2020-11-12 Breaking Bread
Breaking Bread
Location: Winters Retreat
Date and Time: November 20, 2020 - 1:30pm
Summary: After a vision brought her to the doorstep, Jinny was there to help her the rest of the way through.
Mood Music: yeule - "Don't Be So Hard On Your Own Beauty"
Jinny and Lorelei’s Grand Adventure!*
- adventure’s grandness is not guaranteed.
- but very likely
How long has it been since that fateful meeting at the chantry? A few days? A week? Somewhere around there. Lorelei has had a lot to think about since then, the fateful Drawing of the Five not only forcing her to confront a rather sizable hubris but also a tremendous amount of baggage. While the young 20-something has found love and loyalty in the form of her Mentor – literally the *only* living relative she still has contact with – she has mostly accepted that operating on her lonesome is the best chance she has for Ascension. Why drag your feet and slow down for others when you can just charge ahead of them? Why put your faith in the unknown when said unknown is likely going to stab you in the back?
Despite these reservations, Lorelei cannot deny all of the coincidences that led her to the chantry nor her Avatar’s obvious push in its direction. That, too, is a surprise, considering most of her self-reliance and tenacity has come at his hands – or claws.
That is how Lorelei has come to find herself standing outside of a certain Jacobean manor once again. She did not call to alert anyone, nor ask permission to visit. She just loaded herself up in her car, armed with *three* bottles of wine, and set off for Laurel Canyon. About thirty minutes of traffic later, she pulls to a stop and puts the electric vehicle in park. The moment she feels herself hesitating, she hears a gruff voice in her head snarl with disapproval, making her mutter, “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” before getting out and using her hip to shut the door. She’ll walk up the same steps she did before, stand on the same porch as before, and then – with her hand hovering for only a moment longer – knock on the door.
Knock. Knock. Knock. And then the worst part. She waits.
Dinner, at the Foreboding Jacobean, is oftentimes a solo affair.
No matter what form the food comes in, from takeout to home made, Jinny and Luu’s paths rarely cross, even though they share two rooms on the second floor. Luu, of course, has the master bedroom while Jinny has been relegated to a room she jokingly calls “Shoe Antechamber 4-B” which is considerably larger than the studio apartment she calls home. They often see each other in the halls, share the bathroom in the hall, or have breakfast together, but evenings? That’s when Luu’s creativity really sets in, and that’s when Jinny gets ready to go out and paint, so their paths don’t cross. That means they don’t have dinner together as much as Jinny would like, and that may change in the future, but for now? That’s just how it is.
By the time Jinny realized she was hungry, prime time for delivery had kicked in. Before spending $50 plus a tip on a meal that cost $12, Jinny made her way down to the kitchen to see what might be lurking in the refrigerator and, thankfully, a whole chicken volunteered to sacrifice itself for the greater good. That, a few root vegetables, a mess of garlic and onions, and entirely too much butter to be healthy but just barely enough to be extremely tasty, would be a meal that would make leftovers for a day or so if Luu joined in, even longer if she didn’t. It would also make the house smell amazing and would only take about an hour to do, too. A win/win in her book! Add in the meditative quality that one gets while cooking to center your mind and, in Mage and Mortal terms, you get a very successful evening.
It’s methodical, the way Jinny works. A pot of water is boiling on the stove and a bowl of ice has been placed carefully nearby. The organs are removed from the bird and placed in a bowl and with a pair of tongs, Jinny dips the bird in for thirty seconds, plunges it into the ice bath after that thirty seconds, and does it again two more times. It’s bizarre if someone was watching her do this to a chicken, but she’d assure them that once it was done, it was all worthwhile.
While she waits for the water to boil again, she thinks, sinking into herself for a moment in time that could be a heartbeat or could be an eternity - she’s long stopped wondering about such things and simply embraces them when they come wholeheartedly. The visions when a new potential chantry member fits into the shape that calls their soul here and the stories told naked in the confines of the Chantry’s node from times long forgotten all combine into a tapestry that stretches throughout eternity. The stories told and the secrets revealed in those moments between were infinite, and just when she thought she knew them as well as the city she called home, it would simply roll itself up and unscroll again the next morning in an entirely new configuration of letters and light. She found herself transfixed, focusing on a story that led to another, which led to another, falling down a rabbit hole until a story of a Coyote was discovered written in paint on the curve of the story.
“Clever old trickster….” Jinny murmured to herself, glancing to the corner of the kitchen, almost expecting her Avatar to be standing there but no, not this time. Out on an adventure almost certainly. She smiles and shakes herself out of her reverie when the knock at the front door echoed through the halls. She looked down and over, discovering that the bird was in the oven, the skin crisping and seasoned with a coating of butter between flesh and skin sitting atop a bed of root vegetables, the timer indicating that she’d been there for at least ten minutes lost in herself.
“C..coming! Just a minute!” Jinny calls out, wiping her hands off on a dish towel as she makes her way out of the kitchen to the front door. She pauses in front of the mirror, making sure she’s presentable, smoothing down her vintage blouse strewn with pineapples and strawberries, making sure her hair is not in a massive nest that would require a kerchief and, yes, taking off the apron that proclaimed her ‘Sausage Queen of Chicago 1995!’ Jinny pivoted on her stocking feet and skipped to the door, sliding to a stop to lean over and peer out of the window on the side.
