Deckard surfaced from the Underworld, partially because he was bored out of his skull just staying on Molly's Junker, and partially because he still needed to talk to Charley. Figuring he'd kill two birds with one stone, he found a nice secluded spot, and after having stolen another battery for his phone and drying it out properly, called her up and gave her his location.
There was a small clearing, a little ways away from the main road, hidden from sight by a rocky outcropping and some dense foliage facing the road. It was there that Deckard sat against the base of a large tree, fiddling with the ring on the chain around his neck. He was wearing the same comfortable looking black sweatpants, and the same long sleeve, collarless and cuffless grey cotton shirt. His feet were bare, his soles stained black with the history of long travels. Beside him was a large backpack, and leaning against that, was a massive bronze shield. Deckard's hair was down, and his eyes stared into the distance, unfocused as he waited for the woman's arrival.
The call to meet up had been a surprise to Charley, certainly not an unpleasant one. Since there were more dead people in her life than living, she decided that meeting up with someone less dead than her usual 'companions' would do her some good. So, she finds herself wandering down the road, following the GPS on her phone to the location he gave her. It didn't take the young woman too long before she found the clearing, peering up from her screen to spot the man waiting there.
The medium was dressed casually but warmly herself. A zipped up dark hoodie with jeans and sneakers made up her outfit, her messenger bag hanging from her shoulder. Light blonde hair falling past her shoulders in loose curls. The first thing she notices is the bare feet and she raises a brow. "Aren't you cold?" she questions with a hint of mild but genuine concern.
Deckard continued fiddling with the ring in his hands until he caught sight of Charley entering the clearing. Letting the ring fall against his chest, he propped both of his forearms up onto his knees and watched her as she made her way closer. When she mentioned his feet, he looked down, observing the peculiarity. "Hmm. You would think that'd bother a person, wouldn't you?" He looked back up at her, remaining seated. His demeanour was rather calm, and as he spoke with his deep, gravelly voice, he began to sound less and less feral. "I suppose I am. But I'd prefer to be mildly uncomfortable, and feel the connection to the Earth beneath my feet than otherwise." Pause. "Thanks for coming. You're not too busy I hope."
Soft blue eyes flit between back and forth a few times between Deckard's feet and his face before eventually resting on the latter. Charley comes to a stop a yard or so away from him, close enough to chat comfortably without either getting in each other's personal spaces. Finding a nearby fallen log, she sits down. Her legs stretch out in front of her and she sets her bag down on the log beside her. "Well, seeing as there's more dead people in my life than living, I try to make time for the ones still breathing when I can," she says with a faint chuckle and a light smirk touching her lips. "So, what's up?" she wonders, obviously curious as to why she was summoned out here by him.
As Charley made herself comfortable, Deckard turned to his pack and withdrew a water bottle, unscrewing the cap and taking a small sip. He let the silence draw between them, watching her with narrowed eyes. Just before it might have become uncomfortable he screwed the cap back on and set the bottle down, speaking in that same calm manner. "My hopes." He said in response to Charley's question. "There's a few reasons I wanted to talk to you, actually. You're the notary for Team Good Guys, first of all, and I'd like to see everything that's happened so far. I haven't been entirely in the loop. Secondly, I owe you some explanations on some of the phenomena you've been seeing. Thirdly...I recall you had some sort of...divination ability. I'm concerned for my well being, and those around me. I suffered an experience recently that has me spooked, and I need to know if I am going to cause problems." Straight to the meat of everything, it seemed. "And lastly, I just need some human contact."
Charley keeps her attention focused on Deckard as he speaks, her head tilting to the side at some of the latter revelations behind the meeting between the two of them. She folds her hands loosely in her lap, the expression on her face shifting to a curious one. Eventually, a small smile spreads across her lips. "Well. I can definitely help with seeing your future and being human contact. Though, it seems like you have a few friends back at that house," she points out. "I'm not sure how much notes I'll be able to provide since Ting kicked me off of Team Good Guys. I think you're as caught up with things as I am, but, I can attempt to answer whatever you have questions about with what's going on." There's a pause before she cautiously questions, "What was this experience that you had? I can tell you /a/ future. But, the future is never completely set in stone. This is my standard warning of knowing about it could change things or interfere with it or cause whatever I see to come true."
Deckard's eyes softened up, and he huffed a breath, almost like a horse. "Kicked you off the team hmm?" He was curious about that, but there were other things he wanted to tend to first. "You know what I think? You do you. Thing is...you're vulnerable. And I'm going to tell you why. There's a bit of a problem with that, though, since what I tell you could be bad for your health." He shrugged. "So long as you accept that once you decide to stare into the void, you can't un-see what might be lurking." Deckard cracked his neck side to side, sighing as he did so. "All I want to know, right now, is if I am being watched. I don't actually know if I am, but I can't take the chance that I'm acting as a walking beacon. That is the very first thing I need to know. I don't know how your powers work, or what either of us needs to do, but that should be the very first thing that happens here. Do you understand?"
