Vaeltia’s eyes narrowed as she looked for the source of the casting. Well it wasn’t the casting that bothered her, it was the flare; which was also not usually a problem. But there had been history. She rubbed at her face and pushed the mana to cover the telltale pull of the supernal.
Ah, there.
She looked at the architect, because was there anyone else who could honestly boast a nimbus that was so....bob the builder. “Really?”
Of course that was when she saw West, because as much as she was unofficially ‘in charge’ of the whole event, he was still a bit of an enforcer. At least according to the grapevine.
“Y’all want to get some food, unless you’re feeling greeter jobs works better?”
As was his usual wont, West waited for someone else to volunteer an answer at the newcomer's question.
The answer wasn't quite what he expected.
West began gathering threads of his own as Toren began casting; an automatic reaction, unused to such behavior. At least not here. As it became obvious the spell wasn't directed at anyone, he unwound, taking a moment to study the casting*.
"Yeah... we're all Mages."
Sometimes, the euphemisms got a little overdone.
He blanched slightly at Vaeltia 's question, and simply shook his head in the negative.
Goddamn pineapples, distracting my Scrutiny.
* Failbot on Scrutiny
"That answers my question entirely. Although that may have been slightly unnecessary." Introductions are now in order. "I'm Orpheus, Nice to meet both of you." He said with a slight smile. "So, what's going on and who's the host?" Orpheus fired off the two questions in quick succession. And more importantly, is there any food? I'm positively starving. He thought, at the moment Orpheus was both jobless and running out of funds. So he had decided to skip out on breakfast.
Orpheus looks over as a voice chimes in about food.
"Now as much as I like to, I suggest we head inside rather than standing about admiring architecture. " He motions towards the inside of the building. If he could, he'd at least like a sandwich or something, then Orpheus decided if he could, he'd definitely participate in whatever event or events were occuring.
Toren smiles pleasantly, though if it wasn't necessary to answer he wondered why the man had asked. "Hello Orpheus, nice to meet you and welcome to Sacramento. I'm Toren, Moros of the Alae Draconis," he says, introducing himself politely. That the man suggested they stop admiring architecture didn't sit well with him. It had been one of his primary reasons for attending in the first place. But then again so few could appreciate the workmanship that went into a structure like this. He sighed, "I suppose we should head into the central nave. I wouldn't want to be mistaken as antisocial," and laughed in a mild chuckle. He did like food too. One couldn't eat stone after all, and there'd be plenty of architecture no matter where he went.
Vaeltia rolled her eyes at the bald man, “You know as well as I, Toren, that Architecture doesn’t stop with the façade of a building, but please stick to the public areas, thank you.”
She turned on the self appointed door guard. “Do you want me to get you anything then? I have a beer or two I could send out, or something manly if fruit salad doesn’t cut it. That is, if you’re going to be watching the door.”
"Ummm. Yeah," he agreed, looking at Orpheus and Toren.
"I'm watching the door."
Sure, that's exactly what he was doing.
"And -- howdy. West, of the Ungala Draconis," he added, shifting to look at Orpheus.
Formalities done, he nodded to Vaeltia .
"Yes, please... beer. No... fruit salad."
Nothing said a doorman meant business like holding a beer.
Alright, introductions over, next, small talk... Listed Orpheus as he thought about what to say next. "Sorry if I seem a little odd asking these questions, I kinda got here from overhearing two sleepers talking." He quickly grabbed a sandwich and a coke, and leaned against a nearby wall as he ravenously consumed the sandwich. ... I don't have anything to talk about... After firmly deciding he was going to improve his social skills, and making sure no food was left in his mouth. He shifts his gaze to Vaeltia and goes back to his barrage of questions "First of all, thank you for the food, Secondly, what's going on and where do I sign up?"
Orpheus guessed that this wasn't nearly as important as a Consilium, otherwise he wouldn't have learned of it from sleepers, so maybe this was some sort of party, or maybe a compatition if the Arrow was running this.
ooc
Vaeltia raised a single blond eyebrow at Orpheus. “I’ll get the beer out to you as soon as I can, I still haven’t finished setting up everything.” She noted the presence of yet another new face ( Halo ) and rubbed her hands together.
“Actually the events have yet to be announced, and it’s a light version of the games. Now if you don’t mind me I have to go help too lackeys move the rest of the food into the main areas of the Circle. Afterwards there shall be games.” She took a step away then turned back, “You’re Orpheus, right? I’m Vaeltia, Vae works better though.” Sometimes introductions were actually important, and the name to face ratio should be about even.
Vaeltia returns to the main thread
"Yes, ma'am," replies Toren to Vaeltia with a bob of his head. He then turned and looked at the door that West was supposedly watching.
"Did you know that Westminster Abbey has a door that is nearly a thousand years old? It was installed back when Edward the Confessor originally built the abbey, made of solid oak and nine feet tall. Then when Henry the third rebuilt the Abbey nearly everything was redone in the style of the times, except that particular door was left there, so there must have been something special about it, though no one's sure why. They call it the Anglo-Saxon Door."
The Mystagogue sighed longingly. Oh if only he could see the real thing. He wondered if maybe he should try proposing a reconstruction of St Peter's Basilica or The Palace in Valletta. Maybe it could spark a wave of classic and renaissance construction projects. Though it'd probably just be easier to get a plane ticket to see the originals. Ah, but a man can dream.