“Ah, Lorelei!” Jinny straightened with a smile. Apparently the woman on the doorstep was remembered. Deadbolts and a chain are undone and the door is swung open wide. “I didn’t hear you drive up. Come in, come in, please, out of the cold.” She leans against the door. “Truthfully? I was hoping you’d come by. After that evening, I thought we should chat but you were late for an engagement. How did the audition go? “
The door swings open to reveal Lorelei waiting straight-backed and steadfast as usual. Today, she’s wearing a striped long-sleeve mock turtleneck tucked into a high-waisted suede skirt (https://tinyurl.com/bd5pv9ya) with a pair of matching brown riding boots. She has all three bottles of wine bundled in her arms, clasped against her chest, and as Jinny comes into view, Lorelei will further straighten and flash her a smile. “Hey,” she says, pairing the greeting with a casual upnod, “I hope you don’t mind I just…dropped in. And yeah,” she turns her head to look back at her electric convertible, “...One of the benefits of going electric is that no one hears you coming. Or going. On top of, you know,” the blonde twists back around, still wearing a slim smile, “The whole *not* choking the planet into a CO2-infused coma.”
Lorelei shifts her weight from one foot to the other, making the porch’s floorboards creak. “The audition went great, thanks for asking.” She flashes Jinny a confident smile, lying as easy as breathing. In truth, the audition had gone horribly. After the shock of being drawn to the chantry and the whirlwind commute to get back to Hollywood, she had been struck with uncharacteristic nerves, her faultless confidence rattled to the point that she could barely produce her lines. That, and the role had been shit. It was one of those sell-out moments where Lorelei was going to compromise her artistic nature (not that she would ever admit to having one of those) and take on a project solely for the money and fame – two important facets of reaching the hearts and minds of Sleepers, yes, but at the cost of compromising her standards.
Lorelei is keen to change the subject, which is why she tilts her head to look past Jinny’s bloused shoulder. She leans to the side, nostrils flaring, as she takes a deep sniff-sniff of the fragrant air that seeps from inside. “Are you cooking something?” Sniff-sniff. “It smells good…” And if Jinny makes even the slightest indication that she can enter, Lorelei will walk forward to join her inside of the chantry. For a moment, the young woman behaves with bestial interest, performing a few more inquisitive sniffs and delicate lip-lickings. Then, she pivots rather neatly, her smile all at once dazzling and bright as she lifts her arms up to make the three wine bottles clank together. “Fancy a trade?” she asks, bouncing her brows with playful encouragement, “You provide the dinner and I provide the drinks?”
Lorelei doesn’t wait for an answer. She’ll just turn and start sashaying in the direction of the good smells, her boots clicking with breezy efficiency over the hardwood floors. As always, her movements are graceful and self-assured, even arrogant, but there is a certain sway to her hips and a prowl in her walk to make it suggestive and sexy. “Is anyone else home?” she asks with a quick glance toward the second story railing above.
Lorelei invading the house is taken in stride, with Jinny simply allowing the other woman inside to explore and ponder things while she closes the door behind and follows along, watching the other woman's sensual sashay. She's not exactly herding Lorelei - one might have better luck redirecting a hurricane - but she is keeping her in sight as they walk through the house, the smell of roasting chicken and vegetables growing stronger as they draw closer to the kitchen. The conversation on the audition is left alone, since that's not almost certainly the reason for the visit, but the whole 'saving the planet' thing? That's something Jinny can get behind. And watching Lorelei move? That's something she can get behind too. Lorelei’s seemingly effortless sensuality is amazingly sexy, and that's a hard trait to develop naturally in this day and age.
“I haven't gotten to play much with electric vehicles, and retrofitting my Datsun to run on anything but gasoline might take a little more work than Dad might be willing to put in.” Jinny says as they reach the kitchen, taking the offered bottles and giving them a quick study, like she knows what would quantify a good wine. Judging from the car, the outfit, and the person bringing them, these are probably a bit more valuable than one might be able to find at Trader Joe's, so she’s careful. The one thing she does know? Chicken means white wine, usually chilled, so the bottles of white go into the wine refrigerator under the counter and a pair of wide-mouthed glasses and a corkscrew are procured for use later. “A fair trade, I'd say. A little conversation and both of us end up with a full belly and perhaps a little more insight about each other than we had before.” Jinny slips her apron back on and goes to check the chicken, crouching down to peer into the oven and adjusting the position in the roaster beneath the gas element so the skin’s uneven bronze will start to even up a bit more.
“The chicken should be done in about ten minutes, then the bread, and then we eat.” She stands and dusts off her hands, glancing at Lorelei. “Many hands make light work.” She prompts. “If you could set the table and open the wine, we could be eating in half the time. I'm sure there are a few things you'd like to talk about, and conversations are almost always better when there’s food to be had.” She nods towards the kitchen table, nicely cleared already.
Whether or not they're the only ones in the house? Human? Oh yes, certainly. Supernatural? There's one guest in the walls that they haven't met just yet, or really have even laid eyes on. They do know it exists even though the only reason they know it's there is by way of the evidence it leaves of its passage and the detritus of it's creativity. “Just you and I today, I'm afraid. Luu has a fitting at a fashion house in the fashion district, and she won't be back until well past midnight, and Rhode’s doing a class and probably will end up here some time in the morning. You know how those ecstatics can get, right?” It's a stereotype, sure, but those do exist for a reason. Jinny rolls her eyes overdramatically and hurries to get a salad going, the addition of a second guest not really phasing her.
