You step onto a cracked but clean tile floor that was probably once red, but is now a faded salmon pink. A large, rectangular communal table seating about 10 takes up the middle of the floor, with mismatched smaller tables arranged near the large front windows. The long counter in front of the kitchen door sports plates of fragrant bread, cookies, and muffins and bowls of fresh wild fruits. A small, rattling fridge in the corner holds a selection of juices and cold spring water in reused bottles and jars. Atop the refrigerator is a can for cash donations; next to it is a box for barter payments. Scrawled on the box in black marker are the words "Pay what you can, when you can."
Did someone call for 'tall, dark, and handsome'? Well, dark's fairly well covered, at least. Jet-black hair's pulled into a long, loose tail at the nape of his neck, a few stray strands about the face occasionally drifting into his almost equally dark eyes, the irises of which are a brown deep enough that one needs to look closely to find the pupil. Nut-brown skin that sets off the white of his teeth and eyes -- it could just barely be mistaken for a very deep tan, if one really tried. Tall is a miss; he's still several inches off six feet, and he probably won't ever get there. Handsome... well, not a classic beauty, to be sure, but well-proportioned, with a stunning, frequent grin and deeply expressive features. Slim, but in perfectly good shape.
He's clad in... well, black leather pants. Somewhat faded, well broken in, but nicely cut and really =quite= nicely fitted. A simple cream shirt hangs untucked above them, long sleeved and fastened with a row of small, black stone buttons. Over that, he wears a decidedly well-worn old black trenchcoat, almost too big for him -- the cuffs hang down half-over his hands, when he lets them, and the hem hangs perilously close to his heels. Scuffed black leather boots with worn soles adorn his feet; there's a seemingly random collection of bracelets, all on one wrist, and several piercings along the upper section of each ear -- little silver hoops. His right ear also bears a rather delicate silver earcuff.
This young man stands barely 5'8" with a build that is slim but far from fragile. His musculature is compact and wiry, but it's there and well-toned: no wilting flower, this one. His features are on the masculine side of androgynous, enough that there's no doubt he's male, but calling him pretty -- while it might get one glared at -- wouldn't be far from the truth. His hollowed cheeks and squarish chin is offset by naturally pouty lips and a pair of aqua-green eyes framed by a fringe of long lashes. His hair is so dark a brown as to seem almost black in all but full sunlight, where red highlights render it a deep auburn. It's worn unbound in loose curls that fall just barely to his shoulders.
It looks like he's grudgingly decided to go native, more or less. The black leather trousers he wears are tight, but broken in enough to allow him freedom of motion. The billowy poet's shirt he wears is of a natural cotton weave, for all that it's been dyed a dark bloody red. He wears it belted at his hips, tunic-style, with the front loosely laced. His jewelry is sparse, merely a few hoops and studs along the outer curve of his ears, an eyebrow stud, and a tongue stud.
This slender young man draws the eye, first with his waterfall of perfectly white hair-- not blond, but white and fine as Queen Anne's lace-- carelessly confined with a simple tie at the nape of his neck. His features are delicate and symmetrical to a startling, almost inhuman degree. His skin is pale, nearly translucently so, which reinforces the fragility suggested by the fine lines of his jaw and collarbones; in contrast to this, his eyes are the deep, thoughtful blue of an evening sky.
He is currently wearing a pair of slate-gray pants and a pale green linen formal-looking dress shirt, far too big for him, which falls in graceful folds about his wrists and throat. It is embroidered with small designs in white. Over this he wears a darker green vest, with leaf-patterns on it-- the vest is a little large for him as well.
He wears a simple silver band ring with a dark blue stone-- his only jewelry-- on the middle finger of his right hand.
Kalisto sighs shakily, trying without much success to remain casual as he glances away. "Oh," he replies. Then, "I don't know. He says I need her. Maybe calling her out would... maybe you could tell her something for me. Tell her she sucks and I hate her." He leans against the communal table, with a little black kitten asleep in a snuggly nestled against his chest. He pets the kitten absently as he speaks to Miki in a low, sullen tone. "What could you do about the drugs? I don't suppose you'd get me morphine, would you?"
