(A Convergence of Scions - Outside of Aunt Angeline's Restaurant)

The rest of the morning had passed like any other morning, for Twylla, which made the whole visitation from her father feel even more surreal. Oh, yeah...by the way, gods are real and you're the daughter of Ptah. How about pancakes for breakfast? Good? Not good? Waffles instead? How's that demigod-hood sitting with ya?

She had toyed with the idea of calling her mother and asking about all of this. Did she know who Twylla's father truly was or was she just as in the dark about that matter as her daughter? If Twylla told her the truth, what would she say? What would she think?

Sighing to herself, Twylla had decided that the best thing to do was to get out of the apartment and go for a walk. The fresh air and exercise would do her good, help her clear her head and figure out what to do next. Or, figure out if there evenwas anything that she needed to do, right now. Ptah had said that she would be needed, but she had no idea of the timeframe involved. Logic would dictate that if he's appearing to her now, then this war must be looming on the horizon. But, who knows? Time may not move the same for gods as it does for mortals.

It is thus that Twylla finds herself strolling down the streets of New Orleans, not really caring where she goes. She is lost in her own thoughts, turning things over in her head as her feet carry her to some undecided destination. Even though she had the intent to come out and clear her mind, it's simply not happening. The people around her are vague shapes to be avoided. The slight breeze upon her skin is nice but ultimately dismissed by her senses. No. She's too busy looking inward to notice what is happening around her.

At least, that is the case up until the point where she feels someone...bump? shove?...her. She's not really certain of what happened, but it doesn't really matter all that much. What matters, at this point, is that Twylla finds herself falling and spinning, gravity pulling at her as she stumbles out into the street. Completely off balance, she turns her head to see a taxi bearing down on her.

Time seems to slow down. She can see the driver and part of her notes the panicked expression spreading across his face. Two simultaneous voices in her head say, Oh, shit. I'm going to die. and Neat! Time dilation!

"OK, just make sure they don't sign the agreement until we have Simon take a look. No hablo mas legalese."

Sven finished up his call and got into the taxi that had just pulled up, giving a surreptitious glance to the exotic-looking fare he was replacing. He gave the driver directions to his office and started checking his emails on his phone.

All of a sudden Sven was thrown forward, almost losing grip of his phone as the cabbie started cursing up a storm.

"What the fuck?!" Sven looked up, catching glimpses and fragments of the scene through the sudden adrenaline rush. A woman was laying on the ground to the side of the cab, a giant dog was standing protectively over her.

Sven scrambled out of the car. "What the fuck are you doing?!" He screamed at the cabbie, "Were you trying to kill her?!" Conscience, his earring, turned ice cold in his ear. Wincing, Sven dropped his ire, saying much more calmly, but still livid, "Sorry, sorry. Call an ambulance, let's make sure she's ok." He rushed to her side, wary of the giant mastiff.

Twylla lays on the ground, stunned. She blinks at the huge dog, the cab, the man who now kneels by her side, trying to make sense of it all. She's breathing fine and seems to be unhurt, other than what will probably turn into a nasty bruise or two and a couple of scrapes from landing on pavement.

The mastiff simply sits down beside Twylla and calmly watches Sven., long tongue lolling out of its mouth as it pants and drools. It doesn't seem to be overly concerned about him.

"I...uhh...what?" Twylla sits up slowly. After a second, she gives a shaky chuckle and mutters, "What the hell is up with today?"

She looks to Sven and the cabbie, who has gotten out of the car to check on her, as well, "I'm sorry. I...I don't know what happened. Someone bumped me and..." she gestures weakly around herself.

