Owner	Pose
Phoebe Beacon	There was something about even the worst city on the Eastern Seaboard and needing to get to the beach. The sands were occupied by beach-goers, some even daring to get into the water and go wading as the tide rolls in. Ice cream and food trucks are parked along the side of the street. Music is blasting from boomboxes in various genres. There's rollerskaters and roller bladers and skateboarders, and among all the people visiting the ocean to get a look at the gray-blue atlantic, some are more curious than others.     Phoebe has made a spot for herself among the back edge of a beachside. She had a blanket rolled out, and a white-and-red sight hound by her side. She was not hiding the scarification on her left arm today, and was wearing a tank top with orange sunglasses pushed up over her buzz-cut head and a pair of shorts -- though she had a light scarf wrapped around her neck. Her feet were buried in the sand, and she herself was under a brightly colored beach umbrella, and had a picnic basket packed for her.     She sketches, quietly.
Atrun-Rai	A skin of entropy, like a long-settled oil spill, falls across the sea here - the sea, the sand, the land beyond it. Pinned in place thanks to murders and horror, as secret as the crimes themselves. Here, under the shadowed boardwalks, a slit in reality is cut as gentle and subtly as velvet slit with a scalpel, and the Veil shudders because of it. Through this slit, the black void on its distant side, does Atrun-Rai step, neatly polished shoes crunchimg sand beneath their soles.     As a shadow of ancient Mesopotamia, and in truth of a land far older, Atrun-Rai looks out across the daylit beach and all its playing throngs with a combination of pleasure and trepidation. For he knows, of course, that one day all this will all be consumed.     But across the beach he goes, emerging beneath the boardwalk as the hissing rift behimd him seals unseen in darkness, and goes for a stroll.
Phoebe Beacon	The canine companion of Phoebe Beacon's ears rise up. They wiggle, little antennae geared towards picking up threats. Impossibly blue eyes on the sight hound open as his head rises up, and Phoebe reaches over to put her hand on the dog's side. She's stopped her sketching, her fingers curling a little tighter around the pencil she was holding before she draws her gaze up, spotting Atrun-Rai. And she gives a bright smile and opens her mouth, raising a hand -- and in lieu of calling out to the denizen of the darkness, she puts two fingers to her mouth and gives a sharp whistle in his direction!
Atrun-Rai	Should he be surprised? Perhaps not. And yet, the presence of the young woman is unexpected; he mirrors her bright smile with one of his own, but he does not approach where she sits.     "Miss Beacon," he bellows, voice as rich and warm as ever. "Hello! I'd approach, but, ah..." He gives the dog at her side a faint gesture, quite aware of his effect on them. "Dogs and I do not get along."
Phoebe Beacon	The red and white canine eyeballs Atrun-Rai, but Phoebe taps his side again gently, and he relaxes -- just a hair. He's now sitting in a perfect Sphinx position, his curled tail over his back, blue eyes set on Atrun-Rai as he watches and guards. Good boy.     Phoebe gives a smile though, and motions to her throat with an apologetic look, and then points to Atrun-Rai with her whole hand and motions for him to join her on her nice, big blanket beneath the umbrella's shade.     And she reaches into the picnic basket and pulls out a bottle of water to offer to him.
Atrun-Rai	The dog is given a nod of respect as Atrun-Rai approaches; a guardian, once identified, is always to be honored. "I am pleased to see you again," he says as he takes the indicated seat, suit and robes pooling about him, and adds now in a quiet voice, "Magus Beacon." Used again, this title, since last she saw him was the first he applied it. "You appear to be thriving."
Phoebe Beacon	Phoebe gives an embarrassed look, and she shakes her head, and she rubs the back of her neck as she pulls herself in to a lotus position, leaning back against a chairback.     She taps her pencil against her drawing pad a moment, and flips to another page of it:     'I am happy to see you as well, Atrun-Rai, but I'm afraid I'm no magus.' she replies.     She's not precisely thriving, but she's not going to comment on that part, instead focusing on enjoying his company.
