Who: Ohana Hitomi and Garage Chance (along with Ete and Casius)
Where: Salem Academy, Garage Chance's office
When: Tuesday afternoon, between classes
What: Ohana follows a vision and ends up at the office door of Garage Chance, the dreamer for whom she's been weaving dreams since her youth


Ohana smirked, staring at the office door to someone she'd never met before. Well, met in the strictest sense. She'd woven many, many dreams for this one. She could remember the very first.

Fourteen years old and working the complicated dream magic like a professional. It was undoubtedly her true calling. She'd felt a mind in New Meridian, a soul as difficult as her magic, a child who presented a challenge. Looking back it was the first step onto the path. He was the one for which she must weave.

His mind was surprisingly open, welcome to suggestion. He soaked up all she had to offer, followed her subtle clues and found peculiar inspiration in the strange dreams she made specifically for him. It seemed that she'd found a rare life match between weaver and dreamer, very early on in her career. She liked his mind a lot and he never rejected her dreams.

She might have never met him at all if another "dream" of her own hadn't led her to his door. She wasn't entirely certain it was even him until she found herself breathing in the air around this door and feeling his presence lingering within. It's him. It's my boy, she thought with a strange sense of pride.

Ohana might have stood in front of that closed door for hours, but she was interrupted by her boy opening it and finding her a peculiar waif with crazy hair and even crazier clothing. "May I help you?" he asked cordially.

Of course he didn't recognize her. Ohana felt that as a heavy disappointment, but tried to remember that he wouldn't know her by sight alone, maybe not even the weird aura around her. She'd have to give him a daydream, the weirdest kind of weaver magic in which one tread into the waking mind of the dreamer. "Yes," she said, "I think you may."

Garage opened the door a little wider and let her in. He couldn't mistake her for a student, but he had a feeling, an instinct to just talk to her. Trust, was the only word that came to mind and he was bound to follow it. He watched her as she moved into his space, breathing like she'd just entered the King's Palace.

She was fascinated, instantly. Every thing he kept in his office was a treasure, a talisman, some of them the things she'd seen in the dreams she wove with him. She sighed happily. "I'm Ohana," she said, her smile brighter than it had ever been.

He nodded slowly. "Ohana Hitomi?" he asked, wondering as he asked if she should even be on campus. He knew her because of her infamous expelling from Salem Academy.

She smiled again, but a little sadly. "Yes, I'm that Ohana. You're Garage Wells?"

"Chance," he corrected. "I was married this summer."

"Congratulations," she said cheerily. She took a breath and decided pleasantries could take place at some other meeting. "I'm your weaver," she announced.

It dawned on him like a flower blossoming in the sunshine. Few weavers would introduce themselves so casually unless to a life match. "My weaver," he whispered, looking at her with renewed interest. Trust occurred to him again and he sat in the chair behind his desk, as if the shock were almost too much to stay on his feet.

"Yeah," she said lightly. "I can prove it if you want."

He shook his head. "No, that's all right. I think… I believe you anyway," he said, biting his lip as he thought. There was something familiar about her, in an eerie way. They'd never met in person before now. She'd been kicked out of school the year he was admitted, but their paths had never crossed. Still, there was just something about her, like an old and dear friend.

She took the seat across from him and folded her hands demurely in her lap. Her sense of disappointment was washing away. Maybe he didn't remember or completely know, but Garage sensed the connection between them. "I wanted to apologize. You've only had one nightmare ever and I just want you to know it wasn't me," she said. "I don't get to make all of your dreams, but a good majority of them are mine. Most other weavers won't bother you. I don't know why Calliope thought she had the right," she said offhandedly, as if he'd understand the complicated politics of weavers and their dreamers.

He shivered a little. The nightmare was still with him. Three weeks ago, such an awful thing as if this Calliope had been preying upon his insecurities.

"It won't happen again," she assured him. "So long as I can prevent it. I won't let any of them near your head again." She wanted to reach out, run a hand through his hair affectionately. That was how well she knew him. They had, in a manner of speaking, grown up together.

