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May, 2010... Fantasy became reality. Worlds overlay for the briefest moment. Outworlders became stranded on earth as more than half the human populace vanished. Our World, our universe, was transformed.

Fiction is now reality. Humans and those now bound to this world will either learn to coexist, or battle for supremecy.

Rorye Shannon-Kearney

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About Rorye Shannon-Kearney

  • Rank
    Nicely Seasoned


    Gemma Arterton (Olga Kurylenko as Red with permission)
  • RACE
    Altered Human, Physical
  • JOB
    Owner of The Book of Kells; ARMA Informant
  • 'SHIP:
    Alistair Greene & complicated
    New York
    Rorye has unique features. Dark chocolate eyes are set in a porcelain complexion, strong jaw complimented by an exotic gentle nose. Long hair is mahogany smooth, sometimes in curls, usually worn up or braided in a single thick plait.

    She is above average height for a woman, standing close to six foot; the extra height able to carry her curves well. Shoulders are squared and powerful, muscles toned and visible. When standing still, the striking resemblance to a Greek statue with a Valkyrie temper is hard to miss.

    Dress is mostly relaxed and gauzy fabrics mixed with jeans and comfortable slip-on shoes while in the the shop. In public, the 'raised in Hell's Kitchen' edge is evident. She clings to a worn but well cared for hip length fitted leather jacket, sleeves to her knuckles and narrow when zipped. Leather, low heeled black boots under jeans add slightly to an already formidable height. On rare occasions she does dress up nicely, also having no qualms about donning utilitarian clothes to get work done in her greenhouse. She prefers comfy casual with a bit of romantic flair, not above a gauzy poet shirt over a cami and jeans to work a day in her shop.

    Most of the time she has little to no make-up on. If she does, it's usually lined eyes and a neutral lipstick- her features are so unique she rarely needs any.

    Her spine is painted in an incredible artistic display of woad colored Celtic knotwork done in the most fine of dotwork tattooing; a stunning homage to her British heritage and fondness of the Morrigan mythology.
    Rorye has been affected unusually in several regards by the Nevus event. Since an encounter with a vicious botched possession, an entity she’s dubbed “Red” has latched onto the energy field of her unique Enhanced psyche. Trapped from ancient magic, it was released instead of going up in flames with its prison. Its soul, has set up residence in her psyche. She feels its emotions and speech- most of the time in its native tongue and a mixture of Latin. She can allow it to channel her, able to tap the skills and fighting expertise of the ancient warrior for a short time before she burns out; unfortunately taking on Red’s personality, mannerisms and hot temper during the episode- which are a more aggressive form of her own. The longer she is able to channel her "shadow" and allow control, the longer the personality traits linger and physical manifestations of the entity's appearance can be seen; bruising where Red's scars are, some delightful feudal personality traits and even a slight color change of her eyes. She has never attempted to banish the presence, who feels much like a shadow, or the darkness inside a mind that is fractured with another personality.

    At night, especially when the rift is visible in the sky, she can feel the pull on her blood; as if the strange tear in the fabric of time and space is trying to yank Red back into her rightful place and world. Perhaps it is Rorye who is out of place, or maybe they were never two separate people at all. What is not understood about the Nevus, keeps her questioning her duality every time she stares into the night sky; finding unusual calm in gazing into the unknown.

    Rorye is a tremendous fighter. It doesn’t matter how she comes out on top, only that she survives and any that she calls friends are safe. Exceptionally loyal and protective, she is patient to a point; if friends are observed to be exhibiting behavior detrimental to their wellbeing or survival, she will intervene without question in whatever means necessary. She has no problem bringing violence, brutality and death to the table if she perceives a threat to herself or those she loves- even if putting herself in great danger to accomplish it.

    Most of the time, she is quiet and rational with sharp wit made memorable by a smoky, gentle voice. She can be abrasive if she’s annoyed or perceives ignorance; intolerant of stupidity and carelessness. Her business savvy is evident in her work, remarkably knowledgeable and resourceful to acquire necessary items for her shop. That business savvy is most put to use in the ‘trafficking’ of information. Since her business is at a crossroads for many faction needs, she sees a lot of counterbalanced customers purchasing things to strengthen themselves against one another. She is a trustworthy and sought after source, and if she likes you enough she just might give you a nugget of information you could use. Information is never bought and sold, she is a trusted "gun-runner" in the metaphysical "weapons" community; but, she doesn't see the need to hide there may have been a run on a particular fetish or spell ingredient in recent months.