Miki is sitting on a chair backwards, one leg gracefully draped over a second chair. "I do not have that," he says, regretfully. "But I might be able to sing the, the wanting quiet for you." He pauses for a moment, thinking about the other request. "Maybe we should ask Justin about calling out the spirit in you. I wonder what he would think. I will try if you want, though, so you can talk to her-- that might help. But since she is not a ghost, I do not know if it will work."
From outside comes a cheerful humming, followed by the jingling of the bell on the Diner door as it opens and lets in a coyote-kin with a reasonably impressive handful of flowers. He's even got one tucked behind one of his ears, hawaii-girl-style.
Kalisto darts a glance toward the door, tensing up -- but he relaxes a little as he sees who it is. "I guess if he says it's okay," he tells Miki, adding dourly, "It's a good thing Justin's a nice guy, because he more or less fucking owns me, you know?" He nods toward Ren, greeting him with a subdued, "S'up."
"I do not think he sees it that way," Miki replies dubiously to Kal, then looks up as Ren enters. He nods to Ren, then widens his eyes in surprise at Ren's burden of flowers.
Serendipity flashes a bright, beaming grin at the other young men. "Afternoon, o avatarsa beauty an' youth!" he greets them exuberantly, and leans over to tuck a flower into their hair, trying for behind the ear. One gets slipped into the snuggly with the kitten, too. "Aw, cute! Who's th' daddy?" he teases Kal lightly, the grin never faltering, and grabs the first vase-like thing he finds to stick the flowers in. "How's it goin', lovelies?"
Kalisto endures the bedecking of flowers, but only because the snuggly gets one, too. Ren gets a dark look though, and he replies dryly, "Could be anyone. The sons of bitches fucked and ran but I think he was black." The kitten stretches, turning about so that one paw rests against the edge of the snuggly, and his little chin rests upon it. He's got a little white strip on his chest. "Don't tell me, let me guess: you also got mega laid at your little orgy-fest? Must've been some lay." To Miki, he explains, "Of course he doesn't see it that way, but that's exactly how it is. I have to have Justin teach me, or chances are I'm going to die, maybe hurt someone else. But to get Justin to teach me, I got to do whatever he says. So it's not like I'm oozing choices out of every orifice here."
Miki gracefully leans away just in time to avoid having a flower put in his hair, and shakes his head with a small, polite smile at Ren. "It not as though Justin is going to tell you to do horrible things," he points out, dryly. "He is not... Well, he knows what it is like to be an apprentice," he says. "And he will not be unreasonable."
Serendipity blinks at Miki's demurral, then just shrugs a little and moves on. Whatever! He seems to like Kal's reply, though, and hops up to sit on the edge of the table beside the new arrival to town, and peer at the kitten some more, offering it a finger to sniff. "It was a good night," he replies, ambiguously, then can't quite help grinning more wickedly and adding rather less ambiguously, "...an' day. An' night. Di'n' you? Or didja hafta get home t' tend to th' baby?" Whom he's trying to scritch under the chin, and that name sounds more like it's meant to tease the kitten than the boy. "You're Justin's 'pprentice?"
The kitten stirs, gives Ren's finger a bump with his nose, then bites it. Fortunately for Ren, he's only got his milk teeth -- he's only a few weeks old, four at most. His eyes are still blue, and his features still somewhat infantile for a cat. After a gnawing of Ren's finger produces no milk, he lazily submits to being scritched. Kal glances toward Miki and says, "Yeah, go through detox from opiates cold turkey and then tell me what's unreasonable. But yeah, I don't think Justin would ever -ever- try to fuck me over. That why I'm saying it's lucky he's a good guy." He nods toward Ren, adding. "More or less. He's supposed to teach me to at least not blow stuff up."
Miki looks worried, lowering his chin to the top rung of the chair again. "Will you at least let me try to help if it is very bad? I have only a little magic, but illusion is... useful sometimes. I would like to try." Then he sighs again and says, mock-complaining, "Everyone has fire magic but me. And I like fire so much."
Serendipity wrinkles his nose as the kitten bites him, but lets the wee bit of fluff gnaw on him all it likes until it submits to the scritching and such. He nods at Kal's answer, looking intrigued. "Seems reasonable. I'm better at teachin' people how =to= blow things up, pers'nally. An' =I= don't have magic at all, fire or otherwise," he points out to Miki, continuing with long-suffering mock resignation, "I just hafta get by on my good looks an' charm."
