why'd you step back?

[Ashley McGowen] Belated, but there she is. Kage invited her over much earlier this week, and Ashley has been finding excuses to put off visiting the Orphan's apartment. Not because she doesn't want to visit.

But for this reason: when she arrives in the hallway, she stops and she stares for a moment at an invisible spot in the carpet that she recalls through blurred vision, the rough surface scratching her cheek before Wharil tried to lift her back up later. The sight and the rasp of her sneakers against the carpet and the subtle apartment smell make it all vivid, salient as it was that evening.

By now, though, she's grown more accustomed to steeling herself. So after a moment to gather herself up, guide her eyes away from that spot, she turns to Kage's door, raises a fist, and pauses for a second before she knocks. Three polite, quick little raps. And it's odd, because with everything that happened that night and with as many people as have invaded Kage's home since she returned to the city, Ashley herself has still not been inside. Doesn't really even know what it looks like, beyond what she could glimpse through the door past Kage and beyond what little she could see when she scried out Dylan.

Medieval. She remembers that. Or maybe that's the torture devices she now associates with the place.

When Kage reaches the door the diminutive Hermetic is standing outside, gaze wandering off down the hallway. Coat unbuttoned, a red T-shirt and a pair of jeans beneath, a paper bag cradled in an arm, resting on one hip.

[Ashley McGowen] [Perception + Awareness]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 4, 6, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[K. R. Jakes] K. R. Jakes had invited Ashley over in a moment of [heat (lambent)] righteousness, and when the Hermetic did not immediately appear at her doorstep bearing BFF necklaces, well, it was something of a relief. When Ashley does take Kage up on her invitation, there is no moon in the sky, and it would be dark even if a storm weren't [passion (song)] howling over Chicago. As if an earthquake hadn't happened less than a week ago. Blanket the city in sleep, in ash and smoke and snow, and quiet it down until Spring comes again.

The Hermetic doesn't stay out in the hall for very long. The house moves all around: creak, crack, pop. An old place. It feels like it has echoes.

The door opens. Kage stays in the doorway for a second. The palm of her right hand is on the doorframe; her fingers curl over it. Her (slender) body bends the other way, though, leftward; her left hand is on the doorknob itself. There is no sound of a lock unlocked. "Hey, 'ley," Kage says, and smiles. This isn't one of those smiles she has that transfigures her features -- remakes her into something approaching gorgeous; illuminates [burns (candle)]. But it's easy, nonetheless. Not sly, not coy, but maybe a touch enigmatic none-the-less: serene, even, without wryness. "Come on in."

The Orphan has apparently been Working, and recently; Ashley can feel traces of Kage's resonance in the room which she is entering [not sanctum (no sanctuary: wasn't that already proved?)]. The room? living room. And the feel of the Orphan's [amorous (beloved [I/you]) luminous / wither, wither, wither away sedge, drain/fall] magick has reclaimed supremacy. The nameless 'crow -- Ashley, herself -- and Wharil: all of that has diminished [relinquished] and one would have to comb: look, needle in a haystack.

Medieval: yes. Nearly straight ahead, but not quite, there is a hall. Down the hall, there are three doors, and a low set of (one-two-three) stairs that take a corner, but they only go to another door which can half-be-glimpsed from the front door. That door is closed [many (many) doors]. Two of the doors in the hall are open. The place feels like winter, as if a window was open. Straight inside, one step down, and that's right where the nameless 'crow stood, and that right there is where Ashley collapsed afterward, and --

No, shh. Put it away. There are books. There's a fireplace that used to be full of books but has been converted to use, now that it isn't so godawful hot in her apartment all the time, and it's all very Pre-Raphaelite and Arts and Crafts movement, except for hints of Latest Technology and a truly epic soundsystem. Near the ficeplace there is a music stand of walnut, carved. And a music book, clipped open -- violin music.

Look the other way, and there is a dining room. The table is plain wood. There is a runner, and more beeswax candles than is probably strictly wise [although wannabe players would probably ransack the hell out of that table -- it doesn't look like she eats on it]. A couple are lit.

"You can hang your coat there," she says, nodding toward the coat rack, right near the door.