Realizing that she's beginning to hold up traffic, Twylla pushes herself to her feet. She's a bit unsteady, due to the adrenaline rush that comes from suddenly not being dead, "Need to get out of the road."

~~~~~

Sebastian had barely helped Kenari out of the car when man in suit and talking on a cell-phone pushed past them and into the cab. _I think I know that guy,_ he thought with a double take before shrugging it off. He was out for a second date with Kenari and he was still nervous as fuck. He didn't need useless musings to make him seem even more distracted.

"Guess he was in a hurry," he said to her with what he hoped looked like an easy smile as they walked towards the restaurant. A sudden shrieking of tires and followed by screaming and just a trickle of power cut off any further conversation.

Kenari's brother's taxi was at a halt no more than a few hundred feet down the street and the new fair was screaming at the poor guy. "Oh shit!" A glimpse of unmistakable blue hair made his blood run cold and he started to sprint towards the accident.

"Woah, be careful." Sven gingerly helped the woman off the street. That dog is freaking me out.

"I've got 911 on the phone, does she need an ambulance?" The cabbie asked. He had an accent, Middle Eastern or something.

"No, no, I'm fine, just a little dazed," she said.

Sven gave a critical eye to the scene. She was a little scraped up, but she didn't actually get hit by the car, and it didn't seem as though she had hit her head or anything.

"No, it looks like she'll be okay. I'll stay with her for a few minutes, thanks." He dismissed the driver and gave him a $20 for the very short ride, knowing that he needed fares more than he needed trouble.

The cabbie reluctantly turned away as he untangled himself from the 911 dispatcher's procedures. He got in his car and drove a little down the street to the side to get out of the way of traffic.

"Well that was exciting," Sven nervously chuckled. He was still rattled from the sudden excitement, and hadn't quite put on his mask of civility. As he helped her out of the street, shooing away curious passersby, the dog obediently followed at her side.

"That's quite a dog you've got here. What's his name?"

"Oh...he's..." Twylla trails off. She had started to say "he's not mine" when something about the animal strikes her. She's not sure what it is, but she feels connected to the animal, for some reason.

The mastiff looks up at her and gives her a big, goofy dog grin before nuzzling his head under her hand and sitting down beside her. He leans against her leg, nearly knocking her over again with his mass.

She laughs and says, "He's..."

Rescue. He rescued me. That's what I felt hit me. Not the cab. The dog. He knocked me out of the way. Rescue...rescue...Roscoe!

"His name is Roscoe," Twylla laughs and ruffles Roscoe's ears.

"Boof," says Roscoe, not really barking but just sort of chuffing in that quiet way that some big dogs will do.

"I'm sorry. My name is Twylla," she holds out her hand for Sven to shake.

Sebastian managed to push his way through the crowd in time to see the man who had helped himself to the cab shaking hands with Twylla back on the sidewalk. Seeing her moving was a good sign, and he was happy that Kenari had managed to keep up with him.

The man still looked familiar, but he couldn't place it. There was also an huge dog following by her side. At first glance she looked okay, but he wanted to make sure. "Ms. Delacroix, are you okay?" he called out, knowing she hated it when he addressed her formally. Her response would help him gauge her mental status better than anything else.

The man turned towards him, but before he could say anything Sebastian called out, "I'm CPR and first aid certified. I'm here to help."

It is at this point that she hears a familiar voice call to her. Turning, she sees Sebastian hurrying towards her with a lovely, Middle-Eastern lady in tow.

As he draws up next to her, she crosses her arms, scowls playfully, and says, "Twylla. Keep calling me that and I'll set your computer into an infinite loop of Teletubbie madness. Don't think I won't, mister!"

"Nice to meet you Twylla, I'm Sven. And nice to meet you too Roscoe." Despite the very interesting young woman in front of him, Sven was still eyeing the dog. 20 bucks that's a dude in a costume, he thought to himself. He also noted the dog didn't have a collar.

A man in his late 20's came running up, and a second later Sven recognized the exotic-looking woman he had seen getting out of the cab a minute ago. From the pursuing conversation it turns out the man knew Twylla. As they started to banter, Sven started getting uncomfortable, and for a lack of social graces figured he was no longer needed.

Putting on an air of benign disinterest, he started looking around for another cab to catch. He didn't have any pressing business at the office, but his immediate concern for the woman's safety has been alleviated and his mind was already turning back to today's schedule.

Sebastian traded barbs with Twylla while she tolerated his quick examination. "You always struck me as more of a cat person," Sebastian said, eyeing the dog. He noticed the other man start to look for another cab and seeing the man's profile it finally struck him.

"You're Christina's aide," he shouted at the man trying to remember the man's name and stuck out his hand, "Sebastian Vogel. We worked together some during the clean-up after Katrina. Your boss put me in charge of one of the build teams. Steven was your name, right?"

Kenari's head reels as she's assailed with sensation: the crackling of electricity as the man named Sven leaps out of the car to check on the girl... the overwhelming feeling of home and sand as the blue haired girl stands up and dusts herself off... the scent of the sea that clings to Sebastian... and of course, the smell of one very large dog that could use a bath.

When too many coincidences happen at once, it might be the Gods telling you something her father used to say when she was little. She smiles to herself when her little brother gets out of the cab to check on the girl as she realizes that her father has no idea how right he was.

"Sister! You have to believe me, she just walked right into the street without looking!" her brother exclaimed in relief as he sees a familiar face.

"It's all right," Kenari replies calmly as she pats him on the shoulder with a smile. "When the gods are involved, some things can't be helped. Now give father a call while I talk to these people... for I have the feeling we might have guests tonight."

Her brother's eyes widen at her words and he kisses the ankh around his neck. "As you say, sister. Blessed be to the Gods." He then heads back to his cab and with the driver side door open sits in the front seat to call their father.

"Sebastian, dear... aren't you going to introduce me to your friends?" Kenari asks sweetly as she walks up to the group with a sway of her hips and a smile on her face. "I certainly hope no one was harmed! My poor brother is beside himself with concern."

Shaking his hand, Sven replied "Sven, and it's Christine. But yes, hi! We're actually in City Hall now, Christine left FEMA and won a council seat," He didn't remember the man, but that was really no surprise if it was back during his tenure at FEMA. Life had certainly been a lot more... straightforward then.

While Sebastion speaks with Sven, Twylla turns to the woman, "The driver is your brother? Oh! Definitely let him know that I'm okay...a bit scrapped and...off-kilter...but fine."

Roscoe seems to perk up a bit as Kenari approaches, tilting his head with curiosity. He stands and moves to her, snuffling at her hands and feet, his tail slowly wagging. After a moment, he backs away from her and sneezes. Somehow, he looks offended by the very fact that she should cause him to make that noise and goes back to sitting behind Twylla.

Sebastian nodded, "Right Sven! Well it seems I owe you thanks for taking care of my friend here."

Sebastian thought he caught some hidden meaning in Kenari's reminder of his manners, "Kenari, this is Twylla Delacroix. The team contracts her for additional tech support when it's beyond Ryan's capabilities. And this is Sven. Him and his boss were one of the few positive forces in the cleanup following Katrina." He gestured at each of them in turn. "Everyone, this is Kenari. We were about to sit down to lunch, but perhaps the two of you would like to join us?" Sebastian eyed the dog, "Or perhaps we should get something to go and find somewhere more dog friendly to talk."

"My father always cooks enough for plenty of people," Kenari offers with a smile as she gestures with her hand to include everyone.. "Perhaps you all would like to join me in my home? Once he hears of what happened with Ms. Delacroix I am sure he'll practically demand that he repay her somehow... even if she is thankfully no worse for wear. Mayhap after such a nerve wracking experience she would enjoy food from her homeland? I am sure the dinner conversation will be most stimulating."

She giggles as the dog huffs. "I'm sure he can find something suitable for him too if he promises not to drool on anything."

Twylla smiles and shakes her head, "Repay me? Pfft! I probably scared the pants off your brother. There's nothing to repay. Everyone is okay and that's all that's important."

Sebastian raises an eyebrow and leans in to stage whisper to Twylla, "Why does she get away with calling you Ms. Delacroix?"

"Because I haven't been doing tech support for her for well over a year," Twylla stage whispers in return, grinning over her shoulder.

Wait...what? something that Kenari had said seems to click in her mind. Food from her homeland...My homeland is New Orleans. It is then that the sun glints upon the ankh necklace around Kenari's neck. Noooo. Could it be? Ptah did say there would be others...

"Actually, you know what?" Twylla turns back to Kenari. "I think dinner at your place might be nice. I've spent way too many days eating by myself in some back corner of a cafe somewhere between calls."

Sven blinked. This is taking a weird turn he thought. One second someone almost dies in front of him, the next he's set for a dinner date with 3 ::woof:: ok 4 strangers?

If this had happened a few years ago, he would have politely extricated himself. Failing that, he would probably become... less polite. These weren't business contacts - if they were, he'd already know them, and they'd already be on his schedule. Having dinner at people's houses was more Catherine's bag, and even then only if an election were drawing near.

But he's been learning to listen to happenstance. He's always suspected there was no such thing as coincidences, and after some of the situations he's been in ever since... ever since his change in jewelry, that suspicion has been confirmed time and again. Now he rides the wave of circumstance, even if it leads somewhere terrible.

"OK sure, nice to meet you Kenari. Let me just clear my schedule."

He stepped aside, pretending to put his cell phone to his ear. In so doing he pricked his finger on Conscience.

Hey, what's up? Christine's thoughts came through crystal as always. Sure, he could have actually called her, but it's a lot harder to hack one's thoughts than one's cell phone logs, and they kept their... weirder conversations solely to themselves.

Hey, I just ran into a bunch of "interesting" people, I'm clearing my schedule today to see where this rabbit hole goes. Sven was especially proud of being able to put air quotes into his thoughts. Out loud he said "Hi Christine, just checking in to clear my schedule for the day."

OK, I don't think I've got anything pressing for you anyways. Pay close attention, often it's the little details that make the biggest impact. She closed the connection, a sort of slight tingle, not unlike when you turn off a blank monitor screen. Sven sent a mass email to the office, rescheduled a few things in Outlook, and turned back to Kenari.

"All set! I can't wait to try the native foods of Bluehairia."

