[Solomon Ward] Calls go out. Random calls, unplanned calls, unscheduled communications. Some may already be in the chantry, others may have to travel to it. Such is life. Either way time is getting short and the priest is getting a hold of people. He may have asked Nathan to do the same. What ever it took.
Besides, every one needs a side kick right ?
So he waits, in the first living room of the chantry. Big Black Bag settled at his feet like some sort of security blanket. Tired and worn looking, but not as much before.
Time is of the essence, these days.
[Nathan Spriggs] The priest's call reaches Nathan, who was until recently occupied meeting someone else for much the same reasons as this very meeting. When asked, he reaches all the people he can get ahold of while himself and the Orphan named Kage.
They arrive by her truck shortly after, the Cultist taking the front as he checks around the house for a moment and steps inside. He had some things to mention to the priest himself, brainstorming had occurred and he had made a realization or two along the way.
[Emily Littleton] The Apprentice comes, and not entirely begrudgingly, back to the Chantry for the second or third time this weekend. She's beginning to think she out to get a nicer car, since the El ride between her place and the Chantry is hardly worth the bother. And this time she's offered to pick up Ashley along the way.
She's wearing a navy blue dress tonight, it comes to her knees. There's a bright white stencil of a giraffe on its front. Emily's hair has been wound back into a loose knot at her nape, and there's the messenger bag. As always. But that's about as together as the Apprentice gets on a Sunday evening without any forewarning. That and she's swapped the flip-flops for bright white tennies.
[Basil Gillingson] Basil arrives not long after his call...he takes a seat at the table but remains quiet. He was there to listen...input if he had to but he had no new information to add...he knew that from the get-go.
[Israel Cohen] She's there, dressed simply: A soft lilac sundress, modest enough, though sleeveless. She's sitting near or next to Solomon, a mug of steaming coffee in her hands, legs tucked up beside her, dress smoothed over her knees. On the table a cafe service and a tea kettle emit lazy, fragrant steam. Assorted coffee mugs; a pastry box filled with baklava, a tray of fudge brownies, a fair sized platter of sliced veggies, deli meats, cheese and crackers [the cheese is partitioned well away from the meat] and a stack of napkins.
Those who know her know well enough that Israel is a firm believer that food makes pretty much everything better.
[Ashley McGowen] Ashley is a bit more grudging than Emily, when it comes to coming to the chantry for another meeting. She hates them, feels out of place and awkward in the large gatherings of mages, and resents having to watch what she says at all times. She resents having to be politique in a way she doesn't have to worry about when she speaks to people one-on-one.
The Tytalan shows up with Emily, dressed in a pair of jeans and a blue and orange striped shirt. She doesn't look quite as tired as she did earlier this week, appears to have finally gotten a night or two of sleep. No signs of grief on her face, in her demeanor, even if she is still drained.
Food does indeed make everything better, and by the time others are arriving, Ashley has already put together a sandwich and grabbed a handful of baklava. Who knows where she puts it.
[K. R. Jakes] The red-haired Orphan shows up with Nathan. Her truck -- black, monstrous -- is parked down the block, around a corner. She's dressed plainly, jeans, a demure white blouse, red red hair loosening from its tie. It's a hot day in Chicago, Hell-hot, steaming, muggy. She watches Nathan as he scopes out the place first and once they're in the room that will be used for the meeting, she makes a point of saying hello to Israel and Solomon, an aloud-thing, a not-just-a-courteous-nod, which is what Emily, Ashley, Basil all get. Ashley and Emily, maybe, each get a quirk of her eyebrow, something not-quite-inscrutable, something eloquent. A sort've suppressed, And here we are. Is that baklava?
[Solomon Ward] "I apologize for the short notice... I'm starting to realize that I've got a talent for interrupting peoples lives, so I'll try to make this as condensed as I can", he starts, waiting for the bulk majority of those called to be assembled. He'd called them all, or had them called, for a purpose. Nathan and he had been working close for the past week, getting to the root of a few issues. Israel was an obvious. Ashley, for all her 'sort it yourself' attitude wanted to be Deacon. Good, she could. Emily had found out some important information and so her contribution, even as an apprentice, was worth its weight. Mr. Gillingson ? Well, Mr. Gillingson and the priest had an under standing for now, perhaps one born of necessity, but when a Templar and a Quaesitor start putting their heads together, the situation has likely become very... ugly.
The man doesn't bother to partake of the food. He's got sheafs of paper and hand scrawled notes, a map, various depictions... your typically slew of nearly incoherent short hand an a mix mash of occult arcana that comes with such a rigidly ancient lore.
"This is what we have so far. It doesn't leave the people in this room, with the exception of updating Dr. Atlas of the Sons of Ether, Mr. Page of the Choir Celestial. Repeating the contents of this meeting to any other persons is tantamount to betrayal; I can not explain the severity of the information that's about to be shared."
He shuffles papers, more an academic at heart than nay real sort of leader. "One. We have a dead line. July fourth. The so called Chalice is actually a large opal. That date is the perfect juncture which with to fill the Chalice with the 'shadow of Telos' as it was called. Souls. The entity needs to fill it with souls. We have a location on the Chalice. We have partial Name on the demon, as well as its specific House before the fall and its cosmological purpose. That means we have a way, the basis, of how to fight it. "
Another breath, another look at his hand scrawled notes before he goes on. "The creature that calls itself Edom Baselious was an Angel of Death. Again, for the non monotheists in the room, feel free to drop the Judeo-Christian structure of what I say if it makes you happier. Again, it doesn't change the concept of what it is. A sentient concept, a self willed and self guiding cosmological force of entropy and decay. That rebelled against Creation. Later, it rebelled against the rebellion. I did som,e research and found contexts to similar names and titles. They vanished about two thousand years ago. As it hasn't been overly subtle since its arrival in the city, I'm bound to believe its unstable. What I mean to say is, if an entity that wants to unravel creation could possibly be more unstable. It also belongs to a faction of the fallen that want to see that end of creation carried out. Sooner than later...
"Thoughts, questions, additional information, or any thing I missed before I begin to lay out the tentative groundwork of what we might call a plan ?"
Sure, call it a plan, Solomon. Like a fucking billion year sentient force of the cosmos can really be planned for... but it makes feel better to think so.
[Ashley McGowen] "After speaking with Kage the other night," Ashley says, with a nod toward the Orphan, "I did my own research, and I can confirm the information you've found. I've also acquired the True Name of the chalice itself, which might prove useful when we actually go to retrieve it."
That appears to be the Hermetic's contribution. She watches Solomon, raises her eyebrows as if to ask him for his plan, and transfers a piece of the baklava, whole, into her mouth.
[Ashley McGowen] [Scratch that part about the True Name, she'd say she's working on acquiring it! Apparently she doesn't have it yet, sorry!]
[Israel Cohen] "The 'Shadow of Telos' is probably better seen as the timing needed - or preferred - for putting the Chalice into play. Like the warning from the Umbrood messenger weeks ago, it seems more accurately a designator, a colourful depiction of the Red Star's alignment." Her interjections - postulation, clarification - is quiet spoken per usual; one finger wanders along the smoothness of the heated mug in finespun hands. "Apparently that is the 4th of July?" She turns her face in the direction she last heard Kages voice -- whether or not the woman is still there; certainly Israel has no other way of telling until she speaks up again. "My concern," well, one of them. Her concerns are many. "is where is the Demon getting the souls to fill it? The Tormented ones he seems to have at his disposal? Or fresh ones?" It pains some part of her to speak of human souls so briefly, so nakedly... but, alas, what can one do?
[Emily Littleton] By the time they've seated themselves, Emily has collected a cup of coffee. Caffeine being requisite to dealing with demons, or so she'd learned from her own research this weekend. She'd collected a piece of baklava, okay two, and a napkin. With Owen absent, she pulled out a notebook to jot down whatever innocuous thoughts she could ot jog her memory later... but when Solomon called down the spectre of betrayal and treason, that notebook went away. Stowed safely back in the belly of her messenger bag, which was tucked behind her feet against the legs of the chair.
"Everything I have to contribute Father Ward and Owen Page are already aware of," Emily says, carefully. As if talking about this topic at all makes her vaguely uneasy.
[Basil Gillingson] Basil listened, taking in the information but staying silent. His fingers drummed slightly across the surface..his eyes closed. The discussion was to the point and so far no squabbling on details and who would do what had started.
[Nathan Spriggs] The Cultist remains quiet as the room is briefed, no signs of surprise or disbelief at the news however. He had known it for a while now, most of it anyhow, the Name part had been news to him too. Everything else had been uncovered recently, but he'd been there or briefed. A look around, he considers something. Several matters that needed to be brought to attention.
Ashley's contribution however gets a quirked brow, interested maybe? It was good to know there was information they were still missing since the big picture was still fragmented. When they continue speaking, he decides to step forward with potentially important information Solomon missed.
"We also learned it has a pestilence spirit working for it. Guarding the chalice in the Umbra. It would be good to investigate on that side too. We need to obtain this chalice before the 4th."
[K. R. Jakes] "Why not both?" Kage says, quiet, to Israel's question: her voice is smoke; is cool. Composed, controlled; she is a reserved creature. "The fourth of July," the way she says it, as confirmation, "Independence Day. It's a day when the crowds come out. If another disaster like the one at the bridge were to strike, well," a pause, she shrugs: loose, elegant. "Assuming the fresher, the better, it's a good day for a harvest."
[Solomon Ward] "Right, so, that being the case..." nodding to Kage. He still wasn't entirely sure who the woman was, but be damned if she wasn't the voice of reason and forethought every time he met the woman. Points to her, even if it was all doom and gloom. It was valid.
"So we have two problems, Edom and his plot. I count them as two problems because we're going to have to separate the man from his toy. Which we have to secure. From the the other side of the Shadow. Said Shadow is so unstable right now, even I won't fool with it right now. I highly recommend to others to be especially wary of the use of any Sight or spiritual arts. So actually, physically, retrieving the Chalice is a problem we need to figure out and quickly".
"My proposal... I know it was mentioned of assigning Cabals to specific tasks. We can try that. Unfortunately, do to skill sets, knowledge's, and magical practices that may not be possible. We're going to need one group to go for the Chalice. At the exact same time, this is going to take some coordination, we're going to have to have second group challenge Edom and hold it off. I believe it is possible to do so. Myself, Mr. Gillingson, and Dr. Winters will likely compromise the second team. Unfortunately, that's most of the magi in this room with any real Shadow arts that I'm aware of, or ?" he trails off, letting the question sit. Who else can summon, beseech, or interact with the Unfleshed.
"I'd rather keep the plan for confronting Edom confidential. Now we need to figure out how to pull the Chalice across, or get to it. I can, if needed, create a Shallowing at the site of the node. At this current juncture I'm also rather sure that doing so would kill who ever had to trek that far across the umbral city, it would turn the Chantry into a gate that would require massive defense, and it could very well rend Catherine... not the wisest course of action by any means."
[Ashley McGowen] "I don't know of many who are familiar enough with the Ars Spirituum, other than yourself, to open a Shallowing in order to go through and get the chalice," Ashley tells Solomon. "But I would think it would be possible to pull the chalice itself directly through on its own, if we could find out where it is."
There's a pause, a beat while the Hermetic folds her arms, gaze trailing away while she considers. "Opening a Shallowing here in the chantry is a terrible idea. Particularly since we have so few Willworkers who are skilled in dealing with spirits themselves. It would be difficult for us to defend against whatever came through. Would it be possible to just -move- the chalice elsewhere within the Umbra, or hide it, until after the second group kills Edom? If he can't find it it's still useless to him, even if it's not in our possession. We can get it later."
[Basil Gillingson] Basil listened...he knew that he could reach across the Shadow to touch something...wondering if it would be possible to remove it.
"You will still need someone to help remove the chalice. As Disciple Ward has stated...I, himself, and Disciple Winters will likely be engaging the demon. So who amongst us who has Ars Manos will be aiding you in this?"
[Emily Littleton] Emily casts a look at Kage. It's a little lost-and-seeking. The language, here, preempts her from actively joining the conversation. She wonders, albeit silently, if the Other with the cold-fire hair has ever felt this set-aside from a meeting, excepted from the whole by something as seemingly innocuous as language.
It divides.
"It is possible that someone in my cabal has a rudimentary knowledge of these... Ars... if someone would like to translate for me, later, I can get back to you with any potential names."
[Israel Cohen] At Ashley's mentioned idea and Basil's comment, Israel shakes her head, her lips pressing together in a small grimace -like remembered pain or perhaps a chagrin of admittance, "Not likely. I don't think a Disciple of Spirit could manage it either. It's next to impossible to get a read of any sort on it and what you can sense is... fixed and obfuscated. I think if the Chalice is retrieved it'll have to be done the old fashioned way: Fighting for it, up close and personal."
Then, to Emily, "Ars Manos refers to the Sphere of Spirit." a hint of a smile in her lips; some understanding there -- to be on the 'outs' of the Hermetics pet names for such things. Not, of course, that they are the only Tradition to have them by far.
And,
"Barring finding some feasible way of getting into the Shadow to retrieve the Chalice... the only other option is to have people prepared and waiting on the 4th." Best option, hardly. But barring some feasible way of transporting a group of them into the Umbra... "If it is looking to take fresh souls chances are high another Shallowing will appear. If the Demon can be handled as soon as possible - prior to the 4th - those of us able to manipulate the Barrier might be able to hold it open long enough for the rest to try and thwart what's going on."
[K. R. Jakes] Emily glances at Kage, and Kage is looking at Emily. The Orphan does this: when someone speaks, she studies them; she studies, too, the reactions of those who are listening. Her expression is pensive; her eyes are dark. She is thinking, planning. Kage is a thinker. Those who know her, well - they've likely realized this by now. Kage is cautious. There's a reason she's managed to attain the level of enlightenment she has while being without a Tradition. So all she says, or adds, is - " - I can keep an eye on the other side; alas, that is all." A beat. "If Kaya is still in the city," another shrug, loose: "I believe she has the requisite abilities."
[Nathan Spriggs] Nathan considers the position they're in, weighs the roles that needed to be played. What needed to be done. It isn't hard for him to decide which of the two teams he'd be better suited in. Much as he didn't like the thought of it. First though, another relatively important matter. "A map on the table has the place we've found the chalice to be in marked. Near the shoreline of Chicago and Lake Michigan."
Now to actual business, much as he dreaded it. But then more reason to put it off! The suggestion of Kaya being involved. He considers that for a moment, weighing whatever personal feelings on the matter he has with allowing a Demon to have his way. Not a hard decision to make. Not to him anyway. "I think Kaya is, I can get in contact with her on this matter." That's that.
"As for teams, I believe I'd be of at least some assistance on the team against Edom. At the very least to provide cover and take some of the heat off you." He says, that's right, suggesting himself a living target. Better than the alternative though. Only Israel and Solomon would understand why.
[Solomon Ward] Solomon shakes his head slowly to Ashley, the thought already having had crossed his mind, "I don't have the necessary skills. With out a knowledge of the manipulation of material objects I could reach over and move it, shove it, touch it... but I can't draw it back across with out higher understanding of spiritual principles or the manipulation of solid matter. Though now that you mention it, I could potentially ensorcel some one or some thing that could grant that power, and then they, with the proper knowledge, could... but the difficulty would be staggering, especially given an amateur in such arts attempting to apply them with whats effectively only a hammer, a tool. The idea of moving it solely on the umbral side has merit, but there's going to be so many spooks and boojums in the area, I doubt it would go unnoticed for long. If we can't get to this thing, we're out of luck until the day of the fourth... not an ideal time for cabals of mages to be running around a crowded city, flinging who knows what".
Still, Ashley's initial idea had got him thinking, and apparently Mr. Gillingson along similar lines.
"As to the Shallowing, you wouldn't need mages with spiritual arts. The gauntlet would, for a limited time, be reduced to nothing. It would be as before the mythological shattering. It isn't a matter of spiritual arts, its numbers. We simply wouldn't have enough mages in the city to hold back the things that may be gathering on the other side. At the Node that is" a slight wave of the hand "If we have to wait for the fourth, and there is a second shallowing, Israel's right. We can use that to our advantage, and myself and perhaps Mr. Gillingson can hold it open for others to get back out. Still risky, but feasible. Sadly that's also a worse case scenario."
Israel's lucky she's blind. The priest is glaring at her, and there's a thrum of resonance in the air as the mystical connection that binds them together twangs.
A glance to Nathan, and a small shake of the head "I appreciate your sincerity, Nathan, but Edom is going to require mages well versed in spiritual arts, wardings, life magic, entropic essences, and quintessential manipulation. You've got the latter, but unless you have moderate to amazing talents in any of the former... "
[Ashley McGowen] There's a frustrated noise out of the Hermetic as Solomon makes his response, though it doesn't seem to be directed at the priest. "We don't have enough mages with Ars Spirituum. Always seems to be a problem."
She glances toward Kage, then to Nathan, when Kaya's name is mentioned. "Kaya is unstable," she says, blunt. "I'm reluctant to trust her with something like this when she's proven to be flighty in the past, and has some Nephandic entity hunting her across the Gauntlet. The last thing we need is for -it- to show up and throw in."
She bites the inside of her cheek, looking back toward Solomon. "If the Gauntlet thins to nothing, a group of mages should be able to cross it and get a hold of the chalice then, shouldn't they? I mean, getting back -out- might be a problem, but..."
[Basil Gillingson] Basil went back to his silence after saying his peace. He listened once more, offering very little beyond his earlier words.
[Ashley McGowen] [Scratch Ashley's last question, misread Jessiah's post.]
[Emily Littleton] "I don't know about Spirits," Emily offers, unsurprisingly, to the class. "But if I'm correct, Warding is an extension of Correspondence? And I've at least rudimentary understanding of that art, as well as life pattern and entropy. I am currently studying quintessential energy, or however Father Ward and Mr. Gillingson best choose to describe it."
There is a small pause here, because she's said this before to no avail, but it bears repeating. "Should there by any way that I can assist a more experienced Awakened in his or her work, I would be happy to do so. Both in preparation for and at the time of this encounter."
[S. Ashton Winters] There's a meeting going on.
There's a meeting going on and this particular mage, in Union blue scrubs and a ponytail that has seen better days, comes to the chantry after a day that was rife with car accidents and what-have-you. Her schedule is...
Awkward.
She comes to where there's a gathering of people, and makes little fanfare. People know who she is; it's cold. Of course they know who she is.
[Israel Cohen] She is aware of the feeling of the glare or, more so, the charged twang in the connection between them. Once upon a time [she was after all, his apprentice] it might have made her flinch back. Years later there is a tension in her jaw [willful. what is done is done.], the barest inclination of her head. [I'm sorry it came out this way.]. Then she's moving along, shaking her head. "Better minds than myself might be able to suss out what holds the Chalice in place and makes it so.. slippery... to scry. I can share my impressions with anyone who would care to 'see' for themselves." A slight shrug, her words earnest: From what she could tell it seemed well beyond the capabilities of anyone she knew, but she'd be glad to be proven wrong.
Then, "And... it's not entirely the worst case scenario. Not completely. There's one benefit to a group of Magi going in through a Shallowing and attacking: We would have the liberty to use our Arts in a manner which hurts us here in our world. Paradox does not function in the Shadow as it does here; the bonds of the Concensus dampen or obliterate completely. We experienced that last night." It isn't news to make the whole matter much more thrilling, but it's a perk. A benefit. The little blind ray of [sorrowfilled, hope willing] sunshine.
Emily speaks up and Israel again inclines her ear the younger womans way, "Actually there is a very good way yourself and others could prove helpful: In deterring any Sleepers who might wander upon what is going on. For their own safety and the general greater good. And, in general, watch the backs of whoever goes in there, if that is what it comes down to."
[K. R. Jakes] Of Kaya, Kage (neutral) says - "It's true; I wouldn't vouch for her stability, or for her ability to perform under pressure."
Solomon says that he doesn't have the necessary skills. This is a point that the Mages come back to again, and again: not having a Sphere; not having a knowledge. And it's a wall, but walls have door, right? Kage says - "I imagine that focusing on what we do not have is going to become an exercise in frustration. Look: the people in this room are, by and large, intelligent creatures; where one of us lacks, another may not -- and I believe that's where ritual comes in. Perhaps there's some way to effect the Chalice -- or Edom -- before the 4th, not just by sending out individual Magi collected in a group, but by creating a Working. In tangent. Together. Where there's a gap, someone else fills it: a nice, tidy knot. It might take some creativity."
"I mean, there are plenty of people in this room with the ability to Reach, with the ability to share things, Mind-to-Mind. Maybe it's possible to Rube Goldberg the Chalice out. Heck: to replace it with a copy. The copy probably wouldn't fool its keepers for very long, but..." Kage trails away, her chin cupped in the palm of her hand. "If Ashley gets its True Name, I imagine this will be easier."
Israel speaks, too, and Kage listens to that, pensive-thing, says - "It might behoove everybody to try and figure out where some kind of 'harvest' is most likely to take place. Assuming it'll take place in one location. Where are the most people going to be gathered on the Fourth? Weak spots, well: maybe they can be shored up, and disasters averted. If people aren't killed, and their souls aren't..."
She trails away, because it's a messy topic. Maybe also because Ashton comes in, and draws the Orphan's attention. Doesn't seem like there's anything else she wants to add. Kage is still in thinking-about-things stage. Testing options.
[Nathan Spriggs] The Cultist is quiet as Solomon shoots down his idea, holding back a response. He understands what's on the line. More ideas traded back and forth, he looks from Israel to Emily to Kage as they speak. First to what Israel says, in regards to Emily. "What methods do you think would be best for that? We'd need to know where things are dangerous in the first place, though the beach is a given and that's mostly on the 4th. In any case, I have a few ways to help with that."
To what Kage says, he nods. "I can also see about that as well, tracking down reserved spots for parties as well as annually held ones shouldn't be too difficult."
[Ashley McGowen] There are a lot of ideas being thrown around, and Ashley is quiet, thoughtful, while she tries to parse through all of them. While she tries to figure out which would be the best solution, the least likely to result in the deaths of valuable chantry members - what would be the most challenging.
Truth be told, she'd like to be in the group hunting down Edom, but she recognizes the sense in being elsewhere. "The problem with ritual magic here," Ashley tells Kage, "is that each person would need to know the rudiments of what's involved and have a basic understanding and agreement with what everyone -else- is doing. It might not jive with a group with this much disparity." There's a wry look in the Hermetic's eyes, something that passes. "But replacing it with a copy is a thought."
She bites the inside of her cheek again. "If it becomes necessary to lead a group through - which is looking like the most likely option, at this point - I'll go through. Another option if we can't get to the chalice itself - I could Will as many Sleepers as possible to try to stay inside or keep them away from certain areas, though it would be easier if they had a reason to rationalize it."
[atlas Mason] Footsteps resound on the porch steps outside, footsteps that interrupt and intercede with the meeting already in progress within the nexus point for the mage's of Chicago. Those footsteps are followed by a sudden and repeated rap upon the front door, polite and nice, before the white door itself swung open gently on its hinges.
Who strode in upon that moment, that meeting of paradigms and minds, but the elusive yet ever present Atlas Mason, tonight though there was no roar of a motorcycle well past its age, the Etherite must have found his way here by other means today, considerably less obvious way's to be certain.
He strode into the entrance way, glancing about as he called out openly. "Are there any personages located within the physical limitations of this...oh." He says as he stops and notes the presence of several individuals all sitting about the living room, he looked from one to the next coming to grasp with the fact that they were probably here for similar reasons to his own.
He was as he always was...however tonight there was a sense of intense interest, behind a scholarly visage the man was almost manic with excitement, and in his hands, he held an intricate, inverted metal pyramid, of which the design is elegant, masterful, potent, and all together occult.
"A societal convergence is already in progress within this physical locality? This increases the forward motion capacity of this time juncture by 25.27%." He says with a smile as he steps into the room.
