Beginnings [Lavinia mood]

[HDub]

Austin, Texas
Austin was the kind of place that Lavinia could get used to. The band had passed through town before when she was younger. It was colored by the lens of being a seventeen year old girl not entirely accustomed to her body and her frame. She had been unwieldy; she'd been a lanky, awkward girl who was still trying to figure out who and what she was. In that regard, Lavinia was no different than any other teenage girl, right down to the identity crisis and insisting she get a different name.

She'd always been a Lavinia, though. Even when she tried to be a Chelsea, she hadn't ever been a Chelsea.

So it was strange, you see, sitting in a crappy nightclub that she'd played when she was seventeen and using a fake ID because she was the youngest person in the band. She was meeting people here, though. Specifically, she was meeting person. Singular. She'd waited in a corner and soon enough she caught sight of the older woman. Tabitha didn't fit in. She didn't quite mesh with the crowd here, she was more than likely someone's mother than a patron who was going to listen to some godawful indie band trying to get their sea legs in the music business. Her attire was nondescript- jeans, some black shirt, a leather jacket because it was the kind of place that warranted leather jackets. Tabitha had picked the time, but Lavinia had picked the place.

"I expected you to bring your husband," Tabitha said. Her voice was smooth and aging. She had the barest bits of gravel, like a jazz singer who hadn't quite quit smoking wast enough.
"We broke up," Lavinia said, unphased.
"You mean divorced."
"No," the younger woman clarified, "hand fasting isn't a legally binding contract. Three years, three days- we parted amiably. We just-"
"Didn't mesh anymore."
"Exactly."
"I'm a little displeased that you had to split your attentions, nonetheless." Tabitha gave her wayward a bemused smile. "The man steals my apprentice for three years and you broke up."
"Yeah."
"Let it be said that your commitment to diplomacy knows no bounds. I suspect the rest of the chorus is going to have a field day finding a new ambassador to Houston's Verbena."
"I don't think any of the resident diplomats are Jared's type."

There was that strange moment when Lavinia had a second to just soak in the moment. It had been awhile. Two years of study before her awakening, two years of maintaining good relations with other traditions in Texas, and then dead air once she'd been left to her own devices. They only talked when there was something to be done- trouble in Dallas. Infernalists in Topeka. Nephandi in Nashville. And now there they were- sitting in a bar Lavinia had graced nearly a decade prior. Her mentor still looked the same- graying hair, thin lips, an aura of authority, but it was tinged with the barest hints of wrath now. Colored with the kind of righteousness that rained lightning from the skies and would not be cowed. The kind that spoke of a god who was as much a force of destruction as creation.

"Truth be told, I'm glad you two aren't together anymore," Tabitha told the younger woman.
Lavinia quirked a brow, looked at her longways and tried to take in the other woman's expressions.
"Our lives aren't conducive to those sorts of connections," she told Lavinia, "what good is having a lover if the only time he sees you is to put you back together?"
Lavinia sighed, running a hand through her blonde hair, "point."
"I'm not chastising you," Tabitha clarified, "it's a mistake we all make. Just… be aware. This isn't work for those who want to live long, happy lives. It isn't fair to ask others to accept that."
"I know," she said, as she'd said dozens of times before.

There is a moment of silence, where Tabitha was inspecting her student. Waiting for something, anything. Waiting for that sign that she was going to walk away, that she was going to throw her hands up and say that the work, that their calling in the Celestial Chorus was too much. Lavinia inhaled slow and deep, then gave the woman a smile. The kind that rose to the challenge, one that would not be deterred. Tabitha liked that smile, it meant that the Sisters of Gabrielle would persevere, even if they'd lost so much.

"I have some people I want you to meet," Tabitha told her.
"Is that why you wanted to meet me?"
"It's time that you settled down."
"You just rode my ass for being hand fasted for three years, and now you're telling me to settle down?" Lavinia's voice was flat.
"You keep scaring off potential cabal mates," Tabitha clarified.
"I don't have time for bigots, I don't have time for fanboys, and I don't have time for people who are going to hesitate in the middle of a fight."
"You can't do this alone."

