brushes off the tumble.

She tilts her face back, then. Lets herself take him in, too, watches the play of colors that infuse him. "I can see you, too." She teases the edge of her thumb against his knuckle; caresses it over the juncture where their hands are joined. "Thank you for showing me." There's a gravity to it, her gratitude, it's buried somewhere in her dark eyes.

That flicker trace of silvery-gray that surrounds her.

Kiara[Suffusing, not sufficing, thank you very much, fingers.]

IanHe lifts away, brushing his nose beneath the corner of her jaw. When Kiara looks at him, she sees something different in his aura. The way the colors glint and gleam with flecks of magic. Hers is that way too. Brighter, more vivid, glittering with power. Ian's colors have a cool shade to them, focused and grounded, but there's also a potent richness to it. He is silver and blue and deep purple, run through with glowing notes of wine-red. (That part is Kiara's doing.)

How does he focus with all of this?

"I look at one thing at a time. You get good at that, after a while. Choosing where to pay attention."

As he says this, the auras around them flicker out, leaving just the two of them. With some reluctance, he draws away from the warmth of Kiara's body, releasing first one hand and then, slowly... the other. When the contact breaks, the effect dissipates. He walks back to the tree where Kiara's bag still rests on the ground, lowering himself into a seated position.

"This part may be less enjoyable. But I wanted to try and show you how to keep your thoughts shielded."

KiaraIt's jarring, for a moment.

The way all that awareness can suddenly and abruptly snuff itself out the instant Ian severs the connection between them; draws away and Kiara has the sudden urge to shiver. Does, in fact, lace her fingers around each elbow, hugging herself and glancing down toward the group by the lake. She can still sense them, feel the ghostly impression Ian's magick had impressed on her but it's nothing but an aftershock; a tremor that she feels and then blinks out of existence.

She's slower to drift back to join him, but her progress slows again; her descent into a seated position suspended when he admits the next aspect may not be as enjoyable. "Okay." There's a tension that writes itself into her body, then. Her back straight, legs neatly folding and her hands settling on her knees. Her jeans are frayed below both; artistically so; the denim worn through to reveal slices of bare skin beneath.

The bracelets on Kiara's wrists clink together as she settles facing him, her expression betraying no small amount of uncertainty, but, threaded through is that familiar lace of determination. It's there in the focus of her attention on him, in the way she seems almost anticipatory for whatever was to come.

The idea of guarding her thoughts, of the potential of it (and her failure to, when it counted) is at the forefront of the Verbena's insecurities. It shows. She's tense, a fine line of it appearing between her brows.


Ian
Ian

He lifts away, brushing his nose beneath the corner of her jaw. When Kiara looks at him, she sees something different in his aura. The way the colors glint and gleam with flecks of magic. Hers is that way too. Brighter, more vivid, glittering with power. Ian's colors have a cool shade to them, focused and grounded, but there's also a potent richness to it. He is silver and blue and deep purple, run through with glowing notes of wine-red. (That part is Kiara's doing.)

How does he focus with all of this?

"I look at one thing at a time. You get good at that, after a while. Choosing where to pay attention."

As he says this, the auras around them flicker out, leaving just the two of them. With some reluctance, he draws away from the warmth of Kiara's body, releasing first one hand and then, slowly... the other. When the contact breaks, the effect dissipates. He walks back to the tree where Kiara's bag still rests on the ground, lowering himself into a seated position.

"This part may be less enjoyable. But I wanted to try and show you how to keep your thoughts shielded."

Kiara

It's jarring, for a moment.

The way all that awareness can suddenly and abruptly snuff itself out the instant Ian severs the connection between them; draws away and Kiara has the sudden urge to shiver. Does, in fact, lace her fingers around each elbow, hugging herself and glancing down toward the group by the lake. She can still sense them, feel the ghostly impression Ian's magick had impressed on her but it's nothing but an aftershock; a tremor that she feels and then blinks out of existence.

She's slower to drift back to join him, but her progress slows again; her descent into a seated position suspended when he admits the next aspect may not be as enjoyable. "Okay." There's a tension that writes itself into her body, then. Her back straight, legs neatly folding and her hands settling on her knees. Her jeans are frayed below both; artistically so; the denim worn through to reveal slices of bare skin beneath.