[Ashley McGowen] It looks like a Hermetic's apartment, is what Ashley notes after a glance through. Or perhaps a Chorister's (not unexpected). It's an odd thing - as she's entered the private abodes of other magi she's pieced together little things about the way they choose to decorate their living spaces. And often, they are what a person would expect. Not always related to their resonances, what they leave behind - her own is proof of that (it's what lies beneath, in the Weaving of the place, there's the Hunger) - but fitting.

She steps in with only a slight shudder. Perhaps because the place does indeed feel like winter. Ashley sets the bag down on whatever surface is readily available and shrugs out of the wool coat, hanging it in the place she indicates. "Scones in the bag," she says, jerking her chin toward it.

It's an odd ritual they seem to have established. One of tribute, almost, when they visit another person's personal space (Enid has taken to doing the same thing, when she visits Ashley.) Whether it's conscious or not on Ashley's part is up for debate, with how thoroughly she's studied cultures and customs, particularly those gone by.

Her eyes light, briefly, on the violin music in the corner, and her expression is inscrutable. Just for a second. Then, "How are you?" She could ask about several things - the indication of recent Willworking about the place, the thing Kage had to mention to Nathan the other night, how she's holding up after last Friday, but that suffices.

[K. R. Jakes] (lalala)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[K. R. Jakes] "I'm well. It's been a quiet week." What she means is that there have been no new disasters. What she means is there have been no more strangers calling her, or anyone else she knows, in out of the cold (into some dangerous element). What she means is there have been no major upsets, no disturbances, no fractures. "I'm almost lullabyed." Lullaby as a verb. The smile quirks itself lopsided, and her eyes are serious.

The last time they saw each other -- it was only briefly. Before that, bad things happen. A phone conversation: bad news happens, and the world is a dark place, and it was for nothing. And before that, Kage -- composed, solitary, in-control-of-herself, courteous-in-the-face-of-a-threat Kage -- showed up at Ashley's apartment, so wracked with (so ardent with) fury, with horror, with the will to look further and fix, that for once she hadn't been careful with her words, hadn't been solitary. Before that, it had been Ashley, pushed into reacting.

They were about due for a calm evening, something that did not tug their heartstrings or make 'em dance.

"Almost," she adds, and there it is: the lilt of a cocky smirk. Dissolves in an instant. "Thank you," re: the scones, "There's some water on, but if you'd rather juice or wine or something, I'm happy to get you whichever." A moment's regard, after she closes the door. This is arguably the first time Kage has actually had, with the nameless 'crow being the one exception, another Awakened creature in her house, forethought and not just well you're here now fine come in. "Want the full tour? How have you been? Happy to have another member of the Order in the city?"

[Ashley McGowen] "Tea's fine," Ashley says, with a sidelong look toward the kettle. And her week has not been as quiet as Kage's. Well, to some extent it has: it's not as though she's been running all over the place hunting down trouble, but she's had to deal with numerous interruptions. Had to give a lot of thought to the direction of the new cabal, had to clarify things with Wharil (not that things are that much clearer now), been giving information to new people she's met.

For someone who had been so opposed to accepting responsibility for the city when she first arrived, she's being pushed toward some sort of role. Unwillingly. People have a way of doing these things.

"Sure, give me a tour," she says, with an amused look sidelong at Kage. "I've been...sort of busy. Lots of things to sort out still, you know, at the chantry and stuff and...just getting things figured out. People have been asking me to fill them in, calling me in for favors..." She doesn't sound unhappy about this, necessarily - in fact, much of it is a welcome distraction from matters she has less control over.

"It's okay having Solomon around. He's pretty young," she adds, after a moment. "Not...really what I figured when I heard there was someone else coming out here. But I guess it'll be good to have someone to compare notes with."

[K. R. Jakes] "The living room," Kage says, pivoting, with an elegant little twist (twirl) of her wrist. Pivot one way, pivot another: v. ironic 1950s housewife. "The dining room and the kitchen," and then she walks down the hall, pushing open one door. "The bathroom." The bathroom is rather spare in decoration -- the only real thing of note is a truly glorious clawfooted bathtub. Across from the bathroom, another door, which she pushes open -- goes far enough inside to turn on a light.

"The study," and, the study? The study is really lovely. There is a couch with a tapestry throw, and hangings; a desk with a thousand pidgin holes and something that looks very much like a gothic altar piece. An imac and a mac screen off to the side, more bookshelves, lots and lots and lots of books. A comfortable chair, behind the desk. She has an adult's apartment, for all she's so young [and so much of what she has (ebay, baby)]. There are some interesting looking knickknacks, mostly arcane, a comic collection, a stuffed bunny. She clearly spends a lot of time in the study, or did, at some point.