On one hand, Charley's fingers start to slowly tap as she listens to Deckard. Once more, her head tilts slightly to the side, causing a few unruly strands to fall into her face. Her brows furrow as she considers the request asked of her, her lips pursing slightly. "I might be able to do that, in a few different ways depending on what you're comfortable with me doing," she tells him, lifting her head up so that she can peer over at him with a more focused expression. "You can take me to the location of wherever this 'incident' happened and I can look into the past to perhaps pick up on something you remain unaware of. I can attempt to do a broad reading of your future, see whether your presence will be the downfall of your friends or something like that. Or..." She considers this last suggestion for a few moments, obviously contemplating whether it would even work or not. "I /might/ be able to read your mind and pick up another presence or something in it? That's like, a long shot though," she admits.
The young psychic watches him momentarily before speaking again. "I can't and won't compare whatever has happened to you and your friends to my own experiences. But, I'm pretty sure I've at least glimpsed into the void, if not stared at it a few times. I'm positive I even saw it before..." She drifts, then gives a dismissive wave at the unfinished thought. "I'm more than willing to look at it again, though. For a variety of reasons."
Deckard nodded slowly, considering each of Charley's words carefully. "Taking you to the location is out of the question, for now." He wasn't going to elaborate on that quite yet, since he needed to inform her of a number of things before that was even a consideration. "Reading my mind is also out of the question. I don't want anybody else in my head right now." That was more of a personal thing, than anything. If Charley were to bear witness to any of the many horrors Deckard had been subjected to, that would only raise more frustrating questions that he didn't have time to answer at the moment. "Let us commence with the broad future reading." Of course he had to pick the murkiest option. Deckard reached down to open up the water once more, taking a more generous sip, before standing. "This was my request...but this is your decision. I am not responsible for you, or anyone. The dangers I face are beyond measure...seemingly constantly. If you choose to accept that learning more about what lies behind the hidden veil of the world will take you forever on a path that cannot be corrected, then come, and look into my future." Deckard extended a hand, as if to beckon her forward. It was a tad dramatic, really, almost wholly unnecessary, but that was Deckard.
Charley makes her way to her feet, keeping her gaze leveled on the man in front of her. Unsure of what might happen in the next couple of moments, she grabs her bag and slings the strap over her shoulder. Then she closes the distance between them, getting just close enough to get within arm's reach of him. Her eyes dip down for a second to the extended hand before lifting up to meet his gaze once more. "I don't expect anyone to be responsible for me. I can take care of myself and if I can't..." She simply shrugs. Charley's a medium, after all, she knows what sort of existence death has in store for her. A hand reaches up to brush her hair out of her face. There's just a moment of hesitation before she takes his hand and closes her eyes. Touch isn't necessary for precognition, but it helps her focus on the connection. The young woman falls silent as she attempts to peer beyond and into the future, to catch a glimpse of what might happen to Deckard and those he pulls into his life.
Deckard didn't say a word as Charley approached, explaining herself. He just watched, waited, and hoped that the answers to his questions would be answered. When they made contact, Deckard's grip was as gentle as that of a young boy's, barely even there. His hands were calloused and muscled, much like the rest of his body, and his left hand’s missing ring finger was easily apparent.
What Charley would see through the convoluted threads of fate that wove together the future ahead of Deckard were...curious things indeed. Reuniting with friends, sorrow, and happiness mingled together. Fights and agreements and compromises, dozens and dozens of faces familiar, famous, infamous and unknown to Charley. Even as she searched for a place to grasp onto, a figurative window to peer through, there didn't seem to be anything specific regarding Deckard's concern for the safety of those he chose to avoid for fear of the danger he'd place upon them through proximity. There were other dangers, certainly...but none yet that were of relevance, none that were close enough to see or make out.
The expression on Charley's face is one of heavy concentration as her psychic powers start to work and she peers into the future. Glimpses of his potential life are seen, a glance here and there of what might come. However, even with the hint of sorrow that she catches there, she doesn't find what the man is worried about. A minute or so passes before her eyes flutter open, lifting her gaze up to look at Deckard once more. Slowly she lets go of his hand. Although hers is much more slender than his own, it's similar in the way of being calloused and somewhat rough. The signs of someone who works with their hands.
"You have nothing to worry about," the psychic assures him first of all. There's a quick pause before she adds, "Well, at least with someone from this 'incident' watching or following you. I didn't see anything too concerning or anything terrible happening to your friends because of whatever happened to you," she explained. "However, something you currently do or are in the process of doing could trigger such things or something..." She dismissively waves her hand again, smiling faintly. "The future is always in motion."