    Personally, she struggles with the emptiness left by her husband’s death. There is no remorse for killing him; she did what she had to do to save her life. However, he was her soul mate and the betrayal of his attempt on her life still haunts her; reluctant to trust anyone too quickly. Always having been close to her family, she now fights the loneliness it has left behind. She does not wear her wedding ring, instead leaves both of them tucked in the eye-sockets of his skull kept behind the counter of the shop.

    Red is the Boudicca of Celtic legend. History often written by the “winners” of the conflict, the actual truth is somewhere between the legend of the goddess Morrigu, and the Roman history of Boudica. Thrust into the spotlight after her sister and nieces were raped and striped by the Romans, she stepped forward when her brother-in-law Prasutagus failed to uphold their honor and led a bloody rampage against the empire.

    The spirit’s image is identical to that in life; covered completely with vibrant cobalt blue woad tattoos in intricate whorls and knots. The only clear flesh is her hands and feet, face, neck and the center of her chest and her breasts. Her forearms are feather scarred from a captor’s attempt to burn the tattoos from her skin. She is also heavily marked from battle, especially her upper arms. A long red line extends from her left ear across her collarbone. Another large almond shaped scar is a through and through over and behind her heart. An enormous scar encompasses her right side from her navel to her kidney, and another large puncture to her left shoulder blade is also visible. Her hair is a scarlet torrent of hundreds upon hundreds of tiny thigh length braids tipped in copper beads The apparition is seen dressed in leather breeches, thigh high boots with dozens of strapped buckles, a sleeveless hardened vest burnished with Celtic knotwork over a battleworn tunic. Two hard leather bracers are laced tightly to her forearms with multitudes of leather belts crisscrossing her hips and twin sheaths.

    Red is also an incredible double handed swordsman, a conglomeration of tradition, training and desperation. In a fight, nothing is sacred and she will strike a deathblow in whatever way possible, preferring to incapacitate first to savor the death and prolong suffering. Her hand to hand combat is also substantial, as well as her bowmanship, horsemanship and grasp of military tactics.

    She is a towering, striking woman with a white hot temper, insatiable libido, sinister humor and the fortitude of an army.
    Business; "The Book of Kells; Tea, Reads and Occult Shoppe" and three inconsequential NPC's that help run the shop. The shop is in Manhattan, close to Central Park and the art museum. It is a bi-level, old Victorian structure that resembles a turn of the 20th century house with a complimentary utilitarian front addition. To the left of the entrance a small teahouse up five steps that specializes in personal blends as well as other apothecary needs, forward is the eclectic book collection on anything and everything history, mythological and metaphysical and to the right the general occult shop. It's a warm place to relax and meet with other altered peoples as well as shop for needed items to meet any magic and altered needs. Accepts currency of late, trades and bartering. Above it is her personal apartment, on the roof is her greenhouse and "Observatory Cafe", a small private place for special regulars to meet and watch the rift sky through multiple elaborate telescopes- the observatory accessed only through locked door from the teahouse.

    Her dead husband's skull mounted with an antique brass chamberstick; which unfortunately happens to be an 'artifact'. The face of the skull faces the wall, hiding the fact that it indeed does have vampire teeth. Only her employees know it's an actual vampire skull.

    Small Victorian apartment above the shop with eclectic, comfortable furnishings and decor.

    Greenhouse on the roof of the shop where she grows food and many of her herbs year round.

    A pair of custom made light knives the length of her forearms with custom forearm sheaths,

    A pair of antique short swords similar to Wakizashi, with matching hilts.

    Dragon-made karambits with a binding ring that unlocks Red's expertise when unsheathed.

    A Ducati 848 in primer black.


    Rorye’s ability for extreme speed and agility has begun to show signs of mutation attributed to a recent collision with the very people she trusted and does business with. Unclear whether it was repeated exposure to her chamberstick artifact or the result of a botched possession, the results have been significant. Formerly unable to engage her enhanced speed effectively due to deficiency of stamina and mortal level bone strength, she has discovered this is no longer the case. Skeletal strength has found equilibrium with her speed and agility, making her a deadly hand to hand fighter enhanced with boxing/kickboxing training. Adding a bladed weapon to the mix is stunningly lethal. Using brute force will burn her ability levels quickly to a limit of a half hour, with recharge periods of hours. The freedom of movement and lack of impact allowed by blades extends her usage to an hour, with the same recharge time needed. As she refines her skill with blades, her potential is staggering.