He nodded again, most of his words were failing him now. He felt like he'd need a spell for untying one's tongue if he'd ever speak again. His familiar, Ete stirred from her sleeping spot on his bookshelves and gazed at the two of them. How the shock of meeting Ohana had not woken her, Garage didn't know. The very tiny cat leapt from her spot and approached the stranger with the same sort of blind trust her familiar did. She looked up into the strange woman's face and without thinking she jumped into her lap, purring loudly and as speechless as Garage. "Ete," he finally managed to say, whether as an admonition to the cat or as an introduction to Ohana he couldn't tell.

The weaver smiled. "Delighted," she said, as if she assumed it were the latter. "I had Casius wait in the hallway. He can be a little overwhelming on a first meeting." Being a black bird of good size, he was seen as a bad omen by many mages. He'd been nothing but good luck to Ohana and she usually didn't mind what people thought of him. Today though, she was trying to make a good impression.

"Ah," Garage said, though he didn't know her familiar was a black bird or why he'd be overwhelming. He watched the weaver pet his familiar. It was a mild taboo that was easily broken, not to touch the familiar of a mage you didn't know, or a mage you respected. This was a little different. There was an unspoken bond between the weaver and her dreamer, a complicated relationship that Garage was surprisingly willing to explore. "She's friendlier than I am, I think," he said lightly.

Ohana looked deeply at the cat and then at the man. "You're a good match," she said in a reverent tone. It was another part of weaver magic that was rarely spoken of. The women of dreams could tell if a mage was matched to their familiar, sometimes a dismal pairing resulted in a split and over time the familiar would simply wander off, perhaps to find another mage better suited. That would never happen with Garage and the tiny cat. They were perfect for one another.

Garage smiled fondly at his familiar. "She is ever so helpful," he said. "If she were born a mage I think she'd be a master of spell magic."

Ohana shrugged. "In her own right I am sure she is," she said oddly. Ohana didn't really see the huge difference between familiar and mage. She sensed the bonds that connected them because of her own kind of magic, but she saw them as distinctly different entities. She had no doubt that Ete's magic was just as great as the magic possessed by Garage. She gestured a hand towards the door. "Perhaps next time you will meet Casius. I am certain he will be as fascinated by you as I am."

The scholar and dreamer blushed terribly. He wasn't sure why her exact expression caused such a violent reaction in his cheeks. "Should we have cause to meet again?" he asked, not intending to sound as rude as her might have.

His weaver laughed. "Of course we should," she said incredulously, entirely un-phased by his phrasing. "I am your weaver and as such I think we should be good friends."

He couldn't seem to find a hole in her logic and began to smile. She was a stranger woman than he'd ever met and one he couldn't seem to deny. From what he knew of weavers there was something different about this one. He'd never had a bad dream caused by her, had never had one sour thought cross his mind in the night. Ohana was the most confounding and fascinating creature in his world. "Well then I suppose we should."

She grinned and gingerly set the tiny cat on his desk as she rose to her feet. "That's settled then," she said. "Should I call on you here, or at your house?"

He wasn't sure how Samra would react, but he'd tell her as soon as he went home. There was no need to cause any more discoloration in the marriage bond over Ohana Hitomi. "Either," he said easily. "Where may I call on you?"

"Oh," she said shortly as she frowned. "I don't really live anywhere that I could be called on," she explained. "I tend to wander off. I suppose, oh, I don't know," she said, actually bothered for the first time in her life that she was almost unreachable.

"That's all right," he said, momentarily placating her distress. "You call on me for now."

It satisfied her for the time being and she had a deep appreciation for her dreamer. "All right," she said, comfortable with the decision. She'd use the rest of the afternoon to find someplace to stay. She was in no hurry to wander much farther, at least not for awhile. Her visions tended to lead to stationary periods in her life where wandering was a few months off, sometimes years. She wasn't used to holding back or being very polite; that was her brother's territory. Without worrying too much about it she found herself on the other side of the desk, her arms wrapped around her dreamer. "It was such an honor to meet you," she said, kissing his cheek with sweet affection.

He smiled softly, his arms wrapping around the woman who had given him such wonderful dreams for almost the length of his life. He wasn't sure simple words could convey how honored he felt to have her as his weaver. "Thank you," seemed like enough.

She pulled back gently and walked towards the door, pleased and pleasant feeling. "Welcome," she said lightly as she exited. Casius flew to her right shoulder and perched there. "Was he everything you hoped?" the big, black bird whispered in his dark, throaty tone.

"More so," she answered dreamily. "He's perfect."