The bracelets on Kiara's wrists clink together as she settles facing him, her expression betraying no small amount of uncertainty, but, threaded through is that familiar lace of determination. It's there in the focus of her attention on him, in the way she seems almost anticipatory for whatever was to come.

The idea of guarding her thoughts, of the potential of it (and her failure to, when it counted) is at the forefront of the Verbena's insecurities. It shows. She's tense, a fine line of it appearing between her brows.

[reposts]

IanIan isn't in her head yet, so he doesn't know the exact source of her tension - but he can see that it's there. His knees shift on the grass as he settles himself in front of her, propping his weight on his arms for a moment while he rearranges his legs into a folded position. They're close enough that the tip of one of his shoes touches her leg; that his knees brush against hers. "Hey..." his voice is low and soft as he leans forward to set his hand on the outside her thigh. "I won't hurt you, I promise. I have to be in your head to do this, but I won't look beyond the surface. And if you want me out, just say so and I'll back off."

For what it's worth, he sounds like he means it. Like this is something he cares about a great deal - boundaries and consent. Something he's had to put thought into. (And he probably has - given the skill he wields. If he chose to, he could be a great deal more capricious with it.)

He watches her for a few beats, gauging her reaction. Then he leans his weight forward and slides his hand up to her hip. There's a subtle but perceptible shift in his demeanor. The way he looks at her (like he wants to kiss her;) the way he tilts his head and brushes his lips over the outer edge of her ear.

"I thought about you this morning," he murmurs. "When I was in the shower."

He lets that image sink in a moment, trailing his mouth down to bite gently at her earlobe.

KiaraIt's hard to say if Kiara would even have found it possible to put into words the source of her tension.

The prospect of what failing to grasp what Ian was attempting to show her could mean was certainly present, yes, but beneath it, stitched into the lining of her fears and doubts were so many conflicting emotions. He hasn't seen too many occasions for the Verbena to openly show vulnerability - hints, now and then, once, in the darkness at Red Rocks beneath a blood red moon - but there's a starkness to it, now.

There's no hiding the way it rides her expression and marginally tightens the way her fingers tug at the frayed edges of her jeans.

There's no eclipse to conceal the way it becomes, in the wake of his reassurances, suddenly quite evident. A smile chases across her mouth but doesn't find longevity there and she can only nod at first, this jerky little lift of her chin; twin spots of color warming her cheeks before he's leaning into her space and Kiara - watches him. Supervises his approach with a gaze half hooded under her lashes and her stillness and tension dissolves - her grip at her knees loosens as he lavishes attention on earlobe.

"You're trying to distract me," she protests with a small, indignant noise that doesn't particularly rise to the challenge and falls short of any real recrimination, a hand lifting to find his shoulder and slide fingertips down under the collar of his shirt to brand bare skin with the impression of her warmth. "It's - hm," he was thinking about her in the shower. "Not going to work. As lovely an image as that is."

She turns her face to find his eyes as she offers the last and there's a tiny gleam of her usual spirit there, now. A smile teasing the edge of her mouth. Her hand slides out from beneath his clothing, down to his chest. She leaves it there for a beat.

"I'm ready for this. I promise." Uncertainty, but, there's a spark of cradled interest, now. His ministrations and the physical touch seem to have grounded her.

Ian[Mind 3 (establishing a telepathic connection) diff 6 -1 (going slow)]

Dice: 3 d10 TN5 (4, 6, 9) ( success x 3 ) [WP]

Ian"Oh, you think I'm lying?" There's a wry twist to his voice. She tells him it won't work - his distraction - but he doesn't pull away. Instead he tilts his neck to one side, exposing more of the skin there to her touch. She slides her hand over his chest and he leans into it, pressing into the contact as though it were an anchor.

(It is.)

"First trick to getting into someone's head: it doesn't have to be a battle of wills. Distract them. Entice them. Go in... quietly. Get them to invite you. Get them..." he closes the distance to her mouth, kissing her in this long, savoring moment. As though he'd forgotten entirely why they were really there.

