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Sera Brenden

An innocuous enough woman of remarkable reality-altering capacities.

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a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Ellipsis

Description

Work in progress.

So begins...

Sera Brenden's Story

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Sera Brenden Boston is odd; it has been established for about two-hundred and some years, and has somehow managed to maintain it's sense of itself--a sense of history and age--but still manage to progress and change. The past and present combine seamlessly--so that one moment, you're passing a tall, glittering-glass and steel and stone bank, and the next you're passing over a warm vent and looking over at a brick building that has been around since the United States was very young. One can turn the corner on an asphalt street and find themselves wandering along on cobblestones instead, with buildings of varying ages towering high above. In the winter, the sidewalks are often hidden behind two feet of muddy snow pushed up to the curbs by traffic; people bustle around, almost heedless of the miserable cold and damp, bundled in long coats, keeping their hands deep in their pockets...

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Sera Brenden Many of them aren't from around here; this city is a fantastic hub for people of all walks of life. They come from all over the world to work, to learn--especially to learn. And to learn, one needs books...which, traditionally, come from a bookstore. In one such bookstore blocks away from one of the most prestigious universities in the United States, there perches Sera on a little rickety stool on the business side of her counter. She's hunched over slightly for warmth--as nearly two-hundred-year-old buildings typically don't heat well--staring at the bell on the door with a quiet patience born of boredom.

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Sera Brenden sat up suddenly, blinking in surprise as she's jerked from her silly meditation on the bell, the sound of it tinkling pleasantly and yet still jarring her. Her stool gives a little "scrnch!" sound, and she feels it wobble dangerously, causing her to grip the edge of the counter to steady herself. The young woman stares first at the wristband and keeps her peace on that as she looks up at him instead. She, herself, is a pale creature, who must spend a lot of time in this dimly-lit, book-cluttered place. Her hair is long and dirty blond--though, the length of it might as well be a secret, for how she pulls it back into a tight pony-tail and pins it up with a pencil all the time. Hazel eyes peer over thick lenses at him--so he's blurry a moment, before she reaches to push them up her nose. Her face is all too solemn. She can only just muster up a little smile for his sake as she responds:

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Character Portrait: Sera Brenden Sera Brenden says,
 "What are you looking for?" There are books...everywhere--from floor to ceiling, every inch of wall space is made up of books. It gives a dreadful sense that if one strategically removed one of them, the whole building might collapse. The sheer volume of all these books around Sera makes her seem, somehow, smaller--though, it might also be the oversized black hoodie that she's wearing, which she's currently pulling the sleeves of down her arms as she puts them back into the pouch on the front of it in her effort to keep warm.

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Sera Brenden eyes him quietly a moment, her smile fading a little--which is getting dangerously close to no smile, since it wasn't much of a smile in the first place. She waits just a second longer for him to tell her he's just kidding before she stands up--her back popping after sitting hunched like she had been all day--and wanders wordlessly through the narrow ways between bookshelves toward an even narrower, steeper set of stairs. She doesn't think she needs to mention he should follow her; he may, or he may not. In any case, she'll give this a shot. Perhaps, somewhere in here, she might have something to that description...

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Sera Brenden gets to the top of the stairs, and the ceiling here is only half a foot over her head...which means Vespasian might have to accommodate for. She turns to one of the stacks and reaches up high over her head to push her fingers into the volumes, her other hand running along spines as the higher hand walks through them, separating them so she can see between other volumes, to be sure nothing has been crammed back and hidden. After a few moments, she frowns and stops on a book that matches the physical description he gave her. Her fingers curl decisively on its spine, and she works carefully to wriggle and pull it free. Finally, she holds it flat in her hands, this leatherbound volume with metal hinges. She bows her head to peer over the tops of her glasses at the title, worn almost to oblivion... Then she sighs. "...damn." Though, she doesn't put it back. She looks over at him. "I'll...keep an eye out for it." She nods faintly.

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Sera Brenden looks down at the paper under her thumb somewhat dubiously--and the money he leaves will naturally go into the till... Sure. She'll contact him when it comes in, to be sure. After he goes, she calmly goes and tacks his number under the counter with the other requests, then carefully seats herself again, cracking open what she's found, absorbing it peacefully...

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Sera Brenden It so happened that his professor, babbling at the head of the class as he was, was forced to pause as a woman dressed in a baggy hoodie, baggie cargo pants, and sneakers slips through the doorway at the front of the room. He--and everyone else in the room--look over, and the bespectacled young woman freezes, her hand still splayed on the door she just came through as she holds a package, wrapped in brown paper, against her chest. She has, quite honestly, the wide-eyed expression of a deer about to get run down by a truck as she looks back at everyone in the room.