Sebastian noticed Twylla's lingering glance at Kenari's ankh and understood Kenari's. He instinctively grasped his own necklace. Sven seemed completely oblivious to the weirdness, but he was in politics. Sebastian couldn't be sure appearances where what they seemed. Out loud he said, "I suspect even those of use with different homelands will find ourselves in familiar company this evening. My place is just a few blocks away, if no one minds a short walk I can drive us the rest of the way. I suspect Haji could use a quiet drive home at this point." He nodded towards the cab.

Besides, he thought, I would really prefer to have my sword nearby if things go badly.

Kenari laughs. "I was thinking more like Cairo, or Giza, perhaps? Though I am not sure where exactly Ms. Delacroix is from. I am also curious as to your origins, Sven. From where do you hail that you carry about you such energy?"

"The offer of a ride is more than gracious, Sebastian. Perhaps you can entertain us with stories of your homeland on the way, Sven? I will gladly share mine after dinner."

She giggles. "I'm afraid my stomach was set on food when this highly entertaining event occurred."

As they started towards Sebastian's apartment, Sven started rolling out his usual meet-and-greet spiel.

Grinning, he said, "Well I'm from the distant and exotic lands of Ohio. I was born in Columbus, or I should say I was adopted there. My last name, Merrick, might be British, but I'm pretty sure I've got Nordic blood. Twenty minutes under the sun and I start glowing in the dark!

"Graduated OSU in '04, got a job under Ms. Porter at FEMA right before Katrina hit. After a few years we both fell in love with the city, in 2013 she ran for councilwoman and won, and I stayed on as her Chief of Staff. Been working with the community ever since."

"What about you, Kenari? I take it I already met your brother, you'll have to pass along an apology for my earlier rudeness." Sven often had a blind spot for treating servicefolk very well, he never meant to be rude to them but he also had high expectations that they do their job as attentively and skillfully as he does his own.

Kenari's smile freezes as she listens to Sven's story. A politician? But the signs... how can this be? Could his godly blood have saved him from their seemingly inevitable corruption?

She runs a casual hand through her hair and activates her ear cuff. "Ah, Nordic blood... that would explain things I think. You have the feel of a man ready to spring to action at a moment's notice, Sven Merrick."

Got it... I'll start running a check on him and this Christine and get back to you.

"Haji will be harder on himself than we ever could be," she assures Sven as she smiles and lays a gentle hand on his forearm. "His brothers will never let him forget it either," she chuckles.

"I am Madam Sanura, Mystic and Tarot Card reader extraordinaire," she continues as she places a hand on her chest. "I give people glimpses into the future in hopes so they can fix the mistakes of the past to improve the present."

Sven was startled by the sudden physical contact, but resisted the urge to jerk away - or to reach for the gun in his shoulder holster. He'd had some time to study his new compatriots and was actively considering how they may react or behave, logging away potential motivators, suspicious behavior, or other little quirks.

He placed his hand over hers, signaling thanks for the sincerity, then guided her hand off his arm. "So, a psychic, a tech, a... Tibetan Temple Dog, and a - wait, sorry Sebastian, what was it you said you did?" Sven was realizing that his face was familiar, not necessarily from his FEMA days, but more like... like he'd seen him on TV or something.

Sebastian cocked a lopsided smile. "My crew and I fly into hurricanes for a living. Maybe you've see our show, Stormwatch?" He casually pulled a business card out of his wallet and passed it to Sven. It announced his status as team lead and pilot for the weather team as well as sporting the stylized eye with hurricane for a pupil logo their team used. "I also hold a Masters in Meteorological Studies and sometimes fill in during the off season."

He stopped short next to a purple Honda Accord parked next to a very industrial looking building. "Here's my ride," he said unlocking the doors with a button click. "I figure two in the back seat, someone else up front with me, and dogzilla can ride in the back." He opened up the hatchback cargo area and arranged his still tattered jump gear against the seat back, taking care not to uncover the sword hiding beneath it,

"Come on, Roscoe," Twylla pats the inside of the hatchback once Sebastian is finished arranging things. The gigantic canine doesn't even have to jump up. He delicately steps into the car and arranges himself with care, settling down with a content whuffle.

Holy crap. I have a horse in a dog suit, Twylla thinks in bemusement as she gives Roscoe's ears another scratch. What am I going to do? There's no way he's going to be able to live in my apartment! Oh gawds...I won't be able to hide him for long and the super will have kittens ...

But, just as assuredly as she knows that the stars will rise, tonight, and the morning will dawn, tomorrow, she knows that she and this dog are tied together. Twylla has no proof, but she guesses that he is a gift from Ptah.

You are not a warrior. My children rarely are, Ptah had said. Perhaps Roscoe was meant to keep her safe, then.

"Be good. We'll be at Kenari's in no time," Twylla says before closing the back of the car. Under her breath, she mutters, "Time to look for a new place to live."

She decides to sit in the back seat so she can be close to Roscoe, just in case. He seems like an incredibly mellow dog, but you never know. As she settles in and buckles her seatbelt, she asks, "So, Kenari...where do you live?"

"My family and I have our shops and apartment on Chartres street," Kenari replies as she gets in the front passenger seat. No need having a dog slobbering in my ear. "It's called The Herbal Oasis, and for those in true need, we even have a small temple dedicated to the gods in the back."

"So you come from New Orleans too?" Twylla asks.

"Where do we all truly come from?" Kenari replies. "I grew up here in New Orleans... but only Bast can truly say from whence I came."

Sven snapped a picture of Sebastian's business card, which added it to his contacts. "OK yeah I have seen that actually, you guys are crazy!" Sven really was quite impressed - it's a job that he could never see himself doing in a million years, and this guy actually seems to enjoy it.

Sven slid into the car next to Twylla. Roscoe huffed behind his head, causing Sven to jump and bang his head on the roof of the car.

He turned around to face the dog and said, "OK, you. You can see that you're making me uncomfortable. We're going to have to come to an agreement of terms or something here."

Roscoe tilted his head, then slurped his enormous, sloppy tongue right across Sven's face.

Sven froze, then calmly turned back around in his seat, wiping his face with a handkerchief he kept in his pocket. "Right, then, glad we understand each other."

Twylla presses her lips together, trying her best not to laugh. However, as she watches Sven calmly wipe slobber from his face, the very picture of a straight man caught in a comedy that he did not ask to be in, what little self-control the tech had dissolves.

She giggles, her eyes twinkling with mirth. Putting a hand over her mouth, she attempts to stop, but her snerks and chortles only intensify. After a couple of seconds, she is laughing aloud having completely given up on any kind of decorum. Her voice is full of innocent delight, not at all malicious. She just finds the whole thing funny!

After a couple of minutes, Twylla's chortles die down and she looks back to Roscoe, "Bad dog. No licking Sven!" However, there is no bite to her words, and Roscoe is well aware of it. He grins his goofy dog grin and shifts so that his head is draped across the back of the seat and onto her shoulder.

"So, Sven...sorry about that," Twylla grins, her eyes still dancing. "What have you been doing in the community, lately?"

Sebastian nodded as everyone settled in. "Buckle up everyone." Following his own advice, he clipped the seat belt into place and started to drive. He put on an air of concentrating on the road, but drove mostly on instinct. Instead his concentration was dedicated to following the conversation on the drive.

Sven started another standard spiel, "Ms. Porter has been advocating police reform right out of the gate. Body cams, watchdog groups, sensitivity training, etc. Vice reform too. We may be relative outsiders but sometimes it takes a fresh perspective to improve on old pains, not only for those who live here but for those who have yet to come back.

"I deal more with the various community organizations and associations. It's a fine line to walk - on the one hand, we want to preserve and promote the local businesses and history of this amazing city. On the other, we all know how much we need to revitalize the economy, bringing in new businesses, promoting technology changes, rooting out corruption. I'm really just trying to modernize industry here without us just ending up with a Starbucks on every corner and a McDonald's on every block."

While it was a standard line that he says many times a week, his passion for his work still shines clearly through his words, with a sincerity and hopefulness not usually associated with NOLA politics.

"So, how have you been doing with ice reform? I imagine you're getting a a lot of resistance from the 'good ol' boy' faction," Twylla asks. She crosses her arms and shakes her head slightly, as she speaks.

"Well... admittedly, we haven't exactly had any notable successes yet. The Mayor's office is quite opposed to reform of any kind, and seems to be solidifying a powerful effort to keep the older politics in play rather than bow to any modern expectations." Sven shook his head in dismay. This was one of those areas where his efforts tended to be more under the table, and the forces they were facing knew a lot more dirty tricks than he did.

"The NOPD are about as bad as they come, and it seems the few good ones that were in place have scattered since Katrina. Of course, hundreds more abandoned their duties during the hurricane. We're hoping to work with the Commissioner on bringing fresh blood and an even perspective to the force as they rebuild their ranks, rather than flooding the city with even more bullies with a gun.

"But anyways, I'm not here to campaign! Where is it that you work Twylla?"

At the mention of Twylla's work Sebastian spared a moment to chime in, "That reminds me! Twylla, has Diana reached out to your company yet about hiring some assistance with the server install? Ryan's not really going to be able to manage with a broken arm and cracked rib."

"I work for Delta Tech and Security. We pretty much do everything when it comes to computers and networks...everything from repairs to custom programming to plugging holes in security," Twylla answers Sven with a smile.

She turns forward as Sebastian speaks up, her grin slowly melting, a worried crease in her brow forming, "Well...yeah...Samson said that I would be needed on Monday but he didn't say anything about Ryan being hurt. What happened?"

It was entirely possible that Diana may not have said anything to Samson about the reason for their need. Or, she could've told him and he simply neglected to mention it to Twylla. After all, the poor man was usually scattered five ways from Sunday just trying to keep the place running in an orderly fashion. It could've easily slipped his mind.

Kenari lets out a snort of derision as Sven mentions the Mayor. "Men in positions of power tend to do everything they can to keep it," she replies. "Many a time have they come to me looking for ways to avoid the consequences of their actions... but the gods will not be denied their due."

She gestures with her hand waving in the air as she continues. "If they choose not to listen...well... who am I but a humble servant to the gods? The Balance must be kept."

Sebastian continued to weave effortlessly through the traffic as he responded to Twylla with a shrug, "Just a slight equipment malfunction when we were sky-diving last weekend. Coulda been a lot worse." He cast a sideways glance at Kenari, "I mean it ended with me meeting Lady Sanura, so maybe it was just fate."