    Channeled Consciousness; Rorye has been affected unusually in several regards by the Nevus event. Since an encounter with a vicious botched possession, an entity she’s dubbed “Red” has latched onto the energy field of her unique Enhanced psyche. Trapped from ancient magic, it was released instead of going up in flames with its prison. Its soul, has set up residence in her psyche. She feels its emotions and speech- most of the time in its native tongue and a mixture of Latin. She can allow it to channel her, able to tap the skills and fighting expertise of the ancient warrior for a short time before she burns out; unfortunately taking on Red’s personality, mannerisms and hot temper during the episode- which are a more aggressive form of her own. The longer she is able to channel her "shadow" and allow control, the longer the personality traits linger and physical manifestations of the entity's appearance can be seen; bruising where Red's scars are, some delightful feudal personality traits and even a slight color change of her eyes. She has never attempted to banish the presence, who feels much like a shadow, or the darkness inside a mind that is fractured with another personality.

    At night, especially when the rift is visible in the sky, she can feel the pull on her blood; as if the strange tear in the fabric of time and space is trying to yank Red back into her rightful place and world. Perhaps it is Rorye who is out of place, or maybe they were never two separate people at all. What is not understood about the Nevus, keeps her questioning her duality every time she stares into the sky; finding unusual calm in gazing into the night sky.

    "Chamberstick" artifact. This Victorian, antique brass chamberstick was a gift from her husband in a set of two shortly before the Event. Oddly enough, only one exhibited any type of atypical power. When it sits near her husband's skull, the nub of a candle lights up at her presence in a strange quiver of iridescent light on the wick where the flame should be. It responds to her voice, changes color with her mood, and alerts her to danger by lighting up and flickering gently before siphoning out. Seeing the relationship between the two items, she had the thing mounted on the skull to keep others from playing with or separating it. It sits behind the register counter in her shop.

    In Game Update: Towenar bound Rorye's "shadow Red" to a ring she wears. Instead of manipulating her, it can be used in short bursts of expertise in two enchanted shortblades (longer version of karambits) that are "connected" to the entity in the ring, effectively unleashing what before would take over Rorye completely-now only present in the blades. Think a lock and a key idea. The ring is the lock, the karambits are the key- unleashing a sharper control over the wild child. She can still 'hear' the entity, she just has more finite control over fighting skill when she draws the blades and unlocks Red's expertise. The blades can withstand the force her speed can unleash when it hits. So now, she has the strong set on her forearms from Ali's guy, and a long karambit set on her spine from Johann. She can no longer draw on Red's expertise without unlocking it with the karambits. It does not transfer to other weapons. No one is really sure what happens when she takes the ring off, so she never does.
    Exceptional knowledge of all things occult, mystic affiliations, alternative and traditional religions, mythology, history, healing traditions, and natural magic. Pre-Resonance, her knowledge base centered specifically on what was understood to be “true” of the known metaphysical, religious, and magic practices. After the world changed, this has understandably been expanded to the new rules of existence, or lack thereof, as her business was sought out to provide items to those with newly discovered abilities. She now caters discretely to unusual needs, as well as continues to supply survivors still practicing pre-Resonance alternative religions and traditions; a trusted businesswoman with a finger on the pulse of the new and old metaphysical.

    Rorye is a prolific boxer and kickboxer, still refining her kickboxing skills several times a week at the local gym. Her boxing skills are rusty, but still useful.


    Green thumb.

    Business savvy and organizational skills.

    Knife/shortblade defensive and offensive fighting styles.
    Rorye was born and raised in New York City with heavy Scottish heritage. Parent’s lilt was thick; the New York influence seemed thicker. Having a slight accent as a child, the Scot in her verbally lessened over time to be replaced by the hint of a sultry New Yorker. She is a loyal, proud native of the city that never sleeps- with a significant weakness for men in kilts.

    She was married in 2009, shortly before the Resonance to her high school sweetheart Michael Kearney; opening a small teahouse and bookstore together in Manhattan near the art museum. It grew instantly successful in the short honeymoon whirlwind of their marriage, branching out into a more metaphysical market and meeting place. They began to carry fine quality and obscure occult items at the request of patrons. The place was always bustling with warm friends and laughter, their financial needs stable and wanting for nothing. Life seemed perfect.