“Any allergies I need to be aware of? I mean, I'm not using peanuts or coconut or anything, but I like to ask. Oh, and do you have any dietary restrictions or tastes, magick or otherwise? It's a big kitchen, so I'm sure we can come up with something appetizing if this spread doesn't do it for you.” A beat. “You know, I've lived in LA my whole life and I've never had dinner with someone famous. I mean, you see stars everywhere nowadays with Instagram, but not really…sitting, you know? I mean, I saw ‘Alice’ when it came out. You really sold the scary.”
Jinny sounds impressed that it could be done because she actually hunted down the script for the movie after watching it. It definitely could have used some tightening up in places, and the motivations of the big bad were a little amorphous in Jinny’s view, but it's Hollywood, so you sometimes need to check common sense at the door. Besides, it got Lorelei’s foot in the door and probably sent her Tik-Tok numbers through the roof, so good on her, right?
Lorelei doesn’t physically react to the mention of Jinny’s father, but there is always a strange gut twist that comes when someone discusses their immediate family – a surge of emotional reflux that rises and falls with bitterness instead of stomach acid. Nonetheless, she’ll make her way into the kitchen and then place the bottles onto the counter. They are, as Jinny expected, very expensive – no two buck chucks here! – although at her age, one wonders if she’d even really know the difference. By now, the smells in the kitchen are legitimately mouth watering, and she’ll continue to sniff and prowl, then stop long enough to lean over and look through the oven’s glass wall. Oh yeah. Bingo. When she pops back up, it is with a swishy sway of her blonde ponytail which is given an airy toss over one shoulder.
Lorelei turns just in time to watch Jinny finish with her inspection of the bottles. “It’s what the guy at the shop recommended,” she admits with a shrug, confirming that she may have the money but not necessarily the experience to knowledgeably wield it. “So if they’re shit, I blame him; otherwise, I’m happy to accept *all* credit.” She’ll pair this with a playful flutter of her eyes while donning a playful smirk.The Verbena will then shift, accepting the request to set the table, though it will take a bit of poking around before she finds the drawer with the placemats and then the silverware – not that she minds. She’s a nosy thing, and this allows her to dig through the drawers to take a peek at their contents. While she goes about doing this, her blue eyes will routinely shift to watch the Dreamspeaker work, just as curious about the woman as she is about the cutlery.
“Good,” Lorelei will say when it’s revealed that they have the house to themselves, “Last time got a little wild. Probably wouldn’t hurt to keep things intimate.” She pauses long enough to add a well executed hair toss, “...Not that I mind an audience.”
She’ll cast a playful smile over her shoulder and then walk the placemats and silverware to the table. She’s in the process of meandering back to grab the bottle of wine and the opener when Jinny asks about any allergies or food preferences (which Lorelei most certainly does), but doesn’t reply right away. Instead, she’ll focus on the praise shown toward her acting which, with her hubris, is received with a visible straightening of her posture and a prideful glow. “Thanks,” she says, maneuvering the top of the opener over the bottle, “But I’m not famous. Not *yet* – but I’m working on it. Alice was a good flick, I’d like to believe I added a little something *extra* to it – but I’ll admit the script was solid. Speaking of which…” She’ll roll her eyes, her pillowy lips suddenly tugging into a distempered frown, “...I might be working with that director again. The one that is *also* in our chantry now? Mister “Black” – as if anyone would ever believe that’s his real name. God, if you didn’t already know he was Euthantos, right?”
During this time, Lorelei has been cranking the opener with robust annoyance. Just as the metal has made its final twist into the cork, she’ll give it a good tug until the wooden stopper *pops* free. “I love that sound,” she admits, all smiles again. “As for food preferences. I do like things…raw…” She says with a pointed look toward the bowl of discarded gizzards and other remains, “...But I can eat just about anything.” Hardly a pause before she adds, “What is it that you do? I think I’ve figured out everyone else’s calling thus far.”
The chicken, when Lorelei examines it before heading to set the table, is certainly starting to come around, looking almost done. It seems that Jinny's estimation prowess is fairly well grounded in the kitchen, as far as cooking times go. And Jinny does get back to doing the last few things that need to be done to get lunch ready, painting some rolls with butter and sliding them into the oven after pulling out the bird, letting it sit on a trivet on the counter to rest before carving so all the wonderful juices get to soak back into the flesh so it’s succulent and juicy and not dry. She does run the edge of the knife over the skin, the scraping, almost glassy texture of the skin causing the thin blade to ring like a bell, her attention turning from it to the opening of the wine, a smile appearing at the pop of the cork.
“It’s normally a little more intimate, when people appear on our doorstep after a vision. It’s only been Jason the one time before, so it was Luu and I, with him. I suppose we thought if more people were given direction to this place, it would have been one-at-a-time but…” She shakes her head with a little smile, a pair of tongs coming into play to start plucking golden roasted vegetables soaked in chicken fat from the tray, transferring them to a bowl. “I guess whatever is pushing us towards this goal thought that you and Lee appearing at the same time would have the proper dynamic for an initial meeting, with the later ones being more….one on one and intimate, like this.” Tongs are placed in the bowl and the whole thing is carried over to the table and set down in the middle, Jinny turning, her apron flipping up as she does, to head for the chicken. Time to carve.