[Solomon Ward] A small hand is waved towards Kage. Not so much dismissively, simply a 'won't work, "The problem with that is two fold. One, each member of the ritual must have knowledge of what many of you refer to as arts or spheres. If they don't have a basic understanding of all arts involved, it cant be done... Ms. McGowen covered that admirably. Second is magical style and knowledge. I can easily combine my magic with Israel's, and maybe Mr. Gillingson or Ms. McGowen. Emily is pliable, as shes young. Nathan, Dr. Mason, and myself are completely incompatible. We just don't have the same arcane and occult correspondences"
"Don't get me wrong Nathan...its appreciated. Also, consider you have a very strong talent for divination and probability.. maybe not all powerful, but more than most in this room from what I gather. That can go a long way to aiding a group of mages who may not be entirely in their element when it comes down to things."
Theres a look cast to Ashley, a double take almost, in hindsight of her words about Kaya. A look that carries weight, as if he wishes to speak to her later. It also gets Nathan a small glare.
Wonderful.
[Emily Littleton] Emily glances from Israel to Ashley, and then to Nathan. "I am happy to help with redirection and rationalization. If we think through a common excuse beforehand, we may even have the upper hand in believability. Little things like uniforms go a long way in selling a half-truth -- and there should be enforcement out in force for a holiday."
"Maybe we should talk about that, off-line, Nathan? I'm sure we can come up with something together." She smiled, gently, however displeased she may be about working together with the Cultist who recently shot her would-be-Mentor.
[K. R. Jakes] Kage listens to Ashley, to Solomon, and hms to herself. It's easy for Kage to fit different paradigms into one Working -- at least, it's easy in her head; but she's an Orphan, and her world-view is particularly flexible. She doesn't seem put-out, just: okay, still thinking.
Enter, Atlas. Kage smiles at him -- brief smile, but true. Says, "Hey, Atlas. Good timing."
[Nathan Spriggs] Nathan gets a glare, not quite sure why. But he does. A look over to Emily as she suggests a course of action and a nod when she suggest talking about it later. An idea at Solomon's words though, why didn't he think of it before. "That gives me an idea. I don't know for certain with what accuracy, but I could look to see if we can track Edom's movements or at least the biggest danger zone. Unfortunately I'm incapable of using Correspondence magic, though if I could somehow boost someone's with my own Time and Entropy magic..."
[S. Ashton Winters] "Timeline on this. Is it going down in the next couple of days?" she has to ask, sh ehas to.
She watches, she listens... and asks because it's June. It doesn't feel right for her to be so cold this time of year. She folds her arms across her chest, "we might have already covered this, but I need to be certain so appropriate measures can be taken."
[Solomon Ward] "Before July fourth, if at all possible... though if we can't figure out how to get a group in the umbra, that isn't suicide, before that... who knows. Right now it looks like we're screwed until this prophetic shit storm comes to pass" A slight shrug.
[Ashley McGowen] Ashley sighs, raises a hand and rubs the back of her neck as Solomon speaks again. "If we don't have any other options...then if it's dangerous, it's dangerous. We have to do something."
[atlas Mason] Atlas receives a smatterings of welcome's and he returns the gestures in kind with a amiable smile and a nod in each person's direction as he listens intently, parsing together data as he listened to each person talk about him. He gets a small portion of whats going on, what the topic is, but he seems to be lost on precisely what it is they are attempting to discuss.
"I must interject and disengage this cross conglomeration dissemination of data and action plan preparation and designation with a pertinent query with which to clarify the particulars and requirements of this convergence before I may ascertain the potency or direct usefulness of my personages' own specific data and materiel."
He says/asks as he looks from person to person trying to ascertain exactly what was going on. Sol mentions something about crossing into the Ether and he raises a brow.
"Furnish and disseminate the requested data and my personage may have a particular device that is capable of fulfilling your required task."
[Israel Cohen] At Atlas' entrace she'd smiled at his greeting.. rather distracted and tired, but smiled nonetheless. "Hi, Atlas... there's some food and coffee and tea..[/i]" Indicating the table.
Things move on then; for now there seems to be a lull in ideas to put out on the table, the reality of what has been discussed and what options there seem to be sinking in. Then Atlas speaks up again and the blind woman cants her head to the side, eyebrows arching up, interested. Curious. Dubious. Hopeful?
"The problem is this: We know that the Demon - Edom as he calls himself - had in his possession an item called the Twilight Star, an Opal that, we believe, can serve as a chalice for soul harvesting. We even know where abouts he's hidden it... but it's in the Umbra, which is teeming with dangers as Telos hangs over us and, from my own attempts at crying, is difficult to get a register on and seems solidly held or fixed in place... it seems the only way to get it safely away from the Demon's usage is to wait for when he plans to use it - the 4th of July it seems - and hope that if a Shallowing appears a team can go in and try to rest the Opal free. There's... something you have that can help?" Quizzical, but not dismissive.
[K. R. Jakes] Kage: listens, says nothing. Her attention is on Atlas. Her gaze, eloquent, echoes Israel's question.
[Nathan Spriggs] Nathan doesn't particularly add anything. Just waiting and listening for now.
[S. Ashton Winters] She sighs, and adjusts her ponytail. The woman watches for now.
[atlas Mason] Israel, blessed Israel furnishes Atlas with the information that he needed, and the man thinks on her words for a few moments before a smile spreads across his lips, it is both a friendly, and eager smile, that manic look in his eyes spreading ever so slightly, oh the science he would do! and the assistants he would gather here tonight.
"Particular gratitudes categorized and released within the vicinity of your personalized dynamic sphere Israel." The man says with a nod in the blind woman's direction before looking back to the group in general.
"Synchronizing our intended action junctures with that of the actualizing free form super-ether based entity labelled Edom would be a gross miscalculation initiated by ourselves alone. The acquisition and neutralization of the aberrant materiel catagorized by its properties as an essential etheric essence cultivation and capture device is at this juncture, plausible."
He says now holding up the inverted, and intricate looking pyramid he had walked in within his hands, the thing is made of metal, and is clearly arcane in its design, but here was Atlas, master of technology...of a sort holding it like it was normal as daylight.
"This device operates on similar principles to the Lafette's currently inoperable light space fold drive systems. Its internalized paradigmic components actualize and replicate the standardized spatial dimensional wormhole utilized by many etheric and non etheric devices and paradigmic effects. Nominal operation requires the presence and direct interaction of three paradigmically initiated individuals with no concurrent or parallel capabilties. Given current statistical data, this...is the most efficent route to the afformentioned materiel."
[Solomon Ward] Solomon blinks. Once. Twice. Three times.
I actually understood all of that... .
"We have a solution for Edom" he says to Atlas, given the mans statement. That part is going to get settled one way or another, but Solomon is confident it will work... or at least work well enough to remove the man from the picture when they go for the Chalice.
"What you just came up with... When ? How ? I'm amazed at the good fortune...."
Because so far, every thing else has been a trap. Paranoid much ?
[Emily Littleton] Emily's trying to parse what Atlas is saying. She gets most of it, but it's confusing there at the end.
"No concurrent or parallel capabilities?" she asks. "Does that mean that, as long as three Awakened with paradigms that support your workings are working together, they don't need to have overlapping gifts?"
[Israel Cohen] She cannot see what Atlas is holding, of course, but what he says has her sitting up, placing her bare feet on the hardwood floors and unseeing hazel eyes widen, though their direction is somewhat over and to the left of Atlas' shoulder or thereabouts. "Wait... you have a device... a Wonder?... that can... open a portal into the Umbra?" her words are tentative as she works out what the man just said in all his techno-phraseology. "Can it sustain such an opening? And seal it again as needed? Is it an Artifact? A Charm? A Talisman?" There are differences, yes, though ultimately not pressingly important.
[Ashley McGowen] It takes what Atlas is saying a moment to process, but when it does, Ashley looks at the device he's holding aloft with interest. And a moment of hope, of the first inkling that they might be able to do this without it being nigh unto suicidal, without waiting and relying upon unknowns.
"If that's what it does, we should get a group together, plan out how to retrieve it, and get it as soon as possible. I'll go."
[K. R. Jakes] "So it's like a key," Kage says, also: seeking clarification, perhaps, "which opens a door."
A beat. And: "If that's what it does," an echo, of Ashley, "then whoever uses it should use it as close to the chalice's exact location in the oth--in the Umbra as possible. How does it work, Atlas? Did you create it yourself? Can the three individuals, uhm, operating it be the three who go through, or do they need to stay in one place, in order to keep it open?"
[Nathan Spriggs] The Cultist shifts at Atlas' words, attention falling on the device. Memories of another box that took people to the Umbra still fresh in his mind. It was either a trap or something worse. Either way, bad news and probably a necessity right now.
[Solomon Ward] A shake of the head to Ashley, raising one hand as if to imply the woman have some patience.
"Mr Gillingson, myself, and Dr. Winters, minimum, should tie the entity up first. We either have to remove it from the equation in its entirety, or we have to be able to delay its ability to retaliate."
A slight pause.
"I don't know its exact capabilities. What it did, exactly, as a cosmic force. All I know is 'Angel of Death' is pretty clear cut. It isn't some thing I'd want rearing up possesively over some thing I was often when half the mages don't have the occult knowledge to even attempt to hedge out its powers. ...
... we kill it, or slow it. Stall it. Banish it. What ever it takes. Don't go for the Chalice before that takes place. During, after, what ever. Not before"
[Ashley McGowen] "Then figure out when you're going to go, and we'll coordinate something," Ashley says - and yes, her tone is a touch impatient. It isn't one of her virtues. Well, most of the time it isn't.
"This isn't something we have a lot of time to sit on."
[atlas Mason] They all begin questioning once he revealed what he had in his hands, their interest piqued only after the devices intent came to mind, he shook his head slightly as a thought crossed his mind before he turned his attentions to addressing each of their questions and concerns. He turns first to the young priest.
"This device is actualized by the integration and assembly of three concurrent components, each of which were discovered and reclaimed from the materiel that had formerly been the physical structures of the three opposing paradigmic individuals encountered in the sub level of the sexually aligned and provocative display business which several of our personages converged upon recently."
He then looked to Emily and smiled, it was a proud thing, the woman had made a logic jump, he loved those. "Both correct and incorrect is your thesis upon the effect of this device Emily, the individuals do not require similar knowledge or capabilities, in addition they do not require to be paradigmically aligned, however it is unlikely that the device would function if members of the technocratic conglomeration were utilized."
He then looks over to Israel. "The correct correlating title utilized by non Etheric socio-conglomerations would be that of a Talisman Israel, and your posited statement of the operation of the device is precisely what I had indicated to post hence."
Finally he turns to Kage, shaking his head. "The individuals that utilize the device are the personages who will incur dimensional phasic transition, they're structures once, transitioned will be required to remain within a specific proximity.
[Israel Cohen] "Ashley," This is said quietly but not cajoling. "Solomon, Basil and Ashton will be attempting to take on a relative incarnation of Entropy and Death. They will act as quickly as they can but it isn't something that can be lightly slapped together." She isn't playing up the risk those three are taking. That should be clear enough. The probability of one or more [all] of them not coming back from their encounter?
Very. Very. High. That her voice is nearly a whisper is perhaps the only indication of what a strain [terror] the idea is for her.
Then, "Alright, so... I think for now we need to start to figure out: Who will be going after the 'Star'. Who will be working with Atlas to work the Talisman. Who will be backup/helping to keep Sleepers safe. And whether we do this after whatever happens with Eliminating the Demon happens or simultaneously. Also, are there any other Awakened we want to bring in on this? Cabalmates, certainly. What of the new Akashic in town - Li Daiyu? She seems very capable. For myself, I've been making more Charms, most of them for Healing. I might be best off acting as, er.. corpsman. Distributing the charms as needed where people are taking hits."
[Solomon Ward] Solomon just stared at Ashley for a moment before looking to Israel, nodding slightly, and nodding. He had nothing to say on the matter that the woman hadn't already mentioned admirably, and had done it with twice the finesse he could have any how.
"Dr. Winters, care to join me ? We can go over my initial idea and you and Mr. Gillingson can add your input as well. I'd sincerely like to hear you opinions and alterations once the basic ground plan is laid out."
"I appreciate every one coming. This is important. Thank you, and go with God".
Exit one priest.
[S. Ashton Winters] She nods, and starts to head off to follow the priest for some planning. Exit, one doctor. Off with said priest, and inevitably wherever she needed to go. The woman heads on.
Relative incarnation of Entropy and Death. Really sounded like something people needed a Euthanatos on.
Monday, June 28, 2010
So You Survived
[Nathan Spriggs] It had been a few hours since they set foot in a trap and got thrown through the Avatar Storm and into a nice little compact area of the Umbra. A few hours since they arrived at the priest's house and decided to stay there. Nathan had been drawing what he remembered of the scrying for a while now, finally deciding to take a break for a promised call he owed someone.
Phone taken, he dials a number and hears the ringing, waiting for an answer.
[K. R. J.] This time, the call doesn't go to voicemail. Doesn't even ring more than twice before Nathan can hear the Orphan's voice, moonlight-cool, composed - "Kage speaking." A beat. "T.H.?"
[Nathan Spriggs] A quick pick-up, not unexpected even with the hour taken into consideration. She had been warned, funny and good to know that she took it so serious though. "T.H. speaking. We're alive, was messy but we're alive. Found new stuff. Enough to make the difference between making an actual plan and stumbling around in the dark."
[K. R. J.] "Glad to hear it," she says, and she sounds sincere; why wouldn't she be? Information that means an actual plan instead of just hoping the things one does is gong to make the [right kind of] difference: good. "Anybody get hurt?" A beat, and, "New stuff, huh? You want a celebratory 'I'm alive' coffee?"
[Nathan Spriggs] A moment of silence there, hesitation? Or something else? He's thinking, then finally. "We all got hurt pretty bad, but luckily Israel and Solomon had some... healing charms on hand. Coffee sounds good, I'll update you then. Don't trust things over the phone."
[K. R. J.] Kage doesn't seem inclined to rush the paranoid Cultist of Ecstasy. The silence: hesitation, something else - whatever - doesn't get an interruption.
"You want me to pick you up?" If he does, she'll ask for an address, and she'll be there eventually. If he doesn't, they'll pick another address, a convenient open-24-hours coffee shop, maybe something with dougnuts, and that's where they'll be. Either way, Kage: Kage is a simple girl. It occurs to her that Nathan could be possessed [or have fallen (or be followed)], but deal with that as it comes.
[Nathan Spriggs] "Got somethings I need to handle first." A moment there, considering, "Name a spot, we'll meet around 12 there?" With that, the Cultist will wait until a spot's arranged, handle the morning planning and reunion with the priest and his blind companion and be off.
[K. R. J.] "Like sleep?" Amused. And, "Hokay," the Orphan [solitary (secluded)] says. "How about -- " and it's a little-known Italian Deli with great coffee and gelato that she gives Nathan the name of, the address if he needs it, but hopefully he won't. That's good food.
[Nathan Spriggs] "Sleep's on the list, yeah." And with that, the Cultist hangs up once the minor details are arranged.
----
It was now a new day. A new, much-less-Umbra-filled day with luck. Less wraiths too. Already a step up from the day before. The blond Cultist stepped through the streets of the city under patches of sunlight that made it through the thick clouds, searching for something. For a Deli to be exact.
Location and directions had been obtained, but that didn't mean anything if he couldn't actually find the place itself. It took a few minutes of walking around and searching, but Nathan stumbled across it at long last. Following look around the area for something, he shrugs and enters the store at last. Good thing he'd arrived early.
[K. R. J.] [Awareness because things go Bump in the Night, And Sometimes the Day?]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 7, 9, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[K. R. J.] [and roll]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8 (Failure at target 6)
[K. R. J.] [really?]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 7, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 7)
[Nathan Spriggs] [Pestilence, is that you? Or is that Death? Awareness]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 5, 6, 7 (Failure at target 6)
[Nathan Spriggs] [S'it War then? Famine maybe?]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 6, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 7)
[K. R. J.] He's there first. Not by a lot, but even with leaving early, he gets there beforehand. There are a couple tables. Inside, it's all nooks and crannies after an industrial-simple gelato bar and a specials today menu. The prices aren't too bad.
He'll have time to get himself some coffee -- they make it Italian-style, here, and the espresso'll wake the dead (ha, ha), and he can sense the Orphan's approach [burning, amorous; kindling, immanent; withering, draining - Spring-heat and Winter-cooling, the cut between] before she opens the door. There's no bell on the door.
Door opens, and in she comes. Big messenger bag, a lot of pockets. She looked tired, but not that tired. " - Hey, T.H.," she says, if he's at the counter when she approaches, or at a table, after she glances around. Doesn't approach first, then. Orders some gelato, collects it. "What're you having, my treat?"
[Nathan Spriggs] He's at the counter when she arrives, leaning forward onto it as he sits on a stool. Cup of coffee already in hand, the Cultist sips quietly, body turning as his eyes shifted to the woman as she stepped through the door.
Placing the cup of coffee back down on the counter surface, he gives her a casual smile and a nod in greeting. Today, the man wore a white shirt and black pants, with black leather shoes. Smart casual, really. Gaze moving back to his cup of coffee and the counter, he orders a pistachio gelato in response to her question.
"So, how're you doing?" Odd that the question is coming from his side, but she seemed tired. Not that the Cultist seemed all that better off, he wasn't well-rested that's for sure.
[K. R. J.] It's hot for Chicago outside, but there still aren't other people (yet, anyway) in the Italian Deli. With the economy going the way it is, maybe the deli won't be long for life. Nathan orders pistachio; Kage is getting dark chocolate and lavender.
"I'm okay," she says, not as if she thinks the question [the courtesy] is odd. She glances away from the counter, scoping up alternate seating arrangements, then cants her head toward a booth away from the guy who's working the counter. A nook, a cranny. A better place to talk about the unbelievable. A beat, and then, "Sometimes I forget to sleep when I'm doing research."
[Nathan Spriggs] A look to Kage, then to the location she signals to. Calmly, Nathan gets up from the stool and picks up his coffee and gelato to follow the woman to the booth. All the while, his eyes study the surroundings, make mental notes of how many people there and how they looked.
Once he's taken a seat, comfortable and near a corner, he drops some of the gelato into his coffee and stirs it before sipping. A nod to the Orphan's statement, 'forget to sleep', he knew how that was. "Yeah, tell me about it."
Left hand placing the cup back on the table surface, he digs around for something in his pocket. A folded piece of paper, unfolding it and placing it on the table as he slid it over to her side. A drawing on it, not the most... artistically masterful but understandable for whatever point he wanted to get across. "Recognize that by any chance?"
[Nathan Spriggs] OOC: Description of what he drew as copypasta'd from the other (relevant) scene. 'an enormous chiseled Opal, all white and incandescent and fire trapped within. It is worked and formed into the shape of a prism with two pyramid ends.'
to†K. R. J.
[K. R. J.] The Orphan, howsoever tired she may be -- and it's a normal tired, a sleepless tired, not because bad dreams were too bad, not because bad days were too bad, just because, honestly, she stayed up too late reading and making notes, even after Nathan called to say, Hey, the Speech, It Did Not Kill -- isn't too tired for a quip. Her eyebrows flick up as she examines the paper, the drawing, commits that to memory too. Says, "Can't say I've seen it before. Looks unwieldy."
[Nathan Spriggs] Taking the note back, he folds it up and pockets it again, nodding to Kage as he did so. So she didn't know it, or was that a lie? But she didn't seem like she was lying... For a moment, he's pensive. But snapping out of it. "I think that's the Unholy Grail we're seeking. Nothing else seems to fit, I saw it in Edom's hand. Not to mention the words he said according to Solomon."
Leaning back against the chair, the Cultist closes his eyes for a moment and sighs. "What we found was threefold, A. location of where he, or it, is planning to move. B. What seems to be a valuable ally of his. And C. A general idea of where the Chalice is hidden, and the level of protection behind it. Starting with C, it seems Edom's had it hidden in the Umbra, where we got thrown into for a bit due to a trap. From what we saw and encountered from just grazing the surface? Protection on it must be insane. We had swarms of... wraiths or something of the like on us in an instant."
[K. R. J.] Kage isn't lying. The truth is: Kage doesn't often lie. Not to her enemies. Not to her allies. Not to her aquaintances. Of course: a big part of her life is a lie; she pretends to be normal (average [just one of you (asleep)]) when she interacts with her friends and family. They aren't awake. They aren't consors. They aren't in the know, so they don't know, can't know, and Kage hasn't yet seen the good idea behind filling them in (how'd you like to be committed [how's it feel to have a vision (to be crazy)]). Kage is solitary because she chooses to be, but when it comes down to it: well, she is concerned; an involved creature. Shh, don't tell.
"Jesus," she says, after he explains that he and Solomon were thrown into the umbra and beset upon by wraiths. Kage is one of those lucky mages who, when the bridge collapsed, felt the backlash two-fold. "And you made it out, no ill-effects?" The spoons they give for gelato are small, shovel-shaped; she shovels some chocolate gelato. Doesn't lick it yet. "You want me to take a look at you?" Make certain you're not ridden, scarred-up, spiritually-scratched.
And then, thoughtful: "All right. He's hid it on the otherside -- but not the otherside where you were dragged, right? Do you know where, as it corresponds to the city of the living?" A beat. "The bridge, maybe? What'd Solomon say he said?" Another beat. And, "Can I see the picture again?"
[Nathan Spriggs] Once more taken out, once more unfolded, the picture is placed on the table, though not without a warning. "Solomon and Israel both warned against going after it just yet. We need to gather, all four of us for now, and plan this out properly. I think we know enough to spread the information soon too."
A shrug to her concerns for their health, though he seemed... reluctant to talk about the experience. "We got hurt pretty bad. Israel and Solomon covered me while I did the rote to scry so I got the least of it." A pause there, and a change in tone, like to say 'thank god'. "Luckily, Israel had healing charms on hand and could heal herself." Act disconnected... volatile too, as he might at times, the Cultist very much didn't enjoy seeing people get hurt. Especially not people he knew (and actually liked).
Pensive, Nathan considers the rest of the information he had to give. More pistachio for the coffee, a delicious little mix there. "Hm, we don't know an exact location. But relating to B, it seems he has a... pestilence spirit, or so Solomon called it and it looked horrifying, working for him. He left it's protection to it. So right now our work: Get the chalice back, figure out how to stop the pestilence spirit and company, then kill what can't be killed or at least lock it back into whatever it escaped from."
[Nathan Spriggs] "What Solomon translated was basically what I just told you about hiding it in the Umbra. He had the object in the drawing in his hand when he said it."
[K. R. J.] Nathan mentions Israel's name. Kage is studying the drawing, the colour added afterward, but when Nathan mentions the blind woman's name Kage glances upward. He hadn't mentioned her before; just Solomon Ward. He's been mentioned a lot in the last week or so, ever since just before the bridge collapsed, and almost every time, it's been done as casually as if the name should (done [now]) mean a thing. It's starting to. Israel, though: Kage knows Israel from before. She's already said that she's glad they're okay. That hasn't changed, she doesn't say it again; doesn't squander words, Kage, for all her inclination to banter.
"Okay," she says. And, "Was there a name in any of that mess? A name for the grail, I mean? Something that can be conjured by?" A beat, and, "Repeat that question for the pestilence spirit. Any insight gained on the locations marked off on that map you mentioned?"
A beat. And, "What do you think of the gelato; place is pretty decent, huh?"
[Nathan Spriggs] He notices her gaze for a moment, choosing not to comment on it or ask why. Instead, he focused on the drawing again, on the details of what he saw. "None. For either, every spoken word was in what I think might have been Enochian from everything I've heard of the language. Only Solomon seemed to understand it, in any case." He shook his head as he spoke, remembering the language and how it sounded.
"In any case, I don't doubt it's been warded against such forms of interference. So we might need to research more on this chalice." He speaks, repeating his doubts and conclusions from a night of considering. Another folded paper taken out his pocket in the meantime, this time much bigger and recognizable as a folded map.
He spreads it on the table, or at least part of it, and then he points at a spot. Fingers in the same positions as he remembered in the scrying. Index and middle finger touching the spot, it was along the coastline of Chicago and Lake Michigan, roughly half a mile from the Navy Pier. "There."
[Nathan Spriggs] (Half a mile down from the Navy Pier*)
[K. R. J.] More research on this chalice, Nathan says, and Kage eats some of her gelato. The lavender. The lavender tastes like smoke; is cool on her throat; is cold on her tongue. Lavender is a protective (protection [sanctuary]) herb; Kage is not a Verbena; it likely does not matter to her (Orphans have their own paradigms [their own tools, little influenced]). Nathan'll know, if Nathan is very perceptive, that inside Kage's messenger bag, there's a gun, just in case. This isn't the time to be legal (law-abiding citizens [they're often blood-sacrifices]).