Lavinia was silent, Tabitha knew that look. the look that said you are right without actually saying it lest her pride be wounded.

"You'll like Cameron and Oliver. Just meet them, that's all I ask."
Lavinia sighed, "fine."

[HDub]

Three months later
Lavinia was hanging out in the back of the car. It was a nice enough car, something classic that Oliver had acquired once upon a time back when it didn't look so hot. A rust bucket, Cameron had originally called it. She'd worked on the thing because it gave her some kind of purpose. She enjoyed keeping things busy, she enjoyed seeing the end product. She was proud of her bodywork. She was proud of the engine overhaul. Pride was a sin, though, and something about that stung.

Lavinia had her feet propped up over the headrest where Oliver was supposed to be; he was inside talking to one of the locals while the girls waited in the car. Lavinia had been asleep; Cameron didn't much care to leave the blonde in the car. Realistically, Cameron didn't want to leave a nice convertible unattended in a strange town with an attractive woman in the back of it.

"Get your feet off my seat," Cameron said, pushing Lavinia's legs a little. Her limbs were long and thin, her jawline sharp and her eyes keen.
"Hmmn?" Lavinia replied, pulling her feet off the seat.
Cameron sighed, realizing she was on the wrong side of Lavinia and she waited patiently as the blonde woman rearranged herself. Conversation on the left, as always.
"You're scuffing up my leather with your turquoise nail polish," she said with a grin.
'Yeah, yeah, where are we going? I missed that part," Lavinia told Cameron.
"You can't sleep through all the important conversations. And we're going to Colorado-" she put a hand up, as if to stop Lavinia from asking "-to see my daughter."
"You have kids?"
"Just the one, Pearl."
"What happened to her dad?" Lavinia asked.
"He didn't stick around too long. German international student," Camreon replied, "I met him doing my graduate thesis."
"Did you have her in high school?"
"Yeah. She's at a boarding school right now."
"How do you afford a boarding school? The Chorus doesn't pay us shit."
"Prestanding investments and one Hell of a life insurance policy payout."

There was an awkward silence, at least one on Lavinia's end. She pulled her legs underneath her, sitting on her knees and leaning on the driver's seat. She looked curiously at the woman with the fine, bird-like bones. Her deceptively fragile frame has taken punishment before, evident in the limp Cameron happened to have. She found it endearing. One of them was half lame, the other half deaf- Oliver didn't talk too much, so people could assume he was half mute. They seemed to get along pretty well, under the pretense that they all had to watch each other's backs. That said, though, Cameron was definitely the brains of the outfit. Lavinia was the face. Oliver was the muscle when he needed to be.

It's what made him going inside and talking to the townies so funny to the two girls. Getting off track, Lavinia looked down.

"So, your parents are..?"
"Dead."
"Oh."
"Don't feel bad, I don't."
"Oh," Lavinia said again.
"Look, sometimes things don't well. Sometimes people… think? That what they're doing is right? But I think it's for the best that they're gone, and that Pearl has never had the chance to be around them."

There was awkward silence again.

"What about your parents?" Cameron asked.
"My mom was part of the Chorus and the other part of my genetic makeup is a high umbral being."
"Ohhhh, thaaaaat… explains… yeah, I just though-" Cameron stumbled "-you had pattern damage someone tried a little too zealously to patch."
"Seriously?"
"I figured it was rude to ask what are you?"
"Just a little," Lavinia laughed, "so, your kiddo, does she know about the whole… yeah?"
"Yeah, she's… I've always treated it like we were in the service. Mama has a dangerous job, but someone has to do it," Cameron replied, running a hand through her hair, "did you ever think about having any?"
"I can't," Lavinia said drolly.
"Oh," Cameron's turn to backpedal, "well, if you ever get the hankering, get one that's pre-made. Same joys of parenthood, less stretch marks."

Lavinia grinned, reaching up and scratching Cameron's head before tucking herself back into the back seat. They had a few hours until they got to Colorado, why not sleep the rest of the way?