"The bedroom," she nods toward that last door, and then taps a narrow white door behind a narrower bookshelf, tapping it, "The linen closet. Voila. This is where I live right now. What sort of favors? And," her features take on a questioning cast -- she raises both of her eyebrows, "what did you figure, if not what Solomon is actually like?"

[K. R. Jakes] Add, vague: "Bonisagus. They're the -- what are they? The numerology guys?"

[K. R. Jakes] ooc: ahem, make that a stuffed MOUSE.

[Ashley McGowen] Kage hasn't seen anything of Ashley's apartment that isn't her living room, possibly the bathroom. For all that Ashley has invited people over to her apartment, that's generally where she's tried to keep them - her private sanctum, after all, is in the study (Wharil and Jacques, her oldest acquaintances in the city, were back there once). And the bedroom is and will remain a place that is too personal to take acquaintances past.

"I like your study," she tells Kage, after a glance around in that room in particular. Curiously noting details and the like. Mild amusement at the stuffed mouse. A too-long glance at the couch. That was where she saw Dylan, back before she knew that he was with Kage. Back before she even knew that Kage was here in Chicago.

"Rene has a problem," is her rather vague answer to the favors question. Kage asks about Bonisagus as she finishes leading the two of them around - Ashley soaking everything in - and finally she looks away from the apartment's scenery to Kage. Wry. "Numerology, yeah. Theoreticians, mostly. Which I'm...not, really. Just sort of expected someone more experienced for a Disciple, I guess. He's a nice kid, but..."

And here, a shrug. Solomon is a Tradition mate, Kage is a friend, and boundaries get complicated here. There's something about Solomon that makes Ashley uncomfortable, but it's something she doubts she ought to elaborate on.

[K. R. Jakes] "I do, too," she says, somewhat wistfully, of her study. She doesn't know that Ashley's seen it before, but she does know that the nameless 'crow used to stretch out just there, when he wasn't moving around the apartment, a horrifying presence. When he wasn't imploring her, telling her they needed to go, to just go, that he didn't want them to find her, that -- alas, she didn't get much use out of the study during December.

The kettle goes off and Kage moves into the kitchen. They're back in the living room, then, and this much is true: the one room she didn't open the door for, only pointed at, gestured to, was her bedroom. A private heart. There are so many chests, so many boxes, so many hidey-holes. She takes the kettle off the stove, frowning at some vials and boxes of tea clustered underneath her cabinet. Ashley will notice something about the kitchen: one whole side of the counter appears to be, well, missing the counter. This is the counter by the sink, so she can see straight down onto some broken shelves. This might explain why there are bowls stacked up by the stove itself, instead of where they should be, in the cabinet.

There are complicated boundaries -- for Ashley; for Kage, it's just a matter of questioning, of wanting to know, of seeing how much she can know without investigation that isn't sound. "Rene. Who is this Rene again?" Someone's mentioned her. For the moment, though, just who is eluding Kage. "Is Russian Caravan okay or would you rather something less black?" Space for an answer. And then, "Just how old is he?"

[Ashley McGowen] "Russian Caravan is fine. With milk though," she says, as she follows Kage back into the kitchen. She ducks in near the stove; it's generally one of the warmest places in the house, and the bottoms of her pants are still wet, as they tend to be when she gets in from outside. A problem with short stature: finding pants that are not too long is a rare thing.

She leans a hip against the counter, glancing toward the area where the counter is missing, attention drawn to it like that one vacant spot in a puzzle, that piece that went missing and couldn't be replaced. Dylan's fault, she assumes. Well. The Marauder's fault.

"Rene...you'd know her if you met her. She's one of the Euthanatoi...sort of far gone. Just gives off a really creepy feel and speaks in one and two word sentences. She thinks I can help, apparently. It's a semi-favor to Wharil." A lot of mixed feelings there, for a lot of reasons, but she seems content to leave things at that and move on to Solomon.

"He's...seventeen or eighteen, I think. I'm not completely sure. But he just finished school, he can't be older than that."

[K. R. Jakes] "Hmm," is her comment on Rene, on a favor to Wharil. But she doesn't leave it there -- when has Kage left anything? "She thinks you can help her -- what, remember how to care about things again? Is she dead-hearted?"