"I'm still looking," she says, "But the people I know who I thought might have a clue turn out not to have one, at least, not without looking into it a little themselves. We'll see if there's anything else in the record." The record, she says: like there's just one. This is a trick of the tongue, a slip of it; a hint at how Kage believes things to be. There is one record, there is one story, inside the one story and record: a lot of stories, a lot of records. Academic superstition. Then again: Kage doesn't think that she's found all she'd be able to find in just a couple of days. There's always a likelihood of more.
He unfolds a map; she lifts her gelato, so it doesn't drip on the map. Wipes a spot of gelato off the table with her thumb.
"There? What'm I looking at?"
[Nathan Spriggs] A spoonful of the remaining gelato in his mouth, the portion that hadn't been dumped as sweetener for a coffee, the Cultist doesn't answer immediately. A moment passes, a look down at the map, the location. Arguably one of the biggest keys to resolving this. "Yeah, the gelato's pretty good by the way. Bit late, sorry. Got my attentions elsewhere."
He doesn't comment on her statement, on this 'record' she mentioned. Though the curiosity's there, yes, he wonders about it for a moment. Gets lost in thought. Reality beckons back however, as she questions what they're looking at.
"Hm, I'm not quite 100% sure. But I think there's a reason it's in Chicago, not just for the chalice. Didn't need to come here for it, could've gone to Toronto and stolen it. I think if it needs a specific date to do what it wants to, it also needs a specific location. And I think this is it." The only thing he has is guesses for her, educated but still guesses.
[Nathan Spriggs] "For now, we need to check it out. Do legwork. Both Earth-side and Umbral-side. Given the chalice's position and the Shadow in question, I'm guessing it's the latter mostly."
[K. R. J.] "Do you mind if I take a picture?" Kage says, slipping her cellphone out of her bag. If he says he doesn't mind, she will: take a picture of the map, Nathan's hands spread, just like that, the points
"I wonder if they're going to have fireworks there on the 4th, or nearby," Kage says, thoughtful. Within a big city like Chicago, especially a big city like Chicago where its history is full of disastrous fires, of tragic burnings, firework celebrations are always city-planned, "Whether whatever ritual they're going to do needs that kind of cover. Whether," a beat, she raises an eyebrow, "that would be good cover for anyone poking around."
He apologizes for late, for his attention being elsewhere. Kage offers him the spark of a smile, something close to true; something almost real. "Didn't dream anything big when you finally slept, did you?" The spark stays true, fans into the hint of something luminous, when he mentions legwork: good. "There aren't too many people in Chicago right now who can deal with things that are across the -- and it's so crazy right now; I wonder if it was forced to be like that -- if it's like that because of the Star, although I know it's just Chicago that's reacting that way -- or if, well. It's got nothing to do with anything."
[Nathan Spriggs] He slaps his head, not quite hard but hard enough to make a sound. Why not? It was so obvious but he hadn't considered the idea. This was a fallen angel they were dealing with, not some criminal mastermind. It probably didn't expect them to get this far. Get all this out.
"Didn't quite 'sleep' so to speak. In any case, I think that's worth looking into. I can check for parties and the like." A quick answer there, wrapping that up properly before moving up to the realization he'd had. "I have an idea on where the chalice might be though. So fuckin' obvious at that. I doubt it expected us to get this far, to know all this. I mean, it entrusted the chalice to a spirit instead of protecting it though I don't doubt it could. The chalice is probably Umbral-side alright... At the point already. Waiting to be used. Why bother transporting it? Why hide it somewhere else?"
[K. R. J.] "I think that's a reasonable assumption," Kage says, quietly. "The time's almost nigh; it's been moved so many times. I wouldn't bank on it not expecting us to find out 'this much' -- that's just not the way to reason out a plan. I mean, I tend to assume that my opponent is two steps ahead already; you know? But it makes sense. A pestilence spirit means ... I imagine ... that there will be signs, signs that we can check into, around this location. Maybe we can figure a way to trip it out and see -- just to check -- "
And this is when Nathan'll get a call, and Kage will be quiet. Finish off her gelato, waiting. Looking at the map, the different points.
[Nathan Spriggs] And so he does, the Cultist, Robin to the priest's Batman (wooh, enter even MORE jokes of pedophilia for him!) is called by the man. Asked to get in contact with people, to head over to the Chantry. It was emergency meet time.
Hanging up, Nathan starts dialing for others as he explains the situation to Kage. And they no doubt head off to lands... well, pretty well known.
[K. R. J.] [roll credits]
Phone taken, he dials a number and hears the ringing, waiting for an answer.
[K. R. J.] This time, the call doesn't go to voicemail. Doesn't even ring more than twice before Nathan can hear the Orphan's voice, moonlight-cool, composed - "Kage speaking." A beat. "T.H.?"
[Nathan Spriggs] A quick pick-up, not unexpected even with the hour taken into consideration. She had been warned, funny and good to know that she took it so serious though. "T.H. speaking. We're alive, was messy but we're alive. Found new stuff. Enough to make the difference between making an actual plan and stumbling around in the dark."
[K. R. J.] "Glad to hear it," she says, and she sounds sincere; why wouldn't she be? Information that means an actual plan instead of just hoping the things one does is gong to make the [right kind of] difference: good. "Anybody get hurt?" A beat, and, "New stuff, huh? You want a celebratory 'I'm alive' coffee?"
[Nathan Spriggs] A moment of silence there, hesitation? Or something else? He's thinking, then finally. "We all got hurt pretty bad, but luckily Israel and Solomon had some... healing charms on hand. Coffee sounds good, I'll update you then. Don't trust things over the phone."
[K. R. J.] Kage doesn't seem inclined to rush the paranoid Cultist of Ecstasy. The silence: hesitation, something else - whatever - doesn't get an interruption.
"You want me to pick you up?" If he does, she'll ask for an address, and she'll be there eventually. If he doesn't, they'll pick another address, a convenient open-24-hours coffee shop, maybe something with dougnuts, and that's where they'll be. Either way, Kage: Kage is a simple girl. It occurs to her that Nathan could be possessed [or have fallen (or be followed)], but deal with that as it comes.
[Nathan Spriggs] "Got somethings I need to handle first." A moment there, considering, "Name a spot, we'll meet around 12 there?" With that, the Cultist will wait until a spot's arranged, handle the morning planning and reunion with the priest and his blind companion and be off.
[K. R. J.] "Like sleep?" Amused. And, "Hokay," the Orphan [solitary (secluded)] says. "How about -- " and it's a little-known Italian Deli with great coffee and gelato that she gives Nathan the name of, the address if he needs it, but hopefully he won't. That's good food.
[Nathan Spriggs] "Sleep's on the list, yeah." And with that, the Cultist hangs up once the minor details are arranged.
----
It was now a new day. A new, much-less-Umbra-filled day with luck. Less wraiths too. Already a step up from the day before. The blond Cultist stepped through the streets of the city under patches of sunlight that made it through the thick clouds, searching for something. For a Deli to be exact.
Location and directions had been obtained, but that didn't mean anything if he couldn't actually find the place itself. It took a few minutes of walking around and searching, but Nathan stumbled across it at long last. Following look around the area for something, he shrugs and enters the store at last. Good thing he'd arrived early.
[K. R. J.] [Awareness because things go Bump in the Night, And Sometimes the Day?]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 7, 9, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[K. R. J.] [and roll]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8 (Failure at target 6)
[K. R. J.] [really?]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 7, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 7)
[Nathan Spriggs] [Pestilence, is that you? Or is that Death? Awareness]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 5, 6, 7 (Failure at target 6)
[Nathan Spriggs] [S'it War then? Famine maybe?]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 6, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 7)
[K. R. J.] He's there first. Not by a lot, but even with leaving early, he gets there beforehand. There are a couple tables. Inside, it's all nooks and crannies after an industrial-simple gelato bar and a specials today menu. The prices aren't too bad.
He'll have time to get himself some coffee -- they make it Italian-style, here, and the espresso'll wake the dead (ha, ha), and he can sense the Orphan's approach [burning, amorous; kindling, immanent; withering, draining - Spring-heat and Winter-cooling, the cut between] before she opens the door. There's no bell on the door.
Door opens, and in she comes. Big messenger bag, a lot of pockets. She looked tired, but not that tired. " - Hey, T.H.," she says, if he's at the counter when she approaches, or at a table, after she glances around. Doesn't approach first, then. Orders some gelato, collects it. "What're you having, my treat?"
[Nathan Spriggs] He's at the counter when she arrives, leaning forward onto it as he sits on a stool. Cup of coffee already in hand, the Cultist sips quietly, body turning as his eyes shifted to the woman as she stepped through the door.
Placing the cup of coffee back down on the counter surface, he gives her a casual smile and a nod in greeting. Today, the man wore a white shirt and black pants, with black leather shoes. Smart casual, really. Gaze moving back to his cup of coffee and the counter, he orders a pistachio gelato in response to her question.
"So, how're you doing?" Odd that the question is coming from his side, but she seemed tired. Not that the Cultist seemed all that better off, he wasn't well-rested that's for sure.
[K. R. J.] It's hot for Chicago outside, but there still aren't other people (yet, anyway) in the Italian Deli. With the economy going the way it is, maybe the deli won't be long for life. Nathan orders pistachio; Kage is getting dark chocolate and lavender.
"I'm okay," she says, not as if she thinks the question [the courtesy] is odd. She glances away from the counter, scoping up alternate seating arrangements, then cants her head toward a booth away from the guy who's working the counter. A nook, a cranny. A better place to talk about the unbelievable. A beat, and then, "Sometimes I forget to sleep when I'm doing research."
[Nathan Spriggs] A look to Kage, then to the location she signals to. Calmly, Nathan gets up from the stool and picks up his coffee and gelato to follow the woman to the booth. All the while, his eyes study the surroundings, make mental notes of how many people there and how they looked.
Once he's taken a seat, comfortable and near a corner, he drops some of the gelato into his coffee and stirs it before sipping. A nod to the Orphan's statement, 'forget to sleep', he knew how that was. "Yeah, tell me about it."
Left hand placing the cup back on the table surface, he digs around for something in his pocket. A folded piece of paper, unfolding it and placing it on the table as he slid it over to her side. A drawing on it, not the most... artistically masterful but understandable for whatever point he wanted to get across. "Recognize that by any chance?"
[Nathan Spriggs] OOC: Description of what he drew as copypasta'd from the other (relevant) scene. 'an enormous chiseled Opal, all white and incandescent and fire trapped within. It is worked and formed into the shape of a prism with two pyramid ends.'
to†K. R. J.
[K. R. J.] The Orphan, howsoever tired she may be -- and it's a normal tired, a sleepless tired, not because bad dreams were too bad, not because bad days were too bad, just because, honestly, she stayed up too late reading and making notes, even after Nathan called to say, Hey, the Speech, It Did Not Kill -- isn't too tired for a quip. Her eyebrows flick up as she examines the paper, the drawing, commits that to memory too. Says, "Can't say I've seen it before. Looks unwieldy."
[Nathan Spriggs] Taking the note back, he folds it up and pockets it again, nodding to Kage as he did so. So she didn't know it, or was that a lie? But she didn't seem like she was lying... For a moment, he's pensive. But snapping out of it. "I think that's the Unholy Grail we're seeking. Nothing else seems to fit, I saw it in Edom's hand. Not to mention the words he said according to Solomon."
Leaning back against the chair, the Cultist closes his eyes for a moment and sighs. "What we found was threefold, A. location of where he, or it, is planning to move. B. What seems to be a valuable ally of his. And C. A general idea of where the Chalice is hidden, and the level of protection behind it. Starting with C, it seems Edom's had it hidden in the Umbra, where we got thrown into for a bit due to a trap. From what we saw and encountered from just grazing the surface? Protection on it must be insane. We had swarms of... wraiths or something of the like on us in an instant."
[K. R. J.] Kage isn't lying. The truth is: Kage doesn't often lie. Not to her enemies. Not to her allies. Not to her aquaintances. Of course: a big part of her life is a lie; she pretends to be normal (average [just one of you (asleep)]) when she interacts with her friends and family. They aren't awake. They aren't consors. They aren't in the know, so they don't know, can't know, and Kage hasn't yet seen the good idea behind filling them in (how'd you like to be committed [how's it feel to have a vision (to be crazy)]). Kage is solitary because she chooses to be, but when it comes down to it: well, she is concerned; an involved creature. Shh, don't tell.
"Jesus," she says, after he explains that he and Solomon were thrown into the umbra and beset upon by wraiths. Kage is one of those lucky mages who, when the bridge collapsed, felt the backlash two-fold. "And you made it out, no ill-effects?" The spoons they give for gelato are small, shovel-shaped; she shovels some chocolate gelato. Doesn't lick it yet. "You want me to take a look at you?" Make certain you're not ridden, scarred-up, spiritually-scratched.
And then, thoughtful: "All right. He's hid it on the otherside -- but not the otherside where you were dragged, right? Do you know where, as it corresponds to the city of the living?" A beat. "The bridge, maybe? What'd Solomon say he said?" Another beat. And, "Can I see the picture again?"
[Nathan Spriggs] Once more taken out, once more unfolded, the picture is placed on the table, though not without a warning. "Solomon and Israel both warned against going after it just yet. We need to gather, all four of us for now, and plan this out properly. I think we know enough to spread the information soon too."
A shrug to her concerns for their health, though he seemed... reluctant to talk about the experience. "We got hurt pretty bad. Israel and Solomon covered me while I did the rote to scry so I got the least of it." A pause there, and a change in tone, like to say 'thank god'. "Luckily, Israel had healing charms on hand and could heal herself." Act disconnected... volatile too, as he might at times, the Cultist very much didn't enjoy seeing people get hurt. Especially not people he knew (and actually liked).
Pensive, Nathan considers the rest of the information he had to give. More pistachio for the coffee, a delicious little mix there. "Hm, we don't know an exact location. But relating to B, it seems he has a... pestilence spirit, or so Solomon called it and it looked horrifying, working for him. He left it's protection to it. So right now our work: Get the chalice back, figure out how to stop the pestilence spirit and company, then kill what can't be killed or at least lock it back into whatever it escaped from."
[Nathan Spriggs] "What Solomon translated was basically what I just told you about hiding it in the Umbra. He had the object in the drawing in his hand when he said it."
[K. R. J.] Nathan mentions Israel's name. Kage is studying the drawing, the colour added afterward, but when Nathan mentions the blind woman's name Kage glances upward. He hadn't mentioned her before; just Solomon Ward. He's been mentioned a lot in the last week or so, ever since just before the bridge collapsed, and almost every time, it's been done as casually as if the name should (done [now]) mean a thing. It's starting to. Israel, though: Kage knows Israel from before. She's already said that she's glad they're okay. That hasn't changed, she doesn't say it again; doesn't squander words, Kage, for all her inclination to banter.
"Okay," she says. And, "Was there a name in any of that mess? A name for the grail, I mean? Something that can be conjured by?" A beat, and, "Repeat that question for the pestilence spirit. Any insight gained on the locations marked off on that map you mentioned?"
A beat. And, "What do you think of the gelato; place is pretty decent, huh?"
[Nathan Spriggs] He notices her gaze for a moment, choosing not to comment on it or ask why. Instead, he focused on the drawing again, on the details of what he saw. "None. For either, every spoken word was in what I think might have been Enochian from everything I've heard of the language. Only Solomon seemed to understand it, in any case." He shook his head as he spoke, remembering the language and how it sounded.
"In any case, I don't doubt it's been warded against such forms of interference. So we might need to research more on this chalice." He speaks, repeating his doubts and conclusions from a night of considering. Another folded paper taken out his pocket in the meantime, this time much bigger and recognizable as a folded map.
He spreads it on the table, or at least part of it, and then he points at a spot. Fingers in the same positions as he remembered in the scrying. Index and middle finger touching the spot, it was along the coastline of Chicago and Lake Michigan, roughly half a mile from the Navy Pier. "There."
[Nathan Spriggs] (Half a mile down from the Navy Pier*)
[K. R. J.] More research on this chalice, Nathan says, and Kage eats some of her gelato. The lavender. The lavender tastes like smoke; is cool on her throat; is cold on her tongue. Lavender is a protective (protection [sanctuary]) herb; Kage is not a Verbena; it likely does not matter to her (Orphans have their own paradigms [their own tools, little influenced]). Nathan'll know, if Nathan is very perceptive, that inside Kage's messenger bag, there's a gun, just in case. This isn't the time to be legal (law-abiding citizens [they're often blood-sacrifices]).
"I'm still looking," she says, "But the people I know who I thought might have a clue turn out not to have one, at least, not without looking into it a little themselves. We'll see if there's anything else in the record." The record, she says: like there's just one. This is a trick of the tongue, a slip of it; a hint at how Kage believes things to be. There is one record, there is one story, inside the one story and record: a lot of stories, a lot of records. Academic superstition. Then again: Kage doesn't think that she's found all she'd be able to find in just a couple of days. There's always a likelihood of more.
He unfolds a map; she lifts her gelato, so it doesn't drip on the map. Wipes a spot of gelato off the table with her thumb.
"There? What'm I looking at?"
[Nathan Spriggs] A spoonful of the remaining gelato in his mouth, the portion that hadn't been dumped as sweetener for a coffee, the Cultist doesn't answer immediately. A moment passes, a look down at the map, the location. Arguably one of the biggest keys to resolving this. "Yeah, the gelato's pretty good by the way. Bit late, sorry. Got my attentions elsewhere."
He doesn't comment on her statement, on this 'record' she mentioned. Though the curiosity's there, yes, he wonders about it for a moment. Gets lost in thought. Reality beckons back however, as she questions what they're looking at.
"Hm, I'm not quite 100% sure. But I think there's a reason it's in Chicago, not just for the chalice. Didn't need to come here for it, could've gone to Toronto and stolen it. I think if it needs a specific date to do what it wants to, it also needs a specific location. And I think this is it." The only thing he has is guesses for her, educated but still guesses.
[Nathan Spriggs] "For now, we need to check it out. Do legwork. Both Earth-side and Umbral-side. Given the chalice's position and the Shadow in question, I'm guessing it's the latter mostly."
[K. R. J.] "Do you mind if I take a picture?" Kage says, slipping her cellphone out of her bag. If he says he doesn't mind, she will: take a picture of the map, Nathan's hands spread, just like that, the points
"I wonder if they're going to have fireworks there on the 4th, or nearby," Kage says, thoughtful. Within a big city like Chicago, especially a big city like Chicago where its history is full of disastrous fires, of tragic burnings, firework celebrations are always city-planned, "Whether whatever ritual they're going to do needs that kind of cover. Whether," a beat, she raises an eyebrow, "that would be good cover for anyone poking around."
He apologizes for late, for his attention being elsewhere. Kage offers him the spark of a smile, something close to true; something almost real. "Didn't dream anything big when you finally slept, did you?" The spark stays true, fans into the hint of something luminous, when he mentions legwork: good. "There aren't too many people in Chicago right now who can deal with things that are across the -- and it's so crazy right now; I wonder if it was forced to be like that -- if it's like that because of the Star, although I know it's just Chicago that's reacting that way -- or if, well. It's got nothing to do with anything."
[Nathan Spriggs] He slaps his head, not quite hard but hard enough to make a sound. Why not? It was so obvious but he hadn't considered the idea. This was a fallen angel they were dealing with, not some criminal mastermind. It probably didn't expect them to get this far. Get all this out.
"Didn't quite 'sleep' so to speak. In any case, I think that's worth looking into. I can check for parties and the like." A quick answer there, wrapping that up properly before moving up to the realization he'd had. "I have an idea on where the chalice might be though. So fuckin' obvious at that. I doubt it expected us to get this far, to know all this. I mean, it entrusted the chalice to a spirit instead of protecting it though I don't doubt it could. The chalice is probably Umbral-side alright... At the point already. Waiting to be used. Why bother transporting it? Why hide it somewhere else?"
[K. R. J.] "I think that's a reasonable assumption," Kage says, quietly. "The time's almost nigh; it's been moved so many times. I wouldn't bank on it not expecting us to find out 'this much' -- that's just not the way to reason out a plan. I mean, I tend to assume that my opponent is two steps ahead already; you know? But it makes sense. A pestilence spirit means ... I imagine ... that there will be signs, signs that we can check into, around this location. Maybe we can figure a way to trip it out and see -- just to check -- "
And this is when Nathan'll get a call, and Kage will be quiet. Finish off her gelato, waiting. Looking at the map, the different points.
[Nathan Spriggs] And so he does, the Cultist, Robin to the priest's Batman (wooh, enter even MORE jokes of pedophilia for him!) is called by the man. Asked to get in contact with people, to head over to the Chantry. It was emergency meet time.
Hanging up, Nathan starts dialing for others as he explains the situation to Kage. And they no doubt head off to lands... well, pretty well known.
[K. R. J.] [roll credits]
A + B + C = No Promises
[Nathan Spriggs] Chicago weather, that summed up the day. Cloud coverage that hid the sun but did nothing to ease the temperatures which while not quite hot were quite high, not to mention humidity. Today, the blond Cultist enjoyed another day of quiet reading under the shade of a tree. Something he hadn't done since a few days ago, when a certain incident occurred.
This city would be the end of him, no doubt. So normal looking on the surface, but deep down, fallen angels, spirits, Nephandi and other threats to humanity (and reality) ran amok. Still, somehow he managed to find time to himself once in a while, so relaxation was key at those times... Not that today was one of those days. He was waiting for someone.
[K. R. J.] [and do I feel you 'fore I see you?]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 6, 6, 8 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[K. R. J.] He'd called. He'd left a voicemail message. She'd called back. Maybe she'd managed to get him; maybe she'd left a voicemail message, too. Either way, they'd arranged to meet at X marks the spot in [location removed for security reasons] at about [time removed for security reasons], and it is cloudy, sunlight is an illusion, is spinning illusions where it breaks through the cloud-cover. Nathan turns a page in his book.
Cue the Orphan. Rather, cue her truck. Big, monster-thing, and black as the devil's heart, music on loud. Music goes off; Kage hops out [falls to earth (a long way to go, Angel-cakes)], locks it, keys afterward wedged deep in the bottom of her messenger bag. She's dressed casually, casually elegant. Looks taller than she is. Trick! And to find Mister Nathan Spriggs all Kage does is follow her eldritch senses, look this-a-way, look that-a-way, wander that-a-way too. A fall of shadow.
It's peaceful. Calm. Tranquil.
[Nathan Spriggs] [I'm not off tonight!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 5, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Nathan Spriggs] Left thumb holding the pages in place against the wind, the Cultist continues his enlightening read into ancient Hebrew dialogues. When the Orphan arrives, his senses go off, that tingling sensation on his skin and something in the back of his head. Recognizes her immediately as she continues her approach, but he doesn't move.
A page turned, Nathan continues to read calmly and quietly in his little spot. It wasn't some master disguise, or an attempt at being mysterious, he was just too engrossed in the book to wanna bother.
Once she approaches though, the book's closed, thumb still in it to serve as a place marker, gaze shifting up and to whatever side or direction she approaches from. "Hey, we meet at last."
[K. R. J.]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 5, 5, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
to†K. R. J.
[K. R. J.] Kage approaches Nathan directly. Doesn't sidle around the tree, sit down, speak out've the corner of her mouth. Doesn't walk up on his blindspot. Doesn't try to sneak in on the perepheral. Just: approaches, directly; lifts her chin in acknowledgment. Mouth crooks, witch-thing, distantly sardonic. The red-haired Orphan seems a little tired [exhausted], not bone-weary, just: tired, like the coffee wasn't strong enough. "At last," she says. "After so many years." She lets her shoulder strap slide off her shoulder, catch in her elbow, hit the ground. Trail. She'll drop the strap right after.
[Nathan Spriggs] She arrives and his eyes are on her for a moment before sliding back down to the book, thumb sliding out from the middle, he finally closes it and places it back in a coat pocket. A cigarette taken out in it's place and placed in his mouth though not lit, yet. "I've heard so much about you, most bad but some good, and we finally meet! But seriously, information sharing. So it is said, so it shall be. Though first, any new news on your side?"
