Mage - The Spiral [IC]

[Keia]

Catacombs, Pepsi Center
Denver, Colorado
October 2002

"I hope you slept well last night, Mister Sykes. You will need it with the things that are ahead of you."

Leo spun around at the words. Weird, how did he know . . . I wonder if he had something to do with me not getting any sleep. Was he the room service guy - did he slip me something? . . . Nah, that wasn't him, Leo thought, getting slightly paranoid from his lack of sleep.

He thinks he can see him on the front row near the bench, but his eyes can't seem to make anything out, his vision blurring all of the whites and reds together. He hears the coach behind him, and feels a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, are you doing ok?"

"Coach!" Leo said, jumping slightly, "Yes, sir . . . doing fine, sir. Eyes are just bugging me a bit, must be the lighting compared to the catacombs. I'm ready though whenever you need me, coach."

Focus, dammit! At least Dallas is wearing blue. If it was someone like the Hawks, I'd really be in trouble. Leo thought with a slight grin to himself.

 

[loxmyth]

Gardens outside Devlin Hall, BC Fine Arts Department
Boston, Massachussets
late afternoon, October 2002

Jason hadn't even gotten a chance to get over his startle before being bombarded by the man's questions. Who the heck was this guy? The total incongruity of it all totally stunned the young man into a shocked silence.

Rubbing his eyes vigourously, he muttered a string of curses and then stepped away from the sturdy oak that had been supporting him. Blinking with lashes that were too large for his aristocratic features, he opened his eyes to find that the man was still there.

The accident... He remembered it too vividly. In fact, in his memories it was more vivid than it had been in real-life. The fire that haunted his reveries and nightmares was a colossal thing, a towering, raging inferno composed of roaring furls of crimson and scarlet and unbearable heat. This great titanic monster that was all-devouring in its anger, its impossible anger, and Jason knew somehow that anger was his own. An anger that was larger than life and couldn't be quenched because it was just too strong -

The man was still there.

Jason shook his head to clear it of the images. "I'm sorry, what?"

 

[Mickerus]

"Hello, Mister Arctor. I wanted to compliment you on your play. You really know how to get to the hearts of people. Most extraordinary. Could I please sit with you and talk for a while? I have heard a lot about you, and would like to ask you some things... "

Charles looks up and offers the man a seat with a slight smile, saying "Ah, sure, have a seat. And please, call me Charles. Or Charlie. Or Chuck. Or anything, really. 'Mister Arctor' seems too formal for me these days, you know? Makes me think of people I'd rather not be reminded of, I guess."

He notices one of the other night's performers getting ready to leave, pulls a small, worn-looking notepad out of his back pocket, rips out a page at the back, and quickly scrawls a number on it, then looks at his visitor and says "Oh, sorry, excuse me just a quick second..."

Charles gets up and goes to the other performer and hands her the piece of papers, saying "Hey! Your name was Carrie, right? I just wanted to say I thought you had a good set there. You've got a great voice. Anyways, ah, I'm going to be in town a couple of nights, if you want, give me a call at my motel, maybe hang out, or try playing something."

Charles returns to his table, picks up his beer bottle and points to the girl while looking at his visitor, and says "Sorry about that. Kid's got talent, though. No way she should be playing joints like this. I don't think so, 'least."

He taps a cigarette out of his pack and lights it, takes a long drag and exhales, offers his visitor one as well, and then asks "So, you wanted to talk about something?"

 

[kuroshidaku]

Cavendish Laboratory, room 13.114
Cambridge, England
October 2002, in the morning


Ty shakes himself out of his startled pause. His hand shook as he reached for the Book. His fingers carressed the wrapping, yearning to tear it open, yearning to stare at every letter it contained. With a suppreme effort of will, Ty's gaze went back to the waiting proffessor.

"Thank you, proffessor. I was wondering where this got to."

His fingernail was already starting to rip into the package.

"Yes, please give the man my most sincere thanks."

He did not wonder where the book had come from. He was too consumed by its power. The wrapping slipped off, revealing a plain brown leather covered book, bound with copper wire down the right side. Ty couldn't resrain himself. He opened the book, shifted his glasses and began to fantacly read, not knowing or caring if the proffessor was still there.

 

[Fanog]

Catacombs, Pepsi Center
Denver, Colorado
October 2002

The coach gives Leo a big, almost fatherly, grin.

"Say, kid - first time nerves bugging you? That's alright, they've all had them, before the first game." He tightens his grip on Leo's shoulder in a an encouraging squeeze. "You'll do fine, I'm sure. Well, there's only one way to get rid of those nerves, and that's by going out there. Better get yourself ready, you just made the starting six."

Leo's vision seems to return, and a look at the stands confirm that Gus is indeed there. He has a bit of a grim look, but that's probably because he's not allowed to smoke in the arena. As they make eye contact, a small smile reaches Gus' eyes and he gives a shake of his head, as if to say 'Well, get out there, and kick some butt!'