[HDub]

One week later

Lavinia woke up abruptly. They were staying in some crappy suite and Pearl was out on the sofa bed with her mother while Oliver sat draped over a chair. She looked around, feeling something stir in the pit of her stomach and she was quick to look through the place. There was a pull, an inexorable pull to the west.Her heart beat a little faster. There was a sense of something, something that insisted, something that told her come here, come here, please, we need you!

Insisted, pleaded.

Insisted. Pleaded.

Lavinia went to the chair and not-so-carefully shook Oliver by the shoulder. It was late, the sun had long since gone down and there were hours upon hours before there was going to be a need to greet the sun. Oliver slept like a rock, so Lavinia shook him, again. And again. And hard enough that his head jostled off the chair and he was rudely awakened by the blonde celestine staring at him.

"Tha fuck, love?" Oliver stammered. He blinked slowly and tried to adjust in the light.
"I need your car keys," she replied with… entirely too much fervor.
"Huh?" he started to sit up.
"C'mon, where are your keys."
"Love, y'can't jus' wake up a man an' ask for 'is keys," Oliver said. There were the bright and vibrant hints of lower London in his voice. The sounds of an upbringing that had seen no luxury.
"But I need them, I have to go."
"Where?" Oliver asked with confusion. He slowly and carefully started to pry himself up off the chair. He and Lavinia were about the same size; she was one of the few people he didn't tower over. He ran his hand through his hair and blearily stood up and paid attention to Lavinia.

She was… odd. The young woman was anxious, pacing. She was wide eyed and charged. Primed. Ready. Oliver only saw her this way before a fight, but there wasn't a fight for miles. This was peaceful, calming; Colorado was a place that was serene and radiant. It had a good effect on the little cabal- they were holed up in some quiet mountain retreat. Oliver got to have a family moment. Cameron got to be a mother. Lavinia got to recharge, stand radiant and boundless at the edges of nature. She didn't quite belong here, but in those quiet moments at the rented suite she felt more like she belonged than anywhere else.

"I don't know but… but I need to go," she insisted.
"I can't letcha go alone, Lavi, you know it ain't safe."
"Then come with me."
"Where are we going?"
"West," Lavinia told him. It was the first time that Oliver had been on the receiving ends of her convictions. Her strength. Her purpose, that light that shined and bore into people like torches. He looked at her and his frame tensed; he didn't think it wise to tell her no. To argue with such intense purpose. Oliver sighed.
"I'll drive you where you need to go," he said, "I'll tell Cameron she gets some one on one time time with Pearl."
"I'll get your things," Lavinia told him, and she was off.

---

It took sixteen hours and forty minutes to drive from their location in Colorado to Hampton, Oregon.

---

The sun was starting to go down, and Oliver was exhausted. He was tired by the time they crossed the state lines, but it was will alone that was keeping him awake. It was, however, a misguided devotion to his cabal mate that had him driving the convertible to some unknown place. For all he knew, they were walking into something terrible. He'd tried asking Lavinia what it was that had her needing to go to some random city in the west, but all he got was an earnest I don't know and I just need to go. I'll find out my purpose once we're there. As though this was some great spiritual imperative.

They pulled up outside of a motel not unlike many of the motels they'd stayed at. It was the kind of place that you went to because you didn't want anyone else to know you were there. The place took cash. The lights flickered on the outside and there was a subtle hum in the cold air. That's what neon lights did, but perhaps that hum was coming from something else entirely.

"Wait in the car," Lavinia said. She was wide and alert. Her whole body seemed charged, wound tight. The young woman went to the other side of the car, reaching into her overnight bag and retrieving a knife. Something sharp and honed and bloodied. Something that sung because she'd given it the lyrics. Because she's sung so many times with a knife in hand that it knew her cadence, felt her breaths and measures. People thought that only Euthanatoi had such a rapport with their weapons.
"Fuckin' Hell, Lavinia," Oliver cursed as he crawled out of the vehicle. He watched her. Saw her purpose and intent and he was uncertain, if only for a moment, if something was going to happen. If he was going to need to protect her from something terrible or protect something from his friend. He wasn't sure yet, but Oliver watched her walk up to a room. Room C17. She knocked, hard. Turned her intense attentions on a piece of halfassed plywood.

