Consider It

[Ashley McGowen]
It's late in the evening, after Ashley's just been dropped off at her doorstep after an afternoon out. It's really too cold and snowy to be out in the city, but the Hermetic is the sort of person that just can't seem to sit still for too long: she's used to filling up her days with business, with work. And now...



Well, as she heads up the steps and into her front door, it occurs to her that she hasn't spoken with Kage yet. A moment's consideration while she feeds Zane, and then she grabs up her phone and dials in the Orphan's number.



Kage's phone rings.



[K. R. Jakes]
The phone isn't answered immediately; one ring, two ring, third ring: "Hello?" The background acoustics: clear air, outside sound; a sense of space, of echoing, maybe wind. No traffic or citynoise, though; just that odd pervasive silence.



[K. R. Jakes]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 5, 5, 6, 6, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)



[Ashley McGowen]
That whistling sound is odd. As though Kage is standing isolated on top of a roof, somewhere far above the sounds of the city and yet still exposed to the elements. There's a brief pause. "Hi, Kage. It's Ashley."



[K. R. Jakes]
"Ah. How are you?" A beat. What could be humor, layered in gravity: "I suppose Wharil talked to you?"



[Ashley McGowen]
"I'm all right. And he did, yeah. You should come to my house. I have to talk to you about something." She'd meant to leave it more vague until she could corner Kage in the apartment, but the answer to Kage's question probably leaves little doubt about what 'something' is. Ah, well.



[K. R. Jakes]
A moment of silence. Kage is deliberating, in that silence; is pensive, in that silence; is gauging traffic, in that silence, and weighing options, and -- well. Her eyes are focusing on a point in the distance, and anyone who saw her would think she was unfocused, was lost in contemplation: "All right. I could be coaxed if some food is in the offing; would you like me to pick something up?"



[Ashley McGowen]
The other end of the phone resounds with a heavy silence the longer the pause in conversation draws out. When Kage finally does acquiesce, Ashley's response borders on casual. Cheerful, even. "I haven't eaten yet. Surprise me, I'll pay you back once you get here."



[K. R. Jakes]
It is a good hour before the Hermetic hears again from the Orphan. When nearly an hour and a half has gone by, maybe a little more, there are two knocks on Ashley's door. They aren't quick. They aren't loud and powerful. They aren't quiet and timid. They are just knocks: the first firmer than the second.



When Ashley opens the door, she'll see Kage, poised [grace] and composed as almost ever, half-turned away from the door to survey the hall. Although her body is angled (just slightly) away, she looks more with her eyes -- her body just wants to follow the line of her head, but isn't yet allowed to. She has one large bag in her arms and one medium bag dangling from her elbow, the plastic cutting into her jacket. Whatever she brought, it smells good. Thai food. Assorted dishes, and of course, some hummous, because Tuktuks also sells hummous. It smells so good it's probably devouring the plastic from within, really.



And when Ashley opens the door, Kage shifts her weight from one foot to another, and says, "Sorry that took so long," with a (courtesy) smile.



[Ashley McGowen]
As the daughter of a British immigrant, Thai is a food that Ashley grew up eating. And really, really enjoying, to the extent that it's become comfort food: the sort that is still good when you're an adult, but is also as familiar as the scent of the house you grew up in. She returns the smile and leans into the door to hold it open.



There's a lot of food there, and it draws raised eyebrows from the small Hermetic as Kage walks past her into the (surprisingly comfortable, warm) apartment. "No problem. Zane needed to be walked, anyway." One of the benefits of owning a dog. It forces a person out of the house.



Ashley has several sets of wooden chopsticks tucked away in a silverware drawer, and she retrieves these while Kage enters the apartment and gets herself situated. And, on second thought, a fork as well, should Kage require one. "How are you?"



[K. R. Jakes]
At the mention of Zane, Kage flicks a glance around: and just where is Hunger's hound? If she does not pinpoint him lying beneath the table or sitting on the couch, his eyes bright, his tail active, or see him chewing a rope in the corner, that one over there, with his ears at alert because of a newcomer -- why, then the glance will end on Ashley, questioning. This is while she unloads the containers on the coffee table -- carefully moving any papers or books away before she does so, just in case. If Zane appears to investigate, she watches him carefully, just long enough to see that he isn't a coyote kind of dog. Otherwise, she just settles, jacket tossed with some casual inelegance over a chairback, rather than hung up. The jacket isn't wet; it smells of snow, though, of snow and gravedirt, of silence and candleflames.



"Thoughtful. And busy," she replies. Not in a so make this snappy, Hermetic sort of way. "Possibly selling a piece of my soul to Hollywood on another consulting gig. Mostly, though -- I'm thoughtful tonight. Glad," there, that is definitely humor, "that you aren't horrified that I decided on Thai food."



[Ashley McGowen]
Zane, as he hears footsteps and smells a now semi-familiar person coming into the house, he bounds out of the bedroom, all lolling tongue and excited eyes. He does indeed sniff at the bags, though after a few seconds he gives up, padding away to go and curl up in a place that is within arm's reach of the two of them. Just in case they, you know, happen to drop something.



"I love Thai," she says, sitting down on the couch while Kage sets everything down on the coffee table. It is indeed a student's apartment: no sign of a dining room table in sight. One would assume she generally eats at the coffee table or, more likely, at the desk in her study. "...But I'll actually eat pretty much anything. Hence the invitation to surprise me."