The sounds in the arena were hushed as the referee called the starting players from both teams to the court, ready to begin the game. Leo's new career was about to begin.

OoC: Leo
_______________________

Gardens outside Devlin Hall, BC Fine Arts Department
Boston, Massachussets
late afternoon, October 2002

The man stood patiently before Jason, waiting for the student to regain his bearing. His arms rested in front of his body, one hand folded in the other.

"I am sorry to have scared you so. I am sure that all of this must come as quite a surprise to you. I can see that you have not come to peace with the events of that night, and with the fire." It might just have been the man's accent, but there was a strange emphasis on the last word, an emphasis that seemed to suggest that there was a deeped meaning to the word.

" I am here because I want to help you understand. Please, if you would accompany me for a walk through the gardens, I will try to explain."

OoC: Jason
_______________________

Bad Albert's Tap and Grill
Seattle, Washington
friday night, October 2002

The young woman with the dark curls happily takes the note from Charles. "Oh, wow. That would be great, I'd love to get together sometimes. Wow, er.. great." The smile on her face is radiating, she looks a bit abashed at begin invited by a man whom she felt was quite out of her league. Grabbing her guitar case, she waves her goodbys to some friends and the owner behind the bar, and left.

Back at Charles' table, the older man had taken a chair. Charles could tell that he had been watching him, possibly overhearing the short conversation with Carrie. The man's gaze follows the girl as she leaves the bar. He mumbles to himself, but the words are more than loud enough for Charles to hear.

"She sings very lovely. I think that she will have a good life ahead of herself, if she is encouraged to follow her dreams. I think this bar is a very good place to start one's career. I do not think it is a good place to end it, though..."

The man turns his attention back to Charles. He rejects the offer of the cigarette, instead takes a small drink from his soda.

"Ah, yes... I was just thinking that this was an excellent place to start one's career. You, Mister Actors," either the man already forgot about Charles' request to call him by his first name, or he had simply chosen to ignore it, "have you never aspired a real career, some goal to strive towards?

OoC: Charles
_______________________

Cavendish Laboratory, room 13.114
Cambridge, England
October 2002, in the morning

Kalantar looked a bit surprised at the speed with which his student grabbed the book from his hands.

"I think he turned to leave after he gave me the parcel. But it was only just ago. If you hurry, you might still catch him. Well, I've got some things to do, I'll see you at lunch?" With that, the professor left the room and sped across the hall in his familiar hurried pace.

Ty ripped open the paper and finally felt the familiar touch of the leather again. As he turned the book, Ty noticed a small card, which had been wrapped in with the book, fall to the floor.

He gave in to the overwhelming urge to open the book, and found its pages exactly as he knew them, although he didn't truely remember what had been written in it.

OoC: Ty

 

[Keia]

On the Court, Pepsi Center
Denver, Colorado
October 2002

Upon seeing Gus, Leo felt relief and relaxed a little bit, knowing that at least one person was his friend here. Sure, everybody loved him right now, he was drafted high and could do some incredible things on the court (and on the football field, boxing ring, soccer field, etc. but that wasn't important to the fans in the stands right now).

Leo worked through his pre-game rituals and stretching, limpering the body and the mind. So darn tired, though, Leo thought, Well, I just play hard and really exhaust myself, I'll sleep like a baby tonight. Adreneline should be kicking in any time now anyway.

Leo joked around with his teammates and listened to the coaches final instructions in preparation for the game to begin.

 

[loxmyth]

"What is there to come to peace with?" Jason demanded, his features taking on a harder edge. But only for a moment, as his natural tendencies took over and softened them. "Look buddy, It was an accident. There's nothing to understand. Someone left the fireplace unattended, or some lamb in the oven or something." He yawned suddenly, bringing a hand to cover up his gaping mouth. "I'm tired, confused, and I've got to get to work. Maybe some other time."

But he found himself walking with the little man regardless. Over the initial shock and confusion, over the denial, there was curiosity. Is he speaking about what I think he is?

 

[Mickerus]

Charles sighs heavily, causing trails of smoke to drift up into the dark air of the bar, then slumps forward, planting his elbows on the table in front of him.

"A real career? Yeah, I did have those kind of dreams. Hell, maybe I still do. Almost happened, in fact. Was about to get signed up to make an album, but ah, that didn't turn out so well. Things happened, then more things happened, and before I knew it, I didn't have legs any more - so to speak. Me, I could never stand without legs. Some people manage it, use crutches, get those plastic legs, peg legs, whatever. Well, not me."

Charles sits back up, takes a swig of his beer, then continues.

"You ever heard that story about the Capistrano swallows? Some spanish mission, it was famous for these swallows that would leave and return to it every year. I think it's in San Juan; I may be wrong, though. Hell, the whole story might be wrong. Only heard it once, to be honest."