    When the world changed, both were affected. Rorye appeared at first to be the focus of its ire, sickness and unconsciousness followed for days. Her husband disappeared; Michael oddly had locked himself in the old vault beneath the shop, emerging as something terrible and unable to be reasoned with. Terrified he’d become like the monsters now wreaking havoc in the city she took action, fumbling with new found powers against an incredibly hostile and disoriented lover. He showed no mercy, only a vicious need to kill her. She in turn struck first, stabbing him in the throat with hedge trimmers from her greenhouse and subsequently beheaded him during the struggle.

    Disoriented grieving followed, burying his body in the courtyard behind the shop, a single stone as his marker still can be found beneath the overgrown grass. His head was another matter, left for several days where it had fallen amongst a scattered bookshelf and chotsky during the struggle. The strange light that emanated next to it from a chamberstick he’d given her as a gift kept her from touching the seemingly enchanted thing. She was convinced for a time the skull itself was charmed, only dashing that theory when it became necessary for obvious reasons to remove it. After discovering the chamberstick responded to her and the skull’s presence, she had them permanently fused; a morbid, but necessary act. She keeps his skull behind the counter as a candle holder, and can often be seen telling it to turn itself off; calling it by her husband’s name. Many of her employees often wonder if she is more disturbed by his death than she lets on. Only she knows the thing works under its own power, everyone else is convinced she is doing the trick herself. She is one of the few that knows the secret of the existence of vampires, Michael's fanged skull seen as just another interesting "prop" in her shop.

    She continues to run the fruitful occult shop specializing in any and all things magic supplies, books and her personal favorite teas. The business crosses many barriers and has a lot of connections, supplier to a large amount of magic needs. Rorye can get virtually anything for anyone, which makes her a sought after ally and a crossroads for information from every faction.

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  1. Just an FYI- going out of town for work until Monday, so posting will be a bit slower for my chars.

  2. Rorye Shannon-Kearney

    Chasing Ghosts

    “Of course,” Brow quirked briefly at the answer, amiable or just trying to placate? Interesting. Here’s to interesting. “These days it feels hard tell one from the other.” “That’s because you don’t put enough whisky in your coffee.” Lips curled upward at her own quip, soft footsteps shuffling up the few steps into the tea house addition. Behind the counter she added a refresher to hers and poured him a fresh one. True to form, she reached into the cupboard above it and splashed something into hers, then actually made up a small tea tray. His mug, her mug, interesting looking fancy-pants sugars and cream… “Aw fuck it,” she said under her breath and clinked the small whisky bottle on the tray too. He might like whisky. He might like it black. Cream. Sugar. Who the fuck knew these days. New customer, better to be prepared. Trot down the few steps was light. She set the tray on the main counter where she’d been sitting and handed him the cup. “Thank you,” “Anytime. Help yourself, cheers,” she tapped her mug against the whisky bottle and took a drink, wrapping her hands around hers for the warmth. The fireplace in the library room needed to be stoked. “It’s Royre, right?” "Mhm," she nodded, sitting back on her stool, lips pursed and eyes a bit cynically curious. There were no qualms about studying him. He was ARMA, sure, but she didn’t know which one of the many flavors this one was. She'd never paid enough attention to learn them all. “ARMA business?” she asked quietly, taking another drink from her mug. “Do I have to turn in my secret decoder ring?” The quip was amused, but warm. She hadn’t been in contact with them since the young gentleman came in with his intriguing item. Since then, old regulars of the not-ARMA-friendly variety had been pressing to resume business. She wasn’t sure if the white knights were keeping tabs on her like that. Honestly, she didn’t give two shits if they were. “Or, are you here for something else?” she took another drink, settling in for what seemed to be shaping up as a rather interesting conversation.
  3. Rorye Shannon-Kearney