The skin crunches, audibly, as Jinny cuts through the breast, following the breastbone along and down with little surgical sawing motions, lifting it off, and then cutting it into nice thick slices, laying them ornately on a serving dish. This is repeated for the second breast, then the wings, thighs, and legs, all arranged in a somewhat chaotic pile on the black Fiestaware platter. Apparently for this meal, fingers are good enough since no serving tongs are brought over or, at least, it's her thought that the ones in the vegetables will be used for other things. “You’re doing well. We all know the stories of stars that burn too brightly, to fast, have their twelve minutes and use the last three of their fame to desperately cling to whatever they had before, not willing to accept that the choices they made with roles, directors, or studios doomed them to obscurity or typecast them as ‘the sexy one’ or ‘the final girl.’” The platter is placed down carefully. “When they can’t transition to their next iteration, they falter, then fall into their own little quiet place. You, Miss Lorelei, seem to be making all the right moves. You’re showing up and saying yes to all the right things, you’re in control of your own image which, let’s be fair, how you managed to pull /that/ off would be a great chapter in your memoir, and it doesn’t hurt you’ve got a little bit of acting talent in there, too.” Jinny smiles, teasing a little. “Fame is a powerful tool, though. Moving mountains with the sound of your voice, becoming part of people’s stories for the roles you play in their life. It’s definitely something to pursue, but it’s also something to be very careful with. Keep it up. You’ll be famous before you know it.” She taps her nose and winks. “I know a thing or two about actresses.”
She really doesn’t, but damn, doesn’t that line /sound/ good?
Mister Black. Ah, the man of the hour. Jinny snickers and nods. “It might have been a little less conspicuous if he called himself ‘Raven Dark Bloodfang’ or something like that. Mister Black sounds like he was just going for something that sounded enigmatic and mysterious and just ended up neither of those things. As long as he knows what he’s doing and directs you well? Be professional, be polite, but have a plan to extract yourself if things start going poorly.” The bread is pulled out and dumped in a basket to cool off, the whole thing transitioned to the table. “Think positive, though. Now that you’re considering being in the Chantry with us…” Yes, she did hear Lorelei call this place ‘our chantry’ but didn’t point it out. “We’re all in this together. I can’t see him leading you in the wrong direction deliberately. That’s a bit petty, wouldn’t you say? We can’t be an example for ascension if we’re at each other’s throats.”
Food preferences. Hmm. Jinny follows the gaze to the stainless steel bowl of chicken parts - liver, heart, gizzard, neck, some skin - and simply makes her way over to it, transitioning it to the table as well, placing it near where she assumes Lorelei is going to sit, with her back to the wall, with a full view of the kitchen as well as a door to her right for easy escape. Jinny knows how to make someone that’s a little wary more comfortable. “Well then.” She says, taking the seat opposite, centering the plate in the middle of the table mat. “Pour the wine and let’s start dinner. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” Food, appropriate for the tastes, ways out, and only little ol’ Jinny there. Perfect place to chat.
She waits for Lorelei to sit before going into herself, serving out some of the chicken to Lorelei’s plate before adding a few bits to her own plate. “What is it that I do? Well…mundanely, I’m an artist. I do sculpture, interior design, painting of all kinds, textiles….you name it. I make spaces into what people dream of and pictures that are, in my view, beautiful and provocative and hopefully meaningful. I also do graffiti. You might…well…hopefully have seen a few of my works. I generally hit places like the federal building, outside movie studios…lots of messages and meanings in my pieces. Like that one, there.” She nods towards the wall of the kitchen where a framed photograph of a large mural can be seen, with a figure - probably Jinny - dressed all in black with a mask covering her face right next to it, seemingly taking credit. The mural, the outline of a wolf with the cityscape implied in its mane, with plants and trees in its muzzle, feet, and tail, stalking towards the east, towards the rising sun. “Got a spread in the LA Daily for that one, actually.” She takes a sip of her wine, making a soft ‘mmm’ sound. “Magickally? I’m a shaman of the City of Los Angeles. My totem is one of many - the City Heart is what I’ve managed to translate it to, although there are a couple of other totems around that claim to be the heart of the city. Still…” Jinny smiles. “She’s chosen me and I stand with her and with her help, we might be able to make this world a much larger place.”
With the table set and the wine uncorked, Lorelei will shift the bottle to one hand so that the other may grab the pair of glasses already waiting on the counter. She’ll walk all three items over to the table, placing a glass at each setting, and then go about pouring the white wine in each one. They are sizable pours, a couple more *glugs* awarded than a restaurant would provide, ensuring that the bottle will be polished after another round. Meanwhile, Jinny is slicing up the chicken, and she might be aware of Lorelei watching her do it from her tableside vantage. Lorelei is rather proud of her knife skills, having carved and deboned her fair share of animals – whether for food or ritualistic harvesting – and she’ll observe Jinny’s neat work with silent approval. Waste is never a good thing.
“They spend their twelve minutes enjoying fame,” Lorelei will say, wolfishly grinning, “And then the last three doing a line of blow and/or uppers to cope with being a nobody again. Then, it’s off to rehab, or worse – their final big role as yet another Hollywood OD’er.” She takes a small step away from the table to ensure that Jinny has a clear path with the serving dish, using that time to walk over and grab them some napkins; cloth is preferred, but if there is only paper, she will make due. Once that is done, she will sink down into her obviously assigned seating – the bowl of innards makes that clear – and does indeed appreciate the turned-out position that allows her to look out over the unfamiliar kitchen while also making easy chit-chat with Jinny.
