Chemistry!

[Banshee]

Banshee had spent several hours cleaning the Theatre, inaction has invoked the subtle changes in her ecosystem. Motes of dust, grime, plucked hairs and dead skin.

Forgotten socks, and absent robes, pull and pluck upon her heartstrings, but the Omen endures and sprays the room in atrificial lemon scent as she mops and dusts, wipes and cleans.

Until, there is nothing more to do but wait.

Wait in her old Victorian with it's green siding and purpleish trim, wait in front of the stage, with it's sole attraction, it may not endear her to Knot, but it was a moment immortalized, by her own fever, her skill.

Nervous energy nearly prompts her to vacuum the space again, vacuum the room bare of the riot of tables and their individual chairs.

There is one table left in this place.

One table with three chairs.

Cayce Nemo Benji Knot

[Saber Sloth]

Synopsis for the rollback of 2018

Knot and Nemo arrive at the Theatre Sanctum, the Acanthus bringing libations, and Nemo disguised as an old women. Banshee greets them, and offers a short tour of the Theatre, but at the coat check, Nemo removes her sub par disguise to reveal and androgynous brunette - one without the Green Glyphs of Life woven through her form, an unaltered Nemo.

In return Banshee asks if she should remove her gothic makeup in jest, but then reveals to Knot and Nemo that she too has issues with her face, because it was that of her deceased identical twin's.

[Knot]

"Uh." Knot blinks and looks more than a little uncomfortable at the sudden revelations. "Thank. You? For feeling comfortable enough with me for sharing?"

"I don't really have anything of comparable... value?" He shrugs, knowing the word wasn't the most accurate and that it made him sound wooden and awkward. Which was good, because he felt wooden and awkward. It just was that appearing wooden and awkward after they revealed these things made it seem like it was the reveals that caused it. Knot just felt wooden and awkward for... other reasons. "The closest I have is that I was trained by a coven of three-eyed fascists who think that they're going to become the new sacred priest kings of a risen Atlantis?"

[Nemo]

Well. Maybe it was because they were standing in a theater, or maybe it was because Nemo was exactly as petty, her soul exactly as soured as she thought it could be, but there was definitely a part of her that felt as though her spotlight had been stolen. Her revelation overshadowed by a specter of tragedy. And she felt for Knot, though his revelation of mystical fascists was just as powerful, even if he didn't seem to think so.

"Well," Nemo said, a hand reaching up to twine a finger into her hair, "I have an idea. Since we've already got this Truth telling train on the move, why don't we have some fun with it? There's a game I like, called the Truth game. Basically, we just swap Truths with one another, except we start small, and then escalate," she explained, gesturing to demonstrate.

"I mean, yes, we did just drop some bombshells on each other, but that was without the assistance of alcohol, and more importantly, there's got to be more to us, hasn't there? Our entire lives, our psyches, our beings, aren't just one truth. At least, not those truths. There are so many more that make up the fabric of who we are, no? Hell, we've probably even forgotten half of them. Moments so foundational, so much a part of our lives that we couldn't even conceive of ourselves without them, even if it's as simple as a moment spent watching the moon rise."

Yes, she was ripping off a book, there. Well, actually a movie. A sample of a movie, in a song that her Mother had played so often that should hear it almost perfectly whenever she closed her eyes.

[Banshee]

"It is not about comfort, I barely know either of you, but with Nemo's show of trust, and...truth of her magically unaltered form, I chose to exchange something of equivalent value." sated this way it sounded cold, clinical almost, but perhaps this was the only way the Omen might speak of her poor dead sister. "Do not disparage your history, or the value ascribed to your Truths. It is something important that happened to shape your life, just as my sister was to me, and our shared faces. I-" she cuts herself off. Perhaps she wouldn't share that just yet. She didn't know them, and yes Nemo was suggesting a game....it might come up then.

"We aim to know each other now, and this is an...expedient way to do so." she nods, "I agree to play, but first." Banshee stands to retrieve the booze brought and the Indian take out she'd ordered for the evening.

[Knot]

Knot hands Banshee the drinks, taking one for himself and making innocuous small talk while food is setup. Where'd you get the food and You have a nice home and Is it a working theater, those sorts of things. He freezes when he sees the painting Banshee made, and awkwardly complements the work.

Once everything is set up, he nods. "Okay I'm game. I have some scar stories. One a scar here," He traces one finger through his left eyebrow where the hairs branch out, "where my father dropped me on the edge of a table once. We had a game where he'd sit at his desk, and I'd lean forward and he'd catch me on the collar of my shirt and pull me up. One day he missed. Then, after I split my head open, he stitched me up on the counter. I have a six inch scar on the sole of one foot, where I had the bright idea to balance on a glass in a pool because I thought I could be an acrobat. That took me to the emergency room, where they thought we had been attacked. I have some other scars, but those stories are about how Jackass was a formative influence in my childhood."

Ways I Was A Stupid Kid seemed like an innocent enough place to start.

[Nemo]

"Ok, first of all, that is a badass painting! Like, holy shit, Banshee, where did you learn to do that? You better be willing to share soon," Nemo pressed with a grin, happily pouring herself a few fingers of scotch and serving up a plate of deliciously spiced foods.

"You should be proud, Knot," the shapeshifter added, turning her attention to the Acanthus, her eyes falling only briefly onto the enticing shape made by the meeting of his collarbone and his neck. "I don't think I'll have the opportunity to be immortalized in art, even if I pay someone for it."

There was obviously a lot that could be said for why that was, but Nemo hoped the Enchanter would accept the compliment. The painting certainly said a lot about him, though Nemo knew there was such a thing as artistic license that might be skewing things somewhat.