[K. R. J.] "I always have news, T. H.," Kage says, serious. Her expression has turned pensive; she watches the blonde Cultist take out a cigarette, put it between his lips, talk around it. "But you phoned for a reason: something about a lead, and now I hear the word 'sharing' coupled with 'information,' and I don't want to be rude. I'm listening." Serious that, too. Even grave. Kage takes things seriously. As she replies, she takes a seat on the grass in the shade, facing Nathan. Grass-stains in her palms. The bees are bumbling about the clover.
[Nathan Spriggs] A nod, he acknowledged how serious she was acting on this matter. Proved the extent of it. Though what she meant with her own words made him curious. He shakes his head, more to himself and to shake away the thoughts than anything else. "Andre Westford. Name mean anything to you?" A question there, tone casual but with the impression that this is, quite obviously, leading somewhere. For now he waits for her answer before speaking again.
[K. R. J.] "Isn't ringing a bell. Unless he deals in unusual antiquities?"
[Nathan Spriggs] He smiles for a moment, just a fleeting instant. Then right back to the good ol' serious demeanor he rarely seemed to carry unless disasters were afoot. "That he does. I figured you've been around a while, and you might have been searching for something at some point? Ah well, worth a try. Anyway... We heard Edom was searching for something called the Twilight Star, right? So I looked up antique collectors in or around Chicago that have been around here lately. Got a list, did some... divining, and bam, his name was it. Lives in Toronto, apparently stole some hefty stuff from some billionaire named Algernon VanBuren recently. The eccentric, strange kind."
[K. R. J.] [TEST]
[Nathan Spriggs] "I know he was in contact with Edom, for certain. I also know it seems Edom killed him, or so I heard. No one reports him missing some I'm not sure. What he had to say, I don't know. But he recognize what Edom was after. I also have the address to where he was staying, so me and Solomon will be going to do a Time scrying soon. Really soon. See if we can find out what happened and things on this."
[K. R. J.] Kage: quiet for a long time. Then: an exhale. "You say 'what happened.' Be specific. Do you want to see how he died? Do you want to see what 'Edom' took? Because I think I can tell you."
[K. R. J.] Kage doesn't interrupt Nathan's spiel. He says the eccentric, strange kind -- and her mouth crooks. "Yeah. I know a little about him. I'm still listening." Because: Nathan's still talking. Presumably, he has more than a name; more than the name of the guy who stole from Algernon VanBuren, although there's something: Kage's pensive gaze sparks, thoughtful.
[Nathan Spriggs] "I want to see what he said on what he's searching for. What he's found. The maps he had. Maybe information on exactly who he is in the whole Angel/Demon dynasty. Most of all? I want to see the information he seemed to have."
[K. R. J.] "And you think he had a conversation about it? Something you can look at?" Kage pauses, again. Then: "What's the address?" And if Nathan gives her a Look, she'll hold up her hands, say, "I'm not going to try and slip in before you. I just want to know."
[Nathan Spriggs] He does give her a look, just not the 'don't backstab' kind. More of a wary 'be careful' one. Then he tells her the address Ophelia gave them, to her house (not that he mentions). "I found he had some scroll of some kind. Old as all hell. Solomon thinks he might be able to get info off it." More than he'd let others know so far.
[K. R. J.] Kage commits the address to memory. He can see her do it: the way she mouths the street afterward. Tries to place it, in terms of neighborhoods -- safe, unsafe, what. "Do you know what name the house, apartment, whatever, is held under?" A beat. And, "Let me make certain I'm hearing this plainly. This is an address to where Edom was staying. Not when he killed VanBurgen, just: where he was staying. You want to go and part the Veils of Time to see what he was up to. If he left any notes. Talked to himself." She sounds flippant, but she doesn't mean to. "Can you Look from a distance? Have you tried yet, or perhaps Solomon -- through him, Israel? Scope out any wards that might be in place before you go on in, guns blazing?" Another beat, and: "I may know something."
[Nathan Spriggs] Nathan responds: "He killed VanBurgen? All I knew is he killed Andre, or at least that's what I heard. Unfortunately, I don't understand Correspondence as you should know, so I -can't- do it at a distance. But preferably? No, no guns blazing. Neither Solomon nor Israel know Time that they've told me, so that's all we got right now. If you know something, please tell me." That's right, he actually sounded like he was asking her nicely, like he -needed- it rather than just 'gimme info in exchange plz'.
[K. R. J.] "See, that's why I play Echo. No, no. As far as I know, VanBuren died of natural causes." Another pause, also brief. Nathan doesn't know Correspondence, Israel and Solomon don't know Time, and Kage opens her mouth to make a suggestion: pauses, and realizes that maybe they just can't carry his psyche like that, all the way there. Realizes that, hey, maybe Time is just delicate: Nathan needs to be there.
"All right," she says. "I believe I traced the 'Twilight Star' to a many-named object. One of its names: the Ever Thirsting, belonging to the indigenous people of Central America. Blood sacrifices were made. Another name: Danaergeschenk Seula. The Poisoned Chalice of Souls. That's what VanBuren had; that's what the Demon wanted."
"And that's what he has. Now. Already." A fact. Kage presents it so, anyway: he isn't looking, isn't wanting. He has it. "Still with me?"
[Nathan Spriggs] Nathan looks... stunned. Afraid. Fuckin' terrified even. He HAS it? HE -HAS- IT! Shaky, he speaks again. "...With you, what more is there?"
[K. R. J.] He looks terrified. Kage takes a quiet breath. She stays steady, though; steadying. Doesn't reach over to touch him, say it'll be okay. Knowledge is an ardent thing, for Kage. Part of the truth is this: she was interested, following this object's trail through history, hunting out its names, trying to find mention -- interested, and good at her job.
"This chalice," she says. Then, wry: "Well, what's a King without his Holy Grail?" No longer wry: serious. "He wants to fill it. He wants to fill it with -- Shadow. The Shadow of the Red Star. I don't know what precisely that means, but I do know that it comes donw to timing. That there seems to be a narrow window of opportunity. That, now he has it, he just needs to fill it. And I think it's going to happen on July 4th."
A beat. "I don't just think. I'm trying to convince my family to go on a roadtrip before the 4th hits. That's the day."
[K. R. J.] ooc: (edits) "I don't know precisely what that means, but I'm guessing it means nothing good, given the folks who are interested. I also know that it comes down to timing." etc.
[Nathan Spriggs] Nathan still looks shaky but he seems slightly more collected now. Resolved, maybe. He understands this very well. "Well, fuck. I knew he was waiting on something. But this is bad. Very bad. At least we know. But that just makes it even more important to investigate the house. The scroll. I'll tell you everything I know, the fallen angel, he was an angel of death from what Solomon found. That's why there's problems with unresolved fallen souls and reanimated bodies. Makes you reexamine your beliefs in religion, doesn't it? I always figured there was a God. Just wasn't sure which religion had it right."
[Nathan Spriggs] "If we die or some bad stuff happens, make sure that all gets out. If not, I'll give you a call later tonight probably. Don't share this all with anyone just yet unless the call doesn't come. I'm sorry to ask that but we need to be careful right now? Make a plan first before we start chaos." A plea there, Nathan was showing oh-so many sides of himself. Though a calculating edge remained to his plea.
[K. R. J.] "Yeah," Kage says, and, "Maybe." A beat. "Maybe you can just go into the house, grab something for focus, then get your ass elsewhere and do the actual Working from inside. If at all possible - I seriously suggest trying to at least scan the joint for Wards before wandering in." They could be two normal people. In fact, that's what the parkgoers think who wonder by. Nothing unusual. Kage squints, examining the daylight, the edge of it where shadow falls.
He says: makes you reexamine your beliefs on religion. Kage looks at Nathan instead of the shadow, the light. She offers him a smile. She hasn't really said much about her own beliefs, hasn't given any indication one way or another, although she's spoken to Ashley about Belief.
"There are a lot of strange things," she says, and that seems to the extent of her comment on that. And, "At the very least, although it probably won't solve the problem, making certain he doesn't have it, that they don't have it, his cult, whatever, on the 4th is probably priority number one."
Then Nathan asks -- pleads, calculating -- Kage to keep this all on the down low. Keep it quiet. Don't say a thing, until. I'll tell you what I know, but. And Kage, she listens to him, expression neutral, inquisitive, maybe a shade disturbed. When he's made his case, she says, "A. Don't give me the 'if I die tonight' speech. That is a bad speech to make. B. I appreciate it. Do call tonight, or I'll go looking. C. T.H. Nathan. Do you really look at me and think, Ah, yes. Kage: she's the one who's going to unwittingly foil our plan with her crazy, headstrong urge to act without thinking?"
[Nathan Spriggs] A shrug there, small smile on his face even though he didn't very much feel like smiling today. "I dunno, some people prefer to be straight with everyone on this kind of information. And I understand that, it's just... well, I was just being careful? Better safe than sorry." He leans back on the chair, eyes wandering to the sky as he sits there, pensive. Deep in thought.
"As for 'the speech', shit happens. Besides, I'm 110% determined to not let it happen, but between you and me? I've always found it amusing and wanted to say that. Just 'cause. I never imagined a situation that actually merited it."
[K. R. J.] "I see," Kage says, when Nathan explains away the mention of his (very real [potentially imminent]) mortality. And then, "It's good to be prepared." A beat. "It's just bad to make the speech." A smile, crooked; a shadow of a smile. More of an almost thing, than an actuality. Kage is poised -- see how poised?
"And I should go. And let you prepare yourself. Anything else you've got to say before I go on my way?"
[Nathan Spriggs] "Not really. Be careful? Don't trust Demons? Nasty things await? Wait my call? And I don't mean that in a pick-up kind of way. I'll be in contact, expect as much." With that, he goes back to his own thoughts. Planning in his head. Preparing himself.
[K. R. J.] "I'm glad," Kage says, sober, deadpan, "you're not trying to be James Bond. Have a good night, T.H." With that, Kage collects her bag, nods to the Cultist of Ecstasy, and heads out. Death angels, doom, Crimson Kings, chalices: all dancing in her head.
This city would be the end of him, no doubt. So normal looking on the surface, but deep down, fallen angels, spirits, Nephandi and other threats to humanity (and reality) ran amok. Still, somehow he managed to find time to himself once in a while, so relaxation was key at those times... Not that today was one of those days. He was waiting for someone.
[K. R. J.] [and do I feel you 'fore I see you?]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 6, 6, 8 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[K. R. J.] He'd called. He'd left a voicemail message. She'd called back. Maybe she'd managed to get him; maybe she'd left a voicemail message, too. Either way, they'd arranged to meet at X marks the spot in [location removed for security reasons] at about [time removed for security reasons], and it is cloudy, sunlight is an illusion, is spinning illusions where it breaks through the cloud-cover. Nathan turns a page in his book.
Cue the Orphan. Rather, cue her truck. Big, monster-thing, and black as the devil's heart, music on loud. Music goes off; Kage hops out [falls to earth (a long way to go, Angel-cakes)], locks it, keys afterward wedged deep in the bottom of her messenger bag. She's dressed casually, casually elegant. Looks taller than she is. Trick! And to find Mister Nathan Spriggs all Kage does is follow her eldritch senses, look this-a-way, look that-a-way, wander that-a-way too. A fall of shadow.
It's peaceful. Calm. Tranquil.
[Nathan Spriggs] [I'm not off tonight!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 5, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Nathan Spriggs] Left thumb holding the pages in place against the wind, the Cultist continues his enlightening read into ancient Hebrew dialogues. When the Orphan arrives, his senses go off, that tingling sensation on his skin and something in the back of his head. Recognizes her immediately as she continues her approach, but he doesn't move.
A page turned, Nathan continues to read calmly and quietly in his little spot. It wasn't some master disguise, or an attempt at being mysterious, he was just too engrossed in the book to wanna bother.
Once she approaches though, the book's closed, thumb still in it to serve as a place marker, gaze shifting up and to whatever side or direction she approaches from. "Hey, we meet at last."
[K. R. J.]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 5, 5, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
to†K. R. J.
[K. R. J.] Kage approaches Nathan directly. Doesn't sidle around the tree, sit down, speak out've the corner of her mouth. Doesn't walk up on his blindspot. Doesn't try to sneak in on the perepheral. Just: approaches, directly; lifts her chin in acknowledgment. Mouth crooks, witch-thing, distantly sardonic. The red-haired Orphan seems a little tired [exhausted], not bone-weary, just: tired, like the coffee wasn't strong enough. "At last," she says. "After so many years." She lets her shoulder strap slide off her shoulder, catch in her elbow, hit the ground. Trail. She'll drop the strap right after.
[Nathan Spriggs] She arrives and his eyes are on her for a moment before sliding back down to the book, thumb sliding out from the middle, he finally closes it and places it back in a coat pocket. A cigarette taken out in it's place and placed in his mouth though not lit, yet. "I've heard so much about you, most bad but some good, and we finally meet! But seriously, information sharing. So it is said, so it shall be. Though first, any new news on your side?"
[K. R. J.] "I always have news, T. H.," Kage says, serious. Her expression has turned pensive; she watches the blonde Cultist take out a cigarette, put it between his lips, talk around it. "But you phoned for a reason: something about a lead, and now I hear the word 'sharing' coupled with 'information,' and I don't want to be rude. I'm listening." Serious that, too. Even grave. Kage takes things seriously. As she replies, she takes a seat on the grass in the shade, facing Nathan. Grass-stains in her palms. The bees are bumbling about the clover.
[Nathan Spriggs] A nod, he acknowledged how serious she was acting on this matter. Proved the extent of it. Though what she meant with her own words made him curious. He shakes his head, more to himself and to shake away the thoughts than anything else. "Andre Westford. Name mean anything to you?" A question there, tone casual but with the impression that this is, quite obviously, leading somewhere. For now he waits for her answer before speaking again.
[K. R. J.] "Isn't ringing a bell. Unless he deals in unusual antiquities?"
[Nathan Spriggs] He smiles for a moment, just a fleeting instant. Then right back to the good ol' serious demeanor he rarely seemed to carry unless disasters were afoot. "That he does. I figured you've been around a while, and you might have been searching for something at some point? Ah well, worth a try. Anyway... We heard Edom was searching for something called the Twilight Star, right? So I looked up antique collectors in or around Chicago that have been around here lately. Got a list, did some... divining, and bam, his name was it. Lives in Toronto, apparently stole some hefty stuff from some billionaire named Algernon VanBuren recently. The eccentric, strange kind."
[K. R. J.] [TEST]
[Nathan Spriggs] "I know he was in contact with Edom, for certain. I also know it seems Edom killed him, or so I heard. No one reports him missing some I'm not sure. What he had to say, I don't know. But he recognize what Edom was after. I also have the address to where he was staying, so me and Solomon will be going to do a Time scrying soon. Really soon. See if we can find out what happened and things on this."
[K. R. J.] Kage: quiet for a long time. Then: an exhale. "You say 'what happened.' Be specific. Do you want to see how he died? Do you want to see what 'Edom' took? Because I think I can tell you."
[K. R. J.] Kage doesn't interrupt Nathan's spiel. He says the eccentric, strange kind -- and her mouth crooks. "Yeah. I know a little about him. I'm still listening." Because: Nathan's still talking. Presumably, he has more than a name; more than the name of the guy who stole from Algernon VanBuren, although there's something: Kage's pensive gaze sparks, thoughtful.
[Nathan Spriggs] "I want to see what he said on what he's searching for. What he's found. The maps he had. Maybe information on exactly who he is in the whole Angel/Demon dynasty. Most of all? I want to see the information he seemed to have."
[K. R. J.] "And you think he had a conversation about it? Something you can look at?" Kage pauses, again. Then: "What's the address?" And if Nathan gives her a Look, she'll hold up her hands, say, "I'm not going to try and slip in before you. I just want to know."
[Nathan Spriggs] He does give her a look, just not the 'don't backstab' kind. More of a wary 'be careful' one. Then he tells her the address Ophelia gave them, to her house (not that he mentions). "I found he had some scroll of some kind. Old as all hell. Solomon thinks he might be able to get info off it." More than he'd let others know so far.
[K. R. J.] Kage commits the address to memory. He can see her do it: the way she mouths the street afterward. Tries to place it, in terms of neighborhoods -- safe, unsafe, what. "Do you know what name the house, apartment, whatever, is held under?" A beat. And, "Let me make certain I'm hearing this plainly. This is an address to where Edom was staying. Not when he killed VanBurgen, just: where he was staying. You want to go and part the Veils of Time to see what he was up to. If he left any notes. Talked to himself." She sounds flippant, but she doesn't mean to. "Can you Look from a distance? Have you tried yet, or perhaps Solomon -- through him, Israel? Scope out any wards that might be in place before you go on in, guns blazing?" Another beat, and: "I may know something."
[Nathan Spriggs] Nathan responds: "He killed VanBurgen? All I knew is he killed Andre, or at least that's what I heard. Unfortunately, I don't understand Correspondence as you should know, so I -can't- do it at a distance. But preferably? No, no guns blazing. Neither Solomon nor Israel know Time that they've told me, so that's all we got right now. If you know something, please tell me." That's right, he actually sounded like he was asking her nicely, like he -needed- it rather than just 'gimme info in exchange plz'.
[K. R. J.] "See, that's why I play Echo. No, no. As far as I know, VanBuren died of natural causes." Another pause, also brief. Nathan doesn't know Correspondence, Israel and Solomon don't know Time, and Kage opens her mouth to make a suggestion: pauses, and realizes that maybe they just can't carry his psyche like that, all the way there. Realizes that, hey, maybe Time is just delicate: Nathan needs to be there.
"All right," she says. "I believe I traced the 'Twilight Star' to a many-named object. One of its names: the Ever Thirsting, belonging to the indigenous people of Central America. Blood sacrifices were made. Another name: Danaergeschenk Seula. The Poisoned Chalice of Souls. That's what VanBuren had; that's what the Demon wanted."
"And that's what he has. Now. Already." A fact. Kage presents it so, anyway: he isn't looking, isn't wanting. He has it. "Still with me?"
[Nathan Spriggs] Nathan looks... stunned. Afraid. Fuckin' terrified even. He HAS it? HE -HAS- IT! Shaky, he speaks again. "...With you, what more is there?"
[K. R. J.] He looks terrified. Kage takes a quiet breath. She stays steady, though; steadying. Doesn't reach over to touch him, say it'll be okay. Knowledge is an ardent thing, for Kage. Part of the truth is this: she was interested, following this object's trail through history, hunting out its names, trying to find mention -- interested, and good at her job.
"This chalice," she says. Then, wry: "Well, what's a King without his Holy Grail?" No longer wry: serious. "He wants to fill it. He wants to fill it with -- Shadow. The Shadow of the Red Star. I don't know what precisely that means, but I do know that it comes donw to timing. That there seems to be a narrow window of opportunity. That, now he has it, he just needs to fill it. And I think it's going to happen on July 4th."
A beat. "I don't just think. I'm trying to convince my family to go on a roadtrip before the 4th hits. That's the day."
[K. R. J.] ooc: (edits) "I don't know precisely what that means, but I'm guessing it means nothing good, given the folks who are interested. I also know that it comes down to timing." etc.
[Nathan Spriggs] Nathan still looks shaky but he seems slightly more collected now. Resolved, maybe. He understands this very well. "Well, fuck. I knew he was waiting on something. But this is bad. Very bad. At least we know. But that just makes it even more important to investigate the house. The scroll. I'll tell you everything I know, the fallen angel, he was an angel of death from what Solomon found. That's why there's problems with unresolved fallen souls and reanimated bodies. Makes you reexamine your beliefs in religion, doesn't it? I always figured there was a God. Just wasn't sure which religion had it right."
[Nathan Spriggs] "If we die or some bad stuff happens, make sure that all gets out. If not, I'll give you a call later tonight probably. Don't share this all with anyone just yet unless the call doesn't come. I'm sorry to ask that but we need to be careful right now? Make a plan first before we start chaos." A plea there, Nathan was showing oh-so many sides of himself. Though a calculating edge remained to his plea.
[K. R. J.] "Yeah," Kage says, and, "Maybe." A beat. "Maybe you can just go into the house, grab something for focus, then get your ass elsewhere and do the actual Working from inside. If at all possible - I seriously suggest trying to at least scan the joint for Wards before wandering in." They could be two normal people. In fact, that's what the parkgoers think who wonder by. Nothing unusual. Kage squints, examining the daylight, the edge of it where shadow falls.
He says: makes you reexamine your beliefs on religion. Kage looks at Nathan instead of the shadow, the light. She offers him a smile. She hasn't really said much about her own beliefs, hasn't given any indication one way or another, although she's spoken to Ashley about Belief.
"There are a lot of strange things," she says, and that seems to the extent of her comment on that. And, "At the very least, although it probably won't solve the problem, making certain he doesn't have it, that they don't have it, his cult, whatever, on the 4th is probably priority number one."
Then Nathan asks -- pleads, calculating -- Kage to keep this all on the down low. Keep it quiet. Don't say a thing, until. I'll tell you what I know, but. And Kage, she listens to him, expression neutral, inquisitive, maybe a shade disturbed. When he's made his case, she says, "A. Don't give me the 'if I die tonight' speech. That is a bad speech to make. B. I appreciate it. Do call tonight, or I'll go looking. C. T.H. Nathan. Do you really look at me and think, Ah, yes. Kage: she's the one who's going to unwittingly foil our plan with her crazy, headstrong urge to act without thinking?"
[Nathan Spriggs] A shrug there, small smile on his face even though he didn't very much feel like smiling today. "I dunno, some people prefer to be straight with everyone on this kind of information. And I understand that, it's just... well, I was just being careful? Better safe than sorry." He leans back on the chair, eyes wandering to the sky as he sits there, pensive. Deep in thought.
"As for 'the speech', shit happens. Besides, I'm 110% determined to not let it happen, but between you and me? I've always found it amusing and wanted to say that. Just 'cause. I never imagined a situation that actually merited it."
[K. R. J.] "I see," Kage says, when Nathan explains away the mention of his (very real [potentially imminent]) mortality. And then, "It's good to be prepared." A beat. "It's just bad to make the speech." A smile, crooked; a shadow of a smile. More of an almost thing, than an actuality. Kage is poised -- see how poised?
"And I should go. And let you prepare yourself. Anything else you've got to say before I go on my way?"
[Nathan Spriggs] "Not really. Be careful? Don't trust Demons? Nasty things await? Wait my call? And I don't mean that in a pick-up kind of way. I'll be in contact, expect as much." With that, he goes back to his own thoughts. Planning in his head. Preparing himself.
[K. R. J.] "I'm glad," Kage says, sober, deadpan, "you're not trying to be James Bond. Have a good night, T.H." With that, Kage collects her bag, nods to the Cultist of Ecstasy, and heads out. Death angels, doom, Crimson Kings, chalices: all dancing in her head.
Was It Okay?
[K. R. J.] [a'ight. let's do this.]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 4, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Ashley McGowen] [Oh yeah. Have I slept?]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 7, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[K. R. J.] The pavement is wet. The air is wet, too. When -- slam! -- K. R. J. shuts the door of her (monster [monstrous]) black truck and alights (hops [falls]) down to ground level the air is waiting, to wrap itself around her, river-soaked, lake-soaked, pool-soaked linen for the sacrifice, the hint of what it'll be later on in the week: a smothering piece of banshee laundry, a slap in the face, air as a strength-sapping blanket. Her hair is pulled up, pinned with express orders not to fall down today and tumble around her ears. The back of her neck is bare. She has a flat messenger bag, today, something in dull olive, which one would think brought out the green in her eyes, if one was thinking logically, and without factoring in the dark grey of the pavement, of the sky, the water in the air, in which case one realizes that her eyes are dark today, the inscrutable color, the not-quite-definable hazel, until she slants a glance just so, catches a stray shard of illumination from somewhere, and candesces.
Sort've like now. Kage, whilst walking to the door of Ashley's apartment building, snaps open her cellphone, puts it to her ear, Ashley's number dialed, dialling, ringing, and there are two girls and a skinny, scrawny-looking guy clustered by the stairs to the entrance, and when she raises her eyebrows at them, one of the girls grins (goofily [hello]) at Kage, gives the door the it's ajar nod, and she opens it. Goes up.