“Fame is as much a drug as anything else,” she’ll say while settling in, the napkin delicately yoinked from the table before being draped in her lap, “It may move mountains, but it can also move everything about a person – morals, standards, pride. But…thanks.” Lorelei glances over toward Jinny with a quick smile – the upturn neither playful nor teasing, simply genuinely appreciative. “I have the luxury of being selective with my roles because of the money,” she says, “*My* money, I mean. Well…Hugh’s. If I were some starving artist type I’d likely have to be less discerning.” Truth is, considering how stubborn and prideful Lorelei is, even if she were dirt poor, she’d probably prefer to live in the gutter than sign her name onto anything she didn’t like.
With everything so beautifully assembled, Lorelei is more than ready to dig in. She begins by spearing a crackly-skinned chicken breast and placing it on her plate, followed by a scoop of vegetables. “He’s actually a pretty good director,” she goes on to say, meaning Lee without actually saying his name. “His stuff is pretty…low budget. But I’d obviously class it up.” Lorelei turns her attention to the raw innards, portioning out the heart and liver and then simply turning the bowl sideways so that the bloody juice can be drizzled over everything like an E. coli gravy. “His latest script is actually really…” She almost says good, “...Fine. I’ve agreed to audition.”
She’s happy to let the conversation drift away from herself – for once! – and focus on Jinny. She’ll look back at the mural in question, indeed surprised to see the painted wolf. There is something about it that strikes a nerve – the wolf, yes, but also the depiction of a cityscape in its mane and the plantlife interspersed throughout its limbs and muzzle. It’s prophetic, almost. Lorelei naturally sees herself as the beast – part wild and part urban – and while her original journey brought her here to the west coast, there is always the inevitable wonder of what would happen if she took her knowledge back east where she was born.
“It makes me think of home,” she admits aloud, sounding notably distant. Lorelei blinks out of the look to return her attention toward Jinny, that flash of vulnerability neatly tucked away as she suddenly fixes the artist with a grin. “You’re very talented. And shit – shaman for the City of Los Angeles? Those are some big shoes to fill. I bet she is *such* a diva.” She’s still grinning as she cuts into the chicken heart with a neat slice of the knife. “No wonder you said that you know a thing or two about actresses.” Lorelei bounces her eyebrows and then takes a bite.
Jinny’s knife skills aren't that of a surgeon, but they're not that of a rank amateur. She may leave a smidge of meat on the bone the first pass, but the second almost certainly gets it. And if it doesn't? That's more for the stock pot! Cleanup will happen after dinner, as will the creation of chicken stock with onions, carrots, and celery along with the chicken carcass (and about a dozen feet picked up from the local farmer’s market for the kick of gelatin), but for now, Jinny makes her plate, getting a nice portion of white and dark meat with that crispy, crispy skin, vegetables, and rolls, leaving the raw stuff for Lorelei. While it may not be Jinny's taste, it definitely seems to be Lorelei’s, and the fact that she's comfortable enough to indulge her admittedly esoteric taste means that she's fairly comfortable with the foreboding Jacobean and it's eclectic residents. “If you do end up staying with us, should we keep a few things raw for you to snack on? Oh, or chickens!” She sounds happy that she came up with that. Chickens for eggs and meat and other reasons that she's sure the Verbena woman could come up with that don't include the meal that they're having now.
The dichotomy of Lorelei talking about classing up one of Lee’s pictures while simultaneously drizzling the remnants of raw butchered chicken over her meal isn't lost on Jinny, “Well, I'm sure that you couldn't help but bring a measure of class to whatever you’re in. I mean, I've heard that they're doing a remake of ‘West Side Story directed by Stephen Spielberg. With all the people trying to get attached to that, something small and intimate might really get some traction. Add in a young and upcoming actress fresh on the heels of her successful debut with a legion of fans from Tik-Tok, you have the making of a sleeper hit.” She grins, her nose wrinkling as she takes a bite of her meal, seemingly okay with the woman's odd appetites, a sip of the wine following.
She turns around to look at the picture, her mind drifting back to the exhilaration she felt finishing that image. “I took that picture with the sound of the cops running closer to try and snag me for destruction of public property. Talk about stress!” And it's true - judging from the stance, the woman is ready to move, only taking enough time to stand still for the picture to be taken. “I'm glad it makes you think that, though. It's what I was going for. Everyone seems to be so tied up in one facet - either nature or progress, with one completely excluded from the other. I was trying to say in that piece that reality is made of both and, if you're not careful to balance one with the other, the wolf will respond and it may not be in a way you want it to.”
She's quiet as they eat, using a bit of bread to mop up some of the good cooked chicken juice and butter and salt and popping the whole thing in her mouth, nodding as Lorelei speaks, waiting for an appropriate time to speak, and when it comes, it's in reference to the city she loves. “Not the whole city, just the City’s heart. It's an important distinction, although I'm sure she'd love to be the spirit over the entire city.” Jinny chuckles. “It's a pantheon of different spirits in the city, each with their own territory and proclivities. The diva is Hollywood, hands down, but The Heart of the City certainly has her moments. I still get gleeful stories about when the Olympics were first here in 1984, and she's really excited about 2024’s games, thinking it's really going to help with her status and visibility.” Talking about the city like it's a living person may be strange, for Jinny, that's exactly what it is.
“One advantage about having Los Angeles as a totem?” Specifically mentioned as a totem, not an avatar. “She's taught me how to deal with spirits. Especially the wise, capricious ones, like your Fenrir.”