Kalisto snorts, giving Ren a shoulder-nudge of utter non-sympathy in response to his woes. "What I used to kill the vampire was a spell," he tells Miki. "I didn't summon the fire. The fire was already there. All I did was make it bigger. When things happen around me, when I get upset? It's almost always electrical. So I guess I've got electric magic, or something."
"Well, that is neat, too. Justin does fire, but all these sparks fizzle off him when he is upset," Miki replies composedly. "Look, he made me this." Miki holds out his hand with the ring on it, the one with the blue stone. He turns the stone inward to his palm, closes his hand around it, and then opens his hand. A flame dances above the store. "Neat, huh? And it will not burn me, just like when Anderja calls fire! But it will burn other things, it is real fire."
Serendipity heeds this warning and does =not= stick his finger in the flames, although he does give the impression that was a near thing. "=Nice= ring. Nonea my jewelry does anythin' but look pretty an' occasionally distract Aurelia," he remarks, before turning his attention back to Kal. "You killed a vampire? Guess if I go lookin' for the big one 'round here sometime I oughta take you with, then."
Kalisto says wryly, "Not so neat when you're blasting people's barns to smithereens with lightning bolts and they send you to live with a bunch of total strangers before you kill someone or yourself." Not that he's bitter. The flame catches his attention though, and he looks suitably impressed. "Cool. Usually when a lover gives you a burning sensation it means you need a shot of penicillin." He eyes Ren a moment, then says (in a tone that would be a lot more foreboding if he wasn't snuggling a kitten), "I'll leave them be if they stay out of my way, but if there are any around here getting all up in my business, it's hunting season as far as I'm concerned."
Miki closes his hand fearlessly over the flame, and it vanishes. He turns the ring around the correct way on his hand, and folds his arms over the top of the chair again, grinning a little. "You are as fierce as Shadow," he tells Kal. "You are probably a better vampire hunter than I, and I was born to it."
Serendipity laughs at Kal's comment on the ring, and lounges a little -- as much as he can without ceasing to pet and scritch the wee fierce one. "The one I got in mind sent his lackey t' come pick Tristan up for a snack, which far's I'm concerned counts as gettin' all up in my business, 'specially considering he was gonna kill everyone in town 'til Tristan agreed t' go be meals on wheels," he remarks, and pauses a moment. "...an' don't go killin' Tristan if you meet him an' he annoys you, a'ight? He's a good guy."
Kalisto says promptly, "Shadow's a badass killer. He's so bad even foxes won't eat him." The dangerous feline stretches, one paw draping out of the snuggly, and he rubs his head against Ren's finger. A small crackle of a purr rumbles in his little chest. Oh yeah. He's one bad mofo. Kal glances down at the kitten, mumbling, "Damn right, you are." Then, toward Miki, "If I start jonesing bad, I'll tell you. I mean, I can't get the shit I need, so I know I'm going to lose it eventually. It's been a month, and the worst of the sickness is passing, but it's still a choice slice of hell." To Ren, he points out, "If Tristan doesn't annoy me, I won't have to kill him."
Miki smiles at the kitten-- who could help smiling at such a sight?-- and then says, perhaps less than diplomatically, "Tristan will annoy you. That is what he does. He is a seggfej." He adds, "I am sorry it has been so bad, Kal, I wish I had known before. If I could not help, perhaps there might be someone else here who might."
Serendipity snirks at Miki, but doesn't seem offended on his friend's behalf. "He prolly will," he agrees. "He's got a knack for findin' buttons an' pushin' them. 's why I'm sayin', don't pay it any mind, a'ight? He doesn't mean anythin' by it. No more'n I do." He shrugs a little. "Anyway, Miki think I'm an asshead too, don'tcha beautiful?" He flashes the white-haired boy a perfectly friendly grin.
Kalisto says mildly, "It's just that when my buttons get pushed? Things catch fire." He smiles. Sweetly, even. To Miki he nods and adds, "Hey, there's no harm in trying, huh? I am trying to kick this thing, but it's not like, you know. I don't know. There's just a lot going on right now, and I really don't want to lose it again. I don't want anyone to get hurt. So I'll try to find you if it gets bad. Um. And thanks. I mean that."
