"Morning, Ahri!" came a pleasant baritone from the crowded Chinatown street.

In broad daylight Qadesh looked different from his club persona. His demeanor was friendly, but not as predatory, and he was dressed more casually in a hoodie and jeans, though his hoodie was still tight enough to show the subtle hint of a toned body.

Ahriman knew Qadesh had been out as late as he had, maybe even later, but the young man was fresh and bright eyed as if he'd had a full night's rest.

"Come on, I know a place that serves great dumplings."

With that, Qadesh took off as a leisurely stroll that was a contrast to the predatory strut that he had displayed at The Rage. He took them to a dingy restaurant away from the tourist areas, got them seats, and ordered food in fluent Cantonese.

The place was filled with other Chinese people talking and eating, with barely enough space between the tables for the servers to pass.

Digging into his dumplings with relish, Qadesh grinned a knowing grin at Ahriman, "Don't worry," said Qadesh, "we can still speak privately if you don't Mind."

The Warlock put an emphasis on the Arcanum that would allow them to speak silently, mind to mind.

Ahriman raised his eyebrows, panting ever so slightly as he sat down having just barely made it through the press of people in the area. It wasn't that he wasn't used to crowding, after all he had been in Hollywood long enough, but it had just seemed hard to keep the other man in sight today, partly because he had apologized to every woman and man he bumped into along the way and partly because mister Good looking wasn't pumping out Pandimonium like it was a cheap roofie.

Not that Ahriman was complaining, After all he had picked out his outfit of a nice pair of slacks and a good button down top to look professional and the man he had met the other night would not have helped that image. He had zoned out during the ordering, and as such when the other spoke he had been peering cautiously at his plate, not grossed out but merely curious as to what he had just been given.

"Don't mind at all." He readied himself for what he knew would be a spell, though one he had never gotten the hang of.

With a nod, Qadesh put his chopsticks down and said, "Well I want to thank you, first of all, for coming to meet me." On "you" Qadesh gestured in Ahriman's direction, fingers sketching the air in what could be taken as a slight tic, but which Ahriman could tell was some sort of symbol. Then he drew his hand back toward himself, touching his temple lightly on "me." A sensation like a torrent of blood hot water rushed through Ahriman's mind for a moment and then Qadesh's voice twined intimately in his thoughts, "And thank you, too, for that night."

Which reminded Ahriman of the night at The Rage, the body shots, and everything else that led to.

Qadesh blithely continued eating his dumplings, but in Ahriman's mind, a conversation was taking place at the speed of thought.

"Since I'm the new kid here in Sacramento, I was wondering if you could help me learn what I need to know to not step on anyone's toes, especially anyone that could step on me back."
There is an internal laugh, and Ahriman dantily attempts to use chop sticks. There is a rush of pleasure as the spell connects, and the Southern boy brings his eyes up to look at the other, purple gleaming lightly showing he is very aware of how much the other enjoyed the other night.

When he speaks his accent is different. Rather than the stressed, powerful accent that muddles his communication his voice is musical and flows like a river. There is still a hint of an accent, after all its part of him, but you can under stand him.

"Well you came to the wrong arrow. I am not well known for not stepping on toes. " There is a flash of a man, bright red with anger right up to the top of his crew cut. "There is a reason I moved down here. Still I can tell you what I know if you want." He drops a dumpling and frowns trying to pick it up again.

"Well lets see. I would think you would know that most of us here are arrows. It seems that this has become a proving ground for young Talons. The heirach, name is Animus, is an Arrow. From what I saw of him last Consillium he seems tense on his throne. It's not something arrows do well. Then there's our Herald Guardian named Ariadne. Shes on our path I think. Doesn't seem like a woman I would want to mess with. I don't know much about the other Mastigos, we didn't meet that day, but I do know there are quiet a few of us. "

He paused and looked at the other, checking to see if this is what he needs.
Qadesh nodded at Ahriman and sipped his tea, "So with the weird stuff happening with the ley lines, the attacks by Banishers, and the man with the veins, it's like a war zone here. Makes sense for a lot of Arrows to be around."

Qadesh neatly plucked a dumpling from a plate and dipped it in soy sauce before popping it in his mouth.

"Besides not having any Silver Ladder around, what's happening with the other Orders? I'm definitely interested in hearing about the Hierarch, but let's get a clearer picture of the other clubs around first.

Qadesh's mental voice is cool and collected, washing over Ahriman like measured pulses of cool water, no extra emotions except the simple pleasure of good food.

"Well lets see, though again I warn you I have very little deep insights." Ahriman tries again and once more the food plops into the plate again. He frowns in frustration. "There's a little bit of tension between the orders from what I can tell, but I feel like that's normal. Still there was a bit of a squabble as to where to store some soul stones at the consillium, and there is almost a sense of... " He pauses. "A sense of shared misery between them, old wounds, if that makes sense."