Lorelei chews with mechanical efficiency as she listens to Jinny describe her role as a shaman for the City’s heart. She’ll briefly squirrel a mouthful of food into her cheek and lift a hand to cover her mouth as she says, “I’ve never considered how a city might be represented by totemic spirits. To be fair,” chew, chew, swallow, “...I’m not especially familiar with spirit esoterica in general – it was never part of my education. So that’s definitely interesting.” Lorelei reaches for her glass and gives it a brief swirl, her gaze bright and attentive. “Maybe you could put in a good word for me with Hollywood. I don’t think My Good Side is in a position to pull many strings.” She flashes Jinny a grin and then takes a drink.
“Anyway,” Lorelei says, placing her glass down and fixing up another bite, “That’s awesome. The spirit affinity *and* the tagging. It was interesting to watch you put the two together when we were dealing with My Good Side – the way you used paint to tell a story. It’s funny…” Lorelei pierces a roasted carrot and lifts it up without biting, “...You tell stories with your art. Luu tells stories with her clothes – at least I presume so, that’s what fashion designers do. Lee tells them as a screenwriter. Me with my acting. And the Ecstatic by, well…hrm…” She swishes her fork back and forth, carrot still attached, “Well, I’m not sure how. But just *look* at that guy’s beard – he probably has, like, half a dozen good stories squirreled away up there.” The Verbena playfully crinkles her nose and then takes a *bite* off the fork.
A comfortable silence follows. Lorelei is surprised to find herself enjoying the company as much as the food. It’s not that she’s asocial – Lorelei probably has more contacts and ‘friends’ than is typical – but she also has very few *deep* relationships. After a little while, she puts her fork down and reaches out to splay her middle and index finger around the base of her wine glass, absently swirling it, “What you said about the struggle between nature and progress – I get that. I…mmm…” Lorelei shifts in her chair, instinctively wanting to stop the conversation from going any further but, annoyed with herself for the perceived cowardice, pushes on, “...Where I come from, it’s very traditional. Like, ask the community elders for permission to do anything kind of traditional. My family line…is very old…and I was raised to have a lot of pride in that. Anyway, I left all of that Gardener nonsense behind when I came to the city to live with my aunt – the one that Luu knows?” Lorelei pauses, simply watching her wine swirl, “...They’d shit themselves if they saw me now. Heh. And would no doubt drag me back kicking and screaming…”
Something about that phrasing elicits a sharp note of bitterness. Lorelei will drain what’s left in her wine glass, then reaches for the bottle. She’ll fill it back up, then lean over to top off Jinny’s.
“...I assume your family is still nearby?” Lorelei asks, easing away from the topic. “Since you mentioned your dad earlier. Do they know about you?” A beat. “About being a mage?”
It’s something that Jinny often thought about, but never really put into words. It was a little too painful to consider that her parents and grandparents, the whole of her family, might not ever experience the magick of ascending, to see what’s next in reality. It’s a hard truth to face, after all. Not everyone will reach the end of the journey, or even realize there’s a journey to be had. If they manage to stumble along the first few steps, it may be without the realization that they’re even starting on the road itself. It’s something she’s had to bring herself to realize and accept, even though she doesn’t like it.
“My parents…my whole family really, is still around. They live over in the Westwood area, just outside of Beverly Hills near UCLA. Dad’s got his garage and mom works at the University in their admissions office. I think getting my Masters from Yale got her looking at the place as a potential workspace, and now she’s got something like ten years in, fully vested and waiting for retirement.” Jinny takes a bite of her chicken, the skin crackling as she chews, clinking her fork against the plate as she takes another sip of the very good wine, mulling over what to say next. “I live…or, rather, lived…with my entire extended family. If you couldn’t tell, I’m a mish-mash of four different cultures and grew up with Shinto and Christmas and Catholicism and a little bit of Native American thrown in there for spice. I mean…I’ve got an oba-san and an abuelito on one side, if that gives you an idea. But….” She sighs, shakes her head. “No, they don’t know that I’m a mage. As much as it hurts to admit it, I don’t think they’re ready, and the few signs that I’ve shown have been overlooked or ignored. I mean, it’s been hard enough to get it through their heads that I’m lesbian….” she makes a *prrrt* sound, spearing one of the roasted bits of sweet potato and taking a bite. “I swear, I’m expecting them to try and set me up with a boy - again - when I come ‘round for Thanksgiving in a few weeks, but that’s neither here nor there. They’re just so locked into their patterns that breaking them free would be…traumatic, at the very best. It doesn’t make me love them any less, though.”
“Your upbringing, though…” Jinny straightens in her seat, the wooden stretchers creaking a little, declaring the need to be glued. “It sounds a lot like mine, except with a whole lot more magick involved. Keeping the elders happy with your decisions, going through arduous rituals every week or so because, really, is Catholic mass anything but that? It’s probably why one of my instruments is Ordeals and Exertion. I guess it goes to show that certain traits are universal. As long as you check with your elders for their blessing before doing anything, put your family before all else, and sprinkle in a few of our own little rituals and the like that have been passed down through generations, then mix and, voila! Family.” She’s sure there are a few dozen stories Lorelei has there, but little connections like that? It’s what brings people together.