    Chasing Ghosts

    Halfway through the next cup, the heel of her hand slid over the ledger with ease as she did her books for the week, cursive barely readable to anyone but herself. Everything was always by hand, she didn’t trust computers anymore. Punching a few buttons on the register to pop out the drawer she went back to writing, hitching her heel up on the rung of her the stool when the glittering chimes of the door sounded. She was an attentive host, but she wasn’t a nosy one, preferring to let visitors shop themselves. This one, was familiar. On the rare occasion she had visited Alistair at headquarters to bring lunch and usually a beer, she’d seen this one. Great. Fucking great. On the eve of quitting the team, the team shows up. She closed the drawer with a quiet click. Pencil slid behind her ear as she pulled her hair over her left shoulder and braided it quickly into a thick plait, tossing it back behind her again. Cold air from the outside prompted her to slide on a comfortably frayed large knit gray cardigan over her silky deep blue tunic, the sleeves long enough to reach her fingertips. Oversized and bohemian, it was her favorite and it definitely showed. Brow quirked at his greeting, but her expression was amiable, pencil plucked from behind her ear to continue the book keeping. Eraser tapped as she paused. “Always new and interesting, but never free, even for flattery,” she said quietly with a soft smile, sliding off the stool and closing the ledger to put it under the counter. “Something for business or personal use?” The question was a logical one. She knew who he was associated with. Every ARMA member also had their own personal interests too. It was a thing with them. Always in search of a bigger, faster, stronger weapon. “Coffee?” she asked as she picked up her coffee cup to go retrieve the third refresher from the small cafe on the other side of the shop, “It’s on the house.” She was going to add some whiskey to hers. ARMA here meant a problem, a complicated need, a complaint, essentially a long night.
  4. Rorye Shannon-Kearney

    Chasing Ghosts

    January 3, 2022 Evening The Book of Kells Occult Shop Lips pursed as she blew out the flame on the Nag Champa stick. The scent was her favorite, it always clung to skin like a sensual swath of warmth... bringing her back to center wherever she was. The smoke curled upward, then spun in a tight coil as she placed it into a gold burner. She lifted tea to her lips, eyes still on the smoke that left her bookshop of the arcane always in a lazy and intoxicating haze. Almost the end of a long day, the regulars in the teashop the next room over were deep into books and late day conversations. She, was on her favorite stool behind the main counter, eyes wandering over the Sky Disc on the wall she'd risked her ass... Alistair's as well, to go retrieve. Her addiction to collecting everything dangerous and powerful hadn't abated, but without her 'partner in crime' the task had been much less fun and a lot more dangerous. Magus had the ability to kick ass. She on the other hand, was just... fast. Enhanced her ass. Lately... she was regretting throwing her hat in with Arma. A lot. The entrepreneur dealt everything to anyone, if they couldn't use it safely that was their business. Arma had kept her straight. Gave her a code to honor. That code hadn't been seen in over a year. Long sigh preceded her rise from the stool, taking her empty tea mug with her as the pillar of Hell's Kitchen went to retrieve another cup. She needed to pay Arma a visit. Soon. Time to sever ties.
  5. Rorye Shannon-Kearney

    Words and Wax

    You did the right thing calling me in if you think he's a target... though I get the feeling you want me to keep this one off ARMA's books for now? “I’ll leave that to your discretion. It might be best if he was on the books,” lips quirked slightly. Eyebrow cocked for a brief moment. “Things are not nice at the moment in the world that you don’t know I know about.” Arms uncrossed. One of these days she was going to pursue a sit-down and have to fill the man in on all the things he needed to be aware of. She did have some loyalties after all, even though her world currently was in a spin. “He’s not outwardly done or said anything that screams he’s full of hoodoo…” expression had a ‘but’ attached. She had an uncanny knack for reading people and intentions they didn’t know they had yet. “Could be way off base, but just a gut feeling he needs to have a lifeline.” Three forces converging at the moment; outworlder registration stupidity, someone killing mages, someone other than Pharos killing for artifacts. If one didn’t have contacts, they were screwed. If he was any of the former's type to attract a crosshair… it was just a matter of time. Either way, care to make the introductions? I can't help until I know what the problem is... or who's having it “Smartass,” she quipped under her breath, mirroring his tone with a smirk. Removing her hip from the display she was leaning on, she lead the way to the small library. “Brandon, this is Alec Walker from ARMA.” She pulled a chair out quietly across but slightly to the side from him, nodding to Alec to sit his butt down, then one for herself on Brandon’s side. A stranger looming over a table while talking about sensitive information never made anyone open up. “The questions you’re asking, and what we’ve talked about are important,” her voice was quiet, the rich hum of its timbre relaxed. “There are groups at work right now in this city that have a penchant for not having an altered persons best interests in mind. I really do think Brandon you might fall into the altered category, and I’d hate to see any of those people take advantage of you or knock on your door in the middle of the night.” She let it sit for a moment. “Alec would know more of what to ask and how to proceed, but you can trust him. Unreservedly. Why don’t you give him a rundown of what you’ve been looking for, and maybe anything else about yourself that you think might be important.”
  6. Rorye Shannon-Kearney