You'd think that this was a spur-of-the-moment visit.
It is not.
[K. R. J.] [and uh, awareness, I guess? just in case EVIL THINGS are lurking? we know they aren't, but they COULD BE.]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 5, 8, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Ashley McGowen] Up until today, Ashley had hardly slept since last Saturday night. It came in short spurts, an hour or two long, and generally she's been too upset, stomach tied in knots, chest weighed down by the world. K. R. comes calling, and Ashley is still asleep.
Zane isn't happy about this. The dog has been lying in front of his dish for the past few hours, his cold black nose pressed into the edge as though he, too, could Will his food to appear if he got Hungry enough. Nothing ever does, and the Hermetic is curled up on the couch, dead to the world. Peaceful, for the first time in days, regardless of what time it is.
It's only on the third or fourth ring that she hears the buzzing up on the armrest - feels it, more like, distantly, through the light haze of a dream. There's a tiny earthquake, in the dream world. Ashley startles awake, blinks, and then pats around for the phone.
The voice at the other end sounds appropriately drowsy. "Hello? Kage?"
[K. R. J.] Doesn't bother with a yes. Succinct. "I woke you up. Is this a bad time? Because I'm writing pithy messages in the grime on your front door, but I can cool my heels at the coffee shop instead." There may or may not be actual pithy messages being traced in the grime on Ashley's front door. Just as there may or may not be actual grime.
[Ashley McGowen] Ashley's front door is a solid wood one, and there is in fact no grime: the apartment was renovated last year, just before she moved in. It was one of the things that drew her to the place.
There's a silence on the other end of the phone, the sort of confused haze that envelopes one when they've been asleep for much longer than intended, out of normal rhythm. She's trying to remember what time it is, what day it is. A glance at the clock on the wall confirms that her sleep schedule is now fucked beyond measure.
"No. You can come in." So she gets up to go and unlock her apartment door for Kage, and in between the hangup and her arrival, rattles food into the dog's bowl. He's happily crunching by the time Kage walks in.
[K. R. J.] "Hungry?" she says, stepping across the threshold, into the Hermetic's apartment. The Orphan glances around. Her expression is pensive, unwary; as open as it ever is. Untarnished.
It's late afternoon. The light doesn't slant into the hallway outside Ashley's apartment, but perhaps it comes through a window, somewhere. The light'd be amber, like honey-wine; it'd fall against the glass, against curtains or blinds, like condensed milk -- a thick, curdling thing, where it manages to break through the [ominous] clouds. Zane crunching on dog food is a loud thing, heard in the hall. Naturally, the red-haired Orphan's gaze is drawn toward the intent dog. She doesn't slide her hands into her pockets. She stands at ease, neither sitting, or going to (her usual spot [she has a usual spot]) the kitchen's counter.
The cellphone's out of mind and out of sight, just like it never was. Technology: Kage? She's innocent, they'll tell you, innocent!
[Ashley McGowen] It's late afternoon, and the light pours like honey over the couches and chairs at the center of the living area, mixing gold into the browns and reds and creams that paint the place. It falls over the couch that Ashley had, up until a few minutes ago, been sleeping in, has left the worn leather pleasantly warm in some spots and sticky-hot in others. There's a faint sheen of moisture on Ashley's forehead lying beneath the fall of dark hair.
Ashley, who looks better today than she has over the past few days, though Kage wouldn't know it - she's slept, finally, managed to Will herself into something deep and lasting - just eyes the Orphan for a few moments. Grief hasn't etched itself over her features, or if it did, it's gone now, tucked away in a box somewhere. Partitioned and compartmentalized. She's good at that, Ashley.
"Yeah, a little," she tells Kage, without a great deal of enthusiasm. "Did you have something in mind?"
[K. R. J.] This isn't the first time Kage has come over when Ashley was (or should be [or was expected to be]) at low ebb. The first time she visited Ashley's apartment in Chicago, Ashley'd been Jhor-riddled and fresh from memories of Hell. Wharil'd told her that Ashley was doing poorly. Noone's told Kage that this time. They've eluded to a dead loved one. The let's call them informants have each been wrapped up in their own regret, misery, worries, and yet still, in their own way, they've each tried to be sensitive and respectful. A red flag, especially when it came to the Cultist of Ecstasy.
But even with that: Kage, while attentive, and clearly so: intent and watchful, but not intense, isn't looking at Ashley, trying to pick out salt-tracks on her cheeks, black bags under her eyes, lines on her wrists where she's been cutting herself. She isn't looking for the signs of grief, made clear on the one-eyed girl's face. She's looking at Ashley the way she always looks at Ashley: with attention, like a look could also listen, like clarity was a byword, a watchword, like a watchword was a glance, studious. Something like that.
She isn't trying to find a box, open it.
"That really depends," she says, mouth quirking. "Do you want to stay in, or go out?" A beat, and, "I know you've had a shitty week, so I'll leave the decision up to you, without undo influence from me." Her eyebrows flick upwards; maybe she thinks that Ashley'll jump all over going out, when it's put like that. Maybe she has food tucked away in her bag. Doesn't she always come bearing food-gifts? Even the few times she's gone to the chantry [that Ashley knows about] she's brought food: cookies, tea.
[Ashley McGowen] Ashley has always found Kage's food-gifts a little odd, really: it's like offering tribute, particularly when brought to the chantry. To the Traditionalists she stands apart from, stubborn bastion. Maybe that's why she offers it: she did package a memory, offer it up on a silver platter to draw Ashley's attention away from the rest.
Kage knows she's had a shitty week, and that means Kage knows. Ashley's gaze tracks over to her, finds her, and it isn't inquiring: Ashley suspects that people have been talking about a small woman in a glass cage, mousey and dark haired and with that same mouth, the same chin and nose. (Gone, now, went to Boston wrapped in one of Solomon's bodybags. It was like getting a glimpse of her own end in thirty years. Maybe she'll live that long.)
"I want to stay in," she tells Kage. Drops a hand down to Zane's head, his ears. She's been out all week: the dog is clingy. Dogs are. "We can order Thai or pizza or something."
[K. R. J.] "Do you have any left-overs or pizza-dough? We could experiment. This is a building full of college students, isn't it."
It's clear from the lack-of-questioning lilt to that question that Kage is considering raiding some of Ashley's neighbor's freezers and putting together who-knows-what. The oven works, doesn't it? In theory? Or are there books? There are books in Kage's fireplace when it isn't winter, and in Spring, her electric stove sometimes gets left open, plants put inside where they can get light from the kitchen window.
When Zane stops crunching on his food and comes over to investigate Ashley, and Ashley's continued presence in the apartment, Kage has one of her almost smiles, one of her not-quite-yet expressions, something imminent, something ready-to-dawn, but un-dawned.
[Ashley McGowen] "I don't have any pizza dough, but I have raw ingredients lying around," Ashley says, with a glance toward the kitchen. Usually they are eaten raw, or kept in the cabinet in the vain hope that some day she will learn to cook and use them. She never really has.
"I don't cook much, either. So experimentation might turn into us getting delivery anyway, just so you know," Ashley says, with a bit of a smirk as she heads toward her refrigerator to investigate. To see whether she does indeed have enough Things that could potentially become Food at a later date. Zane follows her, his toenails clicking on the floor.
[K. R. J.] [Because never get to roll this in Mage, stealthy!Kage? Ninja-ing it up?]
[K. R. J.] "But it will be more satisfying delivery," Kage says. "Worked for," she says, and, "Deserved." The red-haired woman walks into the living room proper, sets her bag down by the coffee table, on top of the coffee table, shoulder strap trailing toward the hardwood floors. Hardwood floors are difficult to walk quietly on. They meet each step a foot takes like it's a moment for sound, like it's a moment to say, hey, here, listen to be, listen to how I slide, listen to how I can whisper, listen to the music this dead tree makes, except not so much for Kage. The almost-carelessly composed, self-assured woman is a walking shadow, and she noiselessly rejoins Ashley in the kitchen. Not at her counter, but popping around Ashley's side, to also peer into the refrigerator for inspiration.
[Ashley McGowen] Kage and Ashley find: roma tomatoes, three. Two eggs. Some clementine oranges. A box of whole wheat pasta. Two percent milk. Some goat cheese. A small amount of frozen chicken, and a bag of Macintosh apples.
Ashley sets them on the counter in front of the Orphan and gestures toward them, amused. "All right," she says, "I'm going to trust you not to poison me."
[K. R. J.] [Come Up With Something Awesome, Kage? Intelligence!]
[K. R. J.] [Dex+Perf? Uhm. Badass Cutting-Stuff Flourish? Or hospitalization imminent?]
[K. R. J.] "There will be no more poison involved in this wholesome activity," Kage says, and when she finds a knife to cut with, she twirls it with ([un]muted flamboyance) rakishness. "At least, not on purpose. Should a test subject be needed in the initial 'taste' segment of this experiment, I don't think I've yet come around when there weren't people bumming around your apartment's front door.
"We'll, er, make a marinade for the chicken," Kage says, and the clementine oranges and apples'll do for that, with the judicious addition of some honey and spices, cloves and cardamom, "And uh, chop it up and put it into pasta after it's cooked. With the goat cheese. Apple slice son top, and it sounds fancy, yeah? Crack an egg over the pasta to make it rich." Kage is peeling an apple now, without breaking the skin. Careful of her thumb.
If Ashley isn't also cutting something by now, Kage raises an eyebrow at her, very, Come on, I know you have hands.
[Ashley McGowen] [Man, I don't ever use knives. Dex!]
[Ashley McGowen] "They're grad students, they wouldn't refuse food," Ashley says, of nefarious experiments on her neighbors.
The Hermetic looks impressed as Kage tells her what she intends to cook, like she might if Kage were telling her about some bit of magic or technique she'd never before heard of. Kage raises her eyebrows at Ashley before the Hermetic takes up one of the knives and assists in chopping. There are no flourishes: Ashley wasn't kidding when she said she doesn't cook much. She has to be careful.
Ashley's quieter than usual. This is a welcome break from the week, so she's not letting her thoughts stray: Kage already knows what happened, anyway.
[K. R. J.] Kage does know what happened. Nathan was almost exhaustive in his detail. The detail she's curious about, though; the detail she hasn't asked about, yet, but will eventually, as soon as she figures out how, well: that's the thing Ashley probably doesn't want to say again, doesn't want to talk about. Kage knows what happened, and has opinions; she doesn't know who Ashley lost. Just that she did lose.
This isn't like Emily, worried that she was too dirty, too besmirched, to join a Tradition she felt herself drawn toward now that she'd snuffed out a life [first time (no longer a civilian)]. That was comparatively easy.
"Heh," she says, after she has peeled a couple of apples, cut them like a Master-chef, more-or-emphasis-on-less. "When you were little, did you ever do that girly superstition -- throw an unbroken peel over your shoulder, it'll break into the initials of your true love?" She smirks. "My friend had a bang-up business in Apple Peel Interpretation"
There's more to do than just chopping. There's pre-heating and figuring out a substitute for a marinade brush and heating what-will-be-the-marinade up and making oven-appropriate dishes out of tinfoil. It's gotta be done, so it's done.
[Ashley McGowen] Ashley has to be directed to do such things, pointed at them and released, but she is at least aware of -how- to use things like the stove and the oven. She isn't quite that unfamiliar.
The apple peels and the apple slices are in rough, uneven chunks, with more apple clinging to the cast-away skin in some places than in others, but one gets used to using a knife. She looks up, glances at Kage, amused, as she mentions the apple peels and childhood superstitions.
"No," she says, "I haven't heard of that. Kids would just chase each other down with those little paper mouths - " she cups index fingers and thumb together, to demonstrate - "and write numbers and names on them and stuff. I always hid because I thought I could decide what my fortune was only until someone else told me."
[K. R. J.] "I remember those," Kage says, when Ashley cups her fingers together, demonstrates the shape. "They were like - puppet dragon mouths." A beat, and, not-quite-wry, corner of her mouth curving more: "Did anyone ever manage to tell you, or did they give up?" A moment, pensive. Then: "What about Light as a Feather, Stiff as a Board or Bloody Mary - did you ever play those?"
When one takes a moment to consider it, it's really amazing the number of [magical realist] superstitions that are still active, thriving, in elementary schools and junior high schools across the Nation. The Consensus has to work to rob them of their power.
[Ashley McGowen] "It sort of turned into a game with a friend of mine," Ashley says, her mouth quirking as she starts to peel one of the oranges. They separate easily, clementines, don't need a shell to tell them what to be. Or protect them, for that matter, though they're easy to pull apart into segments after that's done. There's a little pile forming near Kage. "She'd try to surprise me with it. I'd turn around during recess and it'd be crinkling next to my ear."
She hasn't considered the heretofore untapped potential of exposing children to magic. It's likely she won't: while many groups in the Order of Hermes do it, Ashley prefers that people fight to Awaken. It's the right way.
"We did those," she says, "and then there was this one game where there were ghosts, and they'd gradually be able to do less as you counted away from midnight? I forget how it's played."
[K. R. J.] "I used to have bad dreams," Kage says, end statement. But wait: "I stayed awake once for six days -- I was a stubborn kid -- because I saw candles burning in my Mom and Dad's bathroom. Which I wasn't supposed to ever go into, mind you. I couldn't find them right after, so I thought they'd got taken into the mirror by Bloody Mary. The fact that Dad made dinner like usual and Mom was there didn't really convince me otherwise."
Then: "Kid games were fun, although it's less likely I'd kick your ass so thoroughly at them." Man: guileless Kage is guileful. She says this deadpan, straight-faced. Less likely, than, say: a game of chess.
[Ashley McGowen] Kage offers up this bit of childhood horror and lying awake sleepless nights, and Ashley glances up and over at the Orphan, there on her right. She has never been afraid of the dark, or the things that might lurk there. "I was convinced there was a ghost in the hall closet," she says. "I used to try to go in and talk to it and convince it to come out."
Kage is guileful but that chess match (and losing it) is still a tender point with the Hermetic, apparently. She assures Kage, "We'll be rematching."
[K. R. J.] "What convinced you? The texture of darkness?" A beat, and: Kage hands Ashley the marinade-to-be for some last-minute beating, thickening: it thickens as she forks it up, whisks it into molasses, honey-clings to fork, spices are like devil-freckles. Kage separates the chicken, dutiful. Puts the goat-cheese off to the side, so that it'll be soft when needed.
We'll be rematching, Ashley says, and the Orphan raises an eyebrow. Then: "Maybe while the chicken cooks."
[Ashley McGowen] Ashley takes the bowl, takes the fork, and thrashes it together as Kage separates the still-frozen bits of meat. There's a whisper of fur against the floor, inaudible to Ashley's ears (too soft) but likely heard by Kage's: a canine shape inching closer in the vain hope that she's going to drop some, now that he's noticed what it is she's handling. "I think the way the light used to fall on the things inside at night," Ashley says. "My, um, my mother, she used to leave doors and cabinets and drawers open all the time while she went to go do something."
Who knows. Maybe there really was a ghost. This is, after all, the world they live in.
There's a glance to the side, a flash of blue indignance as Kage makes her reply. "It would take longer than that," she says.
[K. R. J.] [Uh, Dex? Not gonna drop chicken no way!]
[K. R. J.] "She and my mom can bond over that," Kage says, mouth crooking. "Mom left some drawers in the kitchen open one night, forgot to shut them, because she was doing something in the garage... and Janet accidentally dinged into one when she was sneaking back into the house, had to get stitches. I didn't find out until the next morning, because I was asleep. They'd left some blood on the drawer, though. I went all Nancy Drew."
Now, Kage. Kage is not actually a competitive person. When she's playing a game, when her work is to be shown against another's, she rarely thinks in terms of defeating the other person, in terms of being better than them. This isn't because she's a good person, because she just wants everybody to have fun. It's because they don't signify; the fact that it's a competition is nice, somebody to talk to, but it isn't the point to Kage.
That isn't to say there aren't a few people who, if she beat them at (their own, preferably) any game, she wouldn't be irrepressibly pleased, wouldn't make a few comments, wouldn't gloat.
Those people just happen to be very, very few.
So, It would take longer than that, Ashley says, and Kage says, "You think so, huh? We'll see." There isn't any real goading or real arrogance there. Her tone is mild; she's saying it to whip up Ashley's spirit of competition, probably.
[Ashley McGowen] [Ouch]
[Ashley McGowen] She and my mom can bond over that, says Kage, and it occurs to Ashley right then that she does -not- know the entirety of what happened last Saturday night. Maybe all her informants told her was that they went and met a demon, that there were people they saved and some they couldn't, maybe they told her Ashley was shot. There could be a lot of reasons why Kage would have concluded that Ashley had a shitty week.
Either way, the Hermetic manages to keep her face from falling. Lies might not be easy for her, but stoicism, confidence, is: it's through overawing and overpowering that she can manage these things. Ashley's throat clicks a little while she swallows, and she sets the bowl aside once everything is mixed.
"You got lucky," she says, after a few seconds.
[K. R. J.] [uhm. am I keen and sensitive, or is all my skill going into keeping Zane from getting the chicken?]
[Ashley McGowen] [You are not sensitive enough!]
[K. R. J.] [Too much on the mind to notice little tells like a topic dropped? Yeah?]
[Ashley McGowen] [Nooo]
[K. R. J.] [Eh? ... *WP TO END IT* *unless the WP gives a tie, then NO WP!*]
[K. R. J.] There are (generally) numerous reasons one might have to conclude that another mage in Chicago is having a shitty week, or has just had a shitty week, or is about to have a shitty week. Indeed, the weeks are getting darker, as summer waxes toward its own precipice [Independence Day, how fitting. How right.] and all the lightning-wreathed golden-haze days of before. The Orphan mentioned Ashley's mom without thinking about it; Ashley stays stoic. If Kage notices that Ashley didn't continue the topic, that there was something deliberate there, she doesn't mention it; it's likely she didn't notice at all. The stoics were an unspeaking bunch.
"Don't insult me," Kage says, mouth crooking, "Or yourself. Who wants to be done in by bad luck?" And Zane, big dog eyes, big dog heart, catches Kage's eye. She looks at him warily for a second, and then, "Er. Are there any dog treats, 'ley?"
[Ashley McGowen] Who wants to be done in by bad luck, Kage asks, and Ashley's expression doesn't waver. She's also not looking at Kage until the other woman brings her attention to the dog, who has sidled up next to them on the floor, whose enormous ears prick immediately when he hears Kage's mouth form the word 'treats.'
There's an expression that wants to be a smile struggling its way through a corner of her mouth. She gestures toward the cabinet in which the treats are kept, because usually people who ask these questions want to feed the dog themselves.
[K. R. J.] Ashley correctly deduces that Kage wants to give Zane a treat herself. The dog's ears prick and Kage's gaze returns to Ashley. She runs her hands under water, wipes them on the thighs of her jeans. Preparation-for-treat-giving, you know?
"Do you have any ziplock bags?"
[Ashley McGowen] "Yeah, I do." That's an odd question, one that gets a puzzled glance from the Hermetic before she reaches into one of the overhead cabinets, pulls free a small box of ziploc bags. She extends one of the bags toward Kage, casting a look from the redhead to the dog.
[K. R. J.] "Spoon all the marinade into it, then smoosh these chicken slices inside and, uh, close it, then punch it a few times, okay?" Those instructions given, she goes to the cabinet to liberate a treat for Zane.
[Ashley McGowen] Ashley is obedient about some things. The marinade is transferred inside the little bag, as is the raw chicken, and Ashley goes about sealing the bag, holding it up to make sure that it's tight before she...punches it as instructed. She doesn't want the marinade and raw meat all over the counter. The countertop rattles as her closed fist slams into it a few times.
Zane, who is not a dog that has been taught to dance for treats, to impugn his dignity, sits on the floor and waits with patient eyes. Once the chicken-mashing has been accomplished, Ashley leaves the bag on the counter for Kage to do with what she will.
[K. R. J.] As soon as Kage finds the box of treats, she takes one out, replaces the box where (precisely [exactly]) she found it, and crouches in order to give the dog his food. Her fingertips still smell like chicken; she trusts he shan't make a mistake. After the treat is gone, she'll give Zane a scratch behind the ears, pet his head, stand and say, "Chess?"
What they're going to do to the chicken now is, clearly, give it a few moments to get all soaked, before slipping it into the oven. This is probably why most people their age don't like to cook, unless they really like to cook. Takes a long time.
[Ashley McGowen] She's hungrier than she'd thought - after all, she was asleep for ten hours, and it's the early evening, when she would usually be going to get something to eat. Her schedule has spun out of control this week, and she can't recall when she last ate or what she had or how much of it. Stoic she may be, but Ashley doesn't cope with grief well, can't without losing track of herself.
Zane takes the biscuit rather delicately from Kage's fingers, no snapping or finger-nipping involved, and retreats behind the counter to go and crunch away at it. Ashley nods at Kage, retreating into her room to find her chess board and bring it back out, setting it down on the floor like when they played over a week ago.
The Hermetic settles onto the rug, arranging and placing the carved white and black soldiers in their corresponding squares.
[Ashley McGowen] [Grrrr. -Not- going to be a short match!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 5, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[K. R. J.] [Pft. Big words, short stuff! Big words.]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 7, 8 (Failure at target 6)
[K. R. J.] [er, and:]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Ashley McGowen] The Hermetic takes the white side of the board, draws a knee up against her chest while they play and wraps an arm around it, almost idly moving pieces. She's intent, when it comes to games; unlike Kage Ashley is deeply competitive, takes losing as a personal affront, as a sign of inadequacy and inferiority. While she manages to do it gracefully (years in a cutthroat competitive house will teach one that), inwardly she never takes it well.
So while Kage can't guess at much of what she's doing, she knows when she's been checkmated: Ashley beams, lets Kage figure out that the king's been trapped. And it isn't a long game, after all.
"My honor's been restored," Ashley says, cheerfully, and then there's a glance toward the kitchen. "Do you think things are ready?"
[K. R. J.] Ashley wins, and it puts her into a good mood, at least for a moment. Kage regards the board: dissatisfied, not with Ashley, but with her self. "Well," Kage says, still studying the board, probably thinking, damn, if only I hadn't done, if I'd instead, "I didn't want to keep it." Her mouth lilts up, a half-smirk; something sardonic in the cant of her eyebrows. And: Do you think things are ready?
"Let's check. Want to play again?" The question is asked over her shoulder, on the way back into the kitchen. At some point during the game, which wasn't long at all, Kage had stood up and laid chicken slices out on tinfoil pan and put them in the oven, and at some other point not too long ago, she'd started boiling water for pasta.
"Another ten minutes, I think," Kage says. It smells good, at least. That's gotta mean something, right?
[Ashley McGowen] It does smell good, and the Hermetic's stomach rumbles, loud and demanding, as she moves the pieces back into place to play again. If Ashley is closed off today, not communicating with Kage, it's not out of the desire not to share, it's not because she doesn't think the Orphan would be hurtful or make the situation worse.
Last night she laid out on a rooftop next to an Akashic beneath the stars and said: I know, I'm tired of being upset, and like most of her Words she doesn't bother to say the ones that she doesn't feel to be true. Reality is full of enough illusions.
"Sure, rematch," Ashley says, with the sort of smug assurance that must have driven Bran Summers to madness every time she beat -him- at something.
[My flag! Defending!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 5, 5, 7, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[K. R. J.] [I can... totally waste the WP! Let's not let Ashley get cocky.]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 5, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6) [WP]
[K. R. J.] [TEST!]
[K. R. J.] "I'll be reclaiming that honor," Kage says, once the White King is in check. Black Queen [once-pawn]. Her mouth crooks, and she presses her palm against her forehead. Then she winks at Ashley. While they were playing, Kage checked on the chicken again, gave it another five minutes, and after that five minutes, got up, took the chicken out, checked the water, brought it to a roiling boil, put the pasta in not long ago, now it's time for the pasta to come out, for the Roma tomatoes to be chopchopped, too bad there are no onions, for the egg to be cracked, mixed in, richness. All these last minute tells, done while playing. "Food?"