"Open the fucking door," she demanded. Voice booming and intense like a herald. Sonorous.
"Christ, Lavi," Oliver said, coming close enough to hold the hand with the knife, "who the fuck are you talking to?"
"I don't know," she half whispered, "but I'm not waiting- open the fucking door or I will break it down."
"Lavinia, people are coming out, calm down."
"You have until I get to five to open this door… One?" Which was when Lavinia lost her patience, took a step back from the door and placed her boot rather firmly on the door. She kicked, hard, and the door jostled just enough that the man opening it fell backwards. The young man stared up at her in awe and horror. Candles burned out and chalk circle marked through and all the furniture pushed aside. He stared, as that staring was the only thing that they could do. The young man was thin, a sandy blond thing blue eyes and wiry muscles. His hair was short, or the kind of short that a young man's hair is when someone told him that, if he was to be taken seriously, he should cut his hair. He had the impetuousness of someone who believed himself indestructible. His eyes, blue and crystalline, shone the light of a man who fears that his belief of indestructibility was the be tested.

He had a pristine suit, tattoos going up his arms past the rolled sleeves. Patterns within patterns. Signs within signs. Sigils of glorious detail. He cursed, but did not Curse. The next words out of his mouth made Lavinia stop.

"Child of the western wind, I petition your aid-" his voice was confident. Hand up, pleading with something that he did not see. The words that he used after were strange and foreign. He scooted back into the chalk circle, and again repeated something that made Lavinia… stop. She jerked her hand away from Oliver, but didn't drop her knife.

She exhaled slow and shuddering, and her dark eyes fell upon the man. He said something and… she just… looked at him. Looked at him as though she had never heard him, or as if he was the only person who had ever spoken a language sweet and certain to her soul.

"Child of the western wind?" she repeated, then cautiously, "… who were you actually looking for?"
"I have no reason to tell you anything," he said, his voice was nervous but the young man was standing on his fee, eyes darted to a nearby table. He had a knife there, if had tools there, if only, if only…
"I… I don't understand, why are you-"
At about that time the young man started talking true and fast and in words Lavinia couldn't understand but he kept repeating one word, one Name over and over as though this would bring him aid, as if-
"Stop it. I'm here already!" Lavinia snapped, she even bridged the space between the two of them.

The young man's face fell. His eyes widened and he cleared his throat.

"Look, I… I don't know how you got me here, or got the message, but I was in Colorado, and whoever you're looking for isn't me, so… uh…" she took a step back, looking just as confused as the young blond man did.
"I… I never…" he laughed, running his hands through his hair, "I can't believe you're here!"
"Look asshole, first rule of summoning something? Know what you're summoning. You dragged my ass here, now you owe me dinner and an explanation. Preferably dinner first. And you owe my friend here gas money."
"I'm not entirely certain how-"
"Do it."
"Jesus," he grumbled, straightening out his suit and taking his wallet, "who would have thought angels would be so wrathful."
"You don't know the half of it yet," Lavinia warned. And, with that, the trio left for a Denny's.

[HDub]

It was an uncomfortable ride in the car to Denny's.

Lavinia had been insistent. More than a little insistent, in fact, that she take her time to ride with the blond man who seemed very intent on paddling himself up shit creek without a paddle. Oliver could drive himself, or at least follow. The Chorister pushed her seat as far back as she could in the charger. She had to hand it to him, he had a nice car. Or, at the very least, a car that was nicer than most of the town probably drove. Lavinia propped her feet up on the dashboard, untying the laces.

"Nice car," she said.
"Thanks-" he looked over for a moment, his eyes flickered over to the woman in the next seat. Lavinia had very little care about whether or not the skirt she was wearing happened to creep further up on her legs. The blond looked immediately at the road again. "Could you not do that?"
"Do what?" she asked curiously.
"That."
"So specific," he could hear her rolling her eyes.
"Stick your feet on the dashboard."
"Are you worried that I'm going to dirty up your pretty car?"
"I'm worried we're going to run off the road because your skirt is trying to become a belt."