"So, let's just say, as a hypothetical situation, you were here to offer me a contract, a record deal, something like that. I'd be lying if I told you I wasn't interested. But I don't think it's for me. This kind of life, hell this bar, this table," Charles says, pausing to rap his knuckles on the top of the table in front of him, "and all the others like them... They might my Capistrano you know? I could only get away from it so far before the wiring in my pointy little beak had me booking right on back."

Charles finishes his beer with a slightly troubled look on his face, then checks his watch. "It's getting late," he says, "I should probably head out of here pretty soon. Look, I'm sorry to cut the conversation short. Oh, but I didn't even catch your name..."

 

[kuroshidaku]

Cavendish Laboratory, room 13.114
Cambridge, England
October 2002, in the morning

Ty's lust for the book overwhelmed his desire to know where it had been. That did not matter now. It was here, the cold leather caressing his fingers, filling him with being, a feeling that had avoided him for much too long.

It was not unusual for a researcher such as him to be absorbed in a book, so none of his colleagues disturbed him as he flicked through the pages.

Eventually his hunger for knowledge was significantly sated. His thoughts then turned to the fallen card. He stooped and picked it up, then read its message.

 

[Fanog]

On the Court, Pepsi Center
Denver, Colorado
October 2002

Leo's preparations were finally seeming to pay off, the nearer he came to the start of the match. When he finally stood on the court waiting for the first buzzer, he was at last feeling comfortable with his body. His head was a bit heavy but it wasn't as bad as it had been.

The signal pushed him just that much farther, excitement and pace pushing aside all other concerns. The Nuggets had an excellent start, pulling a few points ahead by the end of the first period. Just seconds before the buzzer, Leo made an unexpected steal. He dove past the guard, crossed the distance to the basket in three giant leaps, and took off for what should have become a powerful slam dunk. All of it went perfect, until he was flying through the air and noticed the odd man sitting in the stands, still wearing his red-white cap.

Leo's vision wavered until all of it went white, noise fading along with the colors. He felt the control of his limbs slipping away, like they weren't his anymore. All he felt was cold...

The athlete opened his eyes to find that he sat, cross-legged, on a snow-topped mountain. Behind him he heard a voice. The words sounded strange, but he found that he could understand them regardless.

"Yes, that is good. Now stand, and jump. Breathe, feel yourself become lighter until the point where you take off."

OoC: Leo
_______________________

Gardens outside Devlin Hall, BC Fine Arts Department
Boston, Massachussets
late afternoon, October 2002

The man stood fixed during Jason's words, his face showing only calm. As Jason turned to leave, the old man accompanied him and soon took a turn deeper into the gardens, taking Jason with him.

"For you it was, indeed, an accident. You did nothing delibrate, you are not to blame."
The man's voice takes on a different quality, as if he were teaching more then holding a conversation.

"You call the fire an accident because you don't understand what happened, but I can tell you that everything had a reason. One thing leads to another, even though we often don't intend such consequences."

"Mister Siddique," the man says as he stops and turns to look at Jason, "you have great potential and I think it is important for you to learn what you can do with it. I want you to understand what happened when your parent's house went up in flames."

OoC: Jason
_______________________

Bad Albert's Tap and Grill
Seattle, Washington
friday night, October 2002

The man watches Charles intently while listening, occasionaly taking a sip of his drink.

"Oh no," he says while giving a little smile. "I'm not in the music business. I can not offer you a record deal, but I can give you a chance - a new start, so to say..."

He seems caught up in thought for a moment, but catches Charles before the man has a chance to stand up from his chair. His eyes take on a piercing quality, as if they would crush trough any response he would make. "These swallows. Have you ever wondered why they would return each year? Do they even think about it? Do they return because they are perfectly content in the mission, or simply because they are afraid to go some place else? Do they even have a choice?"

The man releases Charles and drains the last of his soda. "Mister Arctor, I'm offering you the choice to do something different with your life. Please think it over, I will be here again tomorrow. Good night." The man sits back in his chair, seemingly not about to go anywhere soon.

OoC: Charles
_______________________

Cavendish Laboratory, room 13.114
Cambridge, England
October 2002, late evening

The young scientist read, and read, and read some more. He waved away his collegues coming his pick him up for lunch, and didn't respond to the cleaner's request to leave the room for five minutes.

As he read through the book, Ty wondered how he had ever managed to think that he had actually comprehended what was written in it. The book was a sort of 'what-if' treatment of the implications of quantum mechanics, going off of the assumption that quantum aspects could be applied to macroscopic entities. The text was frighteningly detailed for a work that could only be labeled as spielerei. Still, it was that level of detail that almost lent the treatise credibility.

As Ty looked up from the book, he noticed that dusk has started to set in, annd that he had missed two meals over the course of the day. He remebered the card again, and went to pick it up. The car was index-sized and made from high-quality beige paper. A few lines of text were written with black ink, in a flowing hand.

"Mr. Gustalf, I apologize that I have had to take this book from you. You would not have been able to grasp the importance of the words within. You are ready now."

OoC: Ty