[Ashley McGowen] That smug grin has faded, but Ashley doesn't seem to be grousing, doesn't sulk and glower at the victor; she accepts the loss with as much grace as Ashley can accept the loss. Which is to say, she resolves to kick Kage's ass next time they play. There will be a next time. Preferably a lot of next times, and a lot of winning.
"You're a worthy opponent, Kage," she says, with an exaggerated air, as she gets up and follows the Orphan back to the kitchen.
[K. R. J.] "Did Casp...uh, Hannibal ever bring Natalee by? I beat her once," Kage says, with an air of false injury.
In the kitchen, "Hold this," she says, of a collander, and she pours the hot water and pasta in, steam rises, rises, Oracular, a veil, obscures the two Magi completely, then lifts. The pasta goes into the largest bowl Ashley has. If necessary, a couple of bowls. Then: the apple-and-clementine marinated chicken gets tossed within, the Roma tomato slices, the goat-cheese [starts to melt, contact]. "And now all that remains is to test it." Kage flicks an eyebrow at Ashley, a silent question: so-are-we-giving-to-the-bums-on-the-front-steps, or what?
[Ashley McGowen] Ashley holds the collander out with both hands as Kage pours the hot water through them, as noodles and steam cloud her vision for a few seconds, trusting that the Orphan won't accidentally douse her hands. "I met her once," Ashley says. "But I didn't know her well." Ashley's seen a lot of Hannibal, over the years. She's seen a lot of the associates he brought by, when she used to come and visit Bran (or sometimes Justine) after lessons.
"I'll test it," are the brave words from the Hermetic. Not the sort given to thrusting creations upon the unsuspecting: she will assume the risk of failure. So she takes a fork and a rather generous mound of it is transferred to her mouth, before Kage gets a nod. "Not bad, for salvage."
[K. R. J.] "Oh, good," Kage says, and then: "What are we drinking?" Kage doesn't suggest tea tonight. Maybe because it's just so damned humid outside. So muggy that she only wishes the mosquitos would realize how muggy it was and drown little bloodsucking bastards drown.
She takes her plate back to the living room and the coffee table, then settles down, ready to eat the fruits of their labor.
[Ashley McGowen] Kage asks what they're drinking like she doesn't want to drink tea, like she'd rather have something alcoholic, and Ashley glances toward her cabinet. Pauses for a moment. "I think I have stuff for sangria, let me check," she says, as Kage takes her plate out into the next room. A few seconds of rummaging in the refrigerator, and she's located club soda.
She spends a few minutes slicing fruit (which is mainly where she's gotten most of her experience with a knife, apparently - by drinking). Quiet, as she has been for much of the night. Several minutes later she returns with a pitcher and two glasses full of ice, the pitcher full of red wine and the sliced oranges and apples.
She's feeling quiet, and isn't generally the type to be bothered by silence, but it seems to be wearing on her today. So after she's poured and has taken a few bites, there's, "Settled well into being a Disciple?"
[K. R. J.] The question -- or perhaps just the topic -- surprises Kage. Disciple, now. Not just an initiate of the Mysteries; a disciple of the Mysteries (Mystery [Cult]). Deeper, deeper, and the scope of her horizons have become more liminal. Her eyes are dark, and liquid, and expressive; sometimes, what they express is clear, clearly readible, unambiguous. Sometimes not. Just now, pensive, something inward: musing.
" - settled well? Do you mean 'with grace' or 'with comfort'?" A beat. "I should ask you; after all, I'm not climbing a hierarchy. What do you think?" And then: "I feel Changed, but no different. Are you going to Seek again soon?"
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[K. R. J.] [Er, I don't actually know why there are dice. *takes them back*]
[Ashley McGowen] "I think you were ready to be a Disciple before you actually were," Ashley says. There's no change in tone when she says it, and this is characteristic of Ashley sometimes: I think becomes more a statement of fact, a simple acceptance of how things are. She says nothing more to Kage on the topic of her readiness, her comfort, her grace. She seems to think this is enough.
"I'm hoping to Seek again soon," she adds. "But we'll see." She's no longer feeling that destructive pull from her Avatar, or at least, it's no more destructive than it usually is. If the truth is to be told, Ashley is a little apprehensive.
[K. R. J.] Kage is self-contained -- who has seen her temper snap? Nathan; once. But even then: it wasn't irrevocable; it wasn't a blaze, a flare of unthinking, incautious action; it burned, but like a cold star. Give lie to the redhair. Kage also has a few elegant, demure mannerisms; they're often edged in something approaching flamboyance, or irreverence, but they are essentially: reserved. More lie, to the color of her hair: aren't redheads supposed to be a little wild? A little unlucky? A little fiery? Shows what the world knows.
Kage is, however, a creature of deep passions, and she feels things: intently, intensely; that's probaby why, when Ashley surprises her again, her cheeks go all bright, and the brightness darkens her eyes, gives them a sparkle, a gleam, a glint. Or maybe that's the sangria, which she pours out, ice-caves, falls, and - yeah. Maybe it's that. She smiles - briefly - at Ashley, anyway, from behind her cup.
And then: "You don't have that blight any longer. I don't think it will be the same this time."
[Ashley McGowen] Ashley hasn't seen Kage angry. She's seen her upset, a few times. The once: coming into Ashley's apartment briefly after they'd just started speaking again, speaking of black-road beads and the fall of a Visionary, skin pale and her back straight like a bulwark against the darkness she'd found in what she calls the White Fence house. She napped on Ashley's couch that night before she was able to leave.
That said, Ashley has gotten passable at reading Kage in spite of how self-contained she is. Or, at least, she knows what is a smile and what is not, knows that a real smile lights up Kage's eyes and brings grace to her features. She catches the look from behind the cup.
She takes a sip from her own before she answers Kage. "It will probably be different," she agrees. "But I've...I mean. I've changed a lot in the past year. I'm a little worried that all that change is going to mean I run up against it and it won't let me pass on." She's worried, but her tone isn't that of someone that will bend: she does her own Will, after all. If it means she's consigned to life as a Disciple, well...
[K. R. J.] "Why? Because there's been so much of it? Because you don't know who you are now? Because it will say: No, you need to stay, go through another couple of revolutions?" A forkful of pasta and chicken and goatcheese, oh my. An apple slice, too. The peels were not thrown over her shoulder.
[Ashley McGowen] "All of those, really," Ashley says, after she's had a moment to chew thoughtfully. It's a different mix of tastes, the fruit with the pasta with the goatcheese, but it's not unpleasant by far. Right now her thoughts are cast over the past year, though, all of the changes there have been, all of the places she has gone and the ways in which she's become her Word. It's a different path than she'd anticipated.
"Like I...I don't know. When I think about who I was when I came to Chicago I barely even recognize that person. And I know that the change hasn't been -that- drastic, but given that it hasn't been that long it just..." A shrug, here. She has weathered a lot, but at the very least Ashley knows: she remains Hunger, and she will always be hungry, and while the nuances of that might change when broken down she is still the same person.
"I don't know if I've changed in the way my Avatar would want, is more it. But I've changed in the way -I- want, so it's a moot point."
[K. R. J.] "Your serpent is old," Kage says, after a moment's thought, a moment of quietude. Her glance stays on Ashley. "I think with age comes an element of patience, of cunning, that we aren't -- that's hard to compass. You still want to devour the world, don't you?" Her mouth quirks, no humor; an almost smile (almost moonlight). "You still want to know things? You're still driven to take them in? I don't think you're changing in a way that isn't what your Avatar would want, necessarily. Maybe you're limiting your Avatar; what it wants. Maybe it wants more than you've seen it want so far. That's what you need to find." A beat, a pause, and, "Maybe."
Kage: she mythologizes the world.
[Ashley McGowen] "Maybe," Ashley echoes, and she is giving some genuine thought to this. Her Avatar is a powerful one, but what it wants can be open to interpretation: Ashley doesn't always know, she just feels. She's just driven. Kage knows; she felt that hunger, that ache, for however long Ashley let her glimpse it when she told her the story of Catherine.
"I guess the only way to know for sure is to Seek and see."
[K. R. J.] [Doo-dee-doo?]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 5, 6, 7, 7 (Success x 1 at target 7)
[K. R. J.] There is a pause. The pause is long. The pause gets filled with: sangria, pasta. More sangria. The fruit is good. Kage glances down at her knee, at her jeans, leans against one elbow. The pause is a silence. The silence is a pause. There are things Kage needs to say, but she's reluctant to do the deed right now: so she doesn't. Yet still, the pause; she doesn't let it seem awkward. Or tries not to. No indication: just smooth sailing, like all those sailors, lost in frozen seas, going forward. Ahem:
"Last time, It came to you, didn't it? I mean, you didn't actually -- meditate or contemplate a word until you were in that place with the tower, right? Next time, maybe try to storm the gates."
[Ashley McGowen] There are things Ashley probably should say. She doesn't know whether Kage knows about what happened, that there's a demon out, that it's trying to close jaws on Chicago: another Disciple should know about this. Her friend should know about this. But she, too, is reluctant to thrust the blade, not when they've been having a good evening, when there's been chess and when they can triumphantly devour an experiment and say hey, this isn't terrible. Actually it's pretty good.
She would think that now that she's talked about it a few times this week, said those words a few times, it would have made them easier to say. Such is not the case. She keeps wavering, wondering which time will be the last time she'll have to say them.
"Yeah, it came to me last time," she says. "So you're probably right. I can call it when I want to - so maybe after all of this is taken care of," and a vague gesture out the window, "I'll chase it down."
[K. R. J.] "After July 4th, then," Kage says, after an infinitessimal hesitation. Her plate, she puts it aside.
[Ashley McGowen] July Fourth, says Kage, and Ashley glances up from her own plate, after forking the last mouthful up and into her mouth. That glance is uncomprehending for a few seconds while she chews, and then, a beat later, melds into understanding.
Her plate, too, is pushed aside.
A sip from her glass manages to keep up a facade of nonchalance, one that will likely fall away very soon. "What's happening July Fourth?"
[K. R. J.] Kage has a slim throat: feminine, lovely; sharp collar-bones. She could do with more meat on her bones. She swallows; shadows shift. "Well," she says, still poised. Her gaze goes abstracted for a moment -- distant; not pensive so much as occluded [full (brimming)]. "That depends," she says. "But money's on 'nothing good.'" A beat.
"So. I heard a lot of what happened on Saturday. T.H. is pretty detail-orientated. He didn't tell me who," a glance, for Ashley; then a glance away, at, say, Zane, or Zane's tail, something handy. Kage is cool, level-headed, steady. "But anyway, I started trying to figure out things for myself."
[Ashley McGowen] Ashley's eyes find the window, and the definition of the Hermetic's jaw wavers a moment, works, as though for a moment she might tell Kage who. But that is left aside, left in its box just for a little while, because Kage is talking about July the fourth, about problems the city is going to have, and that is more important than who Ashley lost.
She's the deacon now.
"What did you see?" This, careful. She assumes it was a Seeing and not a Finding, from what she knows of Kage and what she knows of what Kage knows. From that, and because the demon didn't invite her, hasn't troubled her so far.
[K. R. J.] "Heh. First what I found."
Kage isn't telling Ashley this because she is the Deacon. Kage isn't even telling Ashley this because she likes Ashley, because she respects her as much as she respects any Traditionalist. She's telling Ashley this because it's important. Because she doesn't believe that it should be a secret. Because Ashley is intelligent. Because it does no good bottled up, sealed beneath her tongue: a letter without a word, a word without breath.
"I was focusing on this object that he -- it? -- wants. 'Only you can prevent forest fires,' and all that jazz." A beat. "I found reference to the 'Twilight Star' in [obscure name: Kage is an academic like that]'s history in [obscure date: imperfect, placing it at ______] Crusade. A group of Semitics planned - supposedly - to wield its power, kick some Moslem and Christian ass, save the Holiest City. Another name, another reference, years later: La Siempre Sedienta, the Ever Thirsting, a relic of an indigenous people of Central America. Blood sacrifices offered.
"I dropped Wharil a line, actually. As I recall, he's good with that region of the continent. I thought he might be able to dig up more perspective. I mean, this thing: fleeting maybe-references to a lot of the infamous. General Karl Haushofer made reference to it. He may've attained it from George Gurdjieff. Another name: Danaergeschenk Seula." Her accent is better with the German than it is the Hebrew or the Spanish. "The Poisoned Chalice of Souls."
"Just lovely, right? Some of his contemporaries think he managed to acquire it. Some of his contemporaries think that he gave it to his son. His son, who escaped to South America at the end of the war. Next mention: some oil tycoon named Emile VanBuren who liked toys, interesting antiquities, things with power, he bragged about having it. Refused to show proof, so there's a lot of skepticism." Academics and collectors and internet trolls are alike in some respects.
"His son died. His estate was divided by a trusted friend - no name, yet - and that's where that trail runs cold. With me so far?"
It's only been a week. Give Kage more time.
[Ashley McGowen] They're both highly academic people. Ashley's focus is in sociology, in philosophy - but both of those things require a healthy knowledge of history. They also, from time to time, require a healthy knowledge of the obscure. She listens to Kage, gaze flickering while she takes it all in, absorbs it, does her best to stay on the trail through all of its twists and turns and zigzags. Relentlessly pursues the point.
"I'm with you," she says, giving Kage a nod. There's curiosity there now, of course, vast and insatiable, because as dangerous as this topic is, as painful as dealing with all of this has been, there has been a lot of room for discovery too.
[K. R. J.] "Okay. I also looked into the club." A beat. By looked into the club, she means: went there, inquired; hung out, saw some strippers, schmoozed. Kage does not have arcane, but she can get around. She doesn't elaborate on how. Of course, she doesn't choose this moment to ask Ashley what she was thinking, just meeting up with everybody ten minutes before, doesn't ask the pointed question. "But there was nothing there that I've been able to uncover there. No - no sudden changes in staff; no one who'd been sick; no regulars, unseen for a while. Just this general difficult-to-capture air -- not even a rumor, you know? Just a mood -- of things gone to ground, working. Working, under ground. You know? Does that make sense? A busy quiet."
Another beat. Kage loosens her hair. Presses the side of the glass against her cheek. Cool, cold ice and cold, cool glass. The ice is melting.
[Ashley McGowen] It hasn't occurred to Ashley to go back and check out the club yet. If the demon had intended to put her out of commission by doing what he did, if he'd intended it as a means of rattling them - it worked. Ashley has berated herself several times for this through the week, but in the end, sometimes she isn't as superhuman as she would like to be. Or maybe she doesn't really want it after all: maybe she doesn't Will it because she knows what lies that way.
Her ice is melting too. It makes her drink a little faster. "So where did you look after that?"
[K. R. J.] "I was going to use a map of the city," Kage says, distant; removed from the event. "But instead - "
This conversation happens on Friday; Kage found out about what happened on Monday. She spent Father's Day at her family's house, and a sizable portion of that time in the treehouse out back which had been her Mom's project back when Kage was nine or ten. The treehouse had almost burned down once when the tree was struck by lightning; the lightning didn't stay, though: it writhed, like a nest of white thorns, of radiant snakes, a crown of spikes, then blossomed into flame, and then was put out by Kage's dad, on hand with a hose. It had been a decent day. Ashley wants to know where Kage looked next.
"I learned this," she says: "This cup. This chalice. It'll be used to fill up with Shadow, to catch the Shadow of the Red Star. What this means precisely, I'm still unclear, but I don't think I'm jumping to conclusions when I say: Nothing Good. And it's a time crunch thing -- has to happen when the moon is just so, when the Red Star is just so, and the best time for this is July Fourth." A beat. "Also," another beat. "He already has it, 'ley. He just doesn't need it yet. But it's his."
[Ashley McGowen] Many people would scoff at such predictions, at these tellings of doom, at what might be a coming apocalypse. Not many of those people are mages. Ashley listens to what Kage tells her, gaze intent, and what -exactly- all of it means doesn't matter to her.
"Then we're going to have to get it from him," Ashley says, "before the Fourth." Privately she has a moment where she's berating herself for wasting time, for slumping around the city all week when she could have been figuring this out. When they could have been moving. She doesn't dwell on it long.
"Emily got a hold of one of the cards he gave to each of us at the meeting, and I was going to try to track him with it, but Solomon suggested against it. We'll have to use some other means of finding him."
[K. R. J.] Kage shakes her head. "I think the focus should be on where it is. Where he's keeping it. Do you think he'd keep it on him? If so, the one will lead to the other. If not, then: great. Steal it away, keep it the fuck untouched on July Fourth. So: on his person? Or hidden somewhere, protected?" A brief pause, and then: "It's an object in space. Perhaps Atlas would have some perspective on how to scan the city for something like that. Some, uh, weird invention that can hunt down the Powerful resonance beneath -- I don't know. I'm not a Gentleman Inventor for a reason, but," a shrug, then -- it looks easy. The glass, she finally puts that down, circling the lip of it with her fingertip.
[Ashley McGowen] Ashley nods, at this. A touch reluctant: because she wants to find him too. She wants to have a reason to go after him, beyond the reason she already has. She wants a reason to do something she knows is risky, is reckless.
She'll probably do it anyway. She just won't feel as comfortable doing it.
"You're right," she says. "We should find it as soon as possible. I could probably...if I could get an -idea- of what I'm looking for, I might be able to locate it with the Ars Conjunctionis. Maybe if I can figure out its True Name, then..." She muses, fingertips resting on the edge of her glass. "I'll see if anyone else knows anything and do some research on my own. But yeah. We're probably going to have to move fast."
[K. R. J.] Kage sees the reluctance (touch [slight]) and she doesn't disregard it. Her gaze goes studious, but the study is focused on Ashley. Another beat. And: "There's always information, somewhere." A beat. And, "When it's found, if it's found: this won't make the Demon disappear. He'll still be a problem." A beat. "Just, look: it needs to be done quick -- they're on a time schedule, then so are we -- but it also needs to be done smart." A pause, a sigh:
"I'm still looking. My resources are limited; I should expand them." That was absent. That was idle. That was mind, turning away: wandering down another path. She brings it back. "The only other thing I want to add. Uhm. I got the impression that -- well. That the idea of 'Independence Day' was pleasing because it was particularly fitting? And that would only be pleasing to -- well. To the chained, to something -- that wasn't free; that wasn't independent. So I think the ... whatever, the Ever Thirsting. I think it's a key to something's chains. That it'll open a door."
"So on that note, if you find anything out, or something happens ... Let me know." A beat.
"You want more ice?"
[Ashley McGowen] It needs to be done smart. Kage has said that before. Kage said it to Ashley and Wharil, when they showed up outside her apartment, Ashley thinks. Kage worries that they'll rush headlong into things as they have in the past, perhaps.
"Sure," she says, of ice. She doesn't dwell on that comment of Kage's very long because she's thinking about the rest. "Independence Day occurred to me too," she says. "I'll see what I can find out. Maybe someone I know knows something." Bran and Justine, most likely, but there are others. And there are others that -they- know, with the influence they pull in Boston.
As Kage gets up to get ice the Hermetic sighs and draws her knees up, hugs them, thinks about what there is to be done. "Thanks for telling me," she says.
[K. R. J.] The Hermetic doesn't answer one way or another about the ice, so Kage assumes that, as her ice is melted, is a pool of liquid, so she snags her glass too. Refills both; ice is good on a humid day like this. Right now, Nathan Spriggs is leaving a we-gotta-talk and a remember-that-lead-I-mentioned-offhandedly message on Kage's voicemail.
Thanks, Ashley says, and Kage doesn't answer. Just: ice, clinking, in the kitchen - and then the return.
When she resettles, she says, "Sorry about this."
[Ashley McGowen] There's more ice clinking into the glasses, making their high pitched song as the cubes rattle inside, as Kage returns with the glasses. Ashley takes hers, pours more of the sangria into it, but doesn't drink immediately.
"Don't apologize," she says. "This is the way things are. I'll deal with it." There's a glass between her hands, and she's looking down into the red liquid, watching the way the fading light outside filters in, shines through it like stained glass.
Then she says, "It was my mother he had. Which...it's...it's hard. But I guess taking the fight out of us for a while was probably part of what he intended."
[K. R. J.] The Hermetic guesses that taking the fight out've the six who were invited was part've what was intended. Kage says, cool, "Emily was pretty shaken when I spoke to her. So was T.H." Then: "But that kind of gambit is - " a pause. Not awkward, not helpless: just vast. What's a word for foolish; what's a word for wrong?
Kage turns the glass around in her hands. Was Ashley's Mom that died. There's a space between that revelation and this question -- possibly the only question she'll ask. Kage is arrogant, Kage is self-assured, but Kage isn't a saint, and she sure as Hell doesn't always know what to say or do: "Did she see you?"
[Ashley McGowen] Ashley knows that Emily was shaken. The girl offered her futon to Ashley that night, put pajamas in her hands, told her to go and have a shower to wash away the blood that splattered her hands and her stomach and chest, residue from the bullet that slugged into her ribs and lodged somewhere in one of her organs.
Nathan, she didn't know was shaken, but it doesn't surprise her: she's seen Nathan rattled. The man showed up on her doorstep drinking himself half to death after he saw Dylan Willis shot, he waved a gun in Ashley's face for a misinterpreted joke after he was possessed. Ashley does not think much of Nathan's resilience for such things, or his Will, and it shows in that momentary wrinkle of her nose, the huff of air through her nostrils, as she takes a sip from her glass.
Kage asks, then, about her mother. Lost for words. Ashley looks down into her glass, looks away at the floor. Not at Kage. "I don't think so," Ashley says. "She was really scared. Looked like she was praying. But Solomon...he summoned the ghosts, to find out what they knew, and I had a chance to talk to her on Monday. Just for a few minutes, but..."
[K. R. J.] Brief pause. Infinitessimal, again. And then: "Was it okay?"
[Ashley McGowen] Ashley doesn't answer, at first. If it was hard for her to recall that night, it's equally hard for her to recall Monday evening, speaking to her mother and thinking These are the last words she's going to hear from me. Making sure they were good words, that she knew that she wasn't going to be trapped forever, hungering after all the things she wanted to say but didn't have time for.
"It was okay," she says. "She was really scared, at first. She told me she didn't regret having me, and that she was sorry she didn't try to get to know me better. She told me that they were still trapped by the demon, but Catherine's sheltering her and kind of...is letting her sleep until we free them and they can pass on. She asked me if it would be okay." She's speaking slowly, the kind of speaking someone does when they're trying to talk around food.
[K. R. J.] Kage takes this in: her jaw (delicate) tightens. Behind the drink: she has stopped turning it around; has it in front of her mouth. Her breath is condensation on the glass; a fog, unrevealing. Why? Because it's wrong and it horrifies her. She doesn't say anything.
[Ashley McGowen] Her mother's soul is trapped: limbo, she'd heard it described, a place where they were just...stuck. No doors, no windows to elsewhere, no way to pull themselves out of that insubstantial prison. Ashley knows that simply dealing with whatever plans with the cup, the chalice, won't do anything: her reasons for wanting to go after the demon are more than just simple revenge, though part of her is indeed furious, wants to lash out at something that hurt her, something that took something away from her.
She also doesn't know how to react to Kage's silence. There's a wandering gaze, wandering around the floor and the room to the window, a wondering whether she's said too much, and it brings her composure back together. She doesn't say anything either.
[K. R. J.] Kage wishes she knew more. This happens; this happens a lot. This wishfulness, this yearning; it's as familiar to her as the act of opening her eyes in the morning [groggy with nightmares... Will this day be different?]. But she wishes she knew more. It's this that keeps her quiet. This, and what do you say to a friend who's Mom's soul is held in purgatory by a demon? They don't make a Hallmark card for that [there aren't any poems, either]. Finally, finally: exhale, heartbeat: ticks. Kage says - " - okay. So maybe we'll have to give Independence Day another meaning. I'll see what I can turn up."
But Kage is also - believe it or not - an optimist. There's always a way, after all. Always.
[Ashley McGowen] Kage says she'll see what she can turn up, and Ashley knows she means what she says, that she wants to help, that she will look. In spite of how aloof Ashley can be, how difficult, how headstrong, a lot of people have been kind to her this week, in their own ways: some simply tried to cheer her up, some tried to share her grief and lessen it, Kage is promising to help. It's not something she expected.