Kage had gotten a curious glance when she mentioned consulting and Hollywood, and after a moment Ashley decides to ask about it. She'd like to get to business, but coming across as too brisk will be offputting. She's aware of this, at least. "What sort of consulting?" she asks, as she helps Kage pull the boxes and containers out of the bags.



[K. R. Jakes]
"Hm." I'll eat pretty much anything, Ashley says, and that is Kage's response. That, and this observation: "The you, the resonance you leave behind, has reminded me of -- what makes an ourouborus eat its tail?" Kage has likely decided to kneel rather than sit in a chair, because that kind of level-with-the-table makes for an easier meal, less stooping, more opportunity to look at the short-haired one-eyed Hermetic across from her.



Then: what sort of consulting? Ashley asks, and Kage's response is touched with [heat lightning, sardonic] wry: "Well. Probably the kind where I am consulted, I find the appropriate information or correct whatever wrong was just given to me to correct, and then five months later get a 'well, that historical accuracy was interesting, but we decided to blend this and that together instead; now what do you think about this?'"



"Have you heard of the movie Black Bone Ballad?" Neo-noir metaphysical thriller -- with some actual bite. However: it boiled into a gruesome ["insidious"] horror fantasy, and after a pretty lackluster opening weekend, has garnered mostly -- mostly -- good reviews. It is full, chock full, of cheesiness. "I, hm. Did some info-checking for that."



[Ashley McGowen]
Kage moves to kneel on the floor of the coffee table, and after a moment Ashley does as well, so that their gazes are level. Well, close to level, anyway; Ashley is shorter than most people, and she's gotten pretty used to looking up. To reaching.



"The Midgard Serpent. Not the ouroboros," Ashley says, with a touch of humor, and a glance upward that is slightly pleased: Hermetics regard resonance as a sort of signature, the wake one's Will leaves behind. It's a flattering thing, having it recognized and having it be so evident of one's Word, one's Avatar, that spark of the Divine. "As to -why- it eats its tail, the legends are a little vague. Maybe it recognized that it would crush the world if it grew too large. Or it was just that stupid."



The explanation of what she does gets a smirk and a soft huff of humor as she delves into whatever Kage brought, using the chopsticks. "I haven't heard of it, no. That sounds...about as satisfying as being a marketing consultant."



[K. R. Jakes]
Her right eyebrow quirks. Then: "Maybe it wanted to crush the world. If the world is held in its coils, and it is eating its tail, getting smaller and smaller every year, sooner or later," and Kage leaves that thought there, shrugging [delicate thing]. The Midgard Serpent, Ashley says, lending definition to that feel [itch] she leaves behind, and Kage's [dark (unreflective)] gaze is touched by some thought. Maybe she is noticing things about Ashley: symbolic things about Ashley, slotting them into her own personal worldview, shaping her into something that makes more sense than just one of those arrogant Order of Hermes mages.



"The work was interesting," she says. "I'm satisfied with that. As for the rest?" A small gesture with a chopstick, fluid, but not expansive. No slopping food, thank you. A 'whatever.'



[Ashley McGowen]
"Maybe. Can't say I'd blame it, if that were the case. Odin cast it out after it was born, thinking it would die, after he realized that it would bring about Ragnarok. I guess he was a little fucked when it survived anyway." And here, she glances up at Kage, meeting those dark unreflective eyes. Curious. Because Ashley, straightforward as she is, was something Kage could guess at, and Ashley still has yet to figure out what guides Kage. But she's content to play the riddle game: she, after all, has little she would want to hide.



Kage shrugs off the rest of the work, implying that she's satisfied with what she's doing, with the job she takes up in the mundane world to pay the bills. To stay busy. Possibly to extend those things that she does, the power that she has, to the people who can only begin to suspect that anything greater than themselves exists.



"So," she says, after another minute. "Wharil and I did talk. We're forming a cabal."



[K. R. Jakes]
That is not precisely what Kage expected to hear, but she does not look as if the news is terribly surprising. Not the way they blushed at each other like leads in a romantic comedy when she suggested it, after all. Her eyebrows flick up, and she watches Ashley for a steady [catch stars in the water] moment. "Really," she says, neutral. And then, meaning it: "Good for you." The hand holding the chopsticks -- pad thai, mm -- had stilled while she took the information in and responded to it. A noodle dropped back into the carton, and she plucked it up again [water-crane beak, that's what those chopsticks are like, that's what they were fashioned out of -- watching birds]. After a second, her mouth quirks, inexplicable and unmistakable humor.



[Ashley McGowen]
Some of that humor is a bit lost on Ashley, the same way the blush and the other question Kage left hanging in the air last week were a bit lost. "Yeah," she says, with all the enthusiasm of someone that is caught up in a new project.



"So I know you probably haven't done the cabal thing in a while - which is fine, I haven't and I don't think he has either, and Gregor didn't even get the concept at first - and I know you aren't with the Traditions, which," a hesitation, "is fine with me, but all three of us thought you might be interested in membership." The explanation draws out to an unnecessary length in her efforts to be diplomatic, as though everything has to be laid out and dissected in front of Kage. "You've helped out a lot with the Marauder. It wouldn't hurt to officially recognize the fact."



