[IC] (Hector) Anything Can Happen in this City; Mage 101.

[lacroix_styles]

*****
Life ran at a faster pace within the streets of New York, it took a person some time to learn the rhythm of it, and even that wasn't without a few stumbles now and then; he had fallen on his own face more often than not in the past year as he had made an effort to settle his way into a life that had turned out to be better than the past but

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[hector_styles]

Pawn shops and the like were usually places that Hector avoided like the plague; his tastes were far too high-class and refined. But he’d heard through the grapevine -- a ghost had told a another ghost who had been forced to tell Hector’s mentor -- that someone of potential interest was employed at this particular junk shop. It intrigued him, prompted him to take a drive to the outskirts of prim and proper society on this particular evening.

When he entered, triggering the little bell above the door, he walked inside with his chin high and his hands in the pockets of his coat; it was obvious that he felt quite superior to this location. Then again, there was very much he did feel superior to, including most humans, all Sleepers who were unfortunate enough to lack magical ability. He pitied them in a way for their obvious inferiority, felt privileged himself for the gifts he’d been granted and the tools he now had to accomplish his goals and live the lifestyle that they afforded him.

He peered around, less with intent to peruse items and more to scan the identity of persons, his mage sight activated. And he grew very interested the moment he saw the man behind the counter. Casually, he eased over for a closer look, watching as his mage sight made him see the boy’s eyes fill with darkness -- he was certain that no other mages belonging to other paths would exude such a macabre aura. Hector was all the more intrigued now.

“A little bird told me I would find you here,” he mused vaguely, resting his fingertips on the countertop. The conversation would have sounded completely bizarre and insane if he’d started it with a Sleeper, but he knew that this young man was more than that. “Death hangs heavy like a cloak on your shoulders. Tell me, boy, have dark visions have graced your every waking hour?” He wasn’t necessarily trying to be condescending but was likely coming off that way; this pawn shop employee was no lich which automatically made him very young in comparison to Hector. Besides, he looked quite young for a mage anyway; Hector assumed that he had to be recently Awakened.

[lacroix_styles]

He only barely turned his attention towards the door when it opened, the effort sluggish and lazy because he didn't expect too much excitement at that hour. It was also too early for the boss to be stumbling his way back to the shop so there wasn't any rush to look very busy; all he had to do was make sure nobody robbed the place blind.

Yeah, great plan, that; he was a hundred-forty pounds soaking wet, compared to most people in that neighborhood that was borderline sad. But evidently the boss either had faith, or a lack of common sense.

People like the guy who had walked in didn't show up around there often, now and then they came around just to see if there was anything odd tucked away amid all the junk but they were more daylight hours customers. Evening brought out the social roaches crawling from under their rocks and the guy looked way too classy and self-important to be any of that.
He shrugged it off though, it wasn't his business anyway what the guy was doing there; if he was lucky maybe he'd actually sell something and earn his weak paycheck for the night.

Stretching, feeling his joints pop back into the right spots, Ross rested his elbows against the counter and fidgeted a bit; sometimes he had too much energy to help doing things like that. He scratched at one of his wrists through the black fabric around it, tipping his gaze towards Hector when he spoke.

But his expression went from passive to comical very shortly, openly confused by the comment; and he had no idea why he was being talked down to by a crazy guy.

"Huh?"

[hector_styles]

Hector wasn’t exactly surprised by the young man’s apparent lack of desire to talk; Hector was convinced that he was playing dumb to prevent talking about the subject. When he had been that young, he’d certainly been all sorts of reluctant to discuss his blessing with other people, and at that age, it was difficult for him to tell just who he could and could not trust.

“You needn’t play ignorant with me,” he replied, speaking confidently because of his many years of experience. He was determined to glean information about the boy's history. “We both share the same dark connection to the realm of the dead. I know you’ve beheld the Leaden Tower.”

Yes, this conversation would have definitely seemed crazy to any ‘normal’ human that walked past. Thankfully the shop was vacant except for the two of them at the moment. “Tell me, what is your name?”

[lacroix_styles]

"Realm...of the dead," he muttered slowly, still looking at Hector with little short of measured confusion.
Well, it was more excitement than he expected from the evening, but he really didn't want all the hassle of having to call the cops to come pick up some weirdo hanging around the place. The paperwork would have been a pain and of course the boss would probably show up right as the same time as the cops and end up tossed in jail for being drunk, and then he would be out of a job.

Sometimes the world had a sense of humor that he just didn't fully understand.

