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Chronologically occurs on Thurs. Jan 7th, 2016


There'd been necessity of a raincheck, but at least they'd managed an honest reschedule without judgements or drama. Quenton had arranged with Elliot to pick up hours, and thankfully the other man had the time despite the start of new classes at DCU. In the meantime of waiting for 'Fritz' to appear, Quenton sat at one of the front cafe tables and worked on completing a couple of the Lord Ouija felted-cat fur keychains that were sold by the cafe to fans of the great, black beast. With how many pictures were uploaded to the Catfé website by regulars and Quenton himself, there was beginning to be quite a following, and it was challenging to keep enough in stock. Even using the Furminator, there was only so much Faust fluff to be harvested to create cute charms for devotees. As it was, he had enough felted fluff for a six different, stylized cat positions.

I wonder if he will look better or worse than last time.

Where no recognition pierced glamour on just sighting a person, having a stranger know your name, when yo uhad a scheduled meeting, while they sported so dour an aspect allowed that certainty of logic: Once having eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth. Quenton set the felting down on the little table, stood, and turned to extend a hand out to the man. "Fritz? Indeed so, 'Quenton,' preferably to any shortening. "

Blondie. Butterfly. Quincy.

It's a pleasure. Welcome to the Catfé. Did you want something to drink, and to sit down with the cats a moment, or to head out to get right to it? There's also when we get back, which might be after official hours. But you'd be welcome to private time with all the cats. "

"You look to want of something bracing. Gratis. We can accomodate most allergies and preferences. " He didn't pry, but the offer made lampshaded the notations of deterioration, exhaustion, and expressed at least casual acquaintance's concern and bolstering.

"Just black or orange separately, or would together also fit the bill? Orange and Black as in Calico? Tortoiseshell? Torbie? " It took no time to scoop the small items he'd been working on into their plastic container and carry over to slide onto a low shelf behind the bar. The offer of a free drink had been passed over? Ignored? Not even heard? It was difficult to tell with how rabbity and unwell Fritz seemed to be in general.

It can be offered again when we get back if he does stay. Elliot offered the pair a lifted hand, assuming them to be heading out as implied. Quenton returned the gesture and held the door for Fritz. "If you turn right there's a gate into an alley. It's unlocked, and leads to the back delivery drive for this phalanx of storefronts. We can take that to left. There's an empty storefront at the end of the row with no locks and no cameras or surveillance we can duck into. It's still in zoning paperwork with the city and will eventually be renovated into Papyrus retail site. The University students and faculty are a ready clientele."

Quenton led the way even as he described it, so as to limit confusion. "We can uniform and transport out of site from inside. I'd like to hear if you have any tips on directing where one arrives on the Road. "

"No. I use no way often. Habit, regular paths and regular routes are a sure way to leave tracks. Like deer or rabbit paths in underbrush, a smart hunter sets snares on the path and waits. Our Hunters are cunning as we, and with greater weaponry in this Most Dangerous Game. I only make it a point to know my environment as much as I can- where the city's security cameras are, where are places that can be ducked into if injured."

Once they were both safely inside the building and the door was closed behind them, Quenton finally replied, "Have you found any ...murals, coinage, sculpture, even ceramics, carved wood...anything that has a visualization of the whole? Ancient people's tended to make graphic emblems and preserve them on daily use items or in public art out of significant historical events, zeitgeist elements, caste and religion. Like the Tudor roses cast into the demi-cannon of the Mary Rose, or ceiling panels at Hampton Court palace. "

Quenton retrieved his pen from his pocket and transformed, trying to ignore the glitter, questionable vines, and dance steps that powering up required. He almost never did it in company, so the process felt extra uncomfortable. Do knights have to deal with it? How DO knights transform?

Revealed as Thraen at last, he summoned his senshi phone to hand, "Or are the charm the only available representations of old?"

'Not at present' and 'there might be' is clear. You honestly have no clue and haven't thought to look before. Why not give me the actual truth of the matter? Worry that you'll upset me? Like the b*****d offspring of a cognitive bias with Hanlon's Razor. The glow and fade of a knight taking on their mantle was enviably efficient. Thraen cradled his phone in one hand while turning over and tracing his other thumb along the disk of the Surrounding. "Who makes the charms? Or where do they come from? They are finite? "

"And would touching one specific glyph make the transport go there? Or is it some other process? There's 12 glyphs, one each to the signs of the western zodiac. There must be some way to go to a specific outpost? Or what of getting to a knight's post? How would I use this charm to visit 'Celsus', for instance? Transport made on purpose for war is rarely imprecise- if it was, it would be phased out or improved. The Roman roads across all their empire prove that well enough. "

From the sheer amount of blushing, flushing, and shuddering this man did between the two times he'd encountered the Knight, Thraen considered it a universal miracle the man hadn't passed out, or that he had that much blood for expressing as well as running his other bodily necessities. The emotive nature of the conversation, to begin with, was a mystery. What was going on with Chronos Knights, or the Surrounding, that even talking about it involved so much ? He almost opened his mouth to further clarify on a point about the Passports, but the Knight was positively exclaiming in a panic.

Thraen's right brow ratcheted up about three notches while he stared hard, trying to read something more in Celsus. " 'For instance' is not 'let's go.' It's an example. "

Thraen's weight shifted to relaxing on one leg, the other bending at the knee to tap the stone toe against the concrete floor under them as though he was a runner testing the grip of a pair of cleats. "You have some hang ups about your Wonder? Is there some effect of the Surrounding that makes its Knights and the Zodiac unwell? Is it dangerous to go? That you mean to NOT say and cover in subterfuge a lot about something, is plain."

The look, the lampshading and certainty of the results of what was plain, Pain, struck chords Thraen had heard too close and to what could in the silence after only mean ill fortune. A cracked starseed once had that same desperation. And a lover clutched in a foyer in a pool of life.

The eternal didn't speak any reply at first to all the apologies given wing. He stepped the paces on long shanks and reached out as he stepped near. His arm wrapped back over the Knight's shoulder, hand laced up into the back of the man's hair and softly bumped their two forehead's together. "You don't need to apologize to me because you are in pain. When you are ready, only then, if I can be of help to you then let me know. "

Gardens. Succor, strength, serenity, sustenance, support. Bulwark of replenishment to soul, mind and body, are they not? Why am I not, stuck in the title of 'soldier'. 'Senshi'. I wish I had something better than words to offer. But it always starts there, doesn't it. Like Aquarius. Trust so rare and so often the doors and ways lay shut even to those who would wish to help. Old or new friends.

"Only to the Surrounding, at your comfort. My curiosity of more isn't important as your health. " Thraen backed a step, drawing hand down to just rest on the other's shoulder.

At the very least, this attempt at comeradie hadn't ended up with a bloodied lip. Better, there was a smile and a careful resetting of calm. Good. Yes. There. We're safe. I'm not a threat. You're not panicking. Ease. Ease, and breath, knight of Chronos.

There was a calm in his own chest, with a mirrored breath drawn and let go, as though sympathetic magic were something that could even exist in a world with so much deliberate and accounted for expenditure. "Not as often as I'd like to be."

"Aye." Thraen kept his hand on the man's shoulder in case the magic of the charm worked the same as that of Homeworlds and the Pearls. It made sense it should, given it was attached to the phone as much as the other two as a conduit. With short finagling, he flipped the disk onto the face of the phone to test if touching a specific sigil effected the teleport at all, using his pointer, while he thumbed the phone and focused. To the rainbow path.

And pressed the icon.
And they vanished.