Chance Meetings

[Knot]

"Epitaph. Two people who's names I don't remember." Knot greets the others, not surprised by the turnout. He cast a spell looking for a certain kind of thing and then sat down at the central thing depository. The more you help Fate do what you ask it to do, the less complicated it needs to be. "I'm trying to form a Cabal, but you need people for that, so I summoned some people."

"Seriously guys, have you... never met an Acanthus?" Knot asks Langdon and Vauban, head tilted, confused. "It's basic divination, like a baby's spell. You look both ways before crossing the street, right? And if you see a car coming, you don't cross? Well it's like that only the street is your future and the car is a Doom. So right before we agree to finalize the Cabal relationship, I cast and if, say," he gestures to Alastor, "This dude's ultimate goal is to peel off my skin and make a me suit, or you're ultimately going try and fuck me over for political or magical gain, or even that the Cabal is going to be plagued with basic personality conflicts that make it more effort than it's worth to keep functional, it's gonna let me know."

[Banshee]

Just as Consiluim but only in reverse, the Talon enters after her. Voice strong, presence decisive. Banshee feels eyes finding her artificially constructed form, her bone bleached complexion, her silver hair. Bleak makeup painted to perfection, and drifting away. She attempts to stay strong, she attempts to stand her ground, but against her wants, she fades into the background.

Her hand is raised, wavering before dropping limply at her side. Did anyone want to see her feeble attempts at human interaction. (waving? pathetic)

Cabals, ah yes, and Fate as well. Though this talk of Doom arrests her attention, and as Fate would apparently have it, it is the siren's call for another. Banshee nods at Death's Angel, expecting to be dismissed. Ignored. Unwanted.

" Banshee." she intones, voice a mournful haunted thing. Will any here heed her preference or shall she simply be a face, within no name? "Doom is no joke. Were it a possibility, I would seek the omens surrounding such a thing....or yes. Speak with an Acanthus." Were her words heard? Or did those who hear her speak simply enjoy the uniqueness of her(their) voice, passing over the substance wrapped within the tone.

[Epitaph]

"I assume that this cabal will be based upon a purely transactional nature?" Epitaph inquired, though it was clear that her attention kept drifting to the other Gothic woman in the room.

"Shared space is easier to defend, a shared Hollow is easier to tend, and shared Knowledge strengthens all. Is this the idea, or are you hoping to find some symbiosis of belief and ability? If so, then perhaps we should simply attempt to construct Cabals based off of inter-Order cooperation?"

Epitaph paused for a moment, and then strode over to the pale imitation, reaching out with her cruel talons toward's the others ears.

"What possible symbolism does this suggest?" she inquired harshly. "What do Elves and Fairies have to do with the Ending of All Things?"

[Langdon]

"Greetings Epitaph". The Stalker shifts his focus from the pale death back to the task at hand. Langdon shifts then shakes his head to Vauban. "Possible? When I first woke up I made the mistake of asking around if some faculty still had their Souls.... Apparently they do?" Clearly he's not convinced there.

A half hearted grin and hand raised in placation are Langdon's opening to Knot's response. "It is my limited understanding of Fate and its potential that made me ask. Fate is far more...insubstantial? than what I am used to working with. It contains knowns and unknowns and the chances of that changing." The hand falls. "It's a bit intimidating honestly. Such as what you achieved here."

Almost a beautiful voice, maybe a few of the Moros back home would appreciate it better. "Sounds like I should talk with an Acanthus some more then." Langdon grins at Knot. Then shifts to watch Epitaph as she stalks over to the quiet new comer. Whether or not this is all an act is something Langdon is still trying to figure out.

[Banshee]

Standing her ground as cruel talons approach modified flesh, she glares at the Cold Mirror. Her eyes lack the bite need to defend against this Priestess of Death, and her barbwire tongue. Never mind crack her entropiric shroud.

"Then clearly you don't know anything about the fae." a mourner's voice, lacking force and bite. "Or-or you don't care about stories and myths outside the one of your Atlantis." There is a waver in her voice, she was the focus of someone's attention. Her. Herself. "The Banshee. A Fey spirit." it's pointedly said, though lacking the harshness to drive the stake home. "Who's wail herald's Death."

Then slowly, as if to explain to an infant, "And as it just so happens, I've claimed that name for myself."

Actions now, speaking louder then words, she crosses her arms, turns from Death's Angel, and turns avid eyes upon the continuing discussion.

[Knot]

Knot gives banshee a double thumbs up. "Thanks Banshee, won't forget it again. And yeah, Celtic lore is pretty thick with faeries. Like how pretty much everything Chinese is some flavor of ghost. I think there's some kind of scary black dog? And some kind of... kelp horse? European Fae isn't something I've studied a lot of." Knot felt a need to throw some support her way for reasons he wasn't interested in sharing.

"But yeah Epitaph. That really depends on the Cabals doesn't it?" Knot responds politely. "It can sure start out that way. Then everyone can get to know each other a bit and see what grows from there. But," he shrugs, "Six is a pretty big group. What if we split off into threes, get to know each other a bit? If the groups aren't compatable, we can always shuffle around, or split into three groups instead of two."

"Why not..." He sticks out an arm, projecting an invisible, imaginary line that splits the collection of magi in half. "Banshee, Epitaph and Vauban in one group and Langdon, Myself and Mr Cheekbones in the other?"

[Langdon]

"Hmmm" A nod in agreement with Banshee and Knot. Though the "your atlantis" is noteworthy. Definitely someone to keep an eye on if things start to go missing. "There are quite a few different myths and legends out of Europe for the Fae and the like. Seelie, Unseelie. That black dog is an ill omen, though I remember that from reading Harry Potter." Thoughts unspool but Langdon keeps the rest to himself for now.

O thank the Oracles The Stalker thinks to himself as Knot divides away Epitaph.

"That sounds viable to me."

[Knot]

Well three out of six people agreed with his idea, that's more than the current President could boast. That was something!

"Okay then!" He waves farewell to the other group as he dismisses his spell and it's glyphs fade. Then he heads off to another part of the Circle to sit down and chat with Langdon about potential Cabal stuff. And what's his name, if he cares to follow.

I'mma split us off into another thread, you all take care!