Jul 11 00:40:08 109 PA - Orange Juice and a Magical Chat
From Chronicles
Jul 11 00:40:08 109 PA.
YAKOV'S DELI
Steel Street, being on the edge of the 'Dregs demands a little decorum. Basically three options for a man who has nothing going for him but his wits. Walk blatantly down the street, put on full body armor, or slink in the shadows. Gabriel chooses the latter of the three, perhaps for self-preservation, perhaps because he's good at it. Either way, he ends up at the door of Yakov's Deli at almost one in the morning. At least there's a full moon to provide shadows, rather than unbroken darkness; it's actually better that way. He gives the building's door a tentative pull to confirm what he assumed - it's closed and locked. After looking around briefly, he raises a lightly clenched fist to rap quietly on the door a few times.
The door is unlocked of course. Though, at this late hour there is no one in the deli save for Rasputin. He is reciting a few words in some ancient language. Then with a flick of his wrist a shaft of white flies from his hand, streaks towards a table then explodes into sparkles of light. He mutters, writes something down, and tries again. He keeps looking down and then takes a sip of his tea.
"Oops," Gabriel mutters under his breath as he gives the door a slightly harder yank, which opens it this time. The flash of light was enough to get his attention and also to dip inside a building where he might be safe from something drawn to it. After ensuring that the door is indeed shut behind him, he moves slowly toward Rasputin and his energy-shooting form. But only by a little. Following a slight hesitation, he tenses his body to dive out of the way of reflexive blasts, calling gently, "What'd the table do to piss you off?"
Rasputin smiles and shakes his head, "Net, net. Dis table did net wrong, dhough it is well made and could take the impact. Assumink I could be gettink da spell to be workink right." He sighs and folds his note books, and gets up. He walks over to the counter, "Were you needink something to eat at dis time of nights?"
"No, thank you," Gabriel replies politely. "Though some orange juice would be nice, if you have any. But not if it's any trouble. I'd like to ask you a little bit about magic, and Tolkeen if you have a few minutes." He gazes over at the table and the scrolls, but refrains from commenting at the moment. "You're my resident source of magic information."
Rasputin nods slowly, "Da, da." He pours you a tall glass of orange juice. He takes it over to the small table he tends to work, "Da, magik and Tolkeen, sure. Dhough, I don't know much about Tolkeen save what I've heard. As for magiks, as I've said in the past dis a broad topic."
Gabriel accepts the glass with a smile, and an approving look after tasting the juice. "Thank you," he offers as he sits. "I know it's a broad topic, just as broad as someone asking me what it takes to be a soldier. But you have the potential." He pauses. "I arrived here sometime around September of what you call year 107. I've been fairly successful, because I've been able to do my best to absorb this world. From species to psychics, monsters to aliens, new technology to magic and on to global politics as best I can. I've only really known five mages. You, a girl named Monique, Valeriya, Leonard and Bernard. I only respect two out of five, which is a tough representation. Still, I've given Tolkeen and its fight the benefit of the doubt, with the Coalition as the modern Nazis out for eradicating those they fear. But I fear that I might be wrong. That they might be right. That respecting two of five is a realistic number." He stops, and sips.
Rasputin tugs his beard, "Dwell, mink would be amiss if mink didn't to be pointink out dhat one of my ilk would have been killed long ago by the CS, but respected and benifit from the openness of Tolkeen." He grins a bit, "Dhough mink dought you are too sure about eithers. Be askink your questions, and mink will answer as mink can."
The younger of the two older men offers an accepting nod of his head. "No, I'm not sure about either. Right now, I don't like either one. I'm back to what I felt when I got here - stand on my own, make choices as I see fit without any benefit to one side or the other having any type of default potential. I *thought* that the Coalition was wrong. But Tolkeen just scarred themselves, in my eyes." Gabriel sets his glass down and gazes at Rasputin. "There are no rules in war, but civilized society does its best to minimize unnecessary suffering. I saw mages from Tolkeen slap this concept in the face, laughing at a triumph by using innocent Coalition prisoners as unwitting biological weapons, for lack of a better word. They were tainted with some kind of supernatural harm, unleashed upon a Coalition train under the guise of releasing them. I didn't see it, but I was there when they asked me to participate, and I know that it was done." He stops, thinking back on it. "We had rules. Prisoners had rights. I find this deliberate act... offensive." The descriptor is offered in a lower tone, a meaningful one obviously reaching back into the historical locks of his mind.
