(Lawless) Home Base

[tsameti]

Feel free to get comfortable, you'll be getting pulled in shortly.
In the meantime, how do Circe and Azrael contact West?

Guards-the-Pack withdraws deeper into Twilight, eyes glinting across into Animus' world.

There's something increasingly... settled, civilized about this place, about this life. The hunts help, the kinship of the Pack helps, but it comes down to a simple matter of resonance. It just needs to be scrubbed a little, tweaked to be more amenable to a Primal shadow of Wolf.

The familiar's discomfort has made it jumpy, lingering outside longer than he should at night. Outside the safety of the wards.

[West]

By phone.

It's cliche, but shows about manipulating the space-time continuum fascinate West. Although leashed to only move forward in the river that flows, it's still fascinating for the Acanthus to watch the butterfly effect of the past.

As long as it's well done.

There's a small notepad with thirt-seven discrete items that have been penciled in after the Arrow has finally gotten around to watching the final episode of LOST on the dvr, and there's a subtle look of confused disgust on his face as he considers it.

He looks around, curiously, to see if anyone's home.

Surely someone is dying to hear his list.

[banner]west[/banner]

[Animus]

It always worried Animus when Guards-the-Pack was out like this. A nervousness that something would happen to him. Sure, he'd know immediately if something was wrong, but would he be able to find his familiar in time?

As seems to be often the case when the Thyrsus is fretting over something, he has taken to poring over the new additions to the library to occupy his mind. He can't help but be drawn in by the accounts of Abyssal intrusions, even though the knowledge frightens him, and he's been finding it difficult to pull away at times.

Some part of him wonders why he does this to himself.

[West (The Mage)]

West wanders through the mansion, about ready to call it quits and go for a swim, when he finds Animus in the library. It's amusing, slightly, to find out that the Thyrsus is obsessed with books; first the Kruegan's library, now this. He decides to forgo a Mystagogue joke when he seen the intent look on the other man's face, but it certainly doesn't deter an important question.

"Hey... you watch 'Lost'?"

[Animus]

As West enters, Animus closes the book and sets it down -- a bit too slowly, as if he's having to physically pull himself away. "Can't say I have, but ..." Was that a tremor running through his body? "... I think I need to find something other than this to distract myself."

[West (The Mage)]

West looks at the books curiously, and has the epiphany that he probably had a more formal, even traditional, 'upbringing' as a Mage than Animus did. Most of what the Thyrsus seems to be reading, he's already read -- and would agree that breaks are needed.

He also has the epiphany that even if he were to warp the flows of Time, explaining LOST in it's entirety would be just as painful as letting Animus continue.

"No big deal," he says, folding up his list and putting it in a pocket.

"You play football?"

[Animus]

Animus shakes his head. "Never managed to wrap my head around it. Probably because I never saw the need to." Which brings up the question: what did the two of them have in common?

[West]

"Yeah... ok, maybe I have some books on that, too," West replied. He waited long enough for the silence to become awkward before deciding he needed an exit segue.

As the awkward silence marched on, he finally realized he didn't know any.

"Anyway, I'll see you at dinner," he finally spoke, offering the exit line up like a dead jellyfish on a starving fisherman's hook as he left.

[Animus]

West's exit line seems to trigger something, convincing Animus to finally speak up. "I'm worried about my familiar. He's taken to wandering around to soak up resonance, and I don't feel like I can just stop him, but I'm always afraid something's going to happen out there."

[West (The Mage)]

"What? The spirit?" West asks, with all of the callous dismissiveness that one can only manage when ignorant.

Or perhaps not.

Really, how important could reflections of the Lie really be, in the scheme of things?