[K. R. Jakes]
Kage has no doubt that Ashley is serious. This isn't where she expected the conversation to go; this isn't where she expected the cabal up, guys tangent to go. Hadn't she made herself clear? Had she been too -- too gloaming, too half-light? Too murky to see, too much on nobody's side so there has to be somebody eventually right? Ashley hasn't even hesitated yet when Kage sets her chopsticks down, swallows the food she'd been chewing, and watches Ashley explain that it is okay that she (Kage) is not part of the Traditions and that they (Gregor, Wharil, Ashley) thought of her.



See how her eyebrows hitch up at Ashley's hesitation, as if amused. See how she presses her fingertips over her mouth (kiss), and it seems involuntary, not at all as if she's stoppering up (don't make a wish) some remark. See how she stays, studying Ashley, until a couple of seconds unspool, and then she glances down at her knees, at the edge of the table, as if it were a thing to wonder on. As if she didn't feel as if her blood had just been replaced with icewater, douse! splash, hiss, foam. Her eyebrows are still raised, and she finally takes her fingers away from her mouth, rests them against her neck instead, curving toward the back.



"To officially recognize the fact," Kage echoes.



[Ashley McGowen]
Kage is looking at her across the divide of the coffee table and the boxes as she continues to talk, to ramble, to attempt to be persuasive. And all that she does at the end is repeat the thing Ashley last said, as though she is doubtful or disapproving. Or as though she were offended by something Ashley said.



The Hermetic steeples her fingers, leaving her chopsticks standing straight up like flagpoles in the pile of noodles, fingers flexing and unflexing against each other like springs for a few moments while she tries to figure out how to explain. In a non-offensive way. "By officially allying yourself with people you've already been helping, I mean," she says.



"...The group is probably going to end up being pretty sizeable, since Wharil seems like he feels bad about leaving people out. I mean I obviously am more reluctant but that's only going to go so far. But it's...sort of a recognition of the fact that we need to ally and communicate with each other, and I think you'd benefit from that as much as everyone else."



[K. R. Jakes]
No one expects Ashley to be diplomatic. Yet here she is: trying to do just that. A challenge. This isn't the first time -- recently -- that she has found herself in a position that normally someone else (someone charismatic [warm] friendly [inspiring] Bran [?]) would fill. It wasn't Wharil who talked to Michael Willis and told him that no, sir, Dylan Willis was not coming back. It wasn't Wharil who talked to Henri Beane and told her that, no, I'm sorry, but guess who's gone. And now, it seems, she's going to try and convince a[n isolationist] very independent woman to join up with ...



Well.



"I see," Kage says, neutral [mask]. A little tinged with water [moonlight], the coolest element, and saddest "How sizeable?" The Orphan's eyes flick upward. Meet Ashley's, just as if it were safe (just as if she trusted [trustworthy]). And Kage is trustworthy; she has not yet lied to anyone, she has not yet said a word she did not mean. Her expression is one of -- (mild) astonishment, and quizzical. And that's the way it is going to remain!



As usual, Kage is saving her words. Not yet. First, questions.



[Ashley McGowen]
Ashley is not a leader for one reason, mostly: she has very little regard, in most cases, for what others think of her (except for those worrisome few that will perhaps grow in number the more people she invites in). If she did, then she might realize that, properly tempered and with the right amount of charm thrown in, she has qualities other people would want to follow. That she could be inspiring, that she could encourage others to follow her example.



And perhaps, in another world, in another time, that bright side of her would have developed.



But this is how things are: it does not matter to her what Kage thinks of her, and so she gives no thought to being trusted, to whether she is the sort of person Kage would -want- to pact with. She just wants. And she assumes. She assumes that these are the things she has decided on, and anyone reasonable would want them too, if they could be made to see the practicality of it. It is in this way a challenge. An assertion.



"Well, we don't know yet," she tells Kage. "We've talked to Gregor. And I'm sure Enid will come with me. Wharil wants...Ashton and Rene and Emily, for sure. The idea is mostly to get people talking and provide a...a support network, I guess."



[K. R. Jakes]
"I think a support network would be wise. I think communication is -- good; allies are also good." A beat. "But this doesn't sound like a cabal, Ashley. I mean, a cabal isn't a vast sprawling network. A cabal might be included in a vast sprawling network. A cabal might make one of its goals the facillitation of such a thing. You sound as if you're talking about closing a fist."



[K. R. Jakes]
ooc: "Instead, you sound as if you're talking about closing a fist." even



[Ashley McGowen]
Ashley raises her eyebrows as though surprised at what Kage says. "...Does it? That's...actually pretty much the opposite of what I intend, at least. The city would stagnate. I'm in favor of a smaller cabal myself, if we can accomplish it. Let other people organize themselves and do a different job and force us to stay on our feet. I think Wharil's just concerned that they -won't.-"



And, more relaxed and better able to articulate her actual intentions, she picks her chopsticks back up and resumes eating. Working through the steadily diminishing pile with efficiency.



[K. R. Jakes]
"They won't. What do you mean a different job? What exactly do you and Wharil intend your cabal to accomplish?" Another brief pause, a natural caesura to the conversation: "And Gregor. I take it you three went to the White Fence House. He was interested?"