At the mention of the collective mourning of the Consilium, Ahriman noticed a deep undercurrent of emotion, a swell of deepest compassion, strong as the pull of the tides, before it is quickly covered by the controlled coolness of polite conversation.

Smiling fondly at Ahriman, Qadesh reached over with his chopsticks and neatly scissored a dumpling into pieces that would be easier for the Arrow to pick up.

"Yeah, didn't something big go down here awhile ago? Is that why the current Hierarch is on the seat? The Hierarch was murdered? What's the current Hierarch like? How is he dealing with the situation here?"

The questions came all at once, in a deluge of thought that would not have been possible had they been constrained to using their mouths to talk. Qadesh looked up and physically said, "Sorry."

Then he continued mentally, "You're not used to talking this way, so take your time."

Ahriman picked up the pieces, dipped them and shrugged. It was not the first time information had been pushed harshly into his brain.

"Itth alright."

"Its a damned bit easier than forcing my mouth to work." Comes the mental half of the discussion along with a slight flair of regret and resentment. Ahriman stabs the next dumpling and dips it triumphantly before popping it in his mouth, savoring it as he thinks.

"As for your questions, I don't know what happened to the old Hierarch, but I would figure it was death, possibly something to do with the fact that people where trying to bridge the supernal and fallen world or something like that. It was never really explained to us, it feels a bit like we are the new kids and no one wants to ask them, nor do they want to fill us in. I have met the Hierarch all of twice and seen him in the consillium. He seems... well to be honest I see weakness in him. He is quiet, and has to be pushed to do what needs to be done, and if I were fighting him he feels like he might leave quiet a few openings because of that. Somethings off about him, and to be honest I think its power that's causing it. A Throne is a warriors prison."

Chewing thoughtfully, Qadesh continued telepathically, "That is somewhat worrying. The Consilium is under attack. Strong leadership is needed, not someone liable to crack under the strain."

Locking eyes with Ahriman for a moment, Qadesh said out loud, "You have beautiful eyes, do you know that?" with unabashed sincerity and a happy smile. He didn't say it flirtatiously, but just like he was noticing something beautiful.

"I think I've interrogated you enough for now," continued Qadesh's mental voice, warm and pleasant as a tropical beach, "Is there anything you'd like to talk about or ask?"
Ahriman was about to respond mentally but the verbal comment threw him for a loop. His mind stopped for a second, his face flushes ever so slightly and his mouth hangs open. There had been many comments by others over the years of how nice he looked, but never had someone commented positively on his eyes. In fact after his awakening he had worn sunglasses partly due to the stares.

"Thankth" he muttered.

"You have our Realm to thank for those, I guess they are nice but the never go with anything." His internal voice was warmer now, filled with joking sarcasm. "Next thing you know I will be wearing purple suits."

He leans forward and sighs.

"So the silver ladder?"
"You want to know why I joined the Ladder?" thought Qadesh, arching his eyebrow.

Tapping his lips thoughtfully, Qadesh continued, "I could say that they just recruited me first and that would be true, but it's also because I see the Ladder as the only club that really wants to do something real, for everyone."

Qadesh looked down at the table and then back up at Ahriman, "Don't get me wrong, you Arrows and the other Orders do great stuff and we need you around to keep us alive, sane, smart, and free. But the Ladder actually has a goal in mind."

Qadesh leaned forward and steepled his hands, his eyes alight with passion, "Think about it. It might not have been nice when you Awakened, I know it wasn't for me. But it was good and somehow it was just RIGHT, wasn't it? Whatever you saw, you knew you deserved to be there, that you had a RIGHT to be there and claim that. We touched a place where everything was just like it's supposed to be, not the weaknesses and lies and disappointments that we have to deal with here and now."

Qadesh leaned back again, relieving some of the pressure of his gaze, "We spend the rest of our lives trying to get back to that place because we know that THAT'S how we're supposed to be, that we're not supposed to die and get hurt as nothings. We're supposed to be MEANINGFUL. That's what we want for everyone, the chance to mean something more. Not just us, the ones lucky enough to get that break and touch the Supernal, but EVERYONE."

Ahriman watched the other speak, meeting his gaze evenly as he listens. Over the connection emotions, loose fragments of half thoughts, flash. Impressed, thoughtful, and slightly lustful. When the other finishes he leans back, looking over him slightly.

"I... Do believe that is true." He points the chopsticks at the other. "I may not like what happened but...when I cast, when I feel others of the path cast." A shiver over the connection, a feeling of wholeness, of being right in the worldand a longing for that. "But everyone? I don't know if that's smart. There are quiet a few people I would never want to have magical powers."
Qadesh conceded the point with a small incline of his head.

"Well yes, but even the Awakened aren't totally there yet. Some of us touch that perfect place and come back here and think that it's just about the power and what they can do with it. They forget about perfection and settle for neat powers. I'm not saying everyone deserves power and the chance to use it for whatever they want, I'm saying that everyone deserves perfection. In Christian terms I would say everyone deserves to go to Heaven, personally I like to say that everyone deserves love."

