(i don't know if i'm doing this right. i realize i'm writing two other character's dialogue and a bit of their personalities as well. this is just one way i'd imagine the formation of a magic group going down - i could be way off, but hey, i used the site. hooray for me.)
After the run, the gang was a little humbled. Despite how tricky, strong, fast, cunning, and handy they were as a individuals banded together, they were brought low by superior numbers and equipment (not to mention legitimacy). Kyoto Slice was accustomed to feeling invincible. The latest turn of events weighed heavy on his mind. The capture and the comedown combined to push Slice's psyche to crisis. He saw red on his hands. Where had it come from? Noghri
had sidled beside him without Slice's notice.
"How did this happen? Where's this from?" Noghri
shook his head in silent response. He could've said, "From that pointy thing on your face - you know, the thing most people use for smelling," but there was no engaging him in this condition. Without his help, Slice would be a zombie for hours. How did he get by before they met?
After casting the appropriate spells, Noghri
pulled Slice aside and said, "We've got another in the fold. I think it's time to move forward." He was speaking, of course, of the magic group they had been planning to form. Usually, when Slice got fixed on a topic, it was murder. He could ramble for a solid hour about cancerous agents in food. If you were unlucky enough to get him started on issues of class struggle and had no means of escape, the conversation would continue until somebody dropped. But when it came to magic, Slice became calm, lucid, and unusually (for him) informed. He'd even go as far as to actually ask a question or two. In lonely nights of heavy speeding, he'd read some Carlos Casteneda, Aleister Crowley, Arthur Edward Waite, Oberon Zell-Ravenheart and a few of the lesser known authors on magic from the last couple centuries. The contemporaries, he'd say, are, of course, more accurate, but Slice admired pioneer spirit. When magic was discovered in his dojo, he was the most receptive.
"New guy seems alright," Kyoto mumbled after regaining his composure. "Let's hope he's ready." Hush was an asset, no doubt, but could he be trusted? Could anyone? No.
, and Kyoto drove in near silence to the meeting place - public assistance housing rented out by a less than altruistic government agent. It wasn't suitable for a permanent establishment, but it would do for the evening's proceedings. The appropriate symbols were drawn on the walls with grease pen by each person. Candles and incense were lit around a small hearth fire (a bucket full of sterno). The men sat at on the floor (the furniture having been removed) - at opposite ends of the room. Hush sat in the lotus position before a candle. Though the air in the room was still, the candle before him flickered threatening to die out completely. Noghri
jotted notes in his composition book and wondered if any the glossalia resulting from the extacies this kind of magic induces could be captured on the page. Perhaps there are some primordial words out there in the ethers - out of use for centuries, but somehow intelligible if spoken aloud. Surely there were paranormalities of linguistics floating around there in the spirit world. He closed his eyes and listened to his heartbeat. He slowed his breathing and became more and more aware of his heaving chest trying best he could to alter his biological rythm as if he were playing with a radio tuner in the core of his being. Maybe with some luck, he'd catch a long range transmission. Slice was least still of them all. The novacoke and kamikaze left him edgy even after the comedown. He sat reciting the R'g Veda under his breath. "Thou by thine insight art most wise, O Soma, strong by thine energies and all possessing,
Mighty art thou by all thy powers and greatness, by glories art thou glorious, guide of mortals."