[Ashley McGowen]
"He's interested, but I think he wants us to watch him at work before he gives us his decision," Ashley says, with an expression that hints that she's still a little bemused by this suggestion. As though Gregor expects that he will frighten them away. Perhaps he's unused to encountering people that are familiar with the concept of spirit magic, that would find it useful.



"Well," she says, "the point is to provide a union of magi in Chicago, in recognition of the fact that what happened to Dylan could have been averted if what he was trying to do had actually come to pass. So the point is to provide a support network and a group of people that can handle supernatural threats as they spring up in the city, and make sure that the resources are used responsibly."



A short pause while she chews. "And by 'different job,' I suppose I mean that another group organized for a similar purpose could provide a different perspective on how to do those things. It would be good for us - and better for the city - to have someone competing with us sometimes. I imagine it'll force moderation and will actually -prevent- a closing fist, as you put it."



[K. R. Jakes]
The Orphan still hasn't picked up her chopsticks. She moves her hand from her neck, however; brushes a lock of hair, burnished, back behind her ear. Her fingers touch her forehead, then her temple, graze the side of her cheekbone when she does this. What happened to Dylan could have been averted. "Good. Yes," she says, or agrees, and Kage is a creature who, while cool, is also ardent. There is a hint of that now. "That is exactly the kind of cabal it seems that you really need. And I believe," slightly more caution, here, "that ... possibly, you and Wharil balance each other, so that should be good too."



When Ashley clarifies what she means by different job, Kage acknowledges, as far as anyone acknowledges a point made in a conversation without actually saying yes, I see. A sound, maybe, in the back of her throat.




[Ashley McGowen]
"We work pretty well together," Ashley agrees, to Kage's latter point. And as Ashley is learning: conflict is not always about screaming voices, about two Wills that push against each other until one breaks. Sometimes it is quieter, more subtle, two different ideas that are forced to blend simply so that they may coexist. So that the cycle continues.



There's a pause, and then she looks back up at Kage. "...So?"



[K. R. Jakes]
"You're really fine with the fact that I'm an Orphan?" This question is asked -- after a second. A moment's pause. And it is curious. The tone isn't: please, please accept me, oh please. The tone isn't even disbelieving. Just: questioning.



[Ashley McGowen]
"Don't get me wrong," Ashley says, quirking an eyebrow as she glances back at Kage over the expanse of table, "I think it's a waste of potential and I think you'd be better off in a Tradition. But if you won't do that, it's good for you to at least have a group of people around you."



So you don't go the way of Dylan, is perhaps the unspoken implication there. "And as far as a friendship or working relationship goes, I mean, I guess it really isn't that different than if you -were- in another Tradition."



[K. R. Jakes] Don't get me wrong, Ashley says, and Kage quirks (mirror) an eyebrow back. But she listens. With focus, as if she were a fox, soot-earred, peering through a wavering stream, all shadow and moonlight, riddles and motion [current], for the fish that swim beneath. Kage is a great supporter of listening, of bargaining, of deal-dealing; she finds it so difficult to resist. So difficult to resist a lot of things.



The unspoken implication that may be there is unspoken, so she can ignore it. And she does. There is a moment of silence. Then: "After we met, I was convinced that Order of Hermes magi rarely called whatever relationships they had with other will-workers 'friendship.'"



[Ashley McGowen] This draws a raised eyebrow from Ashley, and a rather puzzled expression. Because Bran and Justine were her friends. Very close friends, in fact, the like of which she has yet to meet again. The lack of which she has often privately lamented, wondered if meetings like that only happen once in a lifetime. "Actually," she says, some of her surprise carrying over into her tone, "in the Order of Hermes one's relations to other magi are often seen as a second family. A more important family than the one you grew up with, even."



Though it isn't surprising to hear that question from Kage. Hannibal didn't seem like the sort who would espouse that particular value; some Hermetic magi do not. "But it isn't necessary, and I have to admit I didn't think I'd be entering a cabal with non-Hermetics up until it was actually proposed. This cabal is being formed for practical purposes, but that hardly excludes friendship."



[K. R. Jakes] This as a response to the surprise that touches Ashley's voice: "Outside the Hermetic Order, as well?"



Kage is not disbelieving; she just isn't convinced. Perhaps she is remembering Bran Summers, the manipulator, callous and careless; not Justine. Maybe it does have to do with the Flambeau she was so often in close quarters with. The Flambeau she still, occasionally, hears from (who still, occasionally, hears from her). She'd never tell.



"Hm. Do you mind if I get something to drink from the fridge?" Kage is standing up, even as she asks the question.



[Ashley McGowen] Kage gets up and asks if there's anything in the fridge, and Ashley is still thinking through her response to the question the Orphan asked her before that. Moving some rice into her mouth and taking a while to chew it so that she doesn't have to rush herself into an answer. "Yeah, sure," she tells Kage once she's finished. "Take whatever you want. The alcohol cabinet is to the left of the fridge, too, if you'd rather have something out of there."



And, of course, there are the boxes of tea, which are all placed on a corner of the counter. It would appear that Kage is not the only person who gave Ashley tea as a gift: there are several that appear foreign, or at least written in Chinese and that are not brands that can be found here. When she opens the refrigerator she finds it partially stocked (Ashley is, after all, only one person) with milk, cranberry and orange juice, their jugs in various states of full.