"Thanks, Kage," she says, swirling most of a glass around the melting ice and then setting all of it aside. Ashley can't rightfully be called an optimist; she's simply determined to do things because she can't consider other options, because she will fight her hardest until she can't fight anymore. And she will be determined, likely tomorrow. After she's had time to shore herself up, to come to terms with things enough to put them aside.
[K. R. J.] Thanks, Kage, Ashley says. Kage's eyebrows draw together for a second; a line appears between them. Then her expression smooths out (more or less), and she lifts her shoulders. Not-quite-a-shrug.
Then: "If you want or need to talk about it. I mean, the personal stuff." That's all. It's followed by this: "Or. And. Want to play another game?" Another game, before Kage goes; she doesn't say it. A game is focus, a game is rosary beads. All those moves, manipulations.
[Ashley McGowen] "It wouldn't change anything," Ashley says, of personal things, of things she could say to get off her chest but that would ultimately still be there. She'd still feel them. Ashley isn't the sort who draws any great comfort from other people knowing how she feels just to know.
"But we should play."
[K. R. J.] [Play Well? +1 diff 'cos, uh. Sangria + Doomnews.]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 6, 7, 8, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 7)
[Ashley McGowen] [Leeeeeeeet's see about this.]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 4, 4, 4, 7 (Success x 1 at target 7)
[Ashley McGowen] [Rematch!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 4, 6, 6, 9 (Success x 1 at target 7)
[K. R. J.] [Re-match?]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 4, 6, 10 (Success x 1 at target 7)
[Ashley McGowen] [Ties are dumb.]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 7)
[K. R. J.] [You can't tie in chess!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 7)
[Ashley McGowen] [Argh! Just admit defeat, Orphan!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 3, 6, 6, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 7)
[K. R. J.] [-_- Whatchoo call me?]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 6, 6, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 7)
[K. R. J.] [roll credits]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 4, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Ashley McGowen] [Oh yeah. Have I slept?]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 7, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[K. R. J.] The pavement is wet. The air is wet, too. When -- slam! -- K. R. J. shuts the door of her (monster [monstrous]) black truck and alights (hops [falls]) down to ground level the air is waiting, to wrap itself around her, river-soaked, lake-soaked, pool-soaked linen for the sacrifice, the hint of what it'll be later on in the week: a smothering piece of banshee laundry, a slap in the face, air as a strength-sapping blanket. Her hair is pulled up, pinned with express orders not to fall down today and tumble around her ears. The back of her neck is bare. She has a flat messenger bag, today, something in dull olive, which one would think brought out the green in her eyes, if one was thinking logically, and without factoring in the dark grey of the pavement, of the sky, the water in the air, in which case one realizes that her eyes are dark today, the inscrutable color, the not-quite-definable hazel, until she slants a glance just so, catches a stray shard of illumination from somewhere, and candesces.
Sort've like now. Kage, whilst walking to the door of Ashley's apartment building, snaps open her cellphone, puts it to her ear, Ashley's number dialed, dialling, ringing, and there are two girls and a skinny, scrawny-looking guy clustered by the stairs to the entrance, and when she raises her eyebrows at them, one of the girls grins (goofily [hello]) at Kage, gives the door the it's ajar nod, and she opens it. Goes up.
You'd think that this was a spur-of-the-moment visit.
It is not.
[K. R. J.] [and uh, awareness, I guess? just in case EVIL THINGS are lurking? we know they aren't, but they COULD BE.]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 5, 8, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Ashley McGowen] Up until today, Ashley had hardly slept since last Saturday night. It came in short spurts, an hour or two long, and generally she's been too upset, stomach tied in knots, chest weighed down by the world. K. R. comes calling, and Ashley is still asleep.
Zane isn't happy about this. The dog has been lying in front of his dish for the past few hours, his cold black nose pressed into the edge as though he, too, could Will his food to appear if he got Hungry enough. Nothing ever does, and the Hermetic is curled up on the couch, dead to the world. Peaceful, for the first time in days, regardless of what time it is.
It's only on the third or fourth ring that she hears the buzzing up on the armrest - feels it, more like, distantly, through the light haze of a dream. There's a tiny earthquake, in the dream world. Ashley startles awake, blinks, and then pats around for the phone.
The voice at the other end sounds appropriately drowsy. "Hello? Kage?"
[K. R. J.] Doesn't bother with a yes. Succinct. "I woke you up. Is this a bad time? Because I'm writing pithy messages in the grime on your front door, but I can cool my heels at the coffee shop instead." There may or may not be actual pithy messages being traced in the grime on Ashley's front door. Just as there may or may not be actual grime.
[Ashley McGowen] Ashley's front door is a solid wood one, and there is in fact no grime: the apartment was renovated last year, just before she moved in. It was one of the things that drew her to the place.
There's a silence on the other end of the phone, the sort of confused haze that envelopes one when they've been asleep for much longer than intended, out of normal rhythm. She's trying to remember what time it is, what day it is. A glance at the clock on the wall confirms that her sleep schedule is now fucked beyond measure.
"No. You can come in." So she gets up to go and unlock her apartment door for Kage, and in between the hangup and her arrival, rattles food into the dog's bowl. He's happily crunching by the time Kage walks in.
[K. R. J.] "Hungry?" she says, stepping across the threshold, into the Hermetic's apartment. The Orphan glances around. Her expression is pensive, unwary; as open as it ever is. Untarnished.
It's late afternoon. The light doesn't slant into the hallway outside Ashley's apartment, but perhaps it comes through a window, somewhere. The light'd be amber, like honey-wine; it'd fall against the glass, against curtains or blinds, like condensed milk -- a thick, curdling thing, where it manages to break through the [ominous] clouds. Zane crunching on dog food is a loud thing, heard in the hall. Naturally, the red-haired Orphan's gaze is drawn toward the intent dog. She doesn't slide her hands into her pockets. She stands at ease, neither sitting, or going to (her usual spot [she has a usual spot]) the kitchen's counter.
The cellphone's out of mind and out of sight, just like it never was. Technology: Kage? She's innocent, they'll tell you, innocent!
[Ashley McGowen] It's late afternoon, and the light pours like honey over the couches and chairs at the center of the living area, mixing gold into the browns and reds and creams that paint the place. It falls over the couch that Ashley had, up until a few minutes ago, been sleeping in, has left the worn leather pleasantly warm in some spots and sticky-hot in others. There's a faint sheen of moisture on Ashley's forehead lying beneath the fall of dark hair.
Ashley, who looks better today than she has over the past few days, though Kage wouldn't know it - she's slept, finally, managed to Will herself into something deep and lasting - just eyes the Orphan for a few moments. Grief hasn't etched itself over her features, or if it did, it's gone now, tucked away in a box somewhere. Partitioned and compartmentalized. She's good at that, Ashley.
"Yeah, a little," she tells Kage, without a great deal of enthusiasm. "Did you have something in mind?"
[K. R. J.] This isn't the first time Kage has come over when Ashley was (or should be [or was expected to be]) at low ebb. The first time she visited Ashley's apartment in Chicago, Ashley'd been Jhor-riddled and fresh from memories of Hell. Wharil'd told her that Ashley was doing poorly. Noone's told Kage that this time. They've eluded to a dead loved one. The let's call them informants have each been wrapped up in their own regret, misery, worries, and yet still, in their own way, they've each tried to be sensitive and respectful. A red flag, especially when it came to the Cultist of Ecstasy.
But even with that: Kage, while attentive, and clearly so: intent and watchful, but not intense, isn't looking at Ashley, trying to pick out salt-tracks on her cheeks, black bags under her eyes, lines on her wrists where she's been cutting herself. She isn't looking for the signs of grief, made clear on the one-eyed girl's face. She's looking at Ashley the way she always looks at Ashley: with attention, like a look could also listen, like clarity was a byword, a watchword, like a watchword was a glance, studious. Something like that.
She isn't trying to find a box, open it.
"That really depends," she says, mouth quirking. "Do you want to stay in, or go out?" A beat, and, "I know you've had a shitty week, so I'll leave the decision up to you, without undo influence from me." Her eyebrows flick upwards; maybe she thinks that Ashley'll jump all over going out, when it's put like that. Maybe she has food tucked away in her bag. Doesn't she always come bearing food-gifts? Even the few times she's gone to the chantry [that Ashley knows about] she's brought food: cookies, tea.
[Ashley McGowen] Ashley has always found Kage's food-gifts a little odd, really: it's like offering tribute, particularly when brought to the chantry. To the Traditionalists she stands apart from, stubborn bastion. Maybe that's why she offers it: she did package a memory, offer it up on a silver platter to draw Ashley's attention away from the rest.
Kage knows she's had a shitty week, and that means Kage knows. Ashley's gaze tracks over to her, finds her, and it isn't inquiring: Ashley suspects that people have been talking about a small woman in a glass cage, mousey and dark haired and with that same mouth, the same chin and nose. (Gone, now, went to Boston wrapped in one of Solomon's bodybags. It was like getting a glimpse of her own end in thirty years. Maybe she'll live that long.)
"I want to stay in," she tells Kage. Drops a hand down to Zane's head, his ears. She's been out all week: the dog is clingy. Dogs are. "We can order Thai or pizza or something."
[K. R. J.] "Do you have any left-overs or pizza-dough? We could experiment. This is a building full of college students, isn't it."
It's clear from the lack-of-questioning lilt to that question that Kage is considering raiding some of Ashley's neighbor's freezers and putting together who-knows-what. The oven works, doesn't it? In theory? Or are there books? There are books in Kage's fireplace when it isn't winter, and in Spring, her electric stove sometimes gets left open, plants put inside where they can get light from the kitchen window.
When Zane stops crunching on his food and comes over to investigate Ashley, and Ashley's continued presence in the apartment, Kage has one of her almost smiles, one of her not-quite-yet expressions, something imminent, something ready-to-dawn, but un-dawned.
[Ashley McGowen] "I don't have any pizza dough, but I have raw ingredients lying around," Ashley says, with a glance toward the kitchen. Usually they are eaten raw, or kept in the cabinet in the vain hope that some day she will learn to cook and use them. She never really has.
"I don't cook much, either. So experimentation might turn into us getting delivery anyway, just so you know," Ashley says, with a bit of a smirk as she heads toward her refrigerator to investigate. To see whether she does indeed have enough Things that could potentially become Food at a later date. Zane follows her, his toenails clicking on the floor.
[K. R. J.] [Because never get to roll this in Mage, stealthy!Kage? Ninja-ing it up?]
[K. R. J.] "But it will be more satisfying delivery," Kage says. "Worked for," she says, and, "Deserved." The red-haired woman walks into the living room proper, sets her bag down by the coffee table, on top of the coffee table, shoulder strap trailing toward the hardwood floors. Hardwood floors are difficult to walk quietly on. They meet each step a foot takes like it's a moment for sound, like it's a moment to say, hey, here, listen to be, listen to how I slide, listen to how I can whisper, listen to the music this dead tree makes, except not so much for Kage. The almost-carelessly composed, self-assured woman is a walking shadow, and she noiselessly rejoins Ashley in the kitchen. Not at her counter, but popping around Ashley's side, to also peer into the refrigerator for inspiration.
[Ashley McGowen] Kage and Ashley find: roma tomatoes, three. Two eggs. Some clementine oranges. A box of whole wheat pasta. Two percent milk. Some goat cheese. A small amount of frozen chicken, and a bag of Macintosh apples.
Ashley sets them on the counter in front of the Orphan and gestures toward them, amused. "All right," she says, "I'm going to trust you not to poison me."
[K. R. J.] [Come Up With Something Awesome, Kage? Intelligence!]
[K. R. J.] [Dex+Perf? Uhm. Badass Cutting-Stuff Flourish? Or hospitalization imminent?]
[K. R. J.] "There will be no more poison involved in this wholesome activity," Kage says, and when she finds a knife to cut with, she twirls it with ([un]muted flamboyance) rakishness. "At least, not on purpose. Should a test subject be needed in the initial 'taste' segment of this experiment, I don't think I've yet come around when there weren't people bumming around your apartment's front door.
"We'll, er, make a marinade for the chicken," Kage says, and the clementine oranges and apples'll do for that, with the judicious addition of some honey and spices, cloves and cardamom, "And uh, chop it up and put it into pasta after it's cooked. With the goat cheese. Apple slice son top, and it sounds fancy, yeah? Crack an egg over the pasta to make it rich." Kage is peeling an apple now, without breaking the skin. Careful of her thumb.
If Ashley isn't also cutting something by now, Kage raises an eyebrow at her, very, Come on, I know you have hands.
[Ashley McGowen] [Man, I don't ever use knives. Dex!]
[Ashley McGowen] "They're grad students, they wouldn't refuse food," Ashley says, of nefarious experiments on her neighbors.
The Hermetic looks impressed as Kage tells her what she intends to cook, like she might if Kage were telling her about some bit of magic or technique she'd never before heard of. Kage raises her eyebrows at Ashley before the Hermetic takes up one of the knives and assists in chopping. There are no flourishes: Ashley wasn't kidding when she said she doesn't cook much. She has to be careful.
Ashley's quieter than usual. This is a welcome break from the week, so she's not letting her thoughts stray: Kage already knows what happened, anyway.
[K. R. J.] Kage does know what happened. Nathan was almost exhaustive in his detail. The detail she's curious about, though; the detail she hasn't asked about, yet, but will eventually, as soon as she figures out how, well: that's the thing Ashley probably doesn't want to say again, doesn't want to talk about. Kage knows what happened, and has opinions; she doesn't know who Ashley lost. Just that she did lose.
This isn't like Emily, worried that she was too dirty, too besmirched, to join a Tradition she felt herself drawn toward now that she'd snuffed out a life [first time (no longer a civilian)]. That was comparatively easy.
"Heh," she says, after she has peeled a couple of apples, cut them like a Master-chef, more-or-emphasis-on-less. "When you were little, did you ever do that girly superstition -- throw an unbroken peel over your shoulder, it'll break into the initials of your true love?" She smirks. "My friend had a bang-up business in Apple Peel Interpretation"
There's more to do than just chopping. There's pre-heating and figuring out a substitute for a marinade brush and heating what-will-be-the-marinade up and making oven-appropriate dishes out of tinfoil. It's gotta be done, so it's done.
[Ashley McGowen] Ashley has to be directed to do such things, pointed at them and released, but she is at least aware of -how- to use things like the stove and the oven. She isn't quite that unfamiliar.
The apple peels and the apple slices are in rough, uneven chunks, with more apple clinging to the cast-away skin in some places than in others, but one gets used to using a knife. She looks up, glances at Kage, amused, as she mentions the apple peels and childhood superstitions.
"No," she says, "I haven't heard of that. Kids would just chase each other down with those little paper mouths - " she cups index fingers and thumb together, to demonstrate - "and write numbers and names on them and stuff. I always hid because I thought I could decide what my fortune was only until someone else told me."
[K. R. J.] "I remember those," Kage says, when Ashley cups her fingers together, demonstrates the shape. "They were like - puppet dragon mouths." A beat, and, not-quite-wry, corner of her mouth curving more: "Did anyone ever manage to tell you, or did they give up?" A moment, pensive. Then: "What about Light as a Feather, Stiff as a Board or Bloody Mary - did you ever play those?"
When one takes a moment to consider it, it's really amazing the number of [magical realist] superstitions that are still active, thriving, in elementary schools and junior high schools across the Nation. The Consensus has to work to rob them of their power.
[Ashley McGowen] "It sort of turned into a game with a friend of mine," Ashley says, her mouth quirking as she starts to peel one of the oranges. They separate easily, clementines, don't need a shell to tell them what to be. Or protect them, for that matter, though they're easy to pull apart into segments after that's done. There's a little pile forming near Kage. "She'd try to surprise me with it. I'd turn around during recess and it'd be crinkling next to my ear."
She hasn't considered the heretofore untapped potential of exposing children to magic. It's likely she won't: while many groups in the Order of Hermes do it, Ashley prefers that people fight to Awaken. It's the right way.
"We did those," she says, "and then there was this one game where there were ghosts, and they'd gradually be able to do less as you counted away from midnight? I forget how it's played."
[K. R. J.] "I used to have bad dreams," Kage says, end statement. But wait: "I stayed awake once for six days -- I was a stubborn kid -- because I saw candles burning in my Mom and Dad's bathroom. Which I wasn't supposed to ever go into, mind you. I couldn't find them right after, so I thought they'd got taken into the mirror by Bloody Mary. The fact that Dad made dinner like usual and Mom was there didn't really convince me otherwise."
Then: "Kid games were fun, although it's less likely I'd kick your ass so thoroughly at them." Man: guileless Kage is guileful. She says this deadpan, straight-faced. Less likely, than, say: a game of chess.
[Ashley McGowen] Kage offers up this bit of childhood horror and lying awake sleepless nights, and Ashley glances up and over at the Orphan, there on her right. She has never been afraid of the dark, or the things that might lurk there. "I was convinced there was a ghost in the hall closet," she says. "I used to try to go in and talk to it and convince it to come out."
Kage is guileful but that chess match (and losing it) is still a tender point with the Hermetic, apparently. She assures Kage, "We'll be rematching."
[K. R. J.] "What convinced you? The texture of darkness?" A beat, and: Kage hands Ashley the marinade-to-be for some last-minute beating, thickening: it thickens as she forks it up, whisks it into molasses, honey-clings to fork, spices are like devil-freckles. Kage separates the chicken, dutiful. Puts the goat-cheese off to the side, so that it'll be soft when needed.
We'll be rematching, Ashley says, and the Orphan raises an eyebrow. Then: "Maybe while the chicken cooks."
[Ashley McGowen] Ashley takes the bowl, takes the fork, and thrashes it together as Kage separates the still-frozen bits of meat. There's a whisper of fur against the floor, inaudible to Ashley's ears (too soft) but likely heard by Kage's: a canine shape inching closer in the vain hope that she's going to drop some, now that he's noticed what it is she's handling. "I think the way the light used to fall on the things inside at night," Ashley says. "My, um, my mother, she used to leave doors and cabinets and drawers open all the time while she went to go do something."
Who knows. Maybe there really was a ghost. This is, after all, the world they live in.
There's a glance to the side, a flash of blue indignance as Kage makes her reply. "It would take longer than that," she says.
[K. R. J.] [Uh, Dex? Not gonna drop chicken no way!]
[K. R. J.] "She and my mom can bond over that," Kage says, mouth crooking. "Mom left some drawers in the kitchen open one night, forgot to shut them, because she was doing something in the garage... and Janet accidentally dinged into one when she was sneaking back into the house, had to get stitches. I didn't find out until the next morning, because I was asleep. They'd left some blood on the drawer, though. I went all Nancy Drew."
Now, Kage. Kage is not actually a competitive person. When she's playing a game, when her work is to be shown against another's, she rarely thinks in terms of defeating the other person, in terms of being better than them. This isn't because she's a good person, because she just wants everybody to have fun. It's because they don't signify; the fact that it's a competition is nice, somebody to talk to, but it isn't the point to Kage.
That isn't to say there aren't a few people who, if she beat them at (their own, preferably) any game, she wouldn't be irrepressibly pleased, wouldn't make a few comments, wouldn't gloat.
Those people just happen to be very, very few.
So, It would take longer than that, Ashley says, and Kage says, "You think so, huh? We'll see." There isn't any real goading or real arrogance there. Her tone is mild; she's saying it to whip up Ashley's spirit of competition, probably.
[Ashley McGowen] [Ouch]
[Ashley McGowen] She and my mom can bond over that, says Kage, and it occurs to Ashley right then that she does -not- know the entirety of what happened last Saturday night. Maybe all her informants told her was that they went and met a demon, that there were people they saved and some they couldn't, maybe they told her Ashley was shot. There could be a lot of reasons why Kage would have concluded that Ashley had a shitty week.
Either way, the Hermetic manages to keep her face from falling. Lies might not be easy for her, but stoicism, confidence, is: it's through overawing and overpowering that she can manage these things. Ashley's throat clicks a little while she swallows, and she sets the bowl aside once everything is mixed.
"You got lucky," she says, after a few seconds.
[K. R. J.] [uhm. am I keen and sensitive, or is all my skill going into keeping Zane from getting the chicken?]
[Ashley McGowen] [You are not sensitive enough!]
[K. R. J.] [Too much on the mind to notice little tells like a topic dropped? Yeah?]
[Ashley McGowen] [Nooo]
[K. R. J.] [Eh? ... *WP TO END IT* *unless the WP gives a tie, then NO WP!*]
[K. R. J.] There are (generally) numerous reasons one might have to conclude that another mage in Chicago is having a shitty week, or has just had a shitty week, or is about to have a shitty week. Indeed, the weeks are getting darker, as summer waxes toward its own precipice [Independence Day, how fitting. How right.] and all the lightning-wreathed golden-haze days of before. The Orphan mentioned Ashley's mom without thinking about it; Ashley stays stoic. If Kage notices that Ashley didn't continue the topic, that there was something deliberate there, she doesn't mention it; it's likely she didn't notice at all. The stoics were an unspeaking bunch.
"Don't insult me," Kage says, mouth crooking, "Or yourself. Who wants to be done in by bad luck?" And Zane, big dog eyes, big dog heart, catches Kage's eye. She looks at him warily for a second, and then, "Er. Are there any dog treats, 'ley?"
[Ashley McGowen] Who wants to be done in by bad luck, Kage asks, and Ashley's expression doesn't waver. She's also not looking at Kage until the other woman brings her attention to the dog, who has sidled up next to them on the floor, whose enormous ears prick immediately when he hears Kage's mouth form the word 'treats.'
There's an expression that wants to be a smile struggling its way through a corner of her mouth. She gestures toward the cabinet in which the treats are kept, because usually people who ask these questions want to feed the dog themselves.
[K. R. J.] Ashley correctly deduces that Kage wants to give Zane a treat herself. The dog's ears prick and Kage's gaze returns to Ashley. She runs her hands under water, wipes them on the thighs of her jeans. Preparation-for-treat-giving, you know?
"Do you have any ziplock bags?"
[Ashley McGowen] "Yeah, I do." That's an odd question, one that gets a puzzled glance from the Hermetic before she reaches into one of the overhead cabinets, pulls free a small box of ziploc bags. She extends one of the bags toward Kage, casting a look from the redhead to the dog.
[K. R. J.] "Spoon all the marinade into it, then smoosh these chicken slices inside and, uh, close it, then punch it a few times, okay?" Those instructions given, she goes to the cabinet to liberate a treat for Zane.
[Ashley McGowen] Ashley is obedient about some things. The marinade is transferred inside the little bag, as is the raw chicken, and Ashley goes about sealing the bag, holding it up to make sure that it's tight before she...punches it as instructed. She doesn't want the marinade and raw meat all over the counter. The countertop rattles as her closed fist slams into it a few times.
Zane, who is not a dog that has been taught to dance for treats, to impugn his dignity, sits on the floor and waits with patient eyes. Once the chicken-mashing has been accomplished, Ashley leaves the bag on the counter for Kage to do with what she will.
[K. R. J.] As soon as Kage finds the box of treats, she takes one out, replaces the box where (precisely [exactly]) she found it, and crouches in order to give the dog his food. Her fingertips still smell like chicken; she trusts he shan't make a mistake. After the treat is gone, she'll give Zane a scratch behind the ears, pet his head, stand and say, "Chess?"
What they're going to do to the chicken now is, clearly, give it a few moments to get all soaked, before slipping it into the oven. This is probably why most people their age don't like to cook, unless they really like to cook. Takes a long time.
[Ashley McGowen] She's hungrier than she'd thought - after all, she was asleep for ten hours, and it's the early evening, when she would usually be going to get something to eat. Her schedule has spun out of control this week, and she can't recall when she last ate or what she had or how much of it. Stoic she may be, but Ashley doesn't cope with grief well, can't without losing track of herself.
Zane takes the biscuit rather delicately from Kage's fingers, no snapping or finger-nipping involved, and retreats behind the counter to go and crunch away at it. Ashley nods at Kage, retreating into her room to find her chess board and bring it back out, setting it down on the floor like when they played over a week ago.
The Hermetic settles onto the rug, arranging and placing the carved white and black soldiers in their corresponding squares.