Based on Kenari's earlier hints, he suspected at least one of them might also be a scion, but he wasn't ready to go blurting out the details of the event. _Well,_ he mentally corrected himself as he remembered his meeting with Kenari, not again at least.

Twylla's eyebrows creep up her forehead. She pauses for a second before saying, "A 'slight malfunction' that resulted in broken bones?" She gets the feeling that Sebastian is glossing over things, but she doesn't press the matter. It's not important. She shakes her head, and smiles, "Well, I'm glad that he's okay...Insanity notwithstanding."

Twylla has never been comfortable with heights and the fact that Sebastian's team regularly leaps from a perfectly good airplane boggles her mind. The very thought of doing something like that, herself, makes her stomach clench into a knot. And, knowing that a friend was injured skydiving, well...she has no doubt that it definitely, absolutely, positively could have been worse.

Inwardly, she gives a little shudder before pushing that thought firmly back into a tiny, dark corner of her mind where she can ignore it. She turns her attention back to Kenari and Sven's conversation, listening quietly.

"Life is circular," Twylla says. "What those people do will always come back to bite them in the ass, later."

Sven was taking mental notes. Networking, always networking. "Delta Tech, I don't think I know them. Is it just support work or do you do other stuff like digitization or product development? We've been interested in campaigning to get City Hall paperless, and they could use all the help we could get - assuming their paltry tech budgets don't scare you off. We've also yet to secure a vendor for the cop cams."

Turning to Kenari, he raised an eyebrow, "The Mayor's been to see you? That must have been an interesting reading indeed." Sven thought he had rooted out most of the secrets of their political foes - weaponizable or otherwise - but it was news to him that they may be into tarot or astrology or whatnot.

It wasn't that Sven didn't believe in magic or metaphysics, but he generally mistrusted 3rd parties to try to speak for the universe - religious or otherwise - when one could commune directly with it via other means.

This is an angle I need to explore later - especially if I could get a fly on a wall in such a setting. He'd arranged for a listening device in a confessional during the election, to middling success, and had little qualms in doing so again if the situation called for it.

Twylla leans forward and picks up her big, woven handbag from where she had tossed it at her feet in the floorboard. She digs around for a second before pulling out a business card which she hands to Sven, "Oh, yeah! We do digitization. We also do software development, but not hardware."

She hums as she thinks, "I don't know who you could go to for cop cams. But, call the office and ask to speak to Denise Hendricks. She's our purchasing agent...gets us all the parts we need when doing repairs. I bet she can hook you up."

"Men like that send their pawns to do their dirty work," Kenari replies to Sven. "Easier that way to deny any involvement." She smiles to herself as a voice whispers in her ear.

Remind me to tell you about Senator Vitter's aide and how he kept the books for the prostitutes sometime. That was one of my favorites...

"Inevitably we all find that we can't escape our fates." She points to the next cross street with a light. "Turn right here, and we're two blocks down on the left."

Sebastian automatically followed the directions and smoothly parked between 2 other cars. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for flying with Air Vogel today and welcome to Casa de Sanura. Local time is 1:34 PM. Please use caution when disembarking as occupants may have shifted in transit." he said as he shut the car off.

Diners and patrons emerge from nearby restaurants and shops to assess the commotion, smartphones held aloft to capture the excitement. The crowd wanes just as quickly when it turns out there are no damaged vehicles or injured pedestrians.

Aunt Kathleen tsk-tsks at the almost-accident, making a comment about everyone being in a rush. Fixer's curiousity is more practical: if the others had been with him, they'd have found some ready targets in the crowd of onlookers, as accidents were always good distractions - at least until the police showed up. He wasn't keen on having another run-in with the one detective, Ashton, Asshat, whatever his name was.

He noticed Sarge standing in the crowd, watching the scene. There was something about his manner, and Fixer realized Walker was being ridden by the Loa. A pair of eyes looking in on the world of mortal man.

"Sarge?" he asked. "Been waiting long?"

"Just got here, myself," Walker smiled. "Car accidents ... well, like I told you, I got clipped by a drunk driver, that's how I lost my leg. People here were lucky. Come on, we have a reservation."

Angeline's was done in classic French Quarter decor. There was a pleasant hum of conversation and an overall atmosphere of bonhomie.

"Welcome home," the hostess smiled. "Do you have a reservation?"

"Walker, for three, please."

"Right this way. We have a table by the window, where it's a little cooler," she told them. "Or a quieter table in the corner, if you'd like."

"By the window is fine," Walker said. There was still a distant aspect to his gaze. Fixer had never seen someone ridden in this manner; neither, it appeared, had Mambo Kathleen, as she hadn't said anything.

His Aunt excused herself and went in search of the restroom.

Walker regarded Fixer with a slight tilt of his head. "Do you see them, my son?"

"See who ... Father?" Fixer asked tentatively.

Walker's smile, a toothy affair not entirely his own, told him he had guessed correctly. Kalfu was using the man as his eyes and ears.

"Others like you. Look closely, and you will see the patterns taking form," Walker/Kalfu told him. "Already, you are being drawn into each other's presence, a web of coincidence and purpose through which the future will be shaped."

Pattern recognition was something familiar to Fixer. You had to recognize who was flush and who wasn't. Who was meandering in a touristy daze and who was a plainclothes detective only pretending to shop. There was the woman with blue hair, of course, who'd nearly been clipped by the taxicab. Another couple that didn't seem like a couple, entirely. And perhaps one or two others.

It was the power of the gods, both newly kindled and long banked. And something was pressing on the future, bringing the power forth.

Walker rose as Kathleen returned to the table, and Fixer followed suit. Kathleen ordered the Shrimp Creole, while Sarge went with the Jambalaya. Fixer chose Angeline's Gumbo; iced tea was the drink of choice.

"Mr. Walker, you seem familiar, though I'm fairly certain we've never met," Kathleen said.

Walker gave the same toothy smile and Fixer knew it was Kalfu who was answering. "I'm restless by nature, and I walk around town a lot. Our paths have undoubtedly crossed, but only in passing."

"Fixer can use a friend," Kathleen said. "My brother confuses being a father and a mentor for being an authority figure."

Walker smiled. "I am honored."

Fixer laughed. "Well, I'm not sure, Sarge - we did meet in prison."

"The worst prisons can be the ones we create for ourselves," Walker/Kalfu said. "Part of me understands sleeping in a bed, in a house, that's all perfectly normal and safe. And then there's the part of me that remembers being in a war zone, and having bullets whistle through your tent or barracks."

"It is not protection you require, but a cleansing," Kathleen said. "The fetters of war are still upon your wrists."

"The idealistic young kid who didn't know any better, he's long gone, Miss Kathleen," Walker said with a hint of regret. "I walked into war and was fortunate enough to walk out of it, but I have seen things that cannot be unseen. It is a cost to be borne, not a debt that can be forgiven, and I ... hell, I'll carry it with me the rest of my life."

"As you were saying, the worst prisons are those we create for ourselves," Kathleen chided softly. "Whatever you saw, whatever you did, those may be lessons or burdens, but they do not grow kinder when you cling to them as yours alone. Perhaps you need a friend, too. And that is why Papa Legba saw fit to put you both in jail at the same time."

"I won't argue that, Ma'am," Walker smiled. "If war gave me anything, it's an appreciation for what comes next. And something tells me there's a storm on the horizon."

"There is, indeed," Kathleen agreed. "Katrina was a hurricane. The coming storm is of a different making, though both profit from the illusion that they are in the distance. Both will bring the same level of destruction and change when they make landfall."

"Dad's big on the End Times, too, how we all have to come to Christ Jesus and be Saved," Fixer frowned. "At least he's not telling his parishioners to buy him a new jet."

Walker laughed, but then grew serious. "What exactly happened between you and your father?"

"We just see things differently, is all," Fixer said. "Sometimes you have to wait for change, and sometimes it's not even your change to make, but someone else's. You gotta know when there's a fish on the other end of the line before you try reeling it in."

Kathleen set down her utensils.

"It is somewhat more complicated than that. Fixer, you have never heard this story before. It was your father's' first ritual," she said. "At first, he was caught up in the dancing and festive atmosphere. But then the Loa came. He saw people change - their manner, their voices, and I don't think he knew what to make of it.

"Especially when one of our uncles let out a deep, basso laugh. He snatched up a bottle of rum and drank half of it in one swallow. He pointed at our grandfather and said Il est de votre temps - it is your time. And then he looked Francis in the eyes and said, 'Say your goodbyes.'

"Granpere collapsed after the ceremony was over. He passed the next morning. Francis swore that Baron Samedi was the devil, and never attended another ritual."

"So, just as I'm carrying the burden of war with me, your brother carries the memory of that night?" Walker asked.

"The memory. And all of the pain and loss one expects when a child loses a grandparent," Kathleen says. "So, Fixer, remember that your father is, in some ways, an angry, upset child lashing out at what caused him so much pain."

Elle was out for her usual evening walk around the neighborhood. She walked between work and dinner, rather than after dinner. That was more her contemplative time, spent at her altar or with the cards or bones, reading for herself, staying in touch with spirit.

It was a balmy evening, the street filled with tourists, street musicians, tarot readers with their little tables set up on the sidewalk. Elle didn't let her mind wander far during her walks through the Quarter, to many pickpockets and other cons out to prey on unsuspecting tourists. She paid attention to her surroundings without appearing to notice anything in particular, a habit that had been honed and refined by her years in New York.

As she rounded the corner there was a screech of tires. A cab making a sudden stop, a woman down near the cab being watched over by a very large dog. There were many people around, some helping the young woman, some watching. Elle's intuition told her the woman wasn't injured, not even hit by the car, so she didn't hurry forward to offer medical aid. Instead she slowed and watched the scene play out.

There was an energy in the air, a crackling static around the figures huddled around the woman now sitting on the curb. The was also the prickling on the back of her neck and her head that told her someone nearby was being ridden. Not the woman on the curb, or the other woman helping her, although she looked familiar - like the picture of the card reader whose shop was over the herb place she had been in just the other day. There were two young men, one Asian, lithe, agile. The other taller, of European decent, the horse wasn't either of them, but the crackling energy was coming from them, the four of them.

