Once, Granite Park had been the not-so-innocent hangout for skaters, drug dealers, and the local free-running club. Then people began disappearing, and the resonance of death and entropy became thick enough to even tickle at the survival instinct of those still Asleep. It was almost a year since the necromancer had been killed, and fresh resonance slowly replaced the old, like dandelions in the cracks of pavement. West still ran here, to patrol, and to practice, and every now and then gave a small nod of approval at other visitors as they ran down the path. His breathing was even and practiced, the running was something he spent hours each day at.
"I'm glad you're an Arrow," he offered absentmindedly, glancing over at Vaeltia. He could have handled The Mysterium -- but The Ladder would have disappointed him, and he knew it often beckoned the Mighty.
“Thanks, it did take some thought you know,” She said glancing in his direction, “But in the end my father’s a cop, just made sense for me too.” She stretched, letting her muscles warm up slightly, beneath the dark running capris and sports bra she wore under a white, mostly open, windbreaker.
“So how far are we running, or we doing tag again? And you do you say about on the fly magic?” she asked with the innocence of an apprentice as she loosened her muscles.
"You know, my drill sergeant used to tell us that we were going to run until he got tired. Lucky for you, I'm not saying that while sitting behind a desk," West answered, smiling at the memory. He wore his usual black sweatpants with gold lettering down one leg that said "US CAVALRY", and as she began stretching, he turned away to scan the park.
Although most people never saw it, he did have a healthy competitive streak, and agreed to her proposal. "Tag is the game, then. You set the rules, and the stakes, and I'll check the 'Helpful Master' box by suggesting you start with 'No Acceleration...'."
She snorted softly at his memory, while in the back of her mind she was just ever so thankful for that. “Okay,” She mumbled a bit surprised at that. “I’ll take your suggestion, No Acceleration, obviously nothing vulgar, lets keep it relatively fair because you’ve been doing this longer than I have. General thought of nothing illegal.” She let herself think for a bit more on the rules she would put up. After all he was significantly more experienced than she, after all you don’t become Magister by being lazy.
“Um...No purposeful direct bodily harm. As for stakes, I want your hat if I win. If I loose I’ll muck out the stables for a week. Sound fair, or should I add something?”
West mulled over the rules. He could think of a few interesting Forces tricks that weren't Vulgar and was already curious to see if she knew them or what she would improvise. The bodily harm caveat surprised him and he turned to look at her, wondering what had spurred that. Of course he couldn't expect her to not have heard other people talk about him, but he was still a bit surprised, and even a bit disappointed that she felt it needed to be said.
"My hat?" His curious look became more open now, for a moment not understanding.
"The Stetson?"
He would have given it to her if she wanted it, but maybe she wanted it for a trophy.
"Sounds fair enough," he answered, twisting his torso right, then left, loosening it. "Want a five second head start?"
“Yes the Stetson.” she said giving him a quick raised eyebrow look, as if challenging his claim on the hat.
She nodded as he accepted the terms and as he began to loosen his torso she started to move, with only the lightest brush of her hand on his arm and a trilling laugh. “Yes, and Tag, you’re it.” The thought of magic for a moment gone even from her own thoughts as the game and the thrill set into her mind.
West shaped the Imago in his mind: a disc paper thin and two feet wide, slick as wet ice, and spun it into creation under her feet. Friction dropped to nonexistent, leaving her running in place, and after five seconds he tapped her on the shoulder as he skipped by, grinning, and released the spell.
<Friction Control, Tome of the Mysteries>
"Au contrare," he drawled in that special way that Texans mangle French. "Tag..."
“You didn’t even give me fi--That’s not fair!” she thought as she realized what he had done during those five seconds. And her offended look turned to one of determination, and she pulled herself onto her feet as soon as she felt the friction return. Her mind now moving through the mental catalogue of what she could use, despite her fairly weak grasp of the arcanum.
She began running after her master, still thinking, and the only thoughts she could come up with didn’t seem to work. "Not fair." she said again through gritted teeth to herself.
He had to admit, it was a dirty trick. He sifted through the Arcana she had shown proficiency at, coming up blank himself. It made him curious what she'd wanted to try when she asked about spells. He turned, jogging backwards; it would slow him down enough for her to catch him, and he held out his hand to tease her.
"So what's with the hat?" he asked, curious.
It’s too easy for him? She thought, as she grasped for straws of what she could do. And then an idea hit her, along with the slight doubt that it wouldn’t work. You never know though.
“It’s a nice hat.” She said as she pushed herself to tag his hand, knowing fair well he would just pull it away at the last possible second. In a smooth fluid, practice move she tapped her forehead before reaching out again. Sending vibes of confusion towards the Magister hoping on a prayer it would work.