And after a minute Ashley raises her voice to answer Kage. "I've been forming friendships with people here, yes. That's where I see my connections with some members of this cabal eventually going."



[K. R. Jakes] Kage glances at the liquor cabinet, and does, indeed, open it to take a look at what Ashley keeps, but likely she decides against anything, and opens the refrigerator instead. The refrigerator bulb washes her out, cuts her face with shadow, transforms her into a sleepless thing limned in brightness, and she frowns at the milk, orange juice, cranberry juice, and then Ashley answers her, and she pokes her head around the refrigerator door to look at the Hermetic while she answers.



Then she nods, and says: "I'm going to make tea." She remembers, from her last visit, where she thinks Ashley keeps most of her tea-fixings, and there are all those boxes, which she searches until she finds a good green tea -- something jasmine [delicate]. Something that tastes like flowers. No more questions, your honor. At least: no more questions right now.



[Ashley McGowen] Ashley has a surprisingly (or not so surprisingly) well stocked liquor cabinet. She's clearly moved out of the drink-to-get-drunk stage of her life: it's of the more expensive variety, for the most part. Scotch, cognac, brandy, and the like are visible, vodka kept in the freezer. Most of the bottles are three quarters of the way full; she does not appear to have been drinking heavily in the past few weeks.



Kage offers to make tea, and the Hermetic nods. "All right. Mind getting a cup for me too?"



And then a moment of silence while Kage pours water, takes the bags of tea and the jar of honey that's set out nearby. Then: "So. What do you think?"



[K. R. Jakes] No reply, but she gets two mugs out instead of one while she waits for the water to boil. Ashley brings the conversation back on point. Kage's eyebrows briefly draw together, but whatever thought caused her expression to change that way is fleet. There. And gone. What does she think? There is a pause. The pause isn't brief. The pause is a little more than a caesura, and then, well, 'et it boil down to this, right now: "I'll consider your offer." Which is what she will do.



[Ashley McGowen] It's not a response Ashley likes. Asking someone to wait for an answer is, of course, a simple request, but it takes the power out of the other person's hands: if Kage leaves, goes home to think about it, there is little Ashley can do to control the outcome.



But the offer wasn't really about power in the first place, so Ashley says, "All right." And then another pause, during which there is some quiet chewing, the soft whistling of air through the kettle as the water heats.



"If you want to see the manifesto before you make your decision, Wharil and I are nearly done. Let me know."



[K. R. Jakes] "You have a manifesto? Or," a quick check. She corrects herself: "You will have a manifesto?" Difficult to tell, perhaps, just what Kage thinks of this; just what she thinks of this level of organization. Not dark things. Her expression, if anything, is a little distant, a little removed; still, it's a listening expression (paying attention). When the water boils, she takes the kettle off the stove. She has already draped teabags into the mugs, their tails falling over the side, white, like the trailing ends of firecrackers, and she pours with care, so as not to lose that little thread. She leans over the steam, too. And breathes it in. "Of course I want to see it."



[Ashley McGowen] Another stab of the greatly diminished pile of rice, and Ashley leaves the chopsticks there while she gets up to go and get the draft. "I'm still working on my additions," she tells Kage, "but I can show you what we have so far. It was mostly Wharil's idea, so a lot of the work here is his."



And, after disappearing into her study for a few minutes, she returns with a few sheets of paper, neatly stapled together. Several notes of her own, particularly towards the bottom, have been made in the margins: a code of ethics, disciplinary measures, and a fourth position are all penned neatly in her hand over the pages.



"Have a look," she says, handing the pages over to Kage.



[K. R. Jakes] [I am an unruffled sea. What's going on beneath the surface of me is naught!]



[K. R. Jakes] Kage is at the coffeetable when Ashley returns from the study, but no longer kneeling on the floor; instead, she has taken one of the chairs (echo). The cartons she was eating out of have been closed and her chopsticks [Ashley's chopsticks] are resting on top of one. There is a mug of fragrant tea by Ashley's place and Kage is cradling the other mug in the palms of her hands, eschewing the handle. Heat against her palms [it's fine].



But she puts the mug down when Ashley offers her the manifesto and she reads it, her expression one of [water, moonlight: undisturbed; try to catch the reflection of a star on the water with a sieve] calm interest, if anything. There doesn't even seem to be much reaction beyond a raising of her eyebrows to the name Wharil has decided on. And she is either a very slow reader, or she reads it a couple of times; when she's done, she looks up at Ashley. This time when she raises her eyebrows, it's a question, a question made clearer by a gesture: put the papers down on the table or hand them back or set them on the couch?



[Ashley McGowen] Kage sits down in the chair, and Ashley's eyes settle on her as she walks back into the room, pausing ever so slightly in her half step forward as the ghosts of Bran and Justine and Hannibal and Simon appear, just for an instant, arrayed around the room. Then she moves the rest of the way in and sits on the couch while Kage peruses the document.



The boxes have been closed up, and Ashley seems all right with that; she takes hold of her mug and breathes in the vapor while Kage reads through the manifesto. Curving her hands around the ceramic, letting the warmth soak into them. She does not watch Kage; instead she looks out the window to the Chicago skyline.