    Words and Wax

    Nina was brewing fresh, unusually strong. She always knew when to up the "dosage" when the shop owner was on a mission other than her typical day. Truth was, she really didn't want any. A distaste for most of her usual personal haunts had crept into her of late. Self destructive maybe, an attempt to find herself more likely. Which one was really the one that was supposed to be here. Perhaps Alec to help her with that too. A clean, stainless steel bowl was placed on the floor near the beastie if it decided to partake. She kept them on hand, and was pretty sure Alec would not be merely accessorizing himself; that the beast was indeed connected to him somehow and wasn't apt to eat people's faces. So, it was welcome. The other water handed to Alec, freshly chilled in an aluminum water bottle. Something just made it taste different that way, more refreshing. She also kept those on hand; she was a master of many things for many wants. Voice was low as she kept her hands nonchalantly busy, organizing and just cleaning up displays overall. "This one is a bit out of my wheelhouse. With the outworlder problem... the Order problem... everyone is on edge, or hiding. I wanted to at least give this person a chance at being reasonably safe or sent in the right direction. Not sure what yet, I don't think he does either. I think he has an artifact too." Arms crossed, her back to the book room as she spoke quietly. "If it is, between you and me, he's a target. A lot of movement on the artifact front lately, and not from Pharos." Not many knew the inner workings of Pharos. It was her business to know, and sometimes... deal with them. "On the magus front, he might be."
  7. Rorye Shannon-Kearney

    Words and Wax

    “Thank you Rorye, I really appreciate your help.” Her smile, was soft, "I do what I can." When I can. Her own thoughts were lost to the spiral downward of more vicious things. She was admittedly out of touch with the going's-on at Arma lately; had basically kept it at an arm's length. Dark pupils found themselves watching the flickering of the candle on top of the skull behind the cash register. The flicker was calming sometimes, guilt inducing in others. It seemed to twinkle, an unreadable message from a presence that was no longer able to communicate other than flickers and sputters. Long breath was drawn in just as the bell at the door twinkled. Brow cocked slightly at the beast, nothing surprised her anymore. "Have some water I can fetch," quirked smile lit her lips. "For the furry friend... not for you," she quipped in an amiable tease. "You have to ask nicely..." She was already on her way to get something for both of them, partly out of courtesy- he had come all the way after all. Partly, out of curiosity... what kind of things would the brain drain pick up on before she pointed them out?
  8. Rorye Shannon-Kearney

    Words and Wax

    I'm in Central Park right now, but I'm on my way. “Sure thing.” Phone was slid back into her pocket, getting up quietly. More coffee, maybe some breakfasty-type things. “He’s on his way. I’ll leave you to some more reading. I need to take care of a few things, but if you need a refresher on your coffee Nina in the tea house up those stairs will get you anything you need on the house.” Smile was soft as she padded quietly out of the room with the coffee pot and her mug. It would be good to see Alec, not that she was ever overly familiar with him, but some sense of normalcy had to settle back down on her life eventually. The tea house only a room away wasn’t busy for the morning; the regulars certainly had specific days they preferred. Today was a quiet one. She returned the pot to its niche and found herself back in the shop proper, unpacking small boxes of inventory. They were amber necklaces that were quite delicate. Even though the world now knew magic existed, they still were a popular item… not a lick of an idea whether or not they did anything in the magic world. Nimble fingers started to place the unique pendants on silver chains, hanging them in the window one by one as she waited for the somewhat eccentric mentalist.
  9. Rorye Shannon-Kearney

    Words and Wax

    She nodded at him, “safe as you get.” Safe nowadays meant people having your back, her reach was far, but there were more out there with more resources. She’d promised. This was one of those cases where she was going with her gut and calling in the cavalry. Walker The pause was audible, lips pursed a moment before finally speaking, clearing her throat softly and glancing at her companion as business took over. “Mr. Walker, it’s Rorye over at Kells.” Again the minute pause, brow furrowing a moment. Fingers tapped the table, attention seemingly intent on one of the books. At one point Alec was sufficient. Was it still that point? Probably not. No. Didn’t feel that way, or should it have? Addressing him as Mr. Walker seemed to put distance from everything. “I promised Ali,” throat went dry, she cleared it again and restarted. Fuck this. Dammit, it was just business and she was doing the right thing. Why was this so frickin’ complicated? Well… it was complicated because… “I promised to give you guys a call when I felt you needed to be involved with something. Are you available now, can you come here or can I come to you?” She closed the book in front of her and got up to pour herself more coffee. It needed whisky, a lot of whisky. Cup went to her lips as she watched Brandon a moment waiting for the Lieutenant’s response. The mind-fuck junkie would either tell her to go to hell or help. Who knew at this point. “Can’t talk much on the phone, not really sure what we’re dealing with yet.”
  10. Rorye Shannon-Kearney