<Emotional Urging, Rote, Core book pgs 207-8>
"Mmmmmm?" he asked, thinking about the hat. It was an OK hat. She'd probably never been close enough to it it notice the ring on the inside or that it smelled like sweat. It was a genuine Stetson though, but if he had a nice hat, it would probably be...
He exhaled sharply through his nose when he felt her fingers, a hint of smile at what she'd done.
Turning to follow her he called out, "I'm going to hang it on the wall so you can see it while you're cleaning the stalls..." He held his own spells, watching to see if she would do something, to see what else she had up her sleeve.
She wanted to flick her tongue out at him, in that casually childish gesture of defiance, but there was no time for it. The moment her fingers managed to glance his, she took the next few steps and then twisted hard right. In a different direction she sped; using the direction change to at least use some of the terrain to her advantage instead of the slow arcs.
“You’ll have to catch me first.” She returned as she changed direction again, this time taking her behind a skating ramp as she began to draw in power, holding it until an opportune moment. There was no finishing clause. She thought No way to say the game is over. Damn, I knew I was forgetting something.
As she disappeared behind the ramp, he spun threads again, this time around himself to create a funnel upward. He took a breath as he jumped at the ramp, kicking upward and grabbing the top lip and rolling over the top in complete silence as the noise of his maneuver was dissipated. Dropping down silently, he released the spell, poking her in the back, just under the ribs to make her jump.
"Like that?" he asked, darting away to kick-climb another ramp to come to a stop at the top.
“IIEEE!” She squeaked as she jumped to face him, one hand gripped over her mouth the other bent in a claw as if reflex. The gathered energy was dissipating, and her grasp on the threads slipping. She was frozen for a moment as she noticed he had jumped up. “NOT FAIR!!!” She shouted as she instead pulling from her own Aether and flinging the rote on, to see his aura as he raced away.
She let determination get through to her face, and she began to pick up speed, reclaiming the lost energy again. She began to cut through places fenced off with chain, and only once actually climbing the fence, to get closer. Then she pulled another mind trick, with a quick focus and the push of a single word ”Left”, a mental tap to knock her master closer.
<Voice from Afar, Core pg210>
West laughed, inwardly beginning to keep score of how many times he could make her say 'Not fair!' as a personal scorecard for this, and future, training.
If he hadn't been former Army, or maybe if Staff Sergeant Lehr had been less inclined to do Drill and Ceremony, it might not have worked. He knew it wasn't his idea, but hundreds of hours spent training or marching had ingrained habits he still hadn't shaken, and so he turned left.
Vaeltia zipped behind him, tapping him lightly as she did before veering off again, honestly surprised that it worked in the first place. She tripped suddenly, before rolling into a half pipe, her breath starting to grow heavy. She risked a glance over her shoulder at the Magister before pushing herself forward again. In a duck and run, holding a spell at bay until he got close again.
West's breathing was still light and even: enough that he had the spare breath to laugh softly at her, and himself. He began drawing power to weave into a spell until he remembered the rules on Aspect. The threads softly unwound and he considered the situation, scaling the edge of the half pipe and mirroring her along the top ledge.
"You tired?" he asked conversationally.
She hadn’t seen him; rather she had heard him when she began to run. It was almost predatorial the way he was…hunting.
“Why, you want to quit?” she asked, an edge of snark working at the tone she used -- that would get her in the ass later, she was sure of it. As she mentally smacked herself in the face she turned another corner and scrambled up and over a low fence, hoping to extend the distance between the two of them. That was when she let the spell drape over her, trying as best she could to make it subtle. She didn’t want the misdirection to be noticed right away only when he was too close for comfort.
In this game, anywhere above her was too close for comfort.
<Misperception, Core, p209>
Watching her head for the obstacles, and listening to her voice, West decided to push her buttons a little, to see how she'd deal with the stress.
A thin ribbon of Fate appeared in his hand, and he cast it out toward her, causing the connection between them to glow softly and provide a path for him to follow.
<Interconnections, Core >
"Quit? I was just asking if you needed a time out," he answered as he rolled over the top of the fence.
A thought crossed his mind, and he added another spell, sliding it down the line of Fate between them.
<Trigger the Lizard Brain, core >
"Running is thirsty work..." he called out, putting words to the primal instinct he lit within her.
Even as she was running she felt his eyes on her, and the imagined sound of him dropping from the sky. The cold ice grabbing at her lungs and draining the blood from her face was noticeable to her. The words he spoke coated in the changes of dialect and normally cool to the ears only iced her over and added to the feeling of fear that settled around her. There was no mistaking that she was prey.
The second heartbeat and she could feel the chills raising the hairs on the back of her neck and she felt her mouth parch. She ran, putting her fear into her steps, and began to struggle to remove her mind from the fear that had suddenly contained it. She looked around wildly looking for a way out before she noticed a thin cord that had wrapped around a hand and reached back to where her master moved.
“NOT FAIR!” she shouted once again, before the chase began again.
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