And then, when Kage is done she holds her hand out for the papers. "I can take them back. Still need to finish up the edits, but it's mostly done." And then a raised eyebrow, another unasked question: So? So what do you think? She doesn't ask this directly, though, having concluded that Kage will give her answers in her own time.



[K. R. Jakes] Kage hands the papers back to Ashley, then. Does not want to get Thai food sauce on them. Does not want, no matter how dog-earred, ink-stained, fingerprint-smudged they may already be, to drop tea on them. Kage is a neat creature when it comes to paper [and housemates]. The unasked question gets what the earlier unspoken implication hadn't: attention; an answer. That is all for the best. "Well-written," she says, and here, a brief smile [luminous, transformation; see how gorgeous?]. "It sounds very fair; not at all like a closed fist."



[Ashley McGowen] The pages, other than being smudged with ink and wrinkled, are also very clean: she seems to have similar sentiments when it comes to getting food and drink on them, even if she doesn't treat them gently. Or at least not in a way that keeps the pages pristine and perfectly lined. Paper and books, like people, are far more interesting when they've gotten a little worn down and banged up. It gives them character.



That gorgeous smile would be hard to glance at and not return, and so Ashley does. A brief thing, a quirk of the corner of her mouth. "I didn't think so either. Wharil wrote a lot of it, it was his idea to get this started." And still, that expectant look, that question. So...?



[K. R. Jakes] "I don't know Wharil very well," she says, although: she didn't know Ashley very well, either, or Gregor. "I hope he's not thinning himself out. Trouble hits some people like a candle whose wick has been lit." This isn't said in a tone that implies she thinks Wharil is thinning out. Caution, that's all, or curiousity. On a different note: "Did he tell you about the dinner we were both at? The restaurant and the operatives?"



[Ashley McGowen] "He is," Ashley says, cupping a hand briefly around the outside of her mug to test its temperature with her palm. Satisfied, she raises it and takes a slow sip, letting the warmth spread through her chest and stomach. "But we've already talked. He'll take a step back once everything with the Marauder's done."



And then Kage brings up the operatives, and her eyes flash for a few seconds while she lowers the mug. "Yeah. Heard about that. It's not going to change anything I'm doing."



[K. R. Jakes] "Will he?" Kage sips her tea. This time it has no honey; it doesn't need honey. Her eyes close for a second, but open again almost immediately [fringe, lashes], so that she can regard Ashley when (while) she reacts to the word 'operatives.' It's not going to change anything I'm doing. "There was an anthropologist there -- a professor at [insert here; player doesn't remember]. I've worked with her before in the mundane world. She reacted so poorly. I thought she was going to ..." A brief pause. "Are you going to mention things to Bran and Justine?"



[Ashley McGowen] "I hope so," is what Ash says to Kage's first statement, curling up into the couch against the arm rest and resting the cup on her knee. Kage mentions the anthropologist, who Ashley doesn't know either, and it draws a sidelong glance and a shake of the head.



Then she asks about Bran and Justine. "I...no. I don't really keep them informed of what's going on here, beyond courtesy I mean. If Bran thought there was even a slight danger that a Technocrat might kill me or toss me into a dark room he'd come tearing over here with a bunch of molotovs and try to track them down," she says, in a wry tone that implies that she is only partially joking. "Justine's reaction wouldn't be much better."



[K. R. Jakes] "Is that really the only solution? To outside forces? Track them down and snuff them out?" The question is more general, of course. She understands the Flambeau mindset much better than she would like to. The Flambeau: the Soldiers [of a war that was lost; a war that can never be lost; the unending/ended war]. Kage's voice has shaded -- wistful.



[K. R. Jakes] ooc: WAIT. rar. 'To dealing with outside forces?' should read.



[Ashley McGowen] "It's the only solution to dealing with Technocrats," Ashley says with a shrug. "It's close-minded to try to solve -every- conflict that way, but Technocrats don't really leave a lot of other options, in my experience. On an individual basis they might, but you have to realize that they're being backed by a large organization that swallows their individual wants."



Ashley might not be incited to violence by the Technocracy, but it's clear that by the creeping anger in her voice, she doesn't like them. She couldn't possibly, after spending eight years in the company of two Flambeau. "I think everyone would -like- it if there were other ways to win, but that...really isn't how things work, most of the time."



[K. R. Jakes] "Don't you believe your experience might be skewed by the company you kept? By your goals?" Kage asks. Her voice is quiet, but not quieted; not shy, not retiring. There is an importance in that. "Have you ever dealt peacefully with one of the conventionals?" This is just curiousity, although she suspects the answer is no. She isn't suggesting Ashley do so, either, although perhaps Ashley will wonder. It's difficult to guess sometimes with (neutral, outskirts, outsider, Orphan) Kage.



[Ashley McGowen] "Just once. Enid's mother and her friends, but that was quick. They let me go," Ashley says. And to the rest she merely shrugs. "It's possible that my experience is skewed, but I'm not sure that's a bad thing. They killed the boy Bran woke up with. If it were me, I wouldn't have forgotten."



Ash sips at her tea, content for a moment to leave it at that, but then she continues. As though having recalled what she spent most of her mundane work doing. "That said, I think there are other ways. Marketing wars and trying to sway the Sleepers ideologically, for example. It's just slow, and most of us aren't going to see results while we're still alive." And at this, she shrugs once more. "But I'm not very capable of a martial approach. If I were, I might not think in those terms."