Jinny’s taking dainty sips of her wine, pacing herself, making sure there’s food on top of the little bit of wine she ingests because her limited tolerance is legendary in this household - just ask Luu about the mannequin and get ready for a story that Jinny will never live down. Spirits, though? That’s something that Jinny knows a great deal about and will talk about at great length. “Old Hollywood may not have as much pull as she used to, but I’m fairly sure some of the major studio spirits might be able to pull a thread of fate or two, if you think you need it. They’re fairly difficult to deal with, though. Some of the deals I’ve heard rumors of required a great deal of chimnage to be paid and oftentimes it wasn’t worth the price paid for what was being asked. If worse comes to worse, a few spirits placated during the filming process would do wonders to make the film that much easier to make, and if you can give Technicolor or Dolby a little penance and…well, you’ve seen how much IMAX has taken over, so getting on their good side might be a good first step. The thing is, so much of the world here is beyond their concern. It’s really better if you get by on your own merits instead of spirits because they can be fickle.”
She settles back in her seat, the quiet comforting, the only sound the fan in the kitchen, the compressor in the fridge, and the click of the oven as it cycles itself to cool down. Oh, and the scrambling in the vents of something in the distant part of the house. Easily missed. Probably nothing of note. “I’m very glad you came to visit, Lorelei. I think you would be a good fit with us here, even with Mr. Black a part of our little group as well. I think that, even if your family did come to take you back, kicking and screaming, having a chantry of your own, friends of your own, a goal of your own, would do a lot to prevent that from happening.
Lorelei eats while Jinny explains her family situation. Her gaze continually flicks between the plate and her dining companion, attending to each with enough polite attention to ensure that neither one goes ignored for long. The idea of living so communally with one’s family is relatable, and she will nod her head in such a way to demonstrate that she has picked up on the lovely woman’s amalgam of ethnicities and cultural identity. Then, an eyebrow lift when Jinny talks about being a lesbian. “Hrm,” she says, placing her fork down with a soft *clink* on the plate, “You sound really close to your family – close enough that you'd want to live with them, anyway. Abuelito and oba-san, heh.” Lorlei shakes her head like this is somehow an impossible thing to realize, then reaches out to neatly grab her wine glass. “It must be difficult to keep such a large part of your life separate from them. If nothing else, mine at least knows about Ascension – even if we disagree on how to achieve it.”
Even if they’d prefer to offer her up on some stupid old altar rather than witness her living long enough to achieve it, is what she *should* say – but doesn’t.
“I don’t get the other part, though,” Lorelei goes on to say with a soft scrunch of her nose, “Them caring about you being a lesbian, I mean. How fucking passé. Me? I’m about as straight as a ruler – minus kissing. I don’t care about who’s on the other side of my mouth for that. I mean, it’s just *fun*...” The Verbena wiggles her brows and affords Jinny a rather impish grin, “...And I get that that the older generations will always struggle with the progress of the young, but…that isn’t your problem. I hope you know that? All you can do is find your happiness.” Lorelei takes another long swallow of her wine and then returns it to the table with a delicate *clink*. “That’s the best way to get them on the same wavelength – show them how living your truth is making you happy. Annnnnd…” Lorelei suddenly scoots her chair over, walking her fingers across the table toward Jinny in a playful way, “I’ve played the role of ‘beard’ a few times, so it would be an *honor* to be your *skirt* if you needed company on Thanksgiving. You know, if seeing you with another girl would help them get their minds around it? That’s supposing you’re not actually seeing someone already…”
Lorelei will use her approaching fingers to gently tickle the back of Jinny’s nearest hand, playful and almost flirtatious despite the reassurances of her being straight. And then, almost as if it were pertinent to the current discussion, she’ll admit, “Ordeals and Exertions are *also* in my wheelhouse…” The witch offers a toothy grin, her eyes bright and shining.
“Anyway,” Lorelei spears the raw chicken heart from her plate, “I won’t ask you to beseech the spirits on my or Lee’s account yet. I’m quite certain we’ll be a smash without them. But it’s good to know that they might be available on emergency speed-dial just in case…” Lorelei is still grinning as her mouth opens to consume the small bloodied muscle with a decisive *squish* between her teeth, followed by a noise of rumbled pleasure. She neatly chews and leans back in her chair, once more returning her fork to her plate with a certain decisiveness that demonstrates she’s full – or close to it. Although she doesn’t verbally reply to Jinny’s astute observation that having a chantry – having friends – might prevent the thing she fears the most, the reassurance comes with a soft, almost shy smile that all at once strips her of that *smirky* sexiness and *combative* confidence. She’s just a young woman, early twenties, taking heart in something said by a peer. By a friend?
“...Thanks,” Lorelei finally says, “I’m glad that I came as well.” And then, another gentle tickle against the side of Jinny’s hand as Lorelei says, “I think I’d like to join. If you’ll still have me.”
It’s a very heartfelt moment. And yet, hearing a scritchy-scratch coming from the vents, she’ll suddenly look away and wrinkle her nose to say, “But I think the chantry might have rats.”