But Ashley is content to move onto Solomon. Kage pours the hot water over the tea leaves, allows the steam to touch her face (kiss) before she puts the lid on the teapot again, leans against the refrigerator (word magnets, everywhere! along with a drawing that looks like it was done by a kid) and folds her arms across her chest. While she poured the water, she considered the kid at the bar. She'd paid him attention, but not much; she was still angry (wrath is a sin, Kage) at Nathan then.

"I suppose he did look pretty young," she says, after a second. "Wonder what Enid will make of him and he of her. As for more experience," a brief pause. "Some people just -- wake up, stronger; further down whatever path they're going to travel. And some Disciples are fools. In my experience, anyway. Which is to say, a kid without hand's on? Well," a shrug. "Stranger things."

[Ashley McGowen] "I'm not sure exactly what she expects of me, to be honest," Ashley says, her gaze far off for a moment as she thinks about it. Over how odd the request was. "Some sort of trauma or...something wrong with her Mind, apparently, that she thinks I can help her try to get past. Which I can, if she's willing to work with me. I won't do it for her."

"But I'm not sure of the specifics yet. Just that it made Wharil uncomfortable, or something." She's looking at the magnets now, the words, mentally adjusting and switching them around on the refrigerator. She doesn't have any such things, but can't help but be amused by them and by arranging them.

And then she looks sidelong at Kage. Brief, considering. "Well. I'm sure there's something more to it than that. But yeah, stranger things have happened. I just didn't expect to have to sort of teach another Adept, you know?"

[K. R. Jakes] "Hmm," is (again) her comment on Rene. This time she does leave it; she hasn't met the Euthanatos, she doesn't have an opinion, and she doesn't need to indulge in speculation. "How is Wharil?"

When Ashley looks at Kage, sidelong, considering, Kage is studying, not Ashley, but some point beyond Ashley, over toward the fireplace. Her gaze is distant, drenched in firelight and shadow, pensive. Her mouth quirks, again, though: "I suppose," to you know? "But it isn't really a problem I think I'll ever have to face. I'd be really surprised if another Orphan," terminology that isn't her own, "showed up on my doorstep and expected -- " a brief pause. "Kinship, I guess. Solidarity."

[Ashley McGowen] "Wharil's...fine. Wants to get our cabal stuff sorted out, I think. Apologized for not letting me know what was going on and for the danger to me and Gregor." Which, though it hadn't really occurred to her at first, was a very real thing while they stood in front of the Marauder - Ashton did use a shotgun, after all.

Kage is talking, then, about kinship and solidarity with other Orphans, and for a moment Ashley's mouth thins. Not disapproval, really, but: "That's why we usually try to push you guys toward Traditions. Not because we're fascists who don't want to let you believe what you want, but...you guys end up alone and without a support network a lot."

[K. R. Jakes] [y'know, how smooth -are- we right now? manipsubt? +1 strong opinion]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 7)

[K. R. Jakes] "You think so," she says, raising her eyebrows -- a touch sardonic (only a touch). The tea has steeped enough now and she turns her back to the Hermetic, presents a delicate profile when she opens another cabinet and takes out two mugs. For Ashley, something earthenware, browns and cobalt blues hidden within; for herself, something squat, gray as river silt and lumpish. She sets them down on the counter by the oven, and then she takes out a carton of milk. Pours milk, first. Then tea: this way it doesn't curdle. Takes attention.

[Ashley McGowen] "Of course I think so. I wouldn't have said it otherwise." She watches Kage pour milk into the two mugs. Then, momentarily, the tea (thank God she knows how to put it in so that the milk doesn't curdle) and watches the puff of steam that rises as the hot water hits it.

"I just don't understand why you would -insist- on staying on your own. There are a lot of advantages to a Tradition, and...I'm sure that what you think isn't all that different from a lot of Tradition members." This, bemused, welcoming a dissenting opinion. Though it's tied up in her confusion as to why Kage won't join a cabal, either - she made similar protests then and is still no closer to being enlightened.