[K. R. Jakes] "Oh? How did Bran survive?" Kage cants her head to the side and something that is the opposite of dawn happens in her eyes. She listens to Ashley and sips her tea. And then she says this: "What exactly happened at the White Fence House, Ashley? With the hunters? I know the," a brief pause, "events. Just not the details. Did they say anything?"



[Ashley McGowen] "He ran," she tells Kage, with a shake of her head. "Got picked up by someone experienced who had been drawn to the noise, and they got him out safe. He probably would've been fucked, if the Traditions hadn't found him." Perhaps she intends it to be a jab. Perhaps not; nothing in her tone would imply such.



And then Kage asks for the details on the house and she frowns. "Well...something at the house called for help. I was in a lot of pain for a few minutes and then realized that I was being called there. I saw traces of Qlippothic resonance inside and warned people before they went in. Everyone except for me and Ashton hid when the hunters came out, and we only talked with them for a few seconds before they started shooting. They asked why we hadn't gotten there to check it out before 'the bitch went crazy,' and that's about it. I mean...there aren't a lot of details to tell, really."



[K. R. Jakes] "Hm." If it is meant as a jab, it apparently found no mark. Drew no blood. And if it wasn't meant as such, all to the good. And it seems that the topic is shelved, then.



"What did you say? I mean, before they started shooting?"



[Ashley McGowen] Ashley frowns, gaze drifting upward as she tries to remember all the details. It was weeks ago, now; fortunately her memory is a good one. "They asked if we were with the 'two inside' - Jackson and Marla - and Ashton said yes, and I told them we were there to help. We both told them that we wanted to talk, he asked why we hadn't been there before Marla went crazy...right before he started shooting Ashton I told them we weren't there to hurt them and to calm down."



Ashley shrugs. "Then we killed them. I tried to calm them down after combat broke out with the Ars Mentis. It didn't work. That was really it."



[K. R. Jakes] "Trouble everywhere," she says, when Ashley is finished, shaking her head, mug held in front of her lips [don't kiss].



[Ashley McGowen] "Yeah, suppose so," Ash says, taking a long draught from the mug in her hands. "That's why it's good to have people looking out for you." A quick glance at Kage over the top of the mug, as though to remind her of what they were talking about earlier.



Brief, persistent, but not -insistent.- She's still trying. "Suppose it had to happen, though. It's probably turning out to be a good thing for the magi here."



[K. R. Jakes] Brief. The measure of silence [space] between Ashley's last sentence. Her response. Very brief, but still: present. Kage sets her mug down and wraps her arms around one knee and rests her pointed (delicate) chin on her knee. Her shoes are off by now, and her socks are fairly clean. "I suppose I can see why you would think so. You're all motivated now to seek each other out. To do. When, clearly, you weren't when you had a visionary in your midst. Not the same way, anyway. Did Marla live at the White Fence House?"



[Ashley McGowen] "She did," Ashley says, but she's frowning now, aware of what Kage just did there. The fact that she's being kindly, subtly put off, that she is not being given a direct refusal. And probably will not receive one. Perhaps to spare her feelings (Ashley doubts it), perhaps because Kage does not want a confrontation. It is, however, entirely within Ashley's nature to force one.



And then she sets down her mug on the coffee table, after scooting a coaster over with the tip of one of her toes. "Kage, why are you avoiding an answer? Just come out and tell me no. But I don't understand why you -would.- We're friends, and joining a Cabal would have a lot of advantages for you besides." Her tone lacks aggression, but it is much the same as the look she is giving Kage right now: searching. "Just explain."



[K. R. Jakes] Marla lived at the chantry. Kage is going to ask a follow-up question, but before she does: Ashley.



Be plain in your dealings. (My girls are always cautionary tales, He said, and kissed her on the mouth. And when she woke, she was bruised and drained [emptied].) Kage looks genuinely surprised when Ashley calls her out. Not for pistols, at dawn. But for failing to speak plainly, to ask her why she won't say No, why she would even consider saying no. Her chin comes off her knee, and the line of her neck, of her throat, is graceful. Then she rests her chin on her knee again, and her gaze is steady [intent], and not at all the gaze of a liar.



Deliberate: "I meant what I said earlier, Ashley. I will consider your offer. I like your manifesto, even if it is a work in progress." A beat. "Why do you think I suggested you and Wharil cabal up? Why hadn't you two already considered it?"



[Ashley McGowen] The steady (intent) gaze is met in kind, blue without depth, like the ocean water beneath which a serpent rolls and churns in endless coils. It's not the gaze of a liar, and Ashley relaxes, accepting Kage's answer with a single nod - and then suspicion is over with, and she seems content to take Kage at her word.



"It seemed like you were interested in seeing everyone -else- organize," Ashley says, picking up the teacup that, for a few moments, laid forgotten on the table. "Without intending to actually take part. And I -had- considered it. I'm just...used to grouping with other Hermetics. So it didn't really come up until you said something."



[K. R. Jakes] "Why do you think I would be interested in that?" she asks, and to be fair, Ashley is not actually wrong. "I will say this: a cabal is not, to me, a citywide club. It's always been my impression that that is what a chantry is for, depending on the cabal that runs it and the politics that drive it."