The cabbie got out to check on things. He didn't have the same energy signature as the others, but he did know them, or at least one of them. It was strange, they didn't all seem to know each other, but it felt like they were all connected like jigsaw puzzle pieces, each of them knowing one or two of the others but no more. Elle reached out psychically, trying to read the situation. It had a bit of chaos to it, and then there was the horse somewhere nearby, being ridden by which one, which Loa was here? And what was that energy? It was strange, Elle had never felt anything like it, it made her blood sing.

As she watched she moved close to the building on the corner behind her, across the street from the commotion. This way people could only go around in front of her, not behind. The cabbie and the four crackly, staticky ones all got into the cab, with the enormous dog, and drove away. What an odd group of people Elle thought.

By now the crowd had thinned, nothing to see here, no one hurt, nothing exciting. Elle scanned those left standing on the sidewalk in front of Aunt Angeline's and settled on another unlikely looking pair. The younger one looked familiar, with a strange sense of static about him. As Elle shifted her gaze to older gentleman with him she felt the familiar prickling, that's the horse. The two turned and went back inside Aunt Angeline's.

Still no clue who the Loa riding him was, now that was interesting, you usually didn't see possession outside of ritual., and that strange energy again, what is that? The light turned green, Elle crossed the street. As she walked in front of the restaurant she saw the two gentlemen at a window table and Mambo Kathleen approaching from the back of the restaurant. Ah, that's who the kid is, Mambo Kathleen's shifty nephew, Fixer.

Mambo Kathleen's eyes lit up in recognition, she waved and motioned for Elle to join them. Why not? Elle mused, she haven't had dinner. Elle walked up to the table, the older gentleman got up and pulled out the empty chair for her.

"Thank you". Elle smiled. "who are you?"

"Fixer can use a friend," Kathleen was saying as Elle approached their table. Elle listened to the conversation. The young man had been in jail - something that seemed to happen on a regular basis - and had crossed paths with the man whose eyes were not his own.

"Gabrielle, dear, so good to see you again," Kathleen smiled. "I believe you know my nephew, Fixer ... and this is Mr. Walker."

Walker rose from his seat and nodded his head. "Please, join us." He gave Kathleen another nod to indicate he'd still take care of the bill.

"Thank you," Elle smiled. "Who are you?"

"_Care for_ something to drink?" the man asked. The slight emphasis on the first two words puzzled Elle at first, and then she realized. Care for. Carrefour. Crossroads. She was certain that this was not Papa Legba, which meant he had to be Legba's twin, Kalfu, often said to be the source of the world's ills.

That he just happened to have eyes on a near fatality at a busy intersection didn't make Elle feel any better about the answer. And, the man was in the company of Kathleen's nephew - not a complete thug, but not exactly a model citizen, either.

"I'm Sergeant Walker, Ma'am," he said. "I gather you're a friend of Miss Kathleen?"

"Oh, yes, I've known Mambo Kathleen since I was a girl. I met her my first visit to New Orleans. She was a friend of my Aunt Marian." Elle smiled, glancing around the table. "Mambo Kathleen is the person who taught me to be 'careful'" Elle emphasized 'care-ful', separating the syllables, saying each distinctly, watching for Walker's reaction. "She has guided me in the old ways."

Walker gives you a toothy grin. "Are you a Mambo? Or ... something else?"

Fixer glances at his Aunt, and then at Gabrielle, sensing that there was some kind verbal fencing going on. He'd never really paid attention to the woman; she'd returned to New Orleans shortly after Katrina, and worked in the community, some kind of hospice nurse. Not someone he had reason to associate with.

But, here she was. Just happened to be passing by while he was having dinner with a guide chosen by his true father.

_Others like you,_ Walker had told him. Was Martine another child of the Loa? Who would her parent be? Erzulie? No, too serious. Agwe, perhaps, since she came to town after Katrina. Or maybe Baron Samedi, since she did hospice work.
He found himself fishing in his pocket for the skeleton key, fidgeting with it. There was a current of power he usually didn't feel outside of formal rituals, or stores where vendors weren't just hawking 'genuine voudoun magic' to gullible tourists.

And it was coming from her.

Stronger. Perhaps not more powerful than Mambo Kathleen, but more tangible, more manifest, ready to be called upon.

_A web of coincidence and purpose ..._

Their paths would cross again.

Elle laughed heartily, "I'm not a mambo, definitely something else." She smiled at 'Sarge'. "I was called to work in a different way. I'm a death doula, a hospice nurse by trade, and a reader at Carmel and Sons Botanica on Dumaine in the Treme District."

"How is your schedule these days?" Mambo Kathleen asked. "We haven't seen you around much these last few months."

"I've actually been relaxing and taking things easy. I've spent a fair amount of time back in bayou country recently. Ever since Aunt Marian's passing and the settlement of her estate I've been able to scale back on my nursing duties, it's been wonderful. Although helping people transition to the other side of the veil is rewarding, it can be draining."

"You inherited the house, as I recall. Did you sell It?"

"No, I've simply continued to live in the guest cottage out back and I rent out the main house on a short term basis. The agency I've contracted provides only the best renters and it has proven to be quite lucrative. I must admit it's a relief after the unpleasantness with the cousins." A shadow crossed Elle's face, briefly. If you hadn't been paying attention you wouldn't have noticed the mercurial downturn then upturn in her mood.

Elle turned to the others at the table. "It's been a long time Fixer, it's good to see you. What have you been up to?"

With a Loa sitting next to him and the strange energy around him, she wondered if he was one of the others Maman had told her about so long ago. Elle's mind drifted back. "There will be a great storm, child, not just the one coming soon, another, greater storm is coming after. You have been chosen to help those that will be leaving this incarnation to transition, and to help rebuild after both storms pass. You will not be alone, there will be others like you, born of the gods, many gods." That had been years ago. She had been waiting a long time to meet another like her.

Fixer shrugs. "Stuff. I have my Bachelor's in Sociology, but finding a job is a whole 'nother thing. I got other friends who have degrees, and we're waiting tables, working minimum wage jobs, and getting told we should get an education and work harder."
"If you want a generation that gives a shit, you have to make sure there are opportunities, not just a handwave from one-percenters who got a six-figure starter job because daddy's the CEO."
He frowns. "Sorry. It's not your problem."

Despite the rough-around-the-edges vibe, the young man's vision isn't far off from what you were told would be coming. He has a clear interest in building the right kind of future. And if a Loa is looking in on his welfare, going so far as to provide a mentor/guide ...

"No need to apologize, and I actually think it's everybody's problem. If we don't get the stranglehold the wealthy have on the economy and this country turned around there will be hell to pay. I'm seeing things fray around the edges as it is."

Fixer looked up, the 'I could care less', punk look on his face faded away, replaced by surprise and puzzlement.

"You still reading at Mambo Kathleen's place? You're a good reader, if I remember correctly, and I don't think Kathleen would let you keep reading if you weren't. My dance card is full over at Carmel and Sons. I can send my overflow your way, that is, if you have the capacity to take it. Let me know"

"The cards? Yeah, I still read at the store, occasionally go out to the Cathedral - that's about as close as I get to church, though," Fixer tells you. "It's probably best to have clients call the store and make an appointment, rather than hit-and-miss."

"I should have you read for me," Sarge said. "Or you, Gabrielle, if you would be willing. When are you at Carmel & Sons?"

"I'm usually there noon to six on Fridays. Come on by, or call for an appointment, it would be interesting to see what the cards have to say for you.

"I'll do that Fixer, do you have any business cards? Or cards from the store I could give out?"

"I have some". Kathleen digs in her purse and pulls out a handful of cards for her shop and slides them over to Elle. "How was Nanna last time you visited her?"

"Still cooking up potions and brews for the locals as always, and she makes the best cornbread I ever had.

"We had a great time. I stayed about a week the last visit. Sat on the front porch listening to her tell stories of the old days and of family long gone. She also taught me a few more healing spells, along with salves and tinctures.

"What I didn't learn any more about is what I'd really wanted to, about my Mom and Dad. Just heard what I already knew, that her name was Brigitte, she and Dad came to town when she was seven or eight months pregnant, and that he left shortly thereafter.
I wish someone would remember his name"

"Why you want to know that?" Kathleen retorted, "He was a good for nothin' scum, left your mom when she needed him the most. Don't go looking for him, he will only bring trouble."

Elle shook her head, "That's just what Nana says every time I ask. It's almost like you two are scared of something. Didn't find out any more about Mom, either. The doctor records were destroyed in Katrina, what I have for a birth certificate doesn't even list Mom's last name."

"Now don't you worry none about that, Elle, you have family. There's Nana and lots of us consider you family. And Marian loved you like a daughter, really, more than a niece.

"Look at the foresight she had to leave that notarized letter specifying that even though you were not blood related she considered you family and you were to be included in her will and trust as her niece. Took the wind out of the sails of your cousins, it did."

"I hear the pea an pie here is some of the best in town" Sarge broke in. "What does everyone want for dessert?"

Dinner wrapped up with dessert and pleasant conversation. Sarge promised to stop by the next Friday for a reading around two, when Elle said she had an opening. Elle promised to stop by and see Mambo Kathleen.

As they were getting ready to leave Elle turned to Fixer "you got any time for lunch next week? We could talk about our reading techniques. Besides, I think we have a lot in common." She glanced quickly at Sarga, then back to Fixer.

"Just about any day works for me, except Thursday evenings - I always hit Mama Benedetti's for the all-you-can-eat pasta deal," Fixer says. "Otherwise, I'm at loose ends, scrapin' together what I can to make ends meet."

He was, of course, nowhere near as lean on cash as he made himself out to be. New Orleans was a tourist-driven town, and this was football season as well. The streets were packed with people whose pockets were flush with cash.

The pecan pie, of course, was every bit as delicious as Sarge had said, without the chocolate chips that some venues liked to add. Fixer had an order of beignets that looked as good as what one could get at Cafe du Mond; Kathleen settled for a cup of coffee.

(A Convergence of Scions - The Herbal Oasis and Sanura home)

"Here we are," Kenari declares as they walk up the street to a modest storefront underneath a set of upstairs apartments. A hand-painted wooden sign hangs from the overhang decorated with palm trees and the words The Herbal Oasis.

She's about to open the door to the shop when she hesitates and turns around, crouching low to face Twylla's dog. "You are a big dog, which is wonderful for protecting your human... but not so wonderful when walking through a store filled with very delicate things. If you would be so kind as to keep the tail and drool under control, I am sure your consideration will be well rewarded after we eat."

