solstice rpg

For Sorcha and Art...

For Cordelia and Art... I think it's Monday...

Who: Art and Tayne
Where: The Island Church
When: Early Afternoon

It was debatable if anyone knew how the mind of a golem worked. What made Arturion Stone decide it was time to bake more cookies and take them to the priest on the island was unknown. Perhaps he had some kind of internal clock, running on a different time from anyone else, or maybe there was golem logic involved. Regardless of the reason, Art woke up that morning and decided it was time to see Tayne again. The man knew what Art was, but had - apparently - accepted his existence. Others wouldn't have. Whether this had anything to do with Human logic or religion or was just part of how Tayne ticked, Art didn't know.

Some mysteries were best left unsolved.

( My favorite! )

Who: Corwin and Art
Where: Corwin's House
When: Late Afternoon

Art had been fidgeting during the day, trying to keep busy but finding he was getting tasks accomplished in record time and would then have nothing to do until the next customer arrived or until Corwin found him a project with which to occupy himself. He had resorted to counting the stock and even did some dusting. He'd stopped tapping his pencil on the counter when Corwin told him the third time and resigned himself to thinking about which item in Corwin's workshop he'd ask to explore first. Now they were at Corwin's place and Art had some kitchen tasks to take care of first, then it was workshop time. Mixing the hamburger meat my hand, he looked over his shoulder at the mage and said, "I hope you're hungry." It wasn't as if he could eat any of this, though left-overs could always go to Sen. She was working on a project back at their apartment.

"I'm always hungry," Corwin answered absently, sitting at the kitchen table with his glasses perched on his nose and one of his magical tools in hand, prodding at the broken statue of the bird in an attempt to trace the outline in the air of what was missing from it. He was pretty sure this statue had no magical properties, at all, so he felt moderately safe bringing it up from the workroom as Art worked in the kitchen. All he wanted was to see what the statue was supposed to look like, whole. "It'll be fine. Just don't make enough to feed an army. I can pawn some off on the animals, but not all of it."

As if to prove him wrong, Geordi was sitting at Art's feet, looking up and making his best starving-dog impression, licking his chops every now and then.

( I'm like Pinocchio, only I haven't met the Blue Fairy yet. )

Who: Corwin, Art, Sen
Where: Corwin's house
When: Late afternoon

After opening all the windows and turning on all the fans to help clear out the smoke from a failed spell attempt, Corwin decided it was time for a break. They'd made some progress in getting things organized, identified, and cataloged-- though some items defied identifying, and Corwin's spells didn't always work, as evidenced by the smoke currently filling the workroom in his basement-- and Art was making noises like he wanted them to come eat already.

So he shooed Sen upstairs, following hot on her heels and still coughing, with the threat, "I'll choke if I stay down here another minute, and Art will start hitting us with his ladel, anyway. It's time to eat."

( Smoke and spells. )

Who: Corwin, Art, and Sen
When: Right around midday, when the rain stops!
Where: The beach

Corwin parked the van in the parking lot of one of the various beachfront shops and killed the engine. "Here we are!" he told the golems cheerfully, one in the passenger seat and one in the middle seat, on the driver's side, to keep everything balanced. "Everybody out."

Geordi, in the furthest back seat, barked excitedly, ready to get outside and inspect the new smells of the storm-littered beach.

Of course Corwin was going to bring his dog on an outing like this, looking for "buried treasure", like seashells or broken bottles or old bits of shipwrecks, after a storm. It would be silly to suggest otherwise.

( And magpies. )

Who: Jake & Art
Where: Vapor
When: Saturday Night - 9:30pm


Art was nervous. Jake had called - finally - and they'd agreed to meet at the club Saturday night. He was wearing his jeans, running shoes and a button down shirt in a dark blue that he thought suited him. Wallet in his pocket, keys in another. He was clean, hair still a little damp from the shower. He was set. Leaning against the wall of Vapor as the music throbbed from inside, Art had one foot on the wall and both eyes on anyone who came near the doors. There was no sign of Jake yet, but he wasn't worried. A little nervous, yes. Worried? Maybe that would happen later.

