Logs:Temptation
| Temptation | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | |
| In Absentia | 2024-07-21 "That way lies madness." |
| Location
<NYC> Le Carrefour, Le Bonne Entente - Astoria, Queens | |
Above the bustle of the clerestory restaurant, tucked at the base of the bell tower, this indoor garden and library is out of the way and easily overlooked, sure to become a favored "hidden gem" of travel guides. Low bookshelves full of mythology, fairy tales, and folklore ring the central elevator shaft and the stairway spiraling around it like an easily navigable labyrinth. Beyond these are plants in a variety of tastefully whimsical containers, each with its own engraved plaque giving the common name, the scientific name, and their significance to various traditional stories and practices. The walls have been done away with so that the room extends beyond the doric columns into a surreal rooftop garden enclosed with glass stretching between the tower's massive buttresses. The arrangement of plantlife becomes less formal as one moves out into the four arms of the conservatory, visible containers giving way to beds and terraces and eventually landscapes carefully cultivated to look wild. There is plentiful seating scattered along the paths and just off of them, from proper benches to picturesque logs to surprisingly comfortable boulders. By day, myriad butterflies dance amongst the enchanted vegetation, and likewise moths by night. A shallow stream weaves throughout, feeding ponds that host plants of their own alongside fish, frogs, and turtles. Wandering the outer edges of the conservatory, one could almost feel lost in a mystical forest but for the stunning views of the cityscape beyond the glass. It's quiet in the conservatory this morning, albeit not fully empty. Somewhere across the way there's a couple engaged in an argument in fierce hushed voices; not too far from them a young woman is diligently pretending not to hear as she drinks coffee and reads a book. Lucien is far away from these people, taking his breakfast on a small table under a hawthorn. He's in a mint green linen suit over a soft gray dress shirt cinched with an emerald and silver damask tie in a full Windsor knot, round labradorite cufflinks with a vivid green flash, and black monk shoes embossed in floral arabesques. At his feet, Flèche is munching messily on her own sausages and eggs, spilling morsels off the edges of the plate. Lucien is far tidier with his eating -- no sausage for him, or maybe he gave them all to the dog; he's got a plate of French scrambled eggs and a croissant together with his tea. He's eating slow, small nibbles while he flicks through his packed schedule for the day and pauses to send a quick confirmation text to one of the several appointments he has later. Sera steps out of the elevator and breaks into a wide, wondering smile as though she's never been here before. She's wearing a petal sleeve midi dress in abstract black and white floral patterns cinched with an emerald green fabric belt, sheer white hose, and black mary janes, a green purse styled like a leaf slung over her shoulder. She makes her slow way out through the labyrinth, trailing fingertips along the tops of the bookshelves, across the leaves of the potted plants, and then over the leaves of the non-potted plants. Not evidently in much of a hurry, she wends her meandering way from one arm of the crossroads to another. Her power stretches out in all directions, riffling too gently for most nervous systems to detect. But then, she's not looking for most nervous systems. She does quicken her steps a little when she's found her brother, but she doesn't know the paths well and can't get to him straightaway. Impatient, she steps off the path and cuts through a stand of trees, pausing in distracted delight as she passes through a small mossy clearing set about with stones, then continues on and emerges through a great red honeysuckle shrub that has grown into the shape of an archway to where Lucien is taking his breakfast. She starts to come up short, but then drops down into a crouch, heedless of her dress, to receive Flèche's enthusiastic welcome. "Oh, I've missed you, too!" This is ostensibly addressed to the dog, though she's looking past her at Lucien. Lucien's awareness flutters quiet but keen in response to that gentle riffling, at once beacon and greeting. Despite this clear sign he knows she is coming, he has not looked up by the time Sera arrives. He is answering another text, swallowing his bite of eggs, dabbing lightly at his mouth with his napkin. He's looking down at the dog, all wriggles and exuberantly wagging tail, with a small pleased crinkle in his eyes. "K.C. found her." He flips the phone over on the table. "You know these doors are always open." Sera giggles when Flèche licks her face, but then sobers a little. "I know. Well, I thought, anyway." She straightens and takes a step towards Lucien, then hesitates. The barest whisper of fear reaches Lucien before she smooths it away. "{Maman said you banned her from the hotel, and Matt also. She said you're...not well.