She gently holds out an open hand to the dog. "Do we have an understanding?"

Roscoe chuffs amiably and licks Kenari's hand. Perhaps it is the canine version of a spit and shake?

"I think he'll be okay," Twylla says, moving to scratch the mastiff behind the ears. The entire drive over, he had laid quietly with his head across Twylla's shoulder (as evidenced by a now quite moist spot upon her shirt). There had been no barking at cars or other dogs he spotted on the street. In fact, had it not been for his big, ol' noggin' being right there between Twylla and Sven, and clearly visible to Sebastian in the rearview mirror, they wouldn't have even known that he was there.

"Excellent," Kenari replies as she stands up and subtly wipes her hand on the back of her pants.

"Ahlan, Pappa!" Kenari calls out as she opens the door and gestures for everyone to enter. Warm air scented with frankincense incense rolls out from a shop filled with small bottles and vials of various herbs and powders. "I brought my new friends that Haji told you about!"

"Ahlan, sister! They're still in the back setting up the table," a young dark-haired man in his 20s and buttoned down shirt with rolled up sleeves replies from behind the counter.

"Senbi, let me introduce you to my new friends, then!" Kenari smiles as she gestures to the group. "Sebastian, Sven, and Twylla, this is my youngest brother Senbi."

There's a single "WHOOF!" from behind the group as Roscoe pokes his head around Twylla.

"And Roscoe... we can't forget him."

"It is my honor and privilege to be the first to meet the people my sister has waited so long for," Senbi replies as he steps out from behind the counter to shake hands with Sebastian and Sven. When he gets to Twylla, however, he smiles. "Ahlan wa sahlan," he says as he puts his hands to her face and kisses both cheeks.

"She's from here," Kenari whispers in his ear as she rolls her eyes.

Sebastian exchanged Senbi's handshake firmly and with an honest smile. As everyone was shuffling in and exchanging greeting Sebastian slid next to Kenari. "Does your family know about your mother?" he asked in a whisper, "If not this dinner conversation will be even more strained than the car ride over here."

"They knew about her before I did," Kenari whispers in reply. "Trust me... things will become more clear after a full stomach."

What's that now? Twylla latches onto Senbi's words. Kenari has been waiting for them? Then, her original thought must be correct. This young lady must also be a child of the gods...

Twylla's train of thought is completely derailed, though, as Senbi lightly holds her face and kisses her on the cheeks. She blinks, startled. She had been in the process of holding out her hand to shake, just as the men had. This results in her lightly punching Senbi in the stomach, not hard enough to hurt but definitely enough to be felt.

"Oh! Oh, geez...I'm sorr...uhhh...ahem," Twylla quickly lowers her hand, blushes and smiles, trying to recover. "It's nice to meet you, too."

Kenari hides her laugh behind her hand as Senbi steps back with a slight wheeze. "I... meant no offense, lovely lady. It is but a greeting of respect from our homeland. It was my mistake."

He gestures to a beaded archway in the back of the store. "If you please, my family has put together a meal for us all."

Kenari moves closer to Twylla as they walk to the back. "He's not lying, you know... but he shouldn't have assumed you know of our ways," she whispers. "My apologies."

Twylla gives a soft groan and laugh, "No, no! You don't need to apologize for anything. I didn't mean to hit him! I was just holding out my hand to shake and he stepped in and I wasn't expecting it..."

She puts both hands up to her face, her shoulders sagging for a second, "First, I nearly cause an accident for your other brother and then I punch this one. I swear, I'm not trying to kill your family!"

"No harm done but to his pride," Kenari laughs as she pulls the beads aside for everyone. "I think he tries that one on all the girls. The car accident... well... we'll talk about that after we eat."

"Ahlan wa sahlan, my new friends!" an older Egyptian man with grey hair and glasses exclaims with raised hands as he steps out of the kitchen followed by two younger men carrying bowls of food to the table.

"Please, make yourselves welcome and take a seat! The Kofta is almost finished!" There's a long table filled with bowls of food and place settings with cushions on the floor.

"I am glad to see that you are unharmed, miss," Haji says with a slight bow to Twylla after he sets down a bowl of Baba Ghanoush. "I would not forgive myself otherwise."

"All is as it should be, Haji," Kenari reassures her brother with a gentle hand to his shoulder. "Sebastian and I were on our way to dinner anyway... we just ended up changing the location."

The other larger man sets down a plate of Koshary filled with rice, pasta and lentils before crossing his arms and giving Kenari a raised eyebrow. She returns his look with a glare before turning and smiling to everyone.

"Father, Haji and Manu, may I introduce Sebastian, Sven, Twylla and her dog Rocco. My new friends and I have much in common to discuss... but first, we need to eat!"

"Yes, yes! Always better to talk with full stomachs," her father agrees. "Please, have a seat!"

Kenari crosses her legs and lowers herself gracefully onto a cushion before reaching over and scooping some shaved meat for the shwarmas into a bowl. "For Roscoe," she says as she hands it to Twylla. "I am a woman of my word."

"Thank you, sir!" Twylla smiles to the man who must be Kenari's father. As the smell of food wafts about her, she realizes that she's actually really hungry. She had been so befuddled by her visitation that she had only nibbled on a PopTart for breakfast.

"Oh, no," she turns and smiles at Haji. "If I had been hurt, it would've been entirely my own fault. I was lost in thought, not paying attention...I must've bumped into someone or something and..." She chuckles. "I'm just glad that you were quick on those brakes!"

"Ah! Thank you," Twylla grins and accepts the bowl. She turns to find Roscoe behind her, looking up at her like a gargantuan puppy, eyes wide and tongue lolling out in anticipation. "Come on, buddy."

She moves to a corner of the room where a bit of sunlight streams in, forming a warm patch on the floor. She sets the bowl down and Roscoe immediately horks down the delicious meat in a matter of seconds. He gives a contented huff, lays down in the sun and rolls onto his side, his eyes drifting shut. He seems not at all concerned about his human's safety, in this place.

Twylla goes back to the table and settles onto a cushion, cross-legged. She arranges her skirt for modesty and settles, perfectly comfortable. This is normally how she sits in all chairs, with her legs curled up under her. Moving to the floor, on cushions, feels natural, to her.

Sven hung back a second to give the knick-knacks in the shop a look-over. He was always fond of ethnic stuff - handcarved incense holders, golden-looking idols of various types, semi-precious stones fashioned into jewelry and various scrying devices. Some of the implements he recognized from his occult phase in college, others he couldn't tell if they had religious import or were just meant to part tourists of their vacation money.

He recognized her brother Haji as the taxi driver he had yelled at earlier, and despite his efforts to maintain an outward persona his shoulders slumped a bit in shame. "Hi there Haji, sorry for my rather rude behavior earlier."

"Not at all my friend, it was a harrowing experience for us all!" Haji assured him, shaking his hand earnestly. Sven went around the room making introductions with the rest of Kenari's family before settling onto a cushion in a half-lotus position. He hadn't had Egyptian food specifically before, but it seemed to match the general style and manner of other middle eastern cuisines, and he was comfortably familiar with the associated table etiquette.

Haji nods and smiles as he sits next to his father at the table. Manu sits on the other side, with Kenari next to him and Twylla on her other side. Kenari rolls her eyes as Manu sits down. "It's not like that!" she hisses quietly to him.

"That's what you said the last time," he whispers back as Kenari huffs in reply.

"Tsk! Guests!" the elder Sanura admonishes before gesturing to the others with a smile. "Have a seat and let me hear about yourselves! Eat! Eat!"

Sebastian glared rather pensively at the low table. _There are no chairs,_ he thought dully. While he was thinking everyone else had taken their seats. He moved to settle down next to Haji and struggled to mirror Sven's posture. His knee slipped hitting the table and sending his glass, full of a dark red drink, teetering dangerously on the white table cloth. Out of instinct his hand shot out to catch the glass mid-fall.

"Sorry about that," he mumbled looking towards his host apologetically. To his surprise everyone was staring at his glass in various degrees of surprise. He looked down at it to see about half the contents of the glass hanging in the air, near the glass. _Did I do that,_ he thought with disbelief. As the thought crossed his mind the floating mass of juice quivered a little and he realized he could feel a trickle of power flowing in his necklace. _God of Seas and Storms indeed,_ he mused as he willed the liquid back into the glass.

Out loud he merely spoke, "For my next trick, I shall die from embarrassment."

Sven froze after Sebastian's accidental display of power, a succulent piece of meat halfway to his lips. Well it looks like there was a reason for going on this little adventure after all.

Keeping his voice calm, he deadpanned, "You'll have to teach me that one, I might save on dry cleaning."

Kenari smiles sincerely at Sebastian's display of power. "Well that answers that question," she says with a small laugh as she sets down her fork.

"A month ago I was visited by my birth mother, Bast the Goddess of Cats," she begins as her family all pause to kiss a token or mutter a prayer under their breath. "My father had told me this story many times when I was young... but like a young disrespectful fool, I didn't believe him until she told me herself."

"Is that all she told you?" Twylla asks curiously.

"You would think that would be enough," Kenari chuckles, "but she told me more. She told me of others who would come to me... those born of the Gods, yet not necessarily my own. And with that prediction came a dire warning: like she would slay the Apep every morning so Ra could conduct his chariot across the sky, I would be tasked with fighting evil so that others can do what they must to save the world and the broken Balance."

Sebastian cleared his throat and continued where Kenari left off, "I met my father last week, while falling from a plane with no parachute. He called himself Susano-O and is apparently Shinto god of Storms and Seas. He left me with a similar message; there is a storm coming and I must find others to help weather it. I didn't really have much time to press him for more info, what with the falling. I met Kenari later that night."

He glanced back at his drink, "Also that's a new trick for me. I figured flying was going to be the weirdest part of this."

Sven casually leaned back a little, and brushing his hand through his hair pricked his finger on Conscience. Hey Christine, looks like I fell in with a pack of scions.

Sounds like your path is finally starting to show itself, I was getting tired of lugging you around. She'd been prepping him the whole time since his encounter with his father, teaching him about the shadow world of half-Gods, taking him to gun ranges, and giving him stringent exercise regimens. He knew at some point he'd be called to service, whatever that really meant, but wasn't expecting that call to include dinner and a show.