But of course, he hasn't forgotten. He reaches out first with his words, then with his body - forging these small but meaningful connections. And when he kisses her like that, everything slows down for a moment. There's a sensation of closeness - of intimacy - of his resonance pooling around her and washing over her thoughts.

And then he's there in her head: potent and primal and treading velvet-soft through her thoughts. Like cat's paws.

..To think about you.

His voice sounds pleased and warm in her mind.

KiaraIt's a new level of intimacy, having somebody in your thoughts.

He can feel the way she breathes out against his mouth at the first registering of him there, inside her mind; padding through the surface of it. And what was it like, inside Kiara's thoughts? In the inner landscape of her head; that swirling, surging resonance of hers somehow coloring everything; even him, here. The static pulse of her. Like the muted tick of a clock, a rhythm.

A heartbeat.

Oh. She sounds startled. His pleasure warming her and the uncertainty warring with sudden, focused curiosity. This is so strange. I can feel you inside my head. And she reaches out as if to press at the edges of his presence there, as if she could somehow stroke the sensation of that primal, potent energy where it met her own.

Mental fingertips feeling out the edges of her awareness. Around them, the park is still thriving; the sun touching the surface of the lake and dancing light across it; the group playing down from them; their shouts and cries carrying across the grass but it all feels - secondary, suddenly. All of the brunette's energy drawn inward, her awareness of Ian inside her head governing all.

And if someone I don't want is in here?

She's still exploring at the edges of the intrusion, pressing at the points where she can feel him the most. The ghosting sense of her uncertainty rising again, her heart picking up speed and beating wildly against her chest, he can feel Kiara's fingers sliding down to curl around his wrist.

Can I push them out?

IanThis is so strange.

He doesn't respond verbally to that, but there's an impression of his thoughts, the way he retreats just slightly - goes still in her mind and waits there, listening. He can feel the emotions swirling around in her head. The way her focus narrows and turns inward. The way she touches at his presence. Curious but also... uncertain.

But she can feel him too. If he wished to, he could hide that - hold back and show her only the things he wants her to see. He did, with Elijah. Doesn't do it with her. Maybe it's harder or maybe he just doesn't want to. So beneath the restrained power and warmth of his presence, there is this subtle, complicated shadow of vulnerability and disappointment.

This isn't how he would have chosen to do this for the first time. With her thoughts on self-defense and her Will turned to pushing him away. He's aware of how the things he tells her must sound. How... unsettling it is, the thought of someone abusing those tactics. But he tells her anyway, as much to protect her as teach her. Because he said he would. Because he wants to protect her.

She can feel that too.

Her hand circles his wrist, and he turns his palm to slide his middle and index fingers along the inside of her arm.

You can, if you're strong enough. There are other ways to do it. You'll find the way that works best for you. It may not be the same as mine. Jae-shin, my friend... he's an Akashic. When he shields his thoughts he lets them get very still and placid - so that any intrusion just skims over the surface. When I do it, it's more... obscuring.

He's quiet for a time, closing his eyes. And Kiara will feel the intimacy and openness of their connection start to mist over. That's what it feels like - what it looks like inside her mind. Like rolling fog. It clouds her thoughts, hiding his retreat until...

The mist clears, and she's alone.

"It might be easier, at the beginning, to use raw force. I think that's how most people start. But I wanted to show you that there are other ways. Really, it's less about pushing people away than it is about not letting them in."

He's gotten very good at that, over the years. Too good, maybe.

Ian[Edit: You can, if you're strong enough. There are other ways to do it. You'll find the way that works best for you. It may not be the same as mine. Jae-shin, my friend... he's an Akashic. When he shields his thoughts he lets them get very still and placid - so that any intrusion just skims over the surface. When I do it, it's more... obscuring. should be in italics.]

KiaraShe breathes out again when he retreats.

As the connection between them, the sense of his presence caressing the inside of her thoughts fades and then - is simply gone. Kiara's eyes blink open and she regards him with a complicated mix of emotions flickering in her dark eyes. She's still holding his wrist lightly and she lets it go with the lightest frown.

"I used to have nightmares. After New York. After Aisling died." She confesses softly, her mouth shifting into a brief, rueful smile. "I think I've been half terrified to learn how to use the sight, how to go deeper, because I wasn't sure what I'd find." She lifts her face, meets his eyes and there's a tentative hope in her expression, articulating through the lingering unease. "

I wasn't sure what you'd find, either."