"Uh," he began, deciding the best way to address the problem was to nudge the nice gentleman back out the door and on his way to Wonderland. "Look man, I just work here, I don't know anything about towers and dead people and whatever; but hey, you could always try back tomorrow when the day shift guy is here."
He offered weak laugh, but in truth he was a bit uncomfortable with the conversation.

It was uneasy being cornered by some nut job rambling about dead things; it cut just a little too close to home really and made his skin itch.

Just sitting there, that feeling grew steadily more demanding; he tried to ignore those strange twinges because if he ignored them maybe they would go away. He didn't need to sit there half the night wondering why the words nagged at him or why he found it difficult to just demand that Hector leave.

[hector_styles]

The confusion that the boy was exhibiting was quite peculiar; Hector was beginning to wonder if he really was playing up a facade as Hector had originally suspected, or if he truly was so young and unlearned as to not recognize another of the same Path. Maybe the young man needed to be convinced of Hector’s skill and authority.

“Perhaps you’re being elusive,” Hector mused, tracing his fingertips against the counter, creating a shadow there in the shape of a skull that remained on the countertop even though the dim overhead lighting should have made a shadow in that particular spot impossible. Magically creating shadows from nothing was a skill of Hector’s, and normally he would not have done such a thing in public, but there was little risk here; two death mages casting spells in the company of one another was certainly not a cause for any concern. “Or perhaps you are too young and naive to know just what those dark visions you have mean. Do tell -- which is it?”

A moment later, Hector repeated, “Tell me, what is your name?”

[lacroix_styles]

"Really man, ask anybody that knows me; I'm about as crafty as a rock." Not that it was a shot at his own intelligent, no; he didn't say he wasn't smart, he just said that Hector was mistaken.
But even that notion ended up trailed off because he was forced to watch that display with the shadows.

It could have been a trick, talented people could do very strange things right in front of a person's eyes and that wasn't enough to convince him. He could have shrugged it off as nothing, but it wasn't the image that dug under his skin; it was the sensation that went with it.
His hands twitched, just barely, but he knew that twitch; ever since that night he had tried to escape the world that flicker of uncontrolled motion sparked up whenever something...wasn't right.

If he hadn't been sitting he might have slumped over, a sick feeling digging into the pit of his stomach.

"Ross," he murmured faintly, even though that wasn't even the truth. But he never used his first name, so it was only a lie of convenience that he had been telling most of his life.

He finally snapped out of that disconnected state, a sense of self-preservation more important than manning his post there at the shop. "You need to leave," the words were firm but his voice was at the edge of faltering; he avoided anything that might set off those odd feelings because he didn't trust them not to latch hold if given the chance.

And the last time that had happened Ross had spend a miserable week begging a dead girl to stop following him around his apartment so that he could actually sleep without having nightmares.

[hector_styles]

The situation was quite curious and perplexing; Hector wasn’t used to dealing with someone so young. It was nostalgic, really; he knew he’d been uncertain and confused just after he’d Awakened, and had desperately needed guidance to expand his knowledge and talents.

“And what if I refuse?” Hector asked with his chronic calm tone, swiping his palm across the counter to brush the shadow away. “Will you call the police, perhaps? Have me removed? Could you truly take that risk, knowing that you might forever lose your chance to learn and appreciate the ability that you’ve been gifted?”

Ross, hm? Hector wondered if that was truly the boy’s name or not -- if it was, it certainly was not safe to be throwing it so carelessly out for others to learn it. Hector did not understand why the boy didn’t want to embrace the potential he’d been gifted, because death itself was glorious and worthy of extensive study and admiration.

Hector tried another little trick to attempt to make the other man see the truth of the world around him. It was easier if Hector could physically touch someone to grant the grim sight, but it wasn’t necessary; he merely reached his hand out in Ross’ direction, certainly not close enough for physical contact because he didn’t want the young man to panic and bolt -- and he concentrated. He wanted Ross to see just how he would look with this spell cast; Hector looked superior when viewing him with mage sight -- even the shadows bent to shy away from his gaze. That trait fell to those that made a habit of commanding zombies or ghosts, as experienced necromancers would gather immediately from the sight of him.

[lacroix_styles]

To be honest he had no idea what he would do if Hector refused to leave, short of calling the cops and fleeing to the back room of the shop until they got there he had few options since he was behind the counter and Hector was between that and the doorway.
The weak hope that Hector wold just go was clearly misplaced, he might as well have asked the man to go walk out into traffic.

The look he gave Hector was one of disbelief at the word; gifted. Because sure, it was such a gift to feel like you were mental all the time, to spend your nights looking over your shoulder and your days trying to just forget there was anything about you that just flat out wasn't normal.
Too bad that gift didn't come with a return policy.