[K. R. Jakes] The Orphan collects her own mug after Ashley has hers and then she'll lead the way out of the kitchen and into the living room. There, she'll curl up on the couch -- different from the couch in the study, and not nearly as close to lullaby. There's more couch if Ashley wants it, an uncomfortable wooden chair against the wall, between bookshelves, and a cozier looking armchair. The setup is dissimilar to Ashley's, so no echoes of who-isn't-there. "Why are you so certain?" is what Kage asks, and humor, or something kin to it, touches her mouth. "What Traditions could you see me following? When you came awake, were you already part of the Order?"

[Ashley McGowen] "No," Ashley says, with a shake of the head. Though there are some who are - the Order of Hermes has a way of taking on apprentices, grooming people in such a way as to Awaken them. She takes the opposite end of the couch and sits with her back against the armrest so that she can face Kage. "But I Willed myself Awake, and so it made sense to me."

A moment's thought, and then she adds, "I could see you in the Chorus."

[K. R. Jakes] "How did they find you?" A pause. The Chorus, Ashley says, and the humor deepens (flares out [vanishes]). There's a brief moment of teeter-on-an-edge, hesitation. She could say a thing, but then she'd have to say Simon's name. So instead: "Why?"

[Ashley McGowen] "My dad is an Akashic Brother. He tried to teach me at first, and that didn't get over so well, so he started to push me toward other people he knew in Boston," Ashley says, holding the as-yet-unsipped mug in both hands. "And the Order wanted me, so that was that."

Kage asks why, and Ashley looks back at her for a moment, debating. Deciding. "Partly the way you resonate. But besides that, you have a lot of faith," she says after a moment, "in...it's hard to put my finger on, exactly. You have faith that a better way is always possible. You try to redeem people." She tugs thoughtfully at her lower lip for a second, glances back at Kage. "Very Chorister ideals, regardless of God or the One or whatever."

[K. R. Jakes] [how smooooooooth?!]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 4, 7, 7 (Success x 2 at target 7)

[K. R. Jakes] "Your Dad is an Akashic Brother?" Honest surprise. The way Ashley wields Mind, Kage never would have guessed that an Akashic had initially tried to teach her (had initially influenced [guided] her). "Did you always know or was it a secret until you Willed yourself open-eyed?"

The diminutive woman on the other side of the couch has had more opportunity than most to see how Kage thinks, how she reacts, under different (and stressful [horrible]) situations. This lends itself to a certain amount of insight -- which the Orphan doesn't quite agree with howsoever true it may be. Self-knowledge is hard. This might be why she doesn't say anything exactly: just quirks one eyebrow at partly the way you resonate (honest surprise) and then wordlessness for the rest. Not agreeing, not disagreeing. For now, anyway.

Her feet are bare, and she slips them underneath the throw which was thrown rather carelessly over the back of the couch.

[Ashley McGowen] "I didn't know anything until I woke up. A few of his methods took, I guess. He's Vajrapani. External conflict being a metaphor for inner conflict. I just don't have a lot of patience for Zen and the All thing creeps me out, sort of."

She might have left it at that. Kage doesn't say anything to the bit of insight Ashley provides, instead choosing to ask Ashley questions. It's not something she minds, really: with the exception of Tradition secrets, she generally has very little she attempts to hide. Her allies in Chicago know much more about her than she does about them, generally speaking.

But there's a beat, and then Ashley looks up from her mug and says, "So if I'm wrong and you -aren't- a good match for the Chorus, why'd you step back?"

[K. R. Jakes] "Vajrapani." Echo. The word is unfamiliar: Kage can count the number of Akashic Brothers she's met on one hand. With almost all of the fingers closed. She has not spoken at great length with one. She knows of them more than knows them and Chicago doesn't seem to have plans to change that for her (yet). "What is the All thing?"

The Orphan looks perplexed; the word, All, and the way Ashley uses it: that the Hermetic would be creeped out by what she intuits from the word [associations (balladry)] perplexes her. That air (touched) of perplexity stays, after she has considered Ashley's question: "You're asking why I'd step back from the Celestial Chorus if I wasn't a good match for it?"

[Ashley McGowen] "The Akashics believe that the self is an illusion that can be transcended, and by overcoming selfish needs and desires and emotions, you're brought closer to a state of oneness and harmony with the All. It's sort of a...collective humanity. Collective existence." She speaks without hesitation, articulating these beliefs like she's had a rather thorough schooling in them - which she has, in fact. "Like I said, creepy."

Someone driven so thoroughly by their Will, by inherently selfish desire, would think so, of course.