    Words and Wax

    The impact, was heavy. So many had so much still hidden within them... He seemed to be one that still had an unknown path. In such an unstable time, people like him were being collected, hidden, or eliminated. Rumors. All rumors... ARMA didn't divulge much to her, but she knew, and she'd been all but absent from their radar since... Well, since. Brandon needed help, and there was only one person she still knew that could help. Eyes watched him with a bit of shadow. It was rare she felt so protective about someone not from her neighborhood. Maybe she felt responsible. Maybe. She was going to have to face it eventually. She didn't want to. "This is one of the safest places you can be." It was true. He was one of the most powerful in the city, since... She pulled the phone out of her back pocket, looking at it a moment before the screen lit up and her thumb scrolled to one of the first names. Alec Walker. Pause. It wasn't necessarily a step she wanted to take yet. Too raw. She hadn't spoken with ARMA since... well since. She hated that word, and it kept coming up. "I might be able to bring someone to you, if you have the time to wait." She pressed the name, holding it up to her ear
  11. Rorye Shannon-Kearney

    Words and Wax

    “So if I put this in the box, if it has magic others won’t be able to detect it?” "That's the rumor anyway. Can't hurt." She knew it worked, one of the other little problems she was constantly getting in trouble about. She trafficked magic items, and sometimes dangerous ones at that. Some she kept, some she sold, some she gave up to the magic police. This one was relatively innocuous, so it was in her shop. "Sorry warding wasn’t covered in any of my classes." She nodded softly and finished her own coffee, leaning back in the chair with a relaxed posture. "I’m up for the chase, but if it does have real magic how will I know and how do I, um, prepare for it?” "That's the eternal question. My particular problem came from knowing what I was fiddling with had some sort of hoodoo. Come to find out later I'd been attached to it all along and it was just waiting for my hands on it after hundreds of years to spring it's surprise." She took another drink, eyes settling on the rest of her quiet shop for a moment. "I still don't know everything about it, or what will happen day to day, but I'm just prepared something always will and I've created a network of people that can help me if it does." Eyes moved back to him. "I'm connected with ARMA, but I have other sources should you need anything or run into trouble."
  12. Rorye Shannon-Kearney

    Words and Wax

    The furl of his brow was expected. Thwarted, or "encouragement" of keeping things under wraps when someone was trying to find answers was often frustrating. She felt for him, more than she thought he would ever know. Who could she talk to about her particular problem, next to nobody... Hearing he didn't know of his mother's status, or that he couldn't remember anything prior to the Resonance made it very possible this was bigger than he knew. Dark eyes settled on the box he kept it in. She had something for that. Something that might come in handy. Her favorite scavenged treasure was only a step outside the door to her library- a massive card catalog from a public library she had painstakingly restored and repurposed for her shop. Stones, crystals, it was a perfect cabinet for those items. "The Resonance, it destroyed my memory of anything before it. I’m just trying to see if something will trigger those memories.” She'd often wondered if the book that had essentially both ruined and restarted her life simultaneously had been in that vein. Would she remember eventually? Had she been that other person ever? Drawer was slid out on her cabinet, a carved wooden box taken out before she returned. "No, I don't think you should stop looking. Just be prepared for what you find." She placed the box next to him, it was just large enough to fit his treasured metal case. "Real magic," she smiled slightly, "exists. This is warded, I would like you to keep it, thinking bout storing your piece in it. If by chance your heirloom gives off something that can be sensed by anyone that shouldn't know you have it, that will hide it, and you by proxy." Her own unusual eyes blinked slowly, the deep chocolate slowly over time had been taken over by green. They were rimmed in it now. One step closer to the unknown. "My experience has been to chase after it before it sneaks up on you and slaps you in the face."
  13. Rorye Shannon-Kearney