Deckard, upon feeling Charley's touch leave his own, withdrew his hand and took a step back to give the psychic some space. "Thank you." He wasn't quite sure what exactly she meant about the triggering of events, but that hardly mattered when he could rely on her power informing him that his presence wouldn't endanger the Lost. "I am a man of action. Fear of the unknown, and fear of repercussions do not dissuade me from doing what needs to be done. Because you've shown similar courage, just now, I will tell you what you need to know." Deckard turned around and moved to pick up the massive bronze shield leaning against the tree. To the woman, it would just look like an antique piece of armour from ages past. Once Deckard had the shield in his grasp, Deckard closed his eyes and breathed. "There are beings in this world with immense power, beyond the understanding of you or I." He turned to face Charley, opening his eyes. "To us, they are god-like. There are many...and many types, each belonging to their own sphere of influence. It is these beings that I choose to stand against at every turn." He cocked his head to the side, as serious as he'd ever been. "I am only a mortal man given the power of a small god. I have stood face to face with the immeasurable, and come out on top. It was not easy. And right now, similar circumstances are afoot from a realm with which I have very little familiarity." Cracking his neck, he bent over to pick up his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder.
"The hubris of man, of the human agency dubbed 'Sentinel' has attracted the attentions of a number of these beings. Most recently, during some investigations of mine, I came to meet with one of these powers. It did not go in my favour, despite now recognizing it for what it was." Bending over to pick up the water bottle, because littering is bad mmkay, Deckard began to walk further out of the forest and closer to the road, expecting Charley to follow. He didn't stop talking.
"I don't know much about them, but the enemy that is now upon the city is what Jackson described as 'True Fae'. They come from a land far from here, a place of bramble and thorn, where heinous crimes are committed on a whim for the pleasure and entertainment of the gods of that realm. To face one of them, is to know almost certain demise. They are tricky, clever, capricious, and wholly evil." After coming to a second clearing, Deckard paused to turn around and peer back to the woman. "Do you understand the weight of my words?"
Falling silent, it's clear that Charley is listening very closely to the information that is being given to her. If she wasn't trying to be respectful, she probably would have brought out her notebook to write things down. It's apparent that more questions are already forming in her head, the young woman is a naturally curious thing, but she keeps them to herself for the time being. And when Deckard starts to move, she indeed does follow him along. While they walk, her attention drifts down to the shield he's carrying. With the amount of knowledge she seems to have about relics, ancient artifacts, and the like, it's no surprise that she'd be interested in such a thing. Is it mundane? Supernatural? Cursed? Who knows!
The psychic is great at multitasking, it seems. As she had been studying curiously over the shield, she'd still been listening to every word that Deckard was telling her. When they both come to a pause and the question is posed of her, she easily pulls her attention away from the object and over to the man instead. She gives a nod before speaking. "Definitely. People might think I don't understand what I might be getting myself into and all that, and maybe I don't. But, I'm aware of the risk that peering into the unknown brings and it's something that I've accepted," she tells him. "Okay, so, these True Fae... Gentry. Demi-gods that are wandering around. We think that some of the people that appeared at the gala are some." Her lips purses slightly. "I had a dream last night. It was already suspected I think but pretty sure this confirms the theory that the various objects in the museum are associated with these potential True Fae wandering around. And apparently there are souls trapped in there. So, maybe they want to bring those back to this realm you speak of?" she suggests with a raised brow.
As Deckard turned to face the woman, he stopped to listen to what she had to say. "So long as you realize that death, or worse, could come at any moment. These are treacherous paths to walk." A deep breath, before continuing. "The objects. What are they? To allow the souls of those unable to defend themselves to fall into the hands of the Gentry would not sit well on my conscience." The fact that there might be people trapped in those objects changed the game for Deckard. "As I have mentioned to Molly, the Gentry are simply a symptom, not the cause, behind this infection. Sentinel is the one we need to find out more about, and those objects, they need to each be recovered. If there are souls inside, I know just the person who can free them. A rare talent. Deny the Gentry their prizes, and hopefully they turn the fuck around and leave us alone. If not..." Deckard hefted his shield as if he were preparing for action. "We kill them." Deckard turned to walk back to the edge of the road, and looked up the bank. "You should go. Keep in contact, and give me anything you learn. I will be sure to do the same. And Charley?" He turned back to her. "Don't go near the Old Bridge. It's a doorstep to the god's torture chamber, and I have yet to discover a way to destroy the portal. Even one such as myself could have been trapped for all eternity within such a place. Do. Not. Go there." Deckard gestured to the road, where he figured Charley came from. "I am going to take my leave. I have more work to do, now that I am in the clear."