And then she quirks an eyebrow at Kage, hearing the note of perplexity in her tone. "...Sorry, I didn't phrase that well. I meant to ask what made you realize you were a poor fit for the Chorus."

[K. R. Jakes] [still smooooothe?]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 5, 6, 10 (Success x 1 at target 7)

[K. R. Jakes] "Mm. I'm surprised that -- well; All seems like something that someone with the midgard serpent watching her enlightenment would be drawn toward." Kage and mythology, Kage and symbols: these things work; they help her understand the world and hammer out a place for the Traditions and the Conventions and everything that is supernatural and everything that is mundane. So she uses them, easily and without self-consciousness, but her eyes stay open.

The perplexity evaporates (dissipates [fog, after dawn]) and Kage takes a sip of her tea. Blows away steam, and lets whatever runes the steam may have created dissipate, too, along with the questioning look in her eyes. Inscrutable is different than emotionless. "Oh. Hmm." Pause. And then: "I spent a lot of time with Simon." She shrugs. "And I don't Believe."

[Ashley McGowen] Her father thought so too, and it's implied in the look Ashley gives Kage, eyes clouded briefly by rising steam as she lifts her mug. Takes a long swallow and lowers it, and has to think - because self-awareness is hard. Because Kage has the right of it: she is her father's daughter, different Tradition or not. "A different sort of All, though," she says. "Hermeticism is about finding your way on your own, relying on your own strength, and finding self-perfection at the end. Akashicism is about finding harmony and finding that there's no separation between the self and the rest of the world at the end. One appealed to me more than the other."

She has to mull over Kage's later words. About Simon, and about not Believing. She herself doesn't Believe and was never drawn toward the Chorus for that reason. But that Kage mentions Simon? That hints that it isn't the real reason. "What does Simon have to do with it?"

[K. R. Jakes] [I'm totally smooth, man. It means nothing! +1 again.]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 4, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 8)

[K. R. Jakes] "I see," Kage says, first. What Ashley has to say on Hermeticism is likely something that Kage has heard before (from Hannibal, or -- or even gleaned from texts that Sleepers have. From the Hermetic philosophy, as available to anyone with the will to research). "Are you afraid of it? I mean, of losing yourself, for even a second? Do you," briefest of pauses, and her gaze has grown distant, "talk to your Serpent very often?"

A beat. And then: "I meant that he was probably the what made me realize," Kage says, another sip of tea. Russian Caravan is like dark smoke, even with milk; it follows a dark path down her throat and sees many things before warming her stomach. "Since he was teaching me."

[Ashley McGowen] "It doesn't really...talk," Ashley says, after a moment. "But I see it a lot. I have dreams where I'm just...watching it, sometimes, until I wake up. It sort of pushes me where it wants to go when I'm awake. That's how it talks to me. That and through the legend." By the long pauses, the way the words linger on her lips for a split second before she speaks them, it's evident that it's been some time before she spoke to anyone about her Avatar. In all likelihood never to a non-Hermetic. "And...yes and no. I feel like I lose parts of myself all the time. But something comes along to replace them."

A thought, then. A draught of bitter liquid only just mellowed out by milk, dark gray and opaque instead of black and depthless. "Why don't you Believe? Did you, before?"

[K. R. Jakes] Wistfulness touches her features when Ashley says it doesn't really talk. The wistfulness stays, the impression of warmth on something otherwise cold; like pressing your cheek against glass, breathing out, watching the ghost of your face disappear into winter. "Does it watch you when you watch it, in your dreams? What does that feel like -- being pushed?"

Then: a chuckle [soft as a clot of ash, as a ribbon of moongleam on water]. "Not for myself. I don't see any reason to Believe. It just doesn't work in my head."

[Ashley McGowen] Ashley watches Kage as she looks up from the mug. Notes the wistfulness that touches the Orphan's features, as though she were - missing something? wishing? but for herself or for Ashley, who knows - regretting something. "...I don't know if it can see me. I'm always...there but not, you know? Like watching from overhead. Or beneath the water, or from inside its mouth."

A pause as she tries to articulate how being pushed feels, in some other way than...well, the feel she gives off. "I want things without knowing why, sometimes. Just...imagine the thing you've wanted the most. It feels like that, but with everything."

She says she doesn't believe, and that it doesn't work on her head, and the look she gets in return is curious. But accepting. It doesn't work in Ashley's head either, but it is not the question she asked.