Jake threw her little black car into park and pulled down the visor to check her make up one last time. She had a few twenties folded tightly in her hand as she stepped out onto the paved lot and took a moment to surreptitiously fold them into the waistband of her black and lime checkered tights. She tugged the banded bottom of her shimmery black blouse down over her hips. The wind whipped all of the fly-away strands of hair around her face and Jake was glad she'd opted for a messy bun tonight instead of a sleeker look. It felt like rain any second, and she could feel the static charge in the air around her. She didn't dawdle amongst the cars, dashing for the door quickly. She spotted Art waiting and slowed her pace just so that she didn't do something ridiculous, like trip, in front of her date.

( Sometimes she gave Art a little space, sometimes she danced in close, close enough for him to feel the slip of her silky top. )

Who: Art and Sen
Where: Home
When: Afternoon before the Big Date

Apparently Arturion had a date that night and Sen was having a hard time wrapping her head around it. Why would he want to date? To Sen, golems had no need for such a thing and it was all just very strange to her. Perhaps he was just curious, a lust for knowing more about life and people but then he would have been more forthcoming with this, would he not? She wondered if it was possible that he actually felt things like attraction and lust, emotions she had no need for. At the same time, he was her little Art and she wondered if he was somehow changing. That idea made her a little sad and she put down the components she was working on and headed out to the living room to find him.

( But what if she wants to do all sorts of things you don't think are fun? )

Who: Corwin, Sen, Art, Maria (NPC)
Where: Peterman's Seafood
When: Early evening

Corwin pulled the van up to the take-out parking spots, shutting off the engine and sitting back in the driver's seat. "You two wanna come in with me?" he offered. He'd already called in their order, so it'd just be picking it up and chatting briefly with whoever was at the take-out counter-- or, well, with Maria, once he'd asked after her.

"I've got a friend working in here now," Corwin added, whether as incentive or just reason for offering, "and I can introduce you all around...." Or, well, sort of a friend. He'd only met Maria once, but he'd liked her well enough, and she seemed so lonely. Art and Sen did such a great job keeping him from being lonely, he wanted to at least make the effort with poor Maria.

( There he is... your heart's dream. )

Who: Santiago & Art
Where: Vapor
When: Early Saturday Morning - as in 'Oh-God-o'clock'...

It was almost one thirty in the morning and Arturion Stone was standing across the road from a familiar club. Vapor wasn't quiet, but then nothing was quite right, it seemed. Something was wrong, though the golem didn't know what - outside of his own confusion. He had questions and Corwin didn't have the answers - he'd said as much - and there was no point in asking Sen. She either wouldn't understand or wouldn't know how to explain it.

He thought he knew someone who could help him, though.

Art entered the club, showed his ID, and was sent inside. He scanned the crowd, looking for the tattooed man and hoping he wasn't making a mistake.

( You came here to ask after my sex life? Seriously? )

Who: Corwin and Art
Where: The shop
When: Late afternoon

It was later than he'd have liked when Corwin got in at the shop, but he knew what he wanted to do, so hopefully it wouldn't take him long when he got started. He pulled the van up to the back of the shop and hopped out, Jade trotting along amiably at his heels, still. He unlocked the back door and headed in.

"Art?" he called into the shop as he crossed the back room, looking around for the golem who was supposedly cleaning things and probably would be cleaning things up until the last minute before the store opened in the morning. "You still here, Art?"

Jade just bounded on ahead without bothering to announce himself.

( And a date? )

Who: Jake Mullgrove & Art Stone
Where: Darkwater Computers
When: Thursday afternoon

Being no stranger to a hangover, or having taken it a little bit too far, Jake was still in shock. She wasn't sure if she'd woken up at all on Tuesday after Monday's near miss. She wasn't sure what had done her in worse, forcing a mental download in her sleep or straining to hold her split consciousness together while communicating with Corwin to get herself back. Regardless, both of them were big works of magic and it took its toll. She was down for the count until early Wednesday morning. Her bosses, used to this occasionally happening to Jake, hadn't harassed her while she recovered. So when she'd woken up to the infinite blue bowl of a sky and the smell of the wee hours, she'd taken some time to pamper herself back to full functionality.