She studies him a beat and then sits forward, leans into his space and cups the side of his face and presses her mouth to his in a brief, searing kiss. It's a punctuation of a few things: her uncertainty, her appreciation, the lingering sense and surety of him in her mind.

His desire to protect her. The warmth of his affection.

She articulates it back to him in the only way she knows cannot be misunderstood and when she draws back, her eyes are bright. "Maybe one day I can show you the less messy parts."

IanIt takes him a moment to come back - to really feel like he's present. When Kiara opens her eyes, he's looking at her with this dark, veiled gaze. But then she says I used to have nightmares and his posture shifts, spine and shoulders curling up. His focus lights on her, and there's a change in his expression - softening, human.

Almost, he says something. But then she leans forward and presses her mouth to his and he meets it with a soft exhale, drawing his hand up to trace the side of her neck and the line of her collar bone. His palm slides down briefly over her heart before she pulls away.

"I hope you'll show me all of them. When you're ready. I don't just want the easy parts."

If he had... well. They wouldn't be here right now.

"When I was a in high school, I used to take things to try to forget. Because I couldn't. But it never really worked the way I wanted it to. The best I can manage most days is just... not to look at things. But it's still there. I don't ever really forget. Even the shit that happened while I was high or fucking wasted." He goes quiet for a moment and glances down at the grass. Over by the lake, there are sounds of a playful scuffle. The world around them goes on, seemingly unaware of the quiet scene unfolding in their midst.

"I don't know. I think maybe it's better to see things. Even if it hurts us. I think not seeing them hurts more." He looks up and leans forward, lets his forehead rest against hers. "I'm sorry. I don't know if that's comforting."

At some point his hands find hers again - wherever they happened to settle. This time he folds their fingers together the way he did when he shared his senses with her. "Let me know when you're ready, and we can try again."

KiaraHadn't she said as much to him, once?

That the fucked up parts didn't scare her. There's a vague echo of that conversation coloring the one they share in the here and now. Small confessions, tiny fragments of their lives held up to the light of present day and examined, turned and studied in all their imperfections.

"I think it was the things I never saw that haunted me the most about that day. The gaps I filled in, that I'd dream about." He presses their foreheads together and she reaches up and cups his face, her thumbs stroking at the corners of his jaw blindly, eyes closed. He can feel the edge of her bracelets, where they press gently against his skin.

The smoothness of the stones; the sharper points of the metal.

"Memories but also a thousand stupid ways I'd have changed things. Not fought with her. Not been so dismissive." She lets her hands fall away, down to her lap where he finds them, curls their fingers together and she smile at the sensation of it; the warmth of his palms.

The familiar shape and size of his hands. "But maybe I'm not meant to forget. Maybe there's a reason I remember all of it." She squeezes his fingers, her expression this time less a mask of uncertainty, and more quiet focus.

"I'm ready."

Ian[And again! Mind 3]

Dice: 3 d10 TN5 (5, 7, 8) ( success x 4 ) [WP]

IanThere was a time once when Ian sat in Kalen's library and told him that he'd rather take every fucked up thing in his life than go on living in a dream.

At least I know that it's real.

At the time, Kalen hadn't understood what he meant. Or maybe just didn't want to hear it.

He has to take a moment, after Kiara says that she's ready. Because the things she says open up something in his memory that makes him go very still. It was the things I never saw that haunted me the most.

His grip on her hands gets tight for a moment.

It's different, this time, when he kisses her. First it's soft (a little sad, maybe.) There's a sense of lingering regret - a quiet sorrow there in the shadow of his eyes. He doesn't speak, because there's nothing he can say that doesn't feel like a crude translation. Then he kisses her again and it edges into something a little more raw (a little more like the way he kissed her beneath the blood moon.)

That's when he lets his thoughts open up - seeking (and finding) her own. The bridging of that connection happens much the same way, his energies and his Will washing over her, into her.

It feels weightier, this time. His thoughts are still chasing shadows. But the feeling he projects is one of deep empathy. It feels like: I know.