[K. R. Jakes] "Interesting," Kage says, and means it. "What does it do when you watch it?"

[Ashley McGowen] "Just moves through the water, a lot of the time. Sometimes there's a ship, or a whale, or once in a while there'll be a warrior that decides to try to kill it. It eats them. Without letting its tail go, usually." Ashley considers. "It's always deep ocean. At night. I don't ever see land."

Another look, this one a little sharper. "Why? Does yours talk to you?"

[K. R. Jakes] [Smooth-check, again!]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 4, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 8)

[K. R. Jakes] "Do you ever talk to the warrior it kills? I mean, if you're watching from its mouth." And then Ashley ask her sharp question. And: "Yes," Kage says, simply. Her eyes aren't drawn away in spite of herself to any point in her apartment. She doesn't tilt her head, as if she were brushing away invisible fingers; she doesn't flicker, gutter like a candle in a breeze, breeze that tugs this a way, this a way, right over here, and His voice doesn't get louder. She doesn't even look around warily, or send a searching look, like, where are you now. For once, without superstition -- or at least, without a care for. The smell of beeswax fills the apartment, honeyed. "Frankly, sometimes He won't shut up."

[Ashley McGowen] "There was once," Ashley says after a moment, "one that spoke to it. He told it that he'd come because it would devour gods and men at the end of the world. It tried to pull the Serpent's jaws apart. But we didn't really try to answer him. There really wouldn't be much of a point, I don't think."

Kage doesn't search around. Ashley does, though, as that scent of beeswax, of candles and seals for parchment permeates the room. As though expecting to see the flicker of flame somewhere down the hallway or a light reflected off of the floor. "What does he tell you?"

[K. R. Jakes] "There are different versions of the legend, you know," Kage says. Now she sets her tea down on the old seaman's chest-cum-coffee table. Newspaper, folded up, keeps mug from leaving a ring. The young woman circles her knees with her arms and hugs them to her chest. She should look smaller, but still, she looks so self-contained, so composed (be quiet [grace] here, a certain style, a certain muted flamboyance riding just underneath the skin). Kage looks just as she always does. A little tired, that's all.

"He tells me a lot of things," Kage says, after a moment's hesitation. She sounds wry. "Not all of it is useful. He isn't always honest. It depends on His face. It depends on what he wants."

[Ashley McGowen] "Like any legend," Ashley says. "But all of them end with him killing Thor at Ragnarok." And dying, she could add. But this is a part of the legend that, truth be told, Ashley has not worked out yet. It's a significance that escapes her still, that when the Serpent lets go of its tail, the world will end.

Is it because it lets its tail go?

She looks back up at Kage then, nostrils slowly growing acclimated to the sweet scent that filled the room seconds earlier. Wondering. Because of the magi who she has spoken with about their Avatars - granted, not many - hers is the only one that could be called a monster. She's wondered about that. For a long time. "It has multiple faces, you mean? Like he changes forms when he talks to you?"

[K. R. Jakes] [how smooooth?!]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 5, 8, 8, 8 (Success x 3 at target 7)

[K. R. Jakes] "Snakes are reborn; they shed their skin and live forever," Kage says, smiling reflectively. "Ragnarok happens so that Baldur can return. Wouldn't, otherwise."

Kage thinks about her avatar a lot (it's hard not to [he's so often there]). She doesn't often speak of him. Certainly not to her family, not to her friends and aquaintances who are still asleep, unless she lets slip a word, says somebody told me this. She doesn't often speak of him to other mages, either. She is older than she was, once, and has long since realized that most mages don't have the kind of relationship she does with Him. She realizes that they aren't all called awake to a [demi-god (monster) otherworld (guide) psychopomp (devil) angel] guardian -- or whatever He is. Sometimes, He is helpful. Sometimes, He even acts human. Not most times. The point is: Kage doesn't often speak of Him, even to complain, because what would she say eventually?

"Sort of," she says, after a second. "Well. This: He has more than one mask He wears. That He's taken. But it's always Him. And He doesn't usually change, not significantly, when He comes by to talk or ... or whatever."

[Ashley McGowen] This sets Ashley to thinking - about Ragnarok, about the legend, about what it all means. About the Serpent being thrown into the ocean at the moment of its birth, about how it grew to span the world, about how Thor tried to smash its head in (and failed) the once. Whether a creature is bound to a path from the start or whether it goes that way because it's what is expected (foretold and prophecied.) Whether it's possible to be reborn so many times and still retain the same shape (a snake would say it's possible.)