After a good breakfast and a bubble bath, Jake entered her workroom and sighed. She knew she'd toasted five good computers in Corwin's shop, all of various skill levels and with different capabilities. Her workroom was stocked with parts from the obsolete to the cutting edge. It wasn't that she liked to undercut Corwin's business, it was just that she found building computers extremely cathartic. That, and she was always fiddling with her personal rig. After flicking on the lights, Jake set down her second tall mug of coffee and dragged over a stool. The least she could do was to piece together a few computers, make them look neat and tidy, and drive them over to Corwin.

By late afternoon, she had loaded five monitors and keyboards and mice into the back of her care as well as boxed computer towers and all of their cables. Driving carefully because she didn't have full visibility, Jake eased her car out of the garage and onto the road to town. She pulled up in front of the shop and could tell from outside that a lot of work had been done and was perhaps still in progress inside. She slid out and walked over to knock on the door's window. There had to be someone around, right?

(  I hadn't thought about my brain requiring assistance with communication, but then I don't know much about 'hemispheres' and the like... )

Who: Ashley and Art
When: late morning
Where: the grocery store

Ashley was mostly recovered from her weird ghost-banishing thing the day before. Mostly. She'd dozed at Liam's for a while, made her fumbling way home, zoned out in front of the TV for a while, tried to eat something and then fallen into her bed for a deep, full night's sleep. She still felt fuzzy-headed and sensitive to light, which would explain why she had a huge, stylish pair of Oakleys over her eyes in the grocery store. She'd realized that her cupboards were nearly bare, and thus she was pushing a cart around, shivering in the artificially air-conditioned chill, her medium-high heels clicking on the tile floor. Did she really have to have food? She was tempted to abandon her half-full cart and flee for somewhere dark and quiet, but she tried to persevere.

( oranges are good )

Who: Tayne and Art
Where: The church on the island
When: Early evening

Tayne had spent all afternoon trying to figure out what was wrong with his magic. Pretty much all he'd managed to find out was that something was wrong with his magic. Whenever he tried to cast something, even the most innocuous blessing of peace or protection, it turned into a minor explosion of heat and light. Several scars on the side of the church attested to that, as did the slightly singed feeling he had in his face and hands, and the smell of smoke in his hair. His clothes had smelled like it, too, but he had changed those since.

He'd had no luck whatsoever figuring out the whys, hows, and whos, though, which was quite frustrating. Plus, there were still big scorch marks on the side of his church. He'd set a scrub-brush to the stone in the morning, but for now, he felt drained and confused and still somewhat singed. And when he felt drained and confused, he prayed-- which was what he was doing now, kneeling in a pew in the second row, hands folded and eyes shut.

Even then, though, with his mind supposedly on God, he couldn't help but listen to every little sound that could have been a person, anywhere in his church.

( God made magic, too. )

Who: Art and Sofia
When: late afternoon
Where: the shore at Darkwater

It was a beautiful day, and Sofia had spent most of it outside. She liked to take long walks, strolling along in her flowing skirts and her sneakers -- comfort over fashion -- and watch people. She'd taken the ferry off of the island earlier in the day, and had since been wandering the boardwalk in Darkwater, stopping only to eat and take a couple of breaks on the benches. Granted, she'd seen it all before, many times, but Sofia wasn't ever one to get bored with a place. The more time she spent in places, the more she felt from them, after all.

It was a warm day, but not unpleasantly so. She thought they were in for some bad weather soon. The cloud patterns and the way the birds were flying seemed to indicate as much to her. She'd taken up brief residence on a bench, legs crossed indian-style, with her head tilted back to the sky. It also seemed that someone she knew was going to take ill. Or so said the seagulls. Hrm.

Art made sure everything was shut down and properly secured int he shop then set the alarm and locked the door. It hadn't been a busy day, but it had certainly been interesting. He'd met a nice young woman named Mac. She'd taught him some sign language and they'd played a game of chess.