Recoiling from the motion of Hector's hand, he was extremely glad the man didn't reach far enough to touch him, but that didn't mean he appreciated the head trip either.
And it was one, a fully dizzying experience to go from looking at Hector as a looming and stern figure to seeing so much more intensity; at a loss, he felt that cold chill aching in his bones.

It was like staring down every disapproving or overwhelming expression thrown at him over the course of life all at once; Ross didn't even know how to move for the span of several unsteady breaths.
With more experience he might not have been so trapped by Hector's gaze, as it was it took effort to break away from it; and even when he had Ross just groaned and lifted his palms to scrub at his eyes as though that might clear away the entangled thoughts there.

[hector_styles]

Watching Ross shy away, seeing him rub his own eyes to try to make the vision go away, reaffirmed to Hector that the other man was indeed very young and inexperienced; even the most basic of necromancy students eventually grew comfortable with mage sight.

“Why do you recoil when you should know that the powers of death itself are yours to command?” Hector asked, crossing his arms against his chest to prove that he wasn’t going to attempt to touch Ross. “You need only reach out to wield it. Stop retreating from the blessing that has fallen upon you -- you are Awakened.”

His words were calm, yes, but also firm; it was no good at all for a death mage to be so skittish around something so simple as the grim sight. “Tell me, have you not been taken in by a cabal?” Hector was fairly certain he knew the answer to that question already, if Ross’ reaction to mage sight was any indication.

[lacroix_styles]

While Ross wasn't certain what Hector had done to his head to make him feel so vastly uncomfortable he did know he wanted it to go away, he wanted to shut his eyes and not open them until Hector too went away.
But instead Hector kept talking, and talking, about disturbing things he didn't want to even approach.

Very much like a kid trying to sneak a peek to see if the monsters in his closet were still there, Ross slid his fingers apart to look at Hector between them; he knew he should have just stayed home in bed that day.

"What the hell, man; I don't even know what you're going on about. Whatever you can do or not do, the weird tricks are really messed up to throw at somebody like that," the fact that he groaned with the words was a good indication that Ross had fallen back on his usual habit of just trying to get through the situation rather than run from it.
There had always been so much in life he couldn't control, learning to shoulder it and try to feel normal was his strongest defense.

But he was uncomfortable, while he didn't understand most of the larger terms Hector spoke of he couldn't say that parts didn't grab his attention and it was surreal to discover another person who wasn't normal.

"Look," he began, squaring his shoulders with a listless expression, "I see a lot of messed up, weird stuff; if I ignore it then it goes away sooner or later. That's it. I don't know what you're trying to prove with harassing me but I already feel enough like a freakshow without it being pointed out."

He moved, finally, growing more bold with his own nerves beginning to settle, drawing away from the counter and putting more distance between himself and Hector as he cast a glance around the shop to make certain nobody else was there to overhear the conversation; the fact that the place was such a ghost town at night was really a blessing that evening.

[hector_styles]

Messed up, weird stuff? Hector made the assumption that Ross was talking about ghosts; he had certainly been plagued with visions of dead persons when he had first been Awakened, but eventually he had grown to be much more powerful than most of those wraiths.

“Why precisely do you desire to ignore them?” Hector asked, not approaching the boy because he didn’t want to spook him any more than he may have already. It was a pity that Ross wasn’t embracing the gifts that he’d been granted, because such abilities made him superior to all Sleepers young and old -- or at least it did in Hector’s mind. “Do you not know that you have the potential to command spectres, to make them bend to your ever will? To glean from them the secrets of death itself?”

Curiosity was what had brought Hector here to begin with, but now he lingered with the simple want to make the young man think differently about his position in life. It was a way for him to honor his own connection with death by sharing it with this young mage. “Embrace the gifts you’ve been given. You are exalted; with time you will surely realize the good graces that have befallen you.”

[lacroix_styles]

"Man, I can't even command the washing machine not to ruin my laundry most days," he grumbled, past the edge of fear he was trying frantically to put up some wall of disinterest to keep himself safe and more comfortable but Hector's stern gaze was almost impossible to shake.

Ross was bewildered, the idea of ordering around dead people was outright offensive to some moralistic part of him; they were still people, just dead people.

"Death is bad, that's what happens when people get to the end of life and it says you didn't do good enough and kicks you off the edge of this world. Or you screw up, whatever."