How much should I reveal? I don't know them from Adam, do I tell them about you? Sven was pretty sure these were okay folks. While the world isn't black and white, it wasn't perfectly gray either - everyone here has 'clicked' with his measure of healthful personalities. This is where the training wheels come off, Sven. You need to make those decisions for yourself. And - you should be paying attention. With that she cut off the connection.

Ugh.

Still keeping his cards to his chest, he proffered, "Very interesting. And here I thought I was the only one. I found out a few years ago that my father is Tyr, a Nordic God of Justice and War. Although I think I tend more towards the justice side than the war bit. I would appreciate if nobody would tweet that or something, might hurt us in the next election cycle.

"Twylla, I'd take a wild guess that you've also got something special in your lineage? Or are we totally freaking you out right now?"

Twylla finishes chewing her bite of shawarma and swallows, wiping her mouth before gracing everyone at the table with a brilliant smile, "Actually, I'm relieved! Father said there would be others. I had no idea that I would meet you all so soon! I only learned of my heritage this morning."

She looks apologetically to Haji, "That's why I wasn't paying as much attention as I should have, earlier. I was thinking about what it all meant...how this changed things...what i would be called to do..."

Twylla trails off, chuckling at herself, "Sorry. I tend to ramble. I'm the daughter of Ptah, the Egyptian God of Creation."

"Ptah told me that there was a war coming, but that it wouldn't be my battle. I wouldn't be called to fight...but I'm not a warrior. So...yeah. Apparently, I'm to help heal and rebuild once the battle is over," she looks to Roscoe. "I think Roscoe is a gift from Ptah. He's my guardian."

She looks around the table, concern showing on her face, "Did your parents say anything specific about the battle? Ptah didn't offer much in the way of details."

Sebastian shook his head. "My conversation lasted maybe sixty seconds before he handed me a sword and told me to learn to fly." Sebastian scratched his head and continued, "He did give me an address to an old man here in town, a Shinto Priest I think, for guidance. So far all the old man has down is have me do chores around the temple while he tells of the Shinto mytho... uh... history, I guess. It's like I'm the Karate Kid, but I'm not learning Karate. What I have learned is the Shinto gods are rarely active outside of Japan. The fact that Pops even visited me means shit is real bad... or he got kicked out of heaven again. Apparently that's his shtick."

"I too believe in Justice, Sven," Kenari says as she runs the tip of her finger around the rim of her glass. "I just don't believe in waiting for politicians to give it to us." She sighs and takes a sip of her mint tea.

"The Gods are fond of their ambiguities," Kenari replies to Twylla as she sets down her drink. "They give us just enough knowledge to start down the road, but leave it up to us to decide where the journey takes us."

She gestures towards Twylla and Sven. "Not all battles are fought with tooth and claw. Many are fought with words and ideas... and I would like to think that's where your callings truly lie."

She places a hand gently over Twylla's and gives her a squeeze of comfort. "Make no mistake, my dear... we've all been called to fight."

Twylla simply nods, considering Kenari's words. It's true that she's not aphysical fighter. But, hasn't she been fighting corruption for some time now, in her own way? Though quiet and anonymous, she has been pulling tidbits of dark information into the light, exposing underhanded dealings for what they are.

Still, she's not wrong in admitting that if the situation comes to blows, she's not going to be much help. Heh. When she was in college, Twylla's mother had insisted that she take a self-defense course, afraid for her daughter, away at campus and truly alone for the first time. Twylla had taken it, but she never enjoyed it and has forgotten everything...

...no. No. That's not right. She hasn't forgotten. It's all there. Every move, every kick, every punch. It's still there. She simply hasn't thought about it in ages. But, it's all still there, along with her class syllabus. And the names of the streets she walked. And all her teacher's names...

Twylla blinks in astonishment, but says nothing. Hey, I remember stuff!doesn't seem like it's all that pertinent to the current conversation, so she keeps quiet.

"True," she says with a smile. "Still, I'm glad that I have Roscoe. If push comes to shove, I like the idea of having a big, furry guardian to help me."

"Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm quite capable of defending myself, just because I find the pen mightier than the sword doesn't mean I don't carry a sword," Sven said as he patted his shoulder holster. It was still concealed and under his jacket - it's rude to pull weapons out at the dinner table after all - but the indication was clear.

"I meant no offense, of course," Kenari replies smoothly, "but only that I feel our skills and experiences will each be important in their own way when the time comes. If the Gods chose a politician to be on their side, I can only imagine it will be to fight fire with fire... so to speak."

"You keep indicating that politicians are the enemy. And sure, in a corporeal sense, there's a lot of fuckery there that hurts people - excuse my language," he bowed a little to Kenari's father in deference.

"But while I've run into plenty of trolls, vampires, and succubi in my time at City Hall, none of them have been literal trolls or vampires. At least not yet."

Kenari's father waves a placating hand. "Harsh times occasionally call for harsh language."

"Monsters come in all forms," Kenari replies with a frown. "The gentrification of New Orleans by the politicians and big businesses after Katrina would be enough to harden my heart against them, Sven. Sure the city is being rebuilt... but it's not being rebuilt for the poor. It's not being rebuilt for the unwanted masses that the rich hoped the flood waters would wash away."

Kenari's hand clenches as she talks and Manu lays a hand on her shoulder.

"The things I have seen from policemen and politician's aides and assistants who walk through my door... they do not bear repeating at a dinner table. So forgive me if I am biased, Sven. If you are truly a politician with a good heart, then I offer a prayer to your gods that you remain so."

Sven decided to bite his tongue for now. He knew intimately just how corrupt the political world was, especially behind closed doors. After all, by many definitions he was corrupt, and could face serious consequences for some of the decisions he's made in Christine's name. And for all their efforts at changing New Orleans' path towards a brighter future, he had to admit that the incredible resistance they've faced against even the simplest issues proves Kenari's prejudice is not unfounded.

And if she feels opposed to gentrification, then again Sven's activities could well fall onto the wrong side of her moralities, no matter how noble Christine's vision felt to Sven. He was all for healthy debate, but he also knew there was a time and place for such things.

Sven nodded thanks to Kenari, indicating he wasn't going to press the issue further.

Twylla sits quietly, listening to Kenari and Sven. While her own opinion is that the vast majority of politicians and police are akin to sacks of snakes dipped in venom and sprinkled with glass shards...surely, not all of them can be bad. It's just as dangerous for people on her side to make blanket assumptions as it is for the people on the other side. Still...people like Dick Asston certainly do their best to make it hard to keep that point in mind.

She casually swipes a piece of bread through the hummus on her plate and pops the tidbit into her mouth. It is delicious! Of course, she's always loved hummus but this...this must be homemade!

Deciding that a change of subject might be for the best, Twylla smiles and sucks a stray bit of hummus off her finger before turning to Kenari's father, "This is wonderful! Do you make it yourself?"

"Enough about the woes of the world," Kenari's father says to break the awkward silence. "Their time will come soon enough. Now is when we feast and rejoice with new friends, yes?"

He smiles at Twylla's words. "It is my grandmother's recipe passed down to me when she didn't have a daughter. I am sure she is smiling from Sekhet-Aaru, young lady. If you wish, I could teach it to you as my sons have no desire for culinary skills."

Haji scoffs. "Too busy helping with the store, Papa. Somebody else will have to cook for me."

Kenari's father whacks his son lightly on the back of the head. "With an attitude like that you'll be eating frozen dinners the rest of your life!"

Kenari smiles. "Too true, Papa." She pulls out a number of business cards from her pocket and passes them around the table. "We should all share our contact information so that we can reach each other when the time arises."

"Really? I'd love that! Thank you," Twylla grins, genuinely delighted to be offered this knowledge.

She chuckles at the exchange between father and son, "When I was young, my mom held two jobs to make ends meet. Once I was old enough to stay by myself, I became a latch key kid. So, I had plenty of nights with it just being me, at home, for dinner. It was either learn to cook or starve!"

Turning her attention back to Kenari, Twylla nods in agreement, "Let's see...Sebastian already knows how to contact me and so does Sven but...here, let me see my card, again, Sven." She holds out her hand.

Sven pulls out his wallet and retrieves the card, handing it back to her. Twylla then flips the card over and jots down a second number, her cell. Pulling out cards from her purse, she does the same for Sebastian and Kenari, so they both have her work and personal numbers.

Sven also passes around some business cards after scanning Kenari's into his phone and adding Twylla's personal number to her contact information.

"I don't have much of a personal life - that number goes direct to my cell, you can text it too. I also check my email pretty constantly. Although frankly, I'm not entirely sure what, exactly, we're calling each other about yet. The universe seems to have conspired to bring us together, but so far I'm not clear on what for, besides great food and company."

"See? She works for herself and still learned how to cook," Kenari's father laughs as his sons roll their eyes. "Perhaps if I teach it to my daughter so that she may pass it on to you, I can kill two birds with one stone."

He chuckles as Kenari's reaction adds to that of her brothers. "Though it might have to be the other way around," he mock whispers.

"Anyway..." Kenari drawls, "if the Gods have deemed it necessary for us to meet, I assume it's for more than good company. Perhaps the signs for what we need to accomplish together will be visible to us sooner that we'd like."

"Perhaps it would behoove use to share a bit more about our talents, both mundane and divine. By doing so we might discern more about why we've been brought together and what we might hope to accomplish," Sebastian spoke out suddenly. "Personally I'm a pilot and meteorologist. I've also done some home building and a little martial arts." He looked down at his drink. "As far as divine gifts are concerned, it looks like I can... move liquids? I can also breath under water and I'm pretty sure I can actually fly, but I haven't tried since landing in the lake."

"Yeah, if we're being tapped, then I figure that whatever is about to go down is close to happening," Twylla agrees. "That's a good idea, Sebastian. If something does happen, suddenly, then we should have the information so we know who best to contact, if we need to."

Twylla takes a sip of wine before continuing, "I'm a programmer. I know several computer languages and how to use a plethora of tools to make just about anything that you may need. I also know how to repair and build electronics. In my spare time, I'm working on creating a video game. I do my own coding and graphics, but I'm going to need someone else to do music and sound effects."