I'm sorry.

I love you.

Finally his voice resonates in her thoughts. I should have done this earlier. I don't know why I didn't.

(Except he kind of does know. And she can feel that too.)

It takes a long time before he says, When you're ready, try to shield your thoughts from me.

Kiara[Okay, be nice dice. IT'S HER FIRST TIME. Let's see if she can tap into Mind 1. I will throw in a WP because, well. She's focused real hard.

So: Mind Shield.]

Dice: 3 d10 TN7 (4, 4, 10) ( success x 2 ) [WP]

KiaraThe connection opens up and she can feel the surety of him again. Feel the subtle pressure of his Will as it pushes into her thoughts. She tenses again, her hold on his fingers tightening reflexively but it's less than it was last time. It feels like the first, staggering steps of a newborn fowl. The way her thoughts flit and fluctuate around the intrusion.

She's attuning herself to the sensation of it; a magickal muscle flexing and learning its own potential. She doesn't work to push him out, not right away. Not after the way he kisses her and the sense of him she has, cradled for a moment, inside her mind. It's an intimacy, they both know it. Know the reasons why Ian had never tried it before now.

Slipping into her thoughts, even the fleeting, surface ones would have offered him the clearest vision of her feelings. The projection back that reads, simple and uncluttered:

I love you, too.

So, it's not immediate. She lingers in the connection, first. Maps the places where he's the easiest to locate and after a moment: I don't know, I could get used to feeling you this way. Maybe you should stay a while. The warmth of her humor infusing her thoughts, the affectionate candor swirling there, bright and vital before there's a beat. Before she straightens her shoulders and he can feel the sharp push back. Kiara's uncertain working like a blunt knife; forcing its way through. Rending at the edges of the connection.

It's imprecise and rudimentary.

But it takes hold, like a thorn embedding itself into a palm. She makes a low noise after a moment and there's one final nudge and her thoughts, the feel of him in her mind, ebbs away. Retreating.

Kiara[Ahem, foal, not fowl.]

IanHe could have pushed back - locked them both into a contest of wills. But he doesn't. There are steps to take, and this - this shaky, inelegant first attempt, doesn't need additional pressure. So he hovers there, calmly settled into the forefront of her mind while he waits for the push he knows is coming. She tells him she could get used to having him there, and he smiles both inward and outwardly. It resonates (radiates) within her mind.

Another day, maybe he will stay. Another day, maybe she'll let him.

But today, she pushes. He's prepared for it, so he doesn't flinch, but the force of it still feels a bit like a lash. It's more than he's expecting, to be truthful, though perhaps he shouldn't be surprised. Almost, he manages to keep a foothold in her thoughts, but not quite. There's a tenuous moment where the connection stretches... then breaks. It's less graceful than when he'd ended it the first time, and the sensation of it is a little jarring.

But it works. Which... for a first attempt? Is pretty damn impressive.

Ian blinks and sits back, and there's a moment where he regards her with quiet surprise. Then he laughs softly. "That was... good. Messy, but good. I should try to teach you things more often."

KiaraHe blinks and sits back and for a moment what he glimpses is - well, he may find it more endearing than anything. The picture of Kiara's total concentration as she Works. Her brow furrowed in effort; eyes closed and chin tipped back as if, even in her thoughts, she was projecting that same sense of defiant, determined resolve to win. To surmount the odds.

Her lower lip help captive between fine sharp teeth, it takes her a moment to detach; to breathe and open her eyes and smile across at him; briefly at first and then, abruptly, brighter. It meets her eyes, now. "That was ... harder than I thought. But - I really did it." There's quiet pleasure in her voice. A little wonderment, a little uncertain hope.

They're close enough that it doesn't take much for her to scoot forward; to curl her arms around his shoulders and half climb onto his lap; the afternoon is pleasant enough that the sight of it barely attracts the briefest of glances. They're just another pair of lovers lounging on the grass to most.

"Thank you."

She whispers it against his lips, first. Her dark hair falling over her shoulders; then again against the slope of his neck. Everywhere she does, her lipstick leaves little red smears and he'll likely find them later; tiny reminders of the afternoon.

Kiara's imprint left in tiny crimson impressions against his skin.