“Other way around.” Jinny clarifies, then blinks when she realizes the wine is getting to her. “No, wait…no, you got it right. Family makeup is Hspanic and Japanese on my mother’s side. Irish Catholic from Ireland and Native American on Dad’s side. How I managed to end up with red hair, I’ll never know, but the eyes definitely came from Japan. The hair must have something to do with my fiery personality.” Not that fiery, but she does flash a playful wink to the other woman, taking a few more bites of her chicken, settling back when it comes to her sexuality. “Oh, they’re accepting of it, but they’re still rooted very much in traditionalism, as far as the family goes. Shinálí - father’s father, is just fine with it. Grandmothers on both sides want me to find a nice boy and start pumping out grandchildren. I think they see me a, at worst, confused and bisexual and just needing to find the right guy but…” She shrugs, setting her fork down carefully, wiping her mouth with the cloth napkins Lorelei found. “I am close with my family - we care about each other and I don’t think I’m scheduled for a sacrifice to the Ferrari gods or anything as far as I know…” She trails off in thought, settling back in her seat, watching Lorelei.
She continues. “My sexuality is just one of those subjects we have kind of agreed to not talk about in the family, if that makes sense. It’s almost like politics or religion. Everyone has their own view. Unfortunately, my family happens to have fairly traditional 1950’s style views when it comes to relationships and the way things are ‘supposed’ to work.” Yes, she does air quotes and everything. “It is hard, not telling them that I’m a Mage, but if they can’t accept that I like girls instead of guys, imagine what would happen if we talked about the bare bones of ascension. The spirit world. Ghosts, angels, shifters. Things that go bump in the night being actual things. Their heads would melt into puddles of logic if they knew Reality was not exactly as it seems. My brothers, maybe, but Ama and Papi?” She shakes her head. “Probably not the best idea.” Yes, Jinny calls her father, her Native American Father, Papi. It would require a flow chart to keep up if she didn’t grow up in the middle of it all!
“My happiness isn’t based on my parents’ validation of my choices. I think they know that I’m happy wherever I am, and that’s generally enough for them. They can’t help wanting me to have a grandchild for them one day. Spirits help me if any one of them was Jewish - I’d never hear the end of it.” Jinny snickers and pats the fingers stroking the back of her hand, scooting her chair to the side so she’s facing closer to Lorelei. “I just might do that. I already have a plus one for Thanksgiving with Luu at my parents’ place. Having two beautiful women, one on each arm?” She giggles playfully. “It would certainly make the stuffed, baked clams that Granny makes every year take on a whole different meaning, wouldn’t it?”
Jinny does shake her head in the negative to the question of whether or not she’s seeing anyone. “I’m not seeing anyone right now, no. I did have someone, and for a time it looked like we were really getting together, but the Chantry kind of took priority over things and…well…we’re still good friends, but it does hurt sometimes, you know? So,” Jinny takes a large - for her - sip of the wine. “I’ll pencil you in as a perhaps for Thanksgiving, and if you do come, I’ll make sure to have something raw in the car for you to satiate that craving of yours. Sushi we do. Raw chicken isn’t normally a thing in our household, but apparently it’s going to be in this one.”
Ordeals and exertions…for the longest time, Jinny didn’t even /like/ to run, and now there she goes, really working up a sweat for some of her magick making. She grins. “We may have to work a ritual or two, then, to shake off the dust. Test each other’s limits, and make some sparks fly.” She squeezes Lorelei’s hand and settles back in her seat, lazily watching the other woman eat a raw chicken heart which, honestly, doesn’t make her go yuck nearly as much as she thought it would. And when joining the chantry is mentioned, nonchalantly? Jinny can only smile and lean over to give a gentle hug and a light kiss on the cheek, first right, then left, before returning to her seat. “I think that would be wonderful. We were already preparing a place for someone if they wanted to have a place here…we just didn’t know that they would come almost on top of each other. I think I can speak for both Luu and Rhode when I say welcome, Lorelei, to Wayak'il Ts'onot náak'Chi'ha, Or Wayak, as we say as a little bit of shorthand.”
The distant scratching in the vents earns a chuckle and a negative shake of Jinny’s head. “No…it’s definitely not rats. We’re not sure exactly what she is at all, but she’s been in the house since before I arrived and has quite a talent for creation.” She glances to the vent, fully expecting to see black, glassy eyes twinkling from the darkness. “We do know it’s a she, and it’s small enough to make it through the vents, and has black eyes, but that’s about it. Luu’s actually been in the same room with her but didn’t see her. And we’re actually teaching her to sew in a roundabout way.” Lorelei might have noticed the little table in the side room coming in, with a book and a few scattered sewing supplies. Apparently the chantry keeps the little guest stocked up. “It’s surprising how well she’s getting the hang of things. She brings us little handmade items that she spent a great deal of time on. And yes, we know; it’s really, really strange. She’s not caused any harm. Just a little bit of mischief here and there. We think - we’re not sure, we think - she might be a Gremlin.”
And with that bombshell, Jinny scoots back her chair to start cleaning up after lunch.
Lorelei will lean toward Jinny when the time comes and accept her hug, even if it’s offered a bit stiffly like she’s not entirely comfortable with the affair. A returned kiss-kiss is offered to her cheeks, these surprisingly more fluid – the act perhaps dubbed less intimate than an embrace. “Thank you,” she says with the formal welcoming, having enough coyness to look *mildly* bashful at the warm words.
The witch leans back in her chair after that, content to relax and nurse her wine. She’s in the middle of taking a drink when Jinny casually explains that there is a *thing* living in their house that apparently likes to sew. *Gulp* Lorelei swallows heavily, not quite sure what to make of that. And then, the cherry on top – ‘We think she might be a Gremlin.’
“...I’m sorry, what?” Lorelei says, rising to her feet, “We’re not still talking about Luu, right?”
She will then grab her plate and hurry after Jinny to assist with the clean-up.