"As far as divine powers go...I don't know. Not much has been revealed to me, yet. I do know, though, that I can remember things...like...everything. If I've seen it, read, it lived it...I remember it. I can tell you the names of my classmates from kindergarten!"

Sven thought a moment, finally deciding to keep his connection with Christine to himself for now, as well as the magical properties of his ear stud. It would beg too many questions about Christine's heritage, and he wasn't quite sure how this crowd would react to the knowledge that an elected official is a scion.

"I've found I have a real knack for getting people to... cooperate since I met my father. That's come in real handy for work." Sven was only half joking with that emphasis, but he coughed and squirmed a little at the mixed facial reactions he received. He wasn't sure just how moral it was for him to use what feels like divine compulsion in civil service, but he figured he wouldn't have been given the abilities if he wasn't supposed to use them.

"I'm also able to tell when someone is guilty, which has been a real boon. I inherited a handgun too, although so far it hasn't started shooting magic bullets or anything so it may just be, well, a really cool handgun." He brought it out after motioning for and receiving permission from Kenari's father. It was a finely crafted Smith & Wesson revolver, the handle being polished bone with a Nordic rune that looked like a capital 'T'. "The handle is evidently carved from the tooth of a giant wolf named Fenrir. Norse mythology is... pretty grim, but worth the Wikipedia search at least."

Even though he was living proof that the Norse - and other - Gods truly exist, he generally considered religious texts and dogmas to be more myth than fact. Whatever kernels of truth they held must be distorted and reinterpreted over the eons between now and their origins.

"My abilities tend to be more... physical in nature," Kenari adds. "While I am able to consult my cards and obtain actual visions into the future, it seems that the stronger the visions are, the stronger my migraines become afterwards. Foreknowledge always did come with a price."

She takes a drink to wet her lips and then calls out, "Matit! Come to me, please!"

After a few moments a male tomcat on the larger side comes strolling into the room. When he spies the sleeping dog in the corner its tail begins to bristle as it lets out a low growl.

"I know it's a dog, but he's only temporary and doesn't mean any harm. Now get over it and come here!" Kenari admonishes the cat with a sigh. The cat's tail lowers and he moves to curl up beside Kenari with his head resting on her thigh.

"I can communicate with and understand cats of all kinds," Kenari explains as she scratches the cat under his chin and he starts to purr. "I can also see in the dark, track someone through a crowded city, and run and climb with great agility. I too am blessed, or perhaps cursed, with knowing when someone is guilty. And of course, there's knowing a scion when I smell one."

"Do scions stink or something?" Twylla asks with a shocked look before taking a sniff at herself. "I don't smell horrible, do I?"

Kenari chuckles as her family does their best to hide their grins. "Nothing like that I assure you. You... you smelled like home to me, Twylla. Hot sands and dust and incense. Sebastian here, he smelled of the sea and cherry blossoms, and Sven the smell of the air after an electrical storm."

She shrugs. "I'm not for certain as you three are the first other scions I've met... but I believe that maybe each god, or at least each pantheon, holds a particular scent to them."

"Well, it sounds like we have a good mix of skills, both mundane and divine," Twylla muses once everyone is finished. "Hopefully, we'll be able to handle whatever is about to be thrown at us."

"I have to admit, I'm more than a little nervous, at this point. Is this whole thing going to be BIG-BADA-BOOM obvious or will it be something subtle and insidious that could blindside us?" She sighs and absently pops another bit of hummus coated pita in her mouth, "I guess all we can do is keep our eyes open..."

"That makes a good point," Sebastian mused aloud, "What could have GODS so worried that they've started activating sleeper agents in New Orleans en mass? Nothing really big has happened here since Katrina and that was ten years ago. Could it have something to do with the anniversary?" He paused to stuff some of the unusual food in his mouth. It was certainly tasty. "I mean if the gods are real does that mean other shit is too? Do we have to worry about actual vampires or werewolves or orcs or whatever? Or is this big storm going to be at the hands of other gods and their munchkins?"

"This world provides enough monsters on its own, whether influenced by Set or not," Kenari replies to Sebastian."The Gods believe that we can accomplish whatever task they desire if we work together... and I have to believe them."

Kenari's father nods as he pats Haji's hand. "I have found that there is much one can accomplish through the strength of family... whether it be by blood or otherwise."

Kenari nods. "And at least now we know that if we do encounter something that seems beyond our ken... we're not alone. If the Gods grace me with more information through my visions, or I hear anything out of the ordinary, I will be sure to contact all of you."

She gestures to the table. "In the meantime, please, enjoy what my family has provided. And Twylla... if you like, we do have a shrine in the back dedicated to our gods that I could show you if you wish."

"I would wager that there's a lot of things that we thought were fairy tales that are all too true. All those legends that we've heard passed down? Yeah, I'm betting there's more truth in them than we ever thought," Twylla says. "If the gods are real and have been knocking heels with humans since...forever...well, that would mean that other events have gone down in the past. And, who knows what those were like? What was involved?"

Twylla's mind wanders for a moment, running over the mythology that she had learned in school. Her chewing slows and she bites the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing as the tales of Zeus' 'romances' return to her in full force. Yeah. Hopefully, the particulars on those aren't true...

Kenari's words draw her attention back to the table, and she blinks. The young tech smiles and nods, "I'd like that, I think. It's kind of weird, though. I mean, I've never been overly religious or anything and I suddenly learn that my dad is a god. How do I talk to him? How do I treat him?"

She seems to consider this for a moment and smiles, "He seemed nice. Before I knew who he was and that I wasn't just dreaming, we had a great time together...building...creating...laughing..."

Sven's started staring off into space a bit as his mind raced with all of this new information. "Well, we should put together a sort of early-warning plan. If we were indeed brought together to face an imminent threat - a threat that we know nothing about - then the only thing we can do is to make sure we're able to face it head on no matter how or where it materializes. You know, like a Bat Signal."

He glanced down at Matit, "Or a Cat Signal, as it were."

"What kind of phones does everyone have?" Twylla asks. "iPhone has a group text function built in and you can get Go SMS Pro for the Andriod that will let you do the same thing."

"If we agreed on a '911' code that could be sent out with a single tap, that would go a long way towards alerting everyone that there is a problem quickly and easily," Twylla says. "On good days, we can just type in what the problem may be, but I can imagine us being in an emergency situation where we don't have that luxury."

"If someone sends up the Bat Signal, what should our first response be?"

"Perhaps talking to him as your father might be a good start," Kenari's father replies to Twylla with a knowing smile. "If he chooses not to answer, we also have many books that could be of assistance that I would gladly loan you, young lady."

Kenari laughs as Matit meows at Sven. "I don't think he wants to be our personal messenger."

Burner phones... probably your best bet... the voice speaks through her earcuff. A lot less traceable that way.

"Perhaps if we all bought disposable phones and put only our numbers on them?" Kenari suggests. "That way we know it's one of us calling."

"I think that's a good idea Kenari. Maybe we can load up a few other tricks to it besides mass messaging, such as tying all the GPS locators together or something. Burners would also help in case our enemies are more in my ring, where electronic snooping is a matter of course.

"Twylla, do you have the bandwidth to put a tech package together for all of us?"

"We should also have a rendezvous point. While it might be convenient to meet at someone's house," Sebastian said, waving his hand to indicate their present location, "I worry that in an emergency situation we may not want to get family, friends, and neighbors potentially caught in the crossfire. In that regard, I do have a small private hanger where my plane is kept. It is relatively secluded and secure and could serve as a base of operations. I can get you guys access keys to it, if you want."

He paused for a moment before adding, "And worst case scenario could provide a good emergency escape route."

"Absolutely!" Twylla smiles, "I can also bounce our signals around, as need be...make it hard for anyone to trace us."

Shrugging, she smiles and says, "I'm on the security team, at work. Part of my job is white hat hacking. So, I know a few tricks."

"That's a good idea. While there's no one who could get caught up at my place, it's not exactly big enough for a large group of people. And, I like the idea of having an escape route," Twylla says. She decided to simply not think about the fact that that particular route would involve flying.

She then looks to Kenari's father and smiles in return, "That sounds like good advice. And, Ptah seemed open to chatting so...who knows?"

"Thank you, Sebastian," Haji says as his father and brothers nod. "I appreciate your willingness to keep our family from what harm may come."

"Fantastic, thanks Sebastian. We should stock it up with some supplies too, bug out bags and such.

"I'll also say that while my office at City Hall is probably a little too high profile, I keep a personal office near City Park that everyone is free to take advantage of. The door is sturdy and it locks up tight, but it's semi residential out there so it's not a good place to bring unwelcome guests. I've got some emergency supplies stored there too, just don't go rifling through my files, if you please - you may not like what you find. I'll get some keys made."

"Excellent... it seems we are all of an accord, then," Kenari says with a smile as she claps her hands together. "Whatever may come, I feel better knowing that this meeting has come to pass."

Her head tilts slightly as she listens to the voice in her ear.

"Seeing as Sebastian's location is a place of business, it may be easier for us to meet there under the pretense of skydiving lessons or whatnot. It's also more out of the way should something occur that we're not prepared for."

She takes a drink and nods at Sven. "Perhaps your residence should be kept as an emergency location in case Sebastian's becomes compromised? Especially if your 'bug out bags' are prepared and kept there."

"Right now there's only the one bag but I can get the supplies for more easily. And yes, it's cramped anyways, so definitely more of a temporary safe house than command center. It doesn't even have a sink, I use the bathroom at the Burger King on the corner."

Sven started a mental checklist of what he'd need to restock at the office in the unfortunate event that someone needs to rely on it. He also started to think about which files he should shred in case such an unfortunate visitor got nosy. Maybe move some of the still-leveragable materials to a storage locker, or bite the bullet and digitize them.

"Then if all is agreed, we will go our separate ways after we eat and meet at Sebastian's hanger in... what... a weeks' time, perhaps? That should be enough time to prepare the phones, and if anything strange should happen in the meantime we will be able to share our experiences."