Be honest the neat powers are awesome. I like being able to tell you what the other is feeling when you are talking to them." The voice in his mind is laughing like a babbling brook. "I also like being able to know where my keys are with out digging around."

The mind sobers up.
"I can agree with you on chances, and the ability to fight for what they want but as for everyone deserving love? I.. am not certain about that." old grudge taints his words and a back ground voice says 'Tim' and then more strongly 'Me' . "I dislike few people, but I know that when I do its best I not bother with them. Call it an Arrows intuition."

A soft look came into Qadesh's eyes and he gave a small sigh. In his mind's eye, Ahriman sees Qadesh hold his hand out in what is clearly an offer, freely given.

The arrow nearly drops his chopsticks in shock, he isn't sure quiet where that came from. He stares at the other hesitating ever so slightly, considering. He didn't know if he could trust this man, he didn't know the man at all. Yet it had been a while since he had someone ofter to listen, and he could control what he was giving him. Finally He reaches out his hand mentally and takes the others. "You know..." he says slightly afraid, slightly thrilled but mostly confused "I am pretty badly damaged. I don't think your going to want me."

Yet he takes it anyway and lets the other into his mind, as open as he has been since they met, unashamed of himself, and hiding very little, not that he knows how from a more experienced mastigos. He's done this before, you can tell, but he is professional, as if the other times were tests.

"Can we do this somewhere else? I tend to not get through these things straight faced."

"Yes, that's fine. Let's get out of here, shall we?" Qadesh replied verbally. He settled the bill, chatting pleasantly with the waitress in Cantonese.

The telepathic connection drops as he pays and they leave, but Qadesh settles an arm companionably around Ahriman's shoulder as they walk.

"Where to?"

"Private." the Arrow grunted, knowing full well if they were going to root around in his mind he would not want to show his emotions to the outside easily, and if they were going to do something else... well he wanted a bed. The floor of an allyway did not appeal to him right this moment. He relaxed slightly into the others arm.
"Don't worry," said Qadesh, squeezing Ahriman's shoulder, "I'm not going to kidnap you and do the nasty ... today. We just need some place where we can let our hair down. How about ... got it!"

Qadesh's eyes lit on one of the taller buildings in the area and he ran off toward it, pulling the other mage along by the hand. A little while later, breathless from having evaded a few security guards and climbing a few fire escapes, the two mages sat down together on the roof of an upscale apartment building overlooking the river. It was the tallest building in the area so there were no windows near enough that anyone would see what the two men were doing. For being so out in the open, it was completely private.

"There, now ..." Qadesh chanted a low chant and gestured with more emphasis this time and Ahriman could make out a definite rune being sketched in the air in his direction, which was then drawn in to Qadesh's temple. Again, the blood hot rush accompanied the telepathic connection and they were again holding hands in his mind's eye.

In the mindscape, Qadesh drew Ahri's hand to his own heart and said, "Of course you deserve to be loved, Ahri." Then Ahri was being hugged, first by Qadesh and then by what felt like more and more people, reaching out and embracing him in defiance of physical laws. He felt a rush of affection washing over him, compassion, sympathy for his hurts, a desire to make the sad look leave his beautiful purple eyes, and deep deep down a love and acceptance of him no matter who he was, no matter what he'd done. It was a cleansing feeling, the feeling that even if everything he had done and seen was known, it wouldn't matter, he would still be loved. Some little wall somewhere in Ahriman's mind wobbled a little.

"That's what I mean," said Qadesh when they both opened their eyes again. "That's what everyone deserves and needs."

"Love doesn't judge, it accepts."

Ahriman stiffened, not used to contact, but let the spell do what it needed to, relaxing in the embrace and allowing his pain, regret, panic, fear and loneliness flow back though controlled and in a slow trickle. Flits of memories slipped through it though: An angry woman with the same wavy hair as Ahriman raising her hand, then lying on the floor so sill, a boy no older than two reaching out to help him up and then grown and glaring at him, a man smiling then replaced with a withered reflection barely gasping for each breath. Fields of wheat flashing by as the sun sank in front of him. A man turning too late to be hit with.. something, blood going everywhere. an empty house with just boxes in it. An older man watching him from his rear view mirror.

"I judge myself."

When Ahriman looked up at Qadesh, he was shocked to see tears gleaming in the other mage's eyes.

"I know you judge yourself, and that hurts, but it's ok, I'll love you until you can love yourself."

Leaning in, Qadesh cupped Ahriman's face in his hand and kissed him on the lips. It wasn't a sexual kiss, though it seemed heartfelt. Qadesh released the kiss and the telepathic contact at the same time.

The light of the setting sun painted everything red and gold, and the two mages sat in silence, watching it slowly sink below the horizon.

Ahriman watched the sun sink slowly over the buildings and when it was dark and he was tired he chuckled ever so lightly. "I think Mike might want a word with you about that."