Miki smiles at Kal, one of his rare complete and open smiles. "You are welcome," he says simply, and stands up, setting his chair aside. He glances at Ren and gives him a knowing half-smile, distant but not ironic. "Only sometimes," he says, as diplomatically as he can. "After all, you can not help it if you can not tell the difference between privacy and lying." He puts the chairs back where they belong, against the table, and heads for the door. "I will see you again, Kal," he says, with another smile. "You and the little fierce one." And with that, he pulls open the Diner door and is gone.
Serendipity rolls his eyes exaggeratedly in mild amusement behind Miki's back. "...anyway, just no killin' him, a'ight?" This apparently is the last word on subject as far as he's concerned. "So what is it Miki's helpin' you with?"
Kalisto shrugs, which may or may not be agreement to the last word. "Drug addiction," he replies conversationally. Shadow, badass over all he surveys, starts to drift off again, stretching, his little paws flexing majestically. "I can't hook up all the way out here, and the detox has been killing me."
Serendipity considers Kal thoughtfully, still gently petting the little cat, seeming to have forgotten he's even doing so. "Addictions suck," he remarks, equally conversational, "...they fuck with your freedom an' all. What're you gettin' off of?"
Kalisto says sourly, "You name it. Morphine's the big one. Weed, poppers, valium, and then there's this game we used to play back home called 'mixed bag' and I'll let you use your imagination. At least I got some booze for awhile." Shadow dozes, secure in his place as beloved furball.
Serendipity looks off into space a moment, brow furrowing. "...I think I played that once," he reflects, "but for some reason, I don't remember it real well." Half-smile, and he shrugs a little. "So you're quittin' just 'cause you hafta, don't wanna at all?" It sounds like an honest question.
Kalisto snorts, murmuring, "Wonder why. At least the rules are simple." He then nods as he says, "I'm quitting because I don't have any of it. Except the booze. Look, I know that if I was back home, right now, I would be drunk off my ass and fucked up on whatever I could get my hands on. It's not pretty, but at least I'm honest."
Serendipity nods. "People always =say= they want honest, but mosta them are lyin' half the time," he observes. "'course, there's plentya alcohol around here, an' you're not drunk offa your ass now."
Kalisto gestures down to Shadow with a nod as he murmurs, "That's because the Warden won't let me take care of him when I'm shit-faced. She'll take him away til I'm sober again, tell me I got no business handling an innocent baby like this when I'm falling down stupid." He pauses, then adds, "So I drink when I need a break from the cat."
Serendipity grins a little at that, and shakes his head. "She's right, kitten like that needs t' be taken care of right." Said kitten gets another scritch or three. "...don't think you're gonna find morphine 'round here," he says, after a moment. "Alcohol 'n' weed're prolly about th' limit. But I'd figure they prolly take the edge off gettin' off it? I dunno, I've never hadda deal with it."
Shadow purrs at the scritch. It's a small sound, short-lived, but he fires it up readily enough. Kal smiles at him wryly, adding another scritch to the ones Ren's given him. "It's just he's so small, he could get hurt if I'm not careful," Kal agrees grudgingly. "I might try to hook up with some weed, I don't know. Justin said no morphine, and I gotta do what he says. I guess you don't want to be all fucked up when you're casting spells and shit, but the morphine's how I've been keeping from having accidents."
Serendipity thinks about this a little, giving the kitten more love in the meantime. "...accidents're when you get angry, yeah?" he inquires.
Kalisto nods slowly. Shadow stretches, and there's more purring, even a muffled little 'mew' as he resettles comfortably in his snuggly. At least someone is having a good day around here. Lavishing the kitten with affection seems to get on Kal's good side, and he relaxes somewhat where he sits beside Ren, admitting, "Or scared, but yeah. Used to be just the lights would flicker, but after a week of detox, I caused someone's barn to burn down. Lightning."
Serendipity whistles soft and low. "Damn," he remarks somewhat admiringly, "that's impressive. From a clear sky and everything?" He studies Kal again. "Maybe we oughta look inta findin' you some weed, yeah. 'least for now. I mean, plennya drunks've threatened t' kill me, but it's hard t'get really pissed off on pot."
Kalisto snorts and says, "Nah, it was already stormy. I don't think I could blow shit up from a clear sky." He sounds perfectly pleased with that limitation, too. With a dry laugh, he adds, "Yeah, if you hook me up with some weed, pissed ain't what I'm going to be."