Atrun-Rai	A change in affairs, or corroded self-image? Atrun-Rai regards her quietly with dark eyes which have seen so very much, and remembers his own youth. "That remains to be seen," he simply replies. "What do you do here, now? We are far from New York."
Phoebe Beacon	And her eyes, which have seen so much for one so young, settle on Atrun-Rai a moment, and she shrugs her shoulders.     'Live in Gotham now. Mostly look into hauntings now. No Big Things' she replies on paper, and then she looks up to Atrun-Rai and she taps her temple, and then points to him. and then taps her temple again.     Would trying a magical link even work with him?
Atrun-Rai	He considers that. "Dangerous," he says , shaking his head faintly as he gestures to his head. "My mind should remain uncontacted." Such are the problems one has when the monstrous darkness swirls within - but he smiles, faintly, and withdraws from his pocket a small tin of violet pastilles, one of which he offers to her. "So you are not terribly busy, then?"
Phoebe Beacon	Phoebe looks at the pastilles, and accepts one. She also accepts, with a nod, that Atrun-Rai would probably not be the best person to share even a temporary link.     She pops the pastille in her mouth, and leans back in her chair.     'Keeping busy. Stops the heart from hurting when I'm busy'.
Atrun-Rai	They are, at least, entirely mundane pastilles, although extremely vivid in flavor. "I find that to be a suitable balm," he agrees with a nod, and chooses not to probe. "Are you no longer a student of Magus Zatara?"
Phoebe Beacon	'Zee and I still work together and I learn from her when I can. She is also busy with Big Stuff.' Phoebe writes as she sucks on the sweet, trying to place the flavor of the candy. She breathes out in a huff.     'After Michael was defeated, left JLD. Patrol Gotham.'
Atrun-Rai	More information to absorb. "I see," comes his slow reply. "And do you not wish to pursue the 'Big Stuff' anymore?"
Phoebe Beacon	Phoebe's weight shifts a moment, and she draws up one leg. She sets her chin on her leg as she considers the answer, looking at the sketch book. She shifts her weight, and closes her eyes, her shoulders drawing up, muscles tensing as she gives a shudder.     And she curls her fingers so hard against the pencil that it creaks in warning, the wood and graphite straining under the stress she's causing.
Atrun-Rai	Yet more data to absorb. After a long moment's silence between them, Atrun-Rai offers the following recommendation.     "You need to be fed some proper, filling food," the ancient wizard affirms. "I shall make you a meal of my people."
Phoebe Beacon	Phoebe pauses, and she looks up at the ancient wizard and then motions to her picnic basket in confusion. She pulls out a sandwich (tomato and cheese, with watercress, on sourdough (toasted, with a little butter to stop the tomato from making the bread soggy)), and her eyebrows go up a moment.
Atrun-Rai	"Not today," he replies with a chuckle. "But soon. Do you like lamb?"
Phoebe Beacon	Phoebe, at that, gives a laugh -- but it's silent. There's air movement, and the scarf moves a little bit, but she was laughing at the question. She relaxes a little more, and she picks up her sketchpad again.     'Vegetarian' she writes, 'no meat'
Atrun-Rai	Atrun-Rai leans over to squint at the text written down, wondering suddenly why he didn't know that. "Then I shall make something vegetarian. Ploma, perhaps." That said, he looks up and across the water, hands folding now in his lap.     "I intend to survey my old homeland. Will you come with me?"
Phoebe Beacon	'Busy fighting Michael and not setting each other on fire due to opposite humours' Phoebe writes down good-naturedly, turning the page around with a small smile.     ANd then Atrun-Rai asks her to come with him. She takes a deep breath, and she shifts her weight again, and then looks up to him, her dark eyes focusing on his face before she gives a nod of 'yes'.
Atrun-Rai	"A suitable distraction." He gives her a smile of encouragement now. "And I shall see if safer means of wordless communication can be procured." He rises to his feet, then, and nods. "Well. I shall find you soon and we shall have ploma and discuss the expedition."