They are complex thoughts that she has not entirely worked through herself - or, perhaps, could not decide to act upon, could not understand the full meaning of even if she had considered every angle.

So she pays attention to Kage's demon lover with many masks. "Do you think he's guiding you toward something? Or does he just talk to you and guide you?" A moment's consideration. "Justine always said hers was like...some sort of infallible guardian. She'd talk to it when she needed advice."

[K. R. Jakes] [random RAR!]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 6, 6, 7, 7, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 7)

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

[K. R. Jakes] "He's old," she says, in answer. As if that is an answer. And to Kage, it is. He's old, therefore he wants things; he's ancient, therefore he has a shape he'd like for her to find. He's old, and she doesn't know what he wants of her, just that he wants. Her eyes drift away from Ashley, musing, rest on some point in the living room -- stay there, for a second, for two. Her pupils grow large, drink in darkness. "I don't know His name and He won't tell me yet. I don't always think He even knows it any longer. But, ha ha," and the amusement is real; is tangible [lambent]. "I wouldn't really call Him a 'guardian.' Or if I would, he's a pretty asshole guardian to have. And I don't get to choose when He talks to me. Even if I go to places I know He likes better than others, well. He has plans. I just don't know what they are yet."

[K. R. Jakes] A pause, and she blinks, hard, and looks back at Ashley, all rue and pensive [ardent]. "Uh, He's kind of tricky to, uhm, articulate. I've only talked about Him to -- well, uh. Very few."

[Ashley McGowen] In this way Ashley is fortunate - hers, too, is ancient. Moreso than the World Serpent, the motif of a serpent devouring itself is found in most ancient cultures. Hunger, rebirth, are the most basic of drives, no matter what form they take in legend. She has a path, her Name is carved and defined; Kage has yet to figure hers out.

Though this in many ways is the challenge of an Initiate. "I appreciate you talking about it with me, in that case," she says, catching that rueful look out of the corner of her right eye. Sincerity.

"Maybe he wants to be defined, is part of it," Ashley muses. Downing the cooling remnants of her cup and setting it aside, next to Kage's on the newspaper so that it will not leave a ring on the coffee table. "What sorts of things does he ask for?"

[K. R. Jakes] "Favors," she says, and she means bargains [worship]. "And deals. Help and time. Tasks," she says, and she means [adoration] fear. What he asks for is desire, is passion and memory, is spirit and soul. What he asks for is -- well, he asks for things that often seem random. They're helpful, sometimes, sometimes they're clear; sometimes what He wants seems obvious. She doesn't know, really, why.

"Attention. Which we haven't been paying properly to the scones you brought," she adds, with a smile that touches her eyes with blithe mischief. "And He honestly gets enough of it. Do you want yours warmed up? Are they good with cream?" And with that, Kage swings her feet back to the floor, straightening her shoulder."

[Ashley McGowen] A wry smile touches the corner of Ashley's mouth at Kage's reply. She appreciates that it is difficult to articulate, but she's beginning to realize the points at which the Orphan gets uncomfortable - it is the part where she begins to get not-answers, these short responses that answer the question but tell her nothing. She doesn't entirely mind, though. She enjoys riddles.

And oh, so many of the magi in Chicago are puzzles to figure out. Symbolism wrapped around Words and Names.

"They're great with cream, there's some in the bag. And jam," she says, twisting around so that she too can set her feet back on the floor. Hand sliding into a pocket, hooking her thumb at the edge, as she follows Kage toward the (half a) kitchen. "Let me know when you get him figured out. You've piqued my curiosity now."

[K. R. Jakes] "We'll see," she says, noncommittal. She could mean a lot of things with that we'll see. We'll see if they're both still around by then. We'll see if there is answer figuring Him out. We'll see if Kage'll feel like telling if she does. We'll see what happens. We'll see out his secrets, oh yes we will, and then, oh then. We'll see. A touch of amusement: "I certainly didn't mean to." Pique Ashley's curiousity, one would assume.

And then there is a clamor, a clatter, of plates. And then the crumple-crinkle of bag, opened, and scones are taken out and warmed up, and nobody leaves the apartment tonight because they've been broken and nothing bad happens at all.