The words were accented, like most of his speaking patterns with vivid motions and gestures; he spoke with his hands a great deal. But that last part he spoke more with his eyes, the jerked glance to the side for a second, the anxiety trapped there for that short instant; death hadn't let him take the easy way out years ago and he used to think it was because he had some purpose.
But if that purpose amounted to being tormented by dead people he couldn't even speak to he wished death would give him another shot and let him rest; but he was too terrified to try.
The last time he had woken up with more wrong inside his head, there was no risk worth making it worse when he already struggled to keep himself together now.

"You sound like an infomercial for one of those self-help programs." Ross offered weakly, because he didn't know what else to say and when everything failed he clawed at humor. "How do you...know about this stuff anyway?"

[hector_styles]

Death is... bad? Hector's calm expression faltered and turned positively baffled for a moment; it was utter sacrilege for a death mage to be uttering such an outlandish statement. He wasn't sure what to say in response to that at first, but he did have the realization that this young man needed immediate aid. If he continued to have the mindset that death was a horrible thing, it would be disrespecting that connection Ross had to the supernal realm of death.

Finding his voice again a moment later, Hector answered, "Because I too was once in your position, newly Awakened and lost with how to control the forces that I now had claim to." It had been quite some time since then, over twenty years now, though of course he couldn't mention that to Ross. Tremere Liches were reviled among all mages, and Hector certainly couldn't trust this boy with the information, even if he was as young as naive as he seemed.

"You are in grave need of guidance," Hector added bluntly. "Before your powers backfire because you ignore them and show them little respect."

[lacroix_styles]

At least it made him feel a little better when Hector showed something besides that flat expression; but the one he received instead made him feel like he had done something very wrong. Made him feel a kid being chided for being bad, it was sad how suddenly he felt the need to fidget and squirm the way he hadn't since he had been like...five.

"You're..like me," he replied cautiously, finding that very difficult to believe. Ross couldn't see a single thing the same between himself and Hector, even though so far he had only seen the obvious.
How was there anybody else like him?

Well, Ross did know certain cases, they were the reason he hated late night television.

"You're not one of those creepy guys that runs a cult or pays people to act like they hear things on those little boxes with the blinking lights when they walk around in old houses, are you?"

Watching those sort of shows made him ill, annoyed; because he hated seeing people run around pretending like it was such a wonderful thing to see ghosts on those little machines. He had feeling if they could see it with their own eyes they'd be a lot less thrilled with the idea.

"Backfire? I'm already a freak, how much more of a backfire can there be?" Ross sighed, rubbing at one of his wrists and shaking his head; the prospects of things getting worse was exactly why he tried to ignore those strange things about himself.

[hector_styles]

Little boxes with blinking lights in old houses? Now that was certainly nostalgic, because Hector had owned just about every piece of clunky ghost-hunting equipment on the market at the time that he’d Awakened. “I’m afraid I abandoned the use of technology in haunted locations many years ago.” It wasn’t accurate, wasn’t necessary; Hector relied solely on his magical ability now to detect and interact with ghosts.

But the fact that the boy wasn’t believing him was a bit of an obstacle. It just made Hector want to try harder to remove it.

“Just what would you require in order to believe what I say is true?” It was a blunt question; the little magic spells that Hector had already cast should have been enough, in his opinion, to make Ross believe that he was genuine. But the hoard of junk around him gave him an idea, and he ran with that. “Perhaps you have some device on hand that is beyond repair? Lend me it a moment.” Hector certainly wasn’t limited to only raising corpses; he could just as easily raise a broken CD player from the brink of death, too.

[lacroix_styles]

"Half the junk in this place is broken, take your pick," he muttered in a flat tone, trying to sort out some of the conversation so far; it all seemed like far too much.

"Wait, no, don't," Ross quickly amended, "I don't want to see anymore weird tricks." He was tempted to add; 'because my brain can't take it' but that likely went without saying.

How could he not believe Hector? What was there to doubt? All he had seen so far had been borderline unhinged and as much as he wanted to shut it all out, Ross knew he couldn't. Even if there had been doubts he knew he couldn't claim all the words were false; something inside him that he didn't even know to call instinct told him that Hector was the real deal.
But that truth only handed him more questions.

Lifting a hand to sift through his messy hair, fingers catching at the top of his skull when he paused to rub his scalp; Ross sighed. "How do you know there's something...different about me? More importantly, why do you even care? I'm not bothering anybody; I work in this little hole in the wall and I stay out of the way of most people."

Why anybody would find him a threat, if that was the case Hector was there to make, he had no idea; he was a social creature but he didn't cause trouble outside of the normal sort. Honestly he was too wary of his oddities being spotted to go around playing with chances.