    Words and Wax

    “Oh hi Rorye, I certainly have." Expression was friendly, thoughts hovering that this might be one of those situations she should very likely bring up to ARMA. The twinkle of coffee refreshing his mug was soft, pondering speaking to him about it. Never would have done it before. Things had somewhat changed, and that gave her a sense of pride but pissed her off at the same time. Protecting her own, versus protecting the greater whole. Not being exclusively loyal to her neighborhood circle just didn’t sit right for someone so diligently loyal to her own community. An internal argument for another time. She could be wrong, but over a decade of learning to read people never really let her down. She didn’t need any special powers to think this was the search for something unusual. He seemed kind, somewhat trusting, and his search was going to walk him into the wrong place with the wrong people someday soon. Pharos. The Order. There were a cluster of not so savory people that would take advantage of his situation if they even merely suspected something like this. She could take advantage of this situation at the moment. If it could make a buck, she was usually secretly interested in her smuggling-type activities She’d looked the other way for so long when it came to people outside of her neighborhood…. now her connection with the “good guys” had rubbed off on her. Internal argument had tipped slightly. He deserved protection if her hunch was true. He also deserved to go about his business in peace without some big organization claiming him as their own and sticking their nose in it. ….dammit she hated being a good guy sometimes. Coffee pot was set on a tea tray table that had extra cups and such, put there for the exact reason she didn’t want it sitting on the main table. “It was my mother’s, it's not valuable or at least that's what I have been told and I’ve been curious about the knots for some time.” Smile soft, quirked slightly sideways. “From what I gather these knots are extremely rare and one of them, mentions something about it being from another world.” Both hands cupped around the outstretched hand in attempts to close his fingers around his prize. “You need to keep this closer to the vest.” She pulled out the chair across from him and sat, elbows on the table to lean forward slightly. The conversation was low. “It could just be that, an heirloom. It might not be,” lower lip rolled through her teeth, the rich timbre of her voice making one at ease. “Anything can be anything now, and so can people.” She picked up one of her go-to books and turned it around to face her. “Celts had a lot of ethereal lore. Gods. Goddesses, a lot of which were considered to be able to fluctuate through planes of existence. They believed in magic, and that time could perform real magic, so anything is possible. Worlds could be planes, or time. Depends how you translate it into English.” Eyes scanned the drawings he seemed to be focused on, her words said with utter belief they were true. She knew them to be true. “Was your mother a magus?”
  14. Rorye Shannon-Kearney

    Words and Wax

    “I will, thank you for the warning.” Nod was slight, leaving the book room quietly with her coffee in tow. She refreshed it, standing at the front window for a long moment to survey the street that was waking up. He was a curious one, that was for sure. Searching for something. Some searched for curiosity, others for fun. Then there were those that searched out of need. He struck her as the type to fall into that category. Who knew what he was searching for, but when she set her coffee on the front counter to continue putting out the new stock of various stones, observant eyes didn’t miss the slip of something from a worn and treasured box into his hand. Now, that was interesting. Not only because she liked interesting things, but… she like to acquire interesting things. Her shop was full of them. Some hiding in plain sight like the skull artifact and the Sky Disc on the wall behind her, others locked down in a vault because they were so dangerous they weren’t to be handled except by their new owner. She was loyal to ARMA, but there were a lot of things she slid under their noses that they didn’t need to worry about. Old habits did die hard. Was this one of those things? Or just an innocent fascination. She cleared one box of new stock, keeping a close eye on the avid reader, and twenty minutes or so later returned to the room with a fresh pot of coffee. “Refresher?” she asked quietly. “Find anything interesting?”
  15. Rorye Shannon-Kearney

    Words and Wax

    “Really” “Yes,” answer was firm. “I’m living proof that things are dangerous when you chase something down a rabbit hole. Stones. Drawings. Books,” she nodded toward a candlestick mounted on top of a skull behind the front counter. It seemed to twinkle back in acknowledgement. “Even something as harmless as a candlestick. Whatever you're searching for, could be a path to something terrible.. It’s the way of the world now, as you know, so be aware.” “Thank you” Nod was slight as she put down a few more to give him a wide range of things to look at. “There must be two spells one to ward and one to bind, sort of a push and pull?” “If your knot is linked to any kind of magic, it could be a lot of things. Ward and bind, push and pull, key and lock.” She drank a bit of her coffee, watching a moment. “Just be careful what you play with when you find it,” she nodded and moved back into the store proper to start stocking the antique card catalog with stones. One of her many interests was combing through former ruins of Hell’s Kitchen to find items to refurbish. The obsolete furniture after a lot of TLC was perfect for keeping stones, trinkets, and whatever other little bits and bobs of ingredients they needed. Her advice, sounded a lot like she had received once upon a time. Sadly, she never seemed to heed it either.


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