It had been relaxing.

( Do you remember your mother? Her mother? )

Who: Art and Mac
When: morning
Where: Darkwater Computer Repair

Mac had more or less forgotten it was Sunday. It was one of those luxuries of summer vacation; one didn't really have to pay attention to the day of the week. She'd realized it halfway to the computer repair shop, and stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, frowning a bit. Were they open on Sundays? She wasn't sure, and it wasn't like she could call and ask. After a moment, Mac hitched the strap on her shoulder up and shook her head, continuing on. It was a nice day to be out walking, so even if they weren't, she didn't mind. Her laptop definitely needed to be looked at, and DCR was the place to get it done. If somebody was there.

She was pleased to see the Open sign on the door, and pushed into the shop, a smile on her face. She headed for the counter, glancing around for someone.

( Does your hair feel like wool? )

Who: Art & Santiago
Where: Vapor
When: 1:00 am Monday morning (Sunday hours)

Lightning. Blue, white, black. Curls of metal, like shaved chocolate. A deep mood for the entry to a re-opened club. Art had seen the posters and heard people talk about it when they came to the shop. Vapor. The hot place to be, where the 'now crowd' went, to see and be seen.

Art wasn't the 'now crowd'. He doubted he'd ever be part of any crowd, not if he existed until the end of the universe itself. He didn't need to see anyone, nor did he particularly wish to be seen, but he'd just finished reading 'War and Peace' and needed a walk to clear his head. It was a dense piece of fiction, doing its best to reflect historical fact without being tedious.

The jury was still out on the level of its success in that regard.

It had been a comfortably warm June day and had cooled around midnight, to the point where he'd noticed people wearing a light jacket. Art didn't feel the cold as he wandered toward the water. He loved the water. Hiding beneath the surface was one of his favorite things to do. He wasn't going to submerge tonight, though, and he hadn't chosen this direction with the club in mind. But he was here and it was here, so why not take a look, he'd thought?

He turned in a slow circle, taking in the decor, and then found himself eye to collar bone with a taller man, who was almost as wide as a door.

"I need to see some identification, please," the man rumbled. Art glanced up at him, then nodded and pulled his wallet from his back pocket. All his ID declared he was twenty-eight years old. An interesting fantasy. So, he stood there, in a dark green T-shirt, blue jeans and running shoes, and waited for the verdict.

( The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances; if there is any reaction, both are transformed. ~ Carl Gustav Jung )

Who: Art, Corwin & Sen
Where: Corwin's place
When: Evening

It was necessary to eat and quite enjoyable too, Sen thought. It had always puzzled her how her fathers could forget to do such a vital thing. It was necessary energy for the body and often times it tasted great as an added bonus. In fact it always tasted great in the case of Art's cooking. She had a theory, a logical one, that Corwin pretended to forget so that Arturion would always cook for him. It was a logical theory about illogical human thinking; Art would always cook for Corwin if Corwin only asked.

( Eat, drink and be merry )

Who: Corwin and Arturion
When: Saturday Afternoon
Where: Telephone


( I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel. ~ Maya Angelou )

Who: Tayne and Art
Where: The church graveyard on the island
When: Late morning

Some rotten kid had spray-painted their name on one of the tombstones. Again. And it might not've been a name, because Tayne really couldn't tell what it said-- if there had been a name, maybe he could've found some parents to tell off, because who got off desecrating people's graves? It just wasn't right.

Tayne was out there with his gloves and scrub brush trying to get it off, kneeling in jeans, a t-shirt, and a cowboy hat to keep off what little sun was gliding through the patchy clouds-- there was no way he was doing a dirty job like this in his vestments, after all. He didn't even have a collar on to show who he was; most of the island residents knew him by now, anyway, and he didn't expect a lot of mainland visitors.

So he knelt in the grass and scrubbed, slowly making headway on the mess and whistling to himself to try and keep from slumping into a grouchy mood.

( I have a cellular phone. God can call me, anytime. )