There was an awkward silence, only punctuated by the fact that the Chorister was spending her time straightening things out. Feet back on the ground (grudgingly) and skirt coaxed back into a position that only showed expanses of tan thighs instead of hinted at whatever underthings she was wearing. She cleared her throat, and was content to ride for a couple miles in silence before conversation could begin anew.

She studied his profile. Straight nose, blond beard trying to come in but kept at bay by a conscious effort to keep close-shaven. When she looked at his hands she noted the differences. He looked like he was more accustomed to carrying the pen than he was the sword. It made sense for some people, but despite what the saying insists it is incredibly difficult to slay the forces of the unholy with well-written poetry. He was clenching his jaw, and his eyes were so dead set on the road that he could have very well been avoiding looking at the sun as he was looking at the woman beside him.

"What's your name?" she asked.
"Hmmn?"
"Name. Like, I'm Lavinia Cervantes and you are..?"
"Liam Palmer," practiced, smooth, a non-answer.
"How long have you been Liam Palmer?"
"I haven't been Liam Palmer in five? Six years?" he pondered.
"So, you're giving me a name that you haven't used in six years," her voice is flat, "I might as well tell you I'm Vincent if we're going to play that game."
He laughed, "you don't look like a Vincent."
"Doesn't answer the question- how long have you been Liam Palmer, excluding the six years that you are pretty insistent you aren't Liam Palmer?"
"Nineteen."
"That tends to be the complete-life-overhaul age," she mused, "so who are you now?"
"Ezekiel Peregrinus."
"Peregrinus, like a pilgrim."
"Cervantes, like the poet."
"El Príncipe de los Ingenios," Lavinia replied. There were the tiniest hints of pride in her voice, in her smile. She was disarming, when she needed to be. Which helped a great deal, because here was this gorgeous woman in Zeke's front seat who went very quickly from terrifying to appealing. "So, why was it that you rang again?"
"Hmn?" his mind clearly had wandered.
"You lit some candles, drew some circles, insisted and I showed up- why?"
Zeke rolled his eyes, "it's a little more complicated than that."

Lavinia snorted and gave him a long, hard look. he kept his eyes on the road, though feeling that little bit of displeasure from the distance made him grip the steering wheel a little tighter. This was coming to the difficult part, the part where he could be giving himself just enough rope to hang himself. He sped up a little, just enough that it was starting to peek over the speed limit on the highway. If she stabs me, we'll both go careening off the highway, he thought has he looked at the gauge.

"Let's assume I'm over simplifying," she starts, "I still need to know the why."
"Just a quick question before I answer- have you ever done this before?"
"Done what?"
"Shown up at a random place because you had a feeling something was calling you there?"
"Sort of, but not like this. When you did it, which by the way is a dick move, it was a spiritual imperative. Usually, it's just a feeling that I need to go. Less compulsion, more intuition."
He made a little sound of affirmative. He looked pensive. "I had to test some evidence. Given that you showed up, it kind of throws a kink in my case."
"Good kink or bad kink?" she asked incredulously.
The blond man laughed, "fucking excellent kink."
"So, are you going to tell me what kind of case this is?"
"Can't, traditional business," he replied with a smile that wasn't at all apologetic.
Lavinia rolled her eyes, "Ugh, I hate dealing with Hermetics."
"What gave it away?"
"The propensity for having secrets, complicated traditional business, and a weird fascination with names."
"Says Lavinia Cervantes," he laughed.
"So, what are you, a lawyer or something?"
"Junior counsel for the defense in an ongoing investigation."
"So a Hermetic and a lawyer," she put her hands on her face and tried to hide from the sheer degree of this is terrible that was washing over her, "do you have any redeeming qualities?"
"I make fucking fantastic crepes, but you'd have to stay the night to find out."

She peeked over long enough to see a grin on his face. And he caught her eyes just long enough to see her cheeks turn bright pink.