"Also, wow, those scar stories are pretty craze. I've got a crazy one," she shared, picking up her glass and smelling the heady aroma of the scotch.

"So, when I was about eight, I got put in time out, but I was angry, and we were in the woods, so I just ran off. But, as I was running, I heard this faint whistle, and then a fwoomp as an arrow flew right by me and buried itself in the dirt about a step ahead of me. My mom had been watching me the whole time, and she'd gotten a little pissed that I was trying to run away, but I think I surprised her when I kept running. Of course, she kept shooting, so I guess it didn't make much difference."

[Banshee]

"Thank you. It was a labour of - I laboured over it. In fervor. I needed to allow the imagery to flow from me and onto the canvas. That monuments moment between Epitaph-" she swallows, "And Knot. Death against Fate, their opposition and similarities. Do not feel shamed by your loss Knot. Your deft hand has inspired me. Not just by this work, but...I have begun studying Fate." she admits after bringing the paper plates and containers filled with food. Balanced on top of the plates are stacked cups. Also disposable, but for the environment, recyclable.

"Scar stories..." she murmurs under her breath, she could feel her new scars itch, but they were not small things. Not in size or significance.

"....your mother shot you with an arrow?" shocked threaded through her haunting voice, they spoke of scar stories, the conclusion drawn was that one had pierced through the then-eight year old's flesh.

She starts dishing out food, taking a large helping of rice and chicken curry for herself.

"I was a very timid child. My sister would have had more stories of a misspent youth, as well as a collection of scars. I was...content to watch the world go by. The hurts I gained then were from stories, and books. My fingers were littered with paper cuts."

Bringing her dinner to her lips, "..." she chews and swallows, chooses a drink to sip and still words do not free themselves from her throat, "I do not know what topic to move onto, hmm. I could ask and regal all of you why I prefer some colour and tones to others. But I hold favour to all depending on their use." she steals more chicken, "Though I do like this symmetry. We played a game of questions, now we play a game of answers....ah how about this, in the theme of childhood, time, death creeping ever closer and the celebration of one's birth...." she smiles pleased that she thought of something that linked Acanthus, Thyrsus and Moros. "Every year my sister and I celebrated on the same day of course, the event would be to my sister's tastes. Her voice was louder then mine, and she was more....open to conflict then I was and her wants were met most. But once, after the party was done and the guests gone, my uncle...he took me to get ice cream, and then he stowed me a still wrapped gift. It was Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire ." she pauses, reflecting on memories, "It was the best birthday I can remember having."

[Knot]

"God, I never ran away as a kid. It like, never even entered my head as an option?" Knot shakes his head, trying to imagine himself as a child deciding that running away was the best choice for him, a child. He couldn't see either of his parents shooting him in response either.

"I'm not... shamed?" Knot says cautiously as the conversation turned to the painting Banshee had titled Knot's Epitaph. "I put a lot of effort into succeeding and I didn't. It's not the first duel I've lost." He doubts it's going to be the last. "It's just that after, the reaction was, I guess, disappointing? Disappointing in that I expected others to be less, I don't know. Everyone was focusing on the wrong things and spinning the situation into a cataclysm all out of proportion to the issue. Then when I tried to clear it up, that just made it worse." If anything, it just underscored how much you needed to keep some things secret. Epitaph had been Wrong, he knew that, and just because he lost the Duel it didn't magically make her right. But it was never about her being right anyway. And in the end, it drove her out of the Consilium. It was... depressing.

Well, so were birthdays if he had to be honest about it. "Only child here. Harry Potter wasn't every really my thing growing up? My parents were very strict about silliness, and how I didn't need to pollute my mind with that kind of thing." Some of his more moronic choices as a child must have driven his parents mad. "I got a check every year for my birthday, that got deposited into a bank account. I think they felt that it was a very practical kind of gift." He shrugs and takes a pull of his drink. "I mean I can't really knock it, it was nice to get when I turned eighteen. Even if it wasn't actually a lot of money in the grand scheme of things." A hundred per year, each year, plus interest wasn't nothing, but it sure seemed smaller now than it did at the time. "Eighteen year old me liked it, but he had to wait eighteen years while all the younger mes had to accept a piece of paper that they couldn't use."

"Now that you're studying it Banshee, what do you think of Fate?"

[Nemo]

The glass of scotch had paused just before Nemo's lips, hovering millimeters away, as she listened, her eyes wide. Eventually, she put it down, the glass still untouched.


"Wow. So, there's been a LOT happening here, huh? Even before the whole Consilium stuff. I don't want to rag on the point, since tonight is more about getting to know you both, and hopefully having some fun, so I'll just say this. Awakening doesn't always happen to good people. And power, well, power does weird things to people. That's kinda why I joined the club I did, but that's also why we have to put up with all the bullshit we do. I'm sorry you had to go through that, though, Knot."

That said, Nemo felt like it was finally time for a drink, so she raised the glass to her lips and took a small sip, the rush of burning, smokey, golden flavor filling her mouth like a symphony of alcoholic luxury.


Mmm.


The scotch warming her with that nice buzzing glow, Nemo set the glass down again.

"Sounds like we all had pretty fucked up parents, in one way or another. And for the record, my mom didn't actually shoot me. She wasn't trying to shoot me, just scare me. If she'd have wanted to hit me, she would have. She was like a warrior goddess. She never missed. I was safer with her shooting arrows around me than I would have been riding in a car. Still, it pissed my dad off like you wouldn't believe, but they had a complicated relationship. I guess I can't really complain, though. I mean, if they hadn't raised me like they did, I probably wouldn't be sitting here with you two."