[Ashley McGowen] "I agree with you," Ashley says, taking a sip from her mug. "I've already talked to Wharil about it. If I'm going to be prepared to help someone -any- time they need it and possibly die for them, and have them at my back, there's a pretty limited selection of people I'd want around for that. But I think he gets it."



Another glance. "As to why I thought that, you seemed pretty surprised when I asked you to join in, but you talked to me and Wharil and you suggested that we include Gregor. While sort of moving things away from yourself. Doesn't matter, though. As long as you're giving it some consideration."



[K. R. Jakes] "I will always consider any offer, any piece of information or any question you bring to me," Kage says, so grave (as grave as a stone under water), and then she half-smiles, some thought: "Priest and Den-Mother, huh? Rather gender biased, those auspices."



[Ashley McGowen] "I thought so too, but I didn't plan on keeping gender under consideration when nominating people for the roles," she says, with a shrug. "I've been trying to think of alternative titles."



[K. R. Jakes] "Maybe he just has someone in mind already," the Orphan replies. Then: "Have you gone through Marla's things yet? If not -- I'd like to."



[Ashley McGowen] "I think we both already have people in mind for the roles," Ashley muses for a few seconds, draining the rest of the mug of tea. Kage asks about Marla's things, and Ashley tries to think back to the house and what's in it.



It does have a rather impressive library, as she recalls. "...For now it's probably better to keep those things there as Chantry resources," she says, reluctantly. "If we allow people to take objects from the house we're opening the node up for that by proxy. Better to err on the side of social contract, I think."



[K. R. Jakes] First, a blink. Then: a quizzical tilt of her head. Then: understanding, spreads across her features like a spill -- communion wine knocked over! And she half-smiles, crooked thing; almost unsheathed, trembling close to luminous [mischief]. "I didn't mean that. Looting isn't my intention, anyway," she says, frowning then. "I just," and there is something here, that doesn't, necessarily, what to say directly, "Would like to look through her things. Whatever she was reading last. Whatever she was ... using, last. Writing last."



[Ashley McGowen] An embarrassed you-caught-me sort of smile flits across Ashley's features once she realizes that she and Kage were not thinking along the same lines at all. Not -too- embarrassed, though; it would take someone who wanted very little to look at the chantry's library, unguarded, and feel no temptation.



Kage articulates her actual desires, though, and now it's her turn to get a quizzical look. "...Her room is at the house, I'm sure you could go and look through. Why...?" And then, understanding. "...Ah. That's probably a good idea."



[K. R. Jakes] It would be a lie to say that Kage hadn't considered it as soon as she'd heard about the White Fence House's troubles. Because she had considered it: that library, all those books, all that information; open, untouched, and the mages in the city as disorganized as marbles dropped on the floor. Who would ever know? But she hadn't. Maybe because she was a good person? More likely because she was too cautious to go inside on her own.



Why, Ashley begins to ask. The question dies, unfinished. And this is true: they're not precisely on the same page. They're in the same book. They're even in the same chapter, but no, not the same page. Ashley thinks that Kage just wants to know what was going on in Marla's mind, what was happening, to follow whatever clues may still be there [whatever signs, oh, is there a road? Where does it lead?] and learn something about how events at the chantry came to a head.



This is good to know. She would like to know all that. What she'd really like to do, however, is find out just how Marla or Jackson forced Dylan Willis to lose his name, to lose his nature, to become what he became. (Because if she finds that out ... Something done can be undone. Even if it's too late for the nameless 'crow this time. Even if someone kills him while she's still looking. Even if...)



"Do you want to come?"



[Ashley McGowen] Ashley has never given much thought to undoing what has been done to Dylan. Even if she -could,- would she see it as worth the effort to try? Perhaps. Not for Dylan, of course, but simply to see whether she -could,- whether she was strong enough to force him back into the same reality he has been banished from. These are the things she can be relied upon to do, the mentality she can be relied upon to take.



"Yeah," she says, unable to deny that fascination that springs up as she wonders what would have -caused- Marla to go down that path. What she was thinking, what she was doing. What she must have done.



Sometimes it becomes difficult to parse the thoughts she would have had before from the thoughts she has now. Perhaps because Jhor has caused her to falter, to fall and crawl to her feet on a path that was already inevitable for her. Because in the pursuit of knowledge and experience, most things become acceptable and justifiable. "I should see if I can find anything more on what happened. And it's probably good for people to go to the house at least in pairs, anyway, for a little while. Until we -do- know what happened."



[K. R. Jakes] There is still little (to no) trust. This is sad, perhaps; shouldn't Kage trust Ashley by now? Kage trusts Ashley to behave in certain ways; Kage trusts Ashley to do certain things. Kage does not trust Ashley not to [fall (go mad) hurt her] be tempted by something she should stay away from. Then again -- who is she to talk? Regardless, Kage, after a contemplative glance (who are you), nods.



"Excellent. We can go tomorrow, or," and an alternate time is proposed. Nothing too far in the future. Every hour counts, every day matters; every minute is an opportunity. Time is fleeting, and they are both mortal.



And with that decided, they'll finish their tea. Kage is not awkward; she'll talk about a book, about some mundane matter, some piece of intelligencia, perhaps about Norse mythology, until the tea is done, and then she'll leave. No answer given, but she'll consider it.



She'll consider it, just like she considers a lot of things.