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Sera Brenden just nods curtly at the motion, and slips her other arm around the book, gripping it as she goes to her seat, her head bowed to better avoid any glances. She does look up as she gets to her seat to the right of Vespasian. She slips into the chair, looking over directly at him. She smiles slightly--if a little nervously, for being surrounded by all these people--and reaches over to rest the package right in front of him. There's a little message written on the paper itself in ink, in handwriting that is neat--also as barely feminine as her form. It reads: "Open in private." After she sets it down, she rests in the chair, her fingers fiddling with the ends of her sleeves as she stares forward at the man speaking at the head of the room, seeming only remotely interested, but definitely attentive.

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Sera Brenden looks over at the hand, then...rather reluctantly takes it. She murmurs, so as best not to interrupt the gentleman rambling on about something she--of all people--has decided everyone could live without hearing.. "Sera Brenden." She looks a little at a loss as to what to say after that, so she adds this, awkward: "You're welcome." (Done.)

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Sera Brenden slips her hand free, and she was about to open her mouth to speak when...fltfltSPSHHH. Students shriek and yell in surprise, slamming laptops closed, grabbing their things, and rushing to get out. Sera blinks, looking somewhat nonplussed around her, having the sense to wait 'til the stampede had rushed by before she stood up. She casts a look at Vespasian. "Do you do that a lot?" Calmly, as she takes off her glasses, looking at them with mild dismay. (Done.)

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Sera Brenden looks back up at him with a mild frown, and she doesn't pursue it, finding that puzzling. Maybe she was being awfully presumptuous; maybe this guy really was one of those pricks who liked to hunt down obscure...human-skin bound tomes for the look of the thing... ...no, that didn't sound right. She goes to leave, doing so with a quiet, serene dignity that comes from knowing that it won't make her any drier at this point to hurry. "Coffee. Hmph." Something about that sounds poignantly amused as she leaves the room, twisting the sleeve of her sopping hoodie to wring out a good amount of water. "I know a place that's conveniently next to a laundromat." She looks over her shoulder at him, having to squint a little since her glasses are still in her hand, dappled with water. "Is the book fine? The pages won't like water much. The ink'll certainly run."

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Sera Brenden shakes her glasses to try and dispel the water, so she can at least see clearly. "I'm resourceful," she answers vaguely. Miss social ineptitude. She sighs. "Your mother, though? Really?" She doesn't need to look at him for that one, and she's particularly keen on getting her glasses clear again. "It's a very odd read." (Done.)

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Sera Brenden hesitates, looking over at him as she considers. "...I suppose I don't. I was just going to have my hoodie dried, but--eh--" She, with some difficulty, pulls it off. Underneath the bagginess of it, there's a slender, pale girl in a grey tank-top. She flops the wet hoodie over the crook of her arm. "Though, we can still get coffee. We'll just look...odd, wet like this." Something about her tone suggests an accusation there, with the faintest of smiles. (Done.)

The setting changes from The Hidden Glen to Outside Eastern Wing City

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Sera Brenden notices Vespasian's nerves, and she frowns, turning to look at him and opening her mouth to say something... Then she sees the man step out of the laundromat, and she senses something very, very wrong. She swipes a hand before her, whispering softly in a language no one she's ever met has heard or learned... All the same, the effect is weak--the bullets slow, but they don't stop. She gets struck and falls to her knees with a little cry, feeling reality twist tighter around her, punishing her for even trying.

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Sera Brenden looks up, her vision slightly clouded with pain, as Vespasian pulls out the katana. There's no doubt in her mind that he's odd now. She, however, is in much pain, and turns her eyes down to her wound, panting once as she studies herself, determining her fate.

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Sera Brenden grits her teeth and closes her eyes as she hisses again, raising her hand again, spending her own Willpower as she tries to force against the velocity of the bullets.

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Sera Brenden fails to stop or slow the bullets, but does manage, at the very least, to avoid garnering any more paradox. She remains on the ground, gritting her teeth. She could leave--she could try to go to the umbra. She has no weapons... She can't very well help her acquaintance. Experiencing such stress, the lights in the immediately vicinity dim slightly, wavering back into brightness before they outright explode, showering sparks over the Technocrat where he stands under the laundromat awning, and near them, as they're near a streetlight. Shouts of surprise come from nearby establishments.

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Sera Brenden grips him, panting softly from her pain. She doesn't look at him, a little preoccupied with the bleeding hole in her side that she's gripping, her hand crimson. "...no." She speaks honestly and quietly, staring with concentration at the ground. If she doesn't meditate, the pain will get to her.

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Sera Brenden closes her eyes gratefully, her fingers curling weakly against him as she murmurs, sounding distracted... "I...I won't." Her knees feel like collapsing beneath her, but she strains to keep standing, even as they go flickering through the Tellurian to where he lives.