}" There is a very strong suggestion in her hesitation that she is paraphrasing whatever Elie actually said. "{She doesn't know I'm here.}" "{She says quite a lot of things about me, I imagine, but that is a true one. That I banned them from these premises. I think that under the circumstances I have been doing entirely adequately.}" Lucien's own mind grows more preternaturally calm at that whisper of fear. There is amusement, though, in the small upward quirk of his lips, the small upward lilt of his tone. "{I am a terrible influence, you know. Probably converting you to the world of drugs and magic as we speak.}" This comes with a nudge of his tea mug closer to Sera in offer. Sera may not be mollified by Lucien's admittedly lukewarm assurance, but there's genuine amusement in the roll of her eyes at his evaluation of his influence. "{I already do drugs.}" She blushes. "{She also doesn't know that. And anyway I don't think your magic is like...}" At a small delay, she picks up the mug and sips, letting her appreciation of the tea spill over, soft and soothing. "{It's not really the kind of magic the Church forbids.}" She doesn't sound completely sure on this front. "Not," she's quick to add, "that I'm tempted." "I was not trying to tempt you with anything more nefarious than this drug." Lucien's hand tips out to indicate the tea. He spoons another small mouthful of eggs onto his croissant and puts the bite in his mouth. "{But if you must know, this particular corner is absolutely lousy with magic. Some might find you whether you are tempted or no.}" "Tea isn't a --" Sera looks down into the mug, frowning. "Okay, but she drinks so much tea, she had no leg to stand on. Just..." Her skinny shoulders slump a little. "{I know you're fighting and I'm sure it isn't simple.} I just wish..." She presses her mouth shut, her wish unspoken. Her smile is only forced as long as it takes for her to assemble some clumsy solace. The biokinetic tools are hers, learned at Lucien's knee, but the makeshift ease itself is very much Matt's. "{Isn't the whole place meant to be lousy with magic?}" She glances up at the hawthorn without evident recognition."{Oh! I saw a magic circle just over there. Was that you or your gardener?}" She doesn't wait for an answer before ducking back through the sweet-smelling archway into the woods. "{Is it still a fight if the hostilities are one-sided?}" There's a tired weight to Lucien's voice that Sera has not often heard before. It lightens as conversation turns back to Le Carrefour. "{Oh! Anahita has been quite excellent at fostering,}" he begins, but his brows are pinching as he thinks this through. He scrapes the last of his eggs onto Flèche's plate hastily and stands, wiping at his mouth with his napkin before dropping it to his seat. "{I did not plan any magic circles, what --}" He is ducking through the archway after Sera, one hand lifted to brush some trailing honeysuckle away from his face as he goes. Sera has gone on ahead, then stopped, excited confusion rippling from her in gentle waves. "{I'm sure it was this way...}" She picks her way deeper into the leafy shade. "{Oh, here! I passed this tree.}" She reaches out to touch a cluster of bright red berries on a shrubby young rowan tree. Beyond it should be the corner of the cross-shaped conservatory housing the groundskeeper's workshop, but when she steps around it the bright pulse of her joy reaches Lucien even before she calls out, "Found it!" There is, indeed, a mossy clearing on the other side, ringed with smooth stones. The light here feels brighter and the shadows more intense than they really should be. Sera has stopped in the middle of the circle and turned halfway around, but she's not looking at Lucien. Her wide green eyes are fixed on the rowan, which looks gnarled and ancient and yet somehow indefinably the same tree. Her delight has not faded, but it's mingled now with a strange sense of uncertainty. "Luci...?" "Sera, what --" There's a confusion stirring in Lucien's mind as he rounds the corner, and this is slipping sharply into fear. "{No, don't --}" But this protest comes just a moment too late. For just a heartbeat, Lucien is hesitating on the outside of the circle. His eyes have gone wider, and though possibly Sera cannot feel it, his spike of fear higher; his gaze is fixed on the very much empty circle. Just for a heartbeat. Then, with a quiet "Tabernak," he steps into the ring, and is gone. Back in the conservatory, Flèche has just a moment of indecision, too. She's been slurping up her new bounty eggs as if she had not just been given a whole plate of eggs and sausages before this windfall. The distress in Lucien's voice has pulled her attention up, and she's loping around the corner as well, ears and tail both pricked high. As she rounds the corner her head tilts, hackles raising -- as she sniffs after the others a low growl is sounding in her throat. She's nosing towards the circle, and just about to follow into it as well when a hand drops to clamp firmly onto her collar. Kavalam is looking into the empty circle for a very -- very -- long moment, but then tugging Flèche back towards the abandoned patio table. "{Trust me, little girl.} That way lies madness." | |