"Gonna stay sober mosta the time t' keep this guy safe though, right?" Ren asks, leaning down a little to look at the kitten. "Y'know, if y'need someone t' look after him a li'l once in a while, I wouldn't mind," he adds, absently. "Nothin' wrong with getting high once in a while, but you're right 'bout how tiny he is 'n' all."
Kalisto nods to that, giving the kitten another look, this one almost sappy. "Yeah, I'm not going to get all fucked up around the kitten. The Warden won't mind taking him, and I guess if you're hot to catsit, that's cool. I mean, you could also just come over and see him. I'm sure the Warden will even bribe you to be my friend."
"You could always bribe me yourself," Ren replies dryly, "...though, hey, I dunno, what's she offerin'?" He grins again, and stretches. "Where're you stayin'? Not at the frat house, I take it."
Kalisto rolls his eyes, almost good-naturedly. Downright amiable for him at any rate. "I don't do frat houses," he points out. Then, "I'm staying at the Smith farm up Katahdin Road. Last I heard, the old lady's offering sugar cookies as the going rate. She's a mean cook, too."
"'course not," Ren replies innocently, "mosta 'em are straight. Anyway, I think I know which one that is. I mostly live in the Treehouse down by th' lake, 'cept when I stay somewhere else. Though, Rae's sayin' we oughta find a proper house for the kumi, so who knows for how long." He touches the kitten's nose very gently with the tip of a finger. "...d'you have, like, a handkerchief or somethin' on ya?"
Kalisto grins a bit at the nose-touching. The kitten's ear twitches, but he otherwise remains zonked out. "Yeah," Kal replies, fishing around in his pocket for one, which he offers over It's plain, white linen. There are stains on it, splotches of a faint rust color, though the scrap of cloth is clean, recently washed. He offers it over.
Serendipity grins. "Thanks," he replies, and spreads it out on the table beside him. He rummages in his coat for several seconds, and comes up with a smallish, decoratively carved wooden box, which he opens, and then sniffs, as if unsure of the contents, before dumping most of them carefully out onto the handkerchief, creating a little mound of leafy greenness there before he pops the box closed again and returns it from whence it came. He pulls the corners of the pocket square together, and then ponders the best way to fasten it up. He brightens, quite suddenly -- more than before, that is -- and grins wider. "Hey, y'know what we oughta do? We should make brownies."
Kalisto's brows lift a touch as he watches these events unfold. "That'd be awesome if I knew how," he replies, "And if the Warden would let us use the kitchen. I don't think she wants me poking around in there." He glances toward the Diner's kitchen, musing, "Then again..." But a murfle of a mew from the snuggly reminds him, "Maybe another time, when I'm not cat-sitting."
Serendipity considers this. "Well, I could make 'em, an' you could take carea the kitlet an' keep me company," he points out, "but, y'know, I gotta talk t' Martin t' see if I c'n get the chocolate for it first anyhow, so maybe t'morrow or the day after or somethin'. Just don't tell anyone beforehand, yeah?" Evil grin. He manages to tie the packet up fairly securely corner to corner, and returns it to Kal. "An' by the way? Th' local look suits you." He reaches out and boings one of Kal's curls lightly.
Kalisto swiftly pockets the kerchief, down with the whole conspiring thing. Chances are he's not going to say word one to anyone about The Baking Project. He scowls as one of his curls is boinged -- it boings rather nicely, too. "Yeah, well. She won't let me wear anything I wanna," he complains. The kitten stirs, then meows a loud, ear-splitting meow. Kal winces and says, "And that's my cue. Come by sometime, huh? I'd better take demon-kitty to where the milk is."
Serendipity grins again, not at all apologetic about drawing that scowl. Curls are for boinging! "Yeah, a'ight. I'll come by; I wanna see the stuff she's not lettin' you wear," he replies, and gives the kitten a last scritch. "Better get him fed before he gets impatient an' devours you instead."
Kalisto looks long-suffering. His life is a horrible trial, surely. "Don't make jokes. He might try." Meanwhile, Shadow struggles with gravity and the folds of his snuggly as he tries to crawl out of it to go on a quest for chow. He lets out another ear-splitter, and Kal scoops him up, cuddling him close to his chest. "Shhh," he hisses in vain. "I'll see you, Pervedude," he tells Ren as he heads toward the door. And he's off to get the bawling kitten fed.