[Ashley McGowen] [Grrrr. -Not- going to be a short match!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 5, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[K. R. J.] [Pft. Big words, short stuff! Big words.]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 7, 8 (Failure at target 6)
[K. R. J.] [er, and:]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Ashley McGowen] The Hermetic takes the white side of the board, draws a knee up against her chest while they play and wraps an arm around it, almost idly moving pieces. She's intent, when it comes to games; unlike Kage Ashley is deeply competitive, takes losing as a personal affront, as a sign of inadequacy and inferiority. While she manages to do it gracefully (years in a cutthroat competitive house will teach one that), inwardly she never takes it well.
So while Kage can't guess at much of what she's doing, she knows when she's been checkmated: Ashley beams, lets Kage figure out that the king's been trapped. And it isn't a long game, after all.
"My honor's been restored," Ashley says, cheerfully, and then there's a glance toward the kitchen. "Do you think things are ready?"
[K. R. J.] Ashley wins, and it puts her into a good mood, at least for a moment. Kage regards the board: dissatisfied, not with Ashley, but with her self. "Well," Kage says, still studying the board, probably thinking, damn, if only I hadn't done, if I'd instead, "I didn't want to keep it." Her mouth lilts up, a half-smirk; something sardonic in the cant of her eyebrows. And: Do you think things are ready?
"Let's check. Want to play again?" The question is asked over her shoulder, on the way back into the kitchen. At some point during the game, which wasn't long at all, Kage had stood up and laid chicken slices out on tinfoil pan and put them in the oven, and at some other point not too long ago, she'd started boiling water for pasta.
"Another ten minutes, I think," Kage says. It smells good, at least. That's gotta mean something, right?
[Ashley McGowen] It does smell good, and the Hermetic's stomach rumbles, loud and demanding, as she moves the pieces back into place to play again. If Ashley is closed off today, not communicating with Kage, it's not out of the desire not to share, it's not because she doesn't think the Orphan would be hurtful or make the situation worse.
Last night she laid out on a rooftop next to an Akashic beneath the stars and said: I know, I'm tired of being upset, and like most of her Words she doesn't bother to say the ones that she doesn't feel to be true. Reality is full of enough illusions.
"Sure, rematch," Ashley says, with the sort of smug assurance that must have driven Bran Summers to madness every time she beat -him- at something.
[My flag! Defending!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 5, 5, 7, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[K. R. J.] [I can... totally waste the WP! Let's not let Ashley get cocky.]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 5, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6) [WP]
[K. R. J.] [TEST!]
[K. R. J.] "I'll be reclaiming that honor," Kage says, once the White King is in check. Black Queen [once-pawn]. Her mouth crooks, and she presses her palm against her forehead. Then she winks at Ashley. While they were playing, Kage checked on the chicken again, gave it another five minutes, and after that five minutes, got up, took the chicken out, checked the water, brought it to a roiling boil, put the pasta in not long ago, now it's time for the pasta to come out, for the Roma tomatoes to be chopchopped, too bad there are no onions, for the egg to be cracked, mixed in, richness. All these last minute tells, done while playing. "Food?"
[Ashley McGowen] That smug grin has faded, but Ashley doesn't seem to be grousing, doesn't sulk and glower at the victor; she accepts the loss with as much grace as Ashley can accept the loss. Which is to say, she resolves to kick Kage's ass next time they play. There will be a next time. Preferably a lot of next times, and a lot of winning.
"You're a worthy opponent, Kage," she says, with an exaggerated air, as she gets up and follows the Orphan back to the kitchen.
[K. R. J.] "Did Casp...uh, Hannibal ever bring Natalee by? I beat her once," Kage says, with an air of false injury.
In the kitchen, "Hold this," she says, of a collander, and she pours the hot water and pasta in, steam rises, rises, Oracular, a veil, obscures the two Magi completely, then lifts. The pasta goes into the largest bowl Ashley has. If necessary, a couple of bowls. Then: the apple-and-clementine marinated chicken gets tossed within, the Roma tomato slices, the goat-cheese [starts to melt, contact]. "And now all that remains is to test it." Kage flicks an eyebrow at Ashley, a silent question: so-are-we-giving-to-the-bums-on-the-front-steps, or what?
[Ashley McGowen] Ashley holds the collander out with both hands as Kage pours the hot water through them, as noodles and steam cloud her vision for a few seconds, trusting that the Orphan won't accidentally douse her hands. "I met her once," Ashley says. "But I didn't know her well." Ashley's seen a lot of Hannibal, over the years. She's seen a lot of the associates he brought by, when she used to come and visit Bran (or sometimes Justine) after lessons.
"I'll test it," are the brave words from the Hermetic. Not the sort given to thrusting creations upon the unsuspecting: she will assume the risk of failure. So she takes a fork and a rather generous mound of it is transferred to her mouth, before Kage gets a nod. "Not bad, for salvage."
[K. R. J.] "Oh, good," Kage says, and then: "What are we drinking?" Kage doesn't suggest tea tonight. Maybe because it's just so damned humid outside. So muggy that she only wishes the mosquitos would realize how muggy it was and drown little bloodsucking bastards drown.
She takes her plate back to the living room and the coffee table, then settles down, ready to eat the fruits of their labor.
[Ashley McGowen] Kage asks what they're drinking like she doesn't want to drink tea, like she'd rather have something alcoholic, and Ashley glances toward her cabinet. Pauses for a moment. "I think I have stuff for sangria, let me check," she says, as Kage takes her plate out into the next room. A few seconds of rummaging in the refrigerator, and she's located club soda.
She spends a few minutes slicing fruit (which is mainly where she's gotten most of her experience with a knife, apparently - by drinking). Quiet, as she has been for much of the night. Several minutes later she returns with a pitcher and two glasses full of ice, the pitcher full of red wine and the sliced oranges and apples.
She's feeling quiet, and isn't generally the type to be bothered by silence, but it seems to be wearing on her today. So after she's poured and has taken a few bites, there's, "Settled well into being a Disciple?"
[K. R. J.] The question -- or perhaps just the topic -- surprises Kage. Disciple, now. Not just an initiate of the Mysteries; a disciple of the Mysteries (Mystery [Cult]). Deeper, deeper, and the scope of her horizons have become more liminal. Her eyes are dark, and liquid, and expressive; sometimes, what they express is clear, clearly readible, unambiguous. Sometimes not. Just now, pensive, something inward: musing.
" - settled well? Do you mean 'with grace' or 'with comfort'?" A beat. "I should ask you; after all, I'm not climbing a hierarchy. What do you think?" And then: "I feel Changed, but no different. Are you going to Seek again soon?"
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[K. R. J.] [Er, I don't actually know why there are dice. *takes them back*]
[Ashley McGowen] "I think you were ready to be a Disciple before you actually were," Ashley says. There's no change in tone when she says it, and this is characteristic of Ashley sometimes: I think becomes more a statement of fact, a simple acceptance of how things are. She says nothing more to Kage on the topic of her readiness, her comfort, her grace. She seems to think this is enough.
"I'm hoping to Seek again soon," she adds. "But we'll see." She's no longer feeling that destructive pull from her Avatar, or at least, it's no more destructive than it usually is. If the truth is to be told, Ashley is a little apprehensive.
[K. R. J.] Kage is self-contained -- who has seen her temper snap? Nathan; once. But even then: it wasn't irrevocable; it wasn't a blaze, a flare of unthinking, incautious action; it burned, but like a cold star. Give lie to the redhair. Kage also has a few elegant, demure mannerisms; they're often edged in something approaching flamboyance, or irreverence, but they are essentially: reserved. More lie, to the color of her hair: aren't redheads supposed to be a little wild? A little unlucky? A little fiery? Shows what the world knows.
Kage is, however, a creature of deep passions, and she feels things: intently, intensely; that's probaby why, when Ashley surprises her again, her cheeks go all bright, and the brightness darkens her eyes, gives them a sparkle, a gleam, a glint. Or maybe that's the sangria, which she pours out, ice-caves, falls, and - yeah. Maybe it's that. She smiles - briefly - at Ashley, anyway, from behind her cup.
And then: "You don't have that blight any longer. I don't think it will be the same this time."
[Ashley McGowen] Ashley hasn't seen Kage angry. She's seen her upset, a few times. The once: coming into Ashley's apartment briefly after they'd just started speaking again, speaking of black-road beads and the fall of a Visionary, skin pale and her back straight like a bulwark against the darkness she'd found in what she calls the White Fence house. She napped on Ashley's couch that night before she was able to leave.
That said, Ashley has gotten passable at reading Kage in spite of how self-contained she is. Or, at least, she knows what is a smile and what is not, knows that a real smile lights up Kage's eyes and brings grace to her features. She catches the look from behind the cup.
She takes a sip from her own before she answers Kage. "It will probably be different," she agrees. "But I've...I mean. I've changed a lot in the past year. I'm a little worried that all that change is going to mean I run up against it and it won't let me pass on." She's worried, but her tone isn't that of someone that will bend: she does her own Will, after all. If it means she's consigned to life as a Disciple, well...
[K. R. J.] "Why? Because there's been so much of it? Because you don't know who you are now? Because it will say: No, you need to stay, go through another couple of revolutions?" A forkful of pasta and chicken and goatcheese, oh my. An apple slice, too. The peels were not thrown over her shoulder.
[Ashley McGowen] "All of those, really," Ashley says, after she's had a moment to chew thoughtfully. It's a different mix of tastes, the fruit with the pasta with the goatcheese, but it's not unpleasant by far. Right now her thoughts are cast over the past year, though, all of the changes there have been, all of the places she has gone and the ways in which she's become her Word. It's a different path than she'd anticipated.
"Like I...I don't know. When I think about who I was when I came to Chicago I barely even recognize that person. And I know that the change hasn't been -that- drastic, but given that it hasn't been that long it just..." A shrug, here. She has weathered a lot, but at the very least Ashley knows: she remains Hunger, and she will always be hungry, and while the nuances of that might change when broken down she is still the same person.
"I don't know if I've changed in the way my Avatar would want, is more it. But I've changed in the way -I- want, so it's a moot point."
[K. R. J.] "Your serpent is old," Kage says, after a moment's thought, a moment of quietude. Her glance stays on Ashley. "I think with age comes an element of patience, of cunning, that we aren't -- that's hard to compass. You still want to devour the world, don't you?" Her mouth quirks, no humor; an almost smile (almost moonlight). "You still want to know things? You're still driven to take them in? I don't think you're changing in a way that isn't what your Avatar would want, necessarily. Maybe you're limiting your Avatar; what it wants. Maybe it wants more than you've seen it want so far. That's what you need to find." A beat, a pause, and, "Maybe."
Kage: she mythologizes the world.
[Ashley McGowen] "Maybe," Ashley echoes, and she is giving some genuine thought to this. Her Avatar is a powerful one, but what it wants can be open to interpretation: Ashley doesn't always know, she just feels. She's just driven. Kage knows; she felt that hunger, that ache, for however long Ashley let her glimpse it when she told her the story of Catherine.
"I guess the only way to know for sure is to Seek and see."
[K. R. J.] [Doo-dee-doo?]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 5, 6, 7, 7 (Success x 1 at target 7)
[K. R. J.] There is a pause. The pause is long. The pause gets filled with: sangria, pasta. More sangria. The fruit is good. Kage glances down at her knee, at her jeans, leans against one elbow. The pause is a silence. The silence is a pause. There are things Kage needs to say, but she's reluctant to do the deed right now: so she doesn't. Yet still, the pause; she doesn't let it seem awkward. Or tries not to. No indication: just smooth sailing, like all those sailors, lost in frozen seas, going forward. Ahem:
"Last time, It came to you, didn't it? I mean, you didn't actually -- meditate or contemplate a word until you were in that place with the tower, right? Next time, maybe try to storm the gates."
[Ashley McGowen] There are things Ashley probably should say. She doesn't know whether Kage knows about what happened, that there's a demon out, that it's trying to close jaws on Chicago: another Disciple should know about this. Her friend should know about this. But she, too, is reluctant to thrust the blade, not when they've been having a good evening, when there's been chess and when they can triumphantly devour an experiment and say hey, this isn't terrible. Actually it's pretty good.
She would think that now that she's talked about it a few times this week, said those words a few times, it would have made them easier to say. Such is not the case. She keeps wavering, wondering which time will be the last time she'll have to say them.
"Yeah, it came to me last time," she says. "So you're probably right. I can call it when I want to - so maybe after all of this is taken care of," and a vague gesture out the window, "I'll chase it down."
[K. R. J.] "After July 4th, then," Kage says, after an infinitessimal hesitation. Her plate, she puts it aside.
[Ashley McGowen] July Fourth, says Kage, and Ashley glances up from her own plate, after forking the last mouthful up and into her mouth. That glance is uncomprehending for a few seconds while she chews, and then, a beat later, melds into understanding.
Her plate, too, is pushed aside.
A sip from her glass manages to keep up a facade of nonchalance, one that will likely fall away very soon. "What's happening July Fourth?"
[K. R. J.] Kage has a slim throat: feminine, lovely; sharp collar-bones. She could do with more meat on her bones. She swallows; shadows shift. "Well," she says, still poised. Her gaze goes abstracted for a moment -- distant; not pensive so much as occluded [full (brimming)]. "That depends," she says. "But money's on 'nothing good.'" A beat.
"So. I heard a lot of what happened on Saturday. T.H. is pretty detail-orientated. He didn't tell me who," a glance, for Ashley; then a glance away, at, say, Zane, or Zane's tail, something handy. Kage is cool, level-headed, steady. "But anyway, I started trying to figure out things for myself."
[Ashley McGowen] Ashley's eyes find the window, and the definition of the Hermetic's jaw wavers a moment, works, as though for a moment she might tell Kage who. But that is left aside, left in its box just for a little while, because Kage is talking about July the fourth, about problems the city is going to have, and that is more important than who Ashley lost.
She's the deacon now.
"What did you see?" This, careful. She assumes it was a Seeing and not a Finding, from what she knows of Kage and what she knows of what Kage knows. From that, and because the demon didn't invite her, hasn't troubled her so far.
[K. R. J.] "Heh. First what I found."
Kage isn't telling Ashley this because she is the Deacon. Kage isn't even telling Ashley this because she likes Ashley, because she respects her as much as she respects any Traditionalist. She's telling Ashley this because it's important. Because she doesn't believe that it should be a secret. Because Ashley is intelligent. Because it does no good bottled up, sealed beneath her tongue: a letter without a word, a word without breath.
"I was focusing on this object that he -- it? -- wants. 'Only you can prevent forest fires,' and all that jazz." A beat. "I found reference to the 'Twilight Star' in [obscure name: Kage is an academic like that]'s history in [obscure date: imperfect, placing it at ______] Crusade. A group of Semitics planned - supposedly - to wield its power, kick some Moslem and Christian ass, save the Holiest City. Another name, another reference, years later: La Siempre Sedienta, the Ever Thirsting, a relic of an indigenous people of Central America. Blood sacrifices offered.
"I dropped Wharil a line, actually. As I recall, he's good with that region of the continent. I thought he might be able to dig up more perspective. I mean, this thing: fleeting maybe-references to a lot of the infamous. General Karl Haushofer made reference to it. He may've attained it from George Gurdjieff. Another name: Danaergeschenk Seula." Her accent is better with the German than it is the Hebrew or the Spanish. "The Poisoned Chalice of Souls."
"Just lovely, right? Some of his contemporaries think he managed to acquire it. Some of his contemporaries think that he gave it to his son. His son, who escaped to South America at the end of the war. Next mention: some oil tycoon named Emile VanBuren who liked toys, interesting antiquities, things with power, he bragged about having it. Refused to show proof, so there's a lot of skepticism." Academics and collectors and internet trolls are alike in some respects.
"His son died. His estate was divided by a trusted friend - no name, yet - and that's where that trail runs cold. With me so far?"
It's only been a week. Give Kage more time.
[Ashley McGowen] They're both highly academic people. Ashley's focus is in sociology, in philosophy - but both of those things require a healthy knowledge of history. They also, from time to time, require a healthy knowledge of the obscure. She listens to Kage, gaze flickering while she takes it all in, absorbs it, does her best to stay on the trail through all of its twists and turns and zigzags. Relentlessly pursues the point.
"I'm with you," she says, giving Kage a nod. There's curiosity there now, of course, vast and insatiable, because as dangerous as this topic is, as painful as dealing with all of this has been, there has been a lot of room for discovery too.
[K. R. J.] "Okay. I also looked into the club." A beat. By looked into the club, she means: went there, inquired; hung out, saw some strippers, schmoozed. Kage does not have arcane, but she can get around. She doesn't elaborate on how. Of course, she doesn't choose this moment to ask Ashley what she was thinking, just meeting up with everybody ten minutes before, doesn't ask the pointed question. "But there was nothing there that I've been able to uncover there. No - no sudden changes in staff; no one who'd been sick; no regulars, unseen for a while. Just this general difficult-to-capture air -- not even a rumor, you know? Just a mood -- of things gone to ground, working. Working, under ground. You know? Does that make sense? A busy quiet."
Another beat. Kage loosens her hair. Presses the side of the glass against her cheek. Cool, cold ice and cold, cool glass. The ice is melting.
[Ashley McGowen] It hasn't occurred to Ashley to go back and check out the club yet. If the demon had intended to put her out of commission by doing what he did, if he'd intended it as a means of rattling them - it worked. Ashley has berated herself several times for this through the week, but in the end, sometimes she isn't as superhuman as she would like to be. Or maybe she doesn't really want it after all: maybe she doesn't Will it because she knows what lies that way.
Her ice is melting too. It makes her drink a little faster. "So where did you look after that?"
[K. R. J.] "I was going to use a map of the city," Kage says, distant; removed from the event. "But instead - "
This conversation happens on Friday; Kage found out about what happened on Monday. She spent Father's Day at her family's house, and a sizable portion of that time in the treehouse out back which had been her Mom's project back when Kage was nine or ten. The treehouse had almost burned down once when the tree was struck by lightning; the lightning didn't stay, though: it writhed, like a nest of white thorns, of radiant snakes, a crown of spikes, then blossomed into flame, and then was put out by Kage's dad, on hand with a hose. It had been a decent day. Ashley wants to know where Kage looked next.
"I learned this," she says: "This cup. This chalice. It'll be used to fill up with Shadow, to catch the Shadow of the Red Star. What this means precisely, I'm still unclear, but I don't think I'm jumping to conclusions when I say: Nothing Good. And it's a time crunch thing -- has to happen when the moon is just so, when the Red Star is just so, and the best time for this is July Fourth." A beat. "Also," another beat. "He already has it, 'ley. He just doesn't need it yet. But it's his."
[Ashley McGowen] Many people would scoff at such predictions, at these tellings of doom, at what might be a coming apocalypse. Not many of those people are mages. Ashley listens to what Kage tells her, gaze intent, and what -exactly- all of it means doesn't matter to her.
"Then we're going to have to get it from him," Ashley says, "before the Fourth." Privately she has a moment where she's berating herself for wasting time, for slumping around the city all week when she could have been figuring this out. When they could have been moving. She doesn't dwell on it long.
"Emily got a hold of one of the cards he gave to each of us at the meeting, and I was going to try to track him with it, but Solomon suggested against it. We'll have to use some other means of finding him."
[K. R. J.] Kage shakes her head. "I think the focus should be on where it is. Where he's keeping it. Do you think he'd keep it on him? If so, the one will lead to the other. If not, then: great. Steal it away, keep it the fuck untouched on July Fourth. So: on his person? Or hidden somewhere, protected?" A brief pause, and then: "It's an object in space. Perhaps Atlas would have some perspective on how to scan the city for something like that. Some, uh, weird invention that can hunt down the Powerful resonance beneath -- I don't know. I'm not a Gentleman Inventor for a reason, but," a shrug, then -- it looks easy. The glass, she finally puts that down, circling the lip of it with her fingertip.
[Ashley McGowen] Ashley nods, at this. A touch reluctant: because she wants to find him too. She wants to have a reason to go after him, beyond the reason she already has. She wants a reason to do something she knows is risky, is reckless.
She'll probably do it anyway. She just won't feel as comfortable doing it.
"You're right," she says. "We should find it as soon as possible. I could probably...if I could get an -idea- of what I'm looking for, I might be able to locate it with the Ars Conjunctionis. Maybe if I can figure out its True Name, then..." She muses, fingertips resting on the edge of her glass. "I'll see if anyone else knows anything and do some research on my own. But yeah. We're probably going to have to move fast."
[K. R. J.] Kage sees the reluctance (touch [slight]) and she doesn't disregard it. Her gaze goes studious, but the study is focused on Ashley. Another beat. And: "There's always information, somewhere." A beat. And, "When it's found, if it's found: this won't make the Demon disappear. He'll still be a problem." A beat. "Just, look: it needs to be done quick -- they're on a time schedule, then so are we -- but it also needs to be done smart." A pause, a sigh:
"I'm still looking. My resources are limited; I should expand them." That was absent. That was idle. That was mind, turning away: wandering down another path. She brings it back. "The only other thing I want to add. Uhm. I got the impression that -- well. That the idea of 'Independence Day' was pleasing because it was particularly fitting? And that would only be pleasing to -- well. To the chained, to something -- that wasn't free; that wasn't independent. So I think the ... whatever, the Ever Thirsting. I think it's a key to something's chains. That it'll open a door."
"So on that note, if you find anything out, or something happens ... Let me know." A beat.
"You want more ice?"
[Ashley McGowen] It needs to be done smart. Kage has said that before. Kage said it to Ashley and Wharil, when they showed up outside her apartment, Ashley thinks. Kage worries that they'll rush headlong into things as they have in the past, perhaps.
"Sure," she says, of ice. She doesn't dwell on that comment of Kage's very long because she's thinking about the rest. "Independence Day occurred to me too," she says. "I'll see what I can find out. Maybe someone I know knows something." Bran and Justine, most likely, but there are others. And there are others that -they- know, with the influence they pull in Boston.
As Kage gets up to get ice the Hermetic sighs and draws her knees up, hugs them, thinks about what there is to be done. "Thanks for telling me," she says.
[K. R. J.] The Hermetic doesn't answer one way or another about the ice, so Kage assumes that, as her ice is melted, is a pool of liquid, so she snags her glass too. Refills both; ice is good on a humid day like this. Right now, Nathan Spriggs is leaving a we-gotta-talk and a remember-that-lead-I-mentioned-offhandedly message on Kage's voicemail.
Thanks, Ashley says, and Kage doesn't answer. Just: ice, clinking, in the kitchen - and then the return.
When she resettles, she says, "Sorry about this."
[Ashley McGowen] There's more ice clinking into the glasses, making their high pitched song as the cubes rattle inside, as Kage returns with the glasses. Ashley takes hers, pours more of the sangria into it, but doesn't drink immediately.
"Don't apologize," she says. "This is the way things are. I'll deal with it." There's a glass between her hands, and she's looking down into the red liquid, watching the way the fading light outside filters in, shines through it like stained glass.
Then she says, "It was my mother he had. Which...it's...it's hard. But I guess taking the fight out of us for a while was probably part of what he intended."
[K. R. J.] The Hermetic guesses that taking the fight out've the six who were invited was part've what was intended. Kage says, cool, "Emily was pretty shaken when I spoke to her. So was T.H." Then: "But that kind of gambit is - " a pause. Not awkward, not helpless: just vast. What's a word for foolish; what's a word for wrong?
Kage turns the glass around in her hands. Was Ashley's Mom that died. There's a space between that revelation and this question -- possibly the only question she'll ask. Kage is arrogant, Kage is self-assured, but Kage isn't a saint, and she sure as Hell doesn't always know what to say or do: "Did she see you?"
[Ashley McGowen] Ashley knows that Emily was shaken. The girl offered her futon to Ashley that night, put pajamas in her hands, told her to go and have a shower to wash away the blood that splattered her hands and her stomach and chest, residue from the bullet that slugged into her ribs and lodged somewhere in one of her organs.
Nathan, she didn't know was shaken, but it doesn't surprise her: she's seen Nathan rattled. The man showed up on her doorstep drinking himself half to death after he saw Dylan Willis shot, he waved a gun in Ashley's face for a misinterpreted joke after he was possessed. Ashley does not think much of Nathan's resilience for such things, or his Will, and it shows in that momentary wrinkle of her nose, the huff of air through her nostrils, as she takes a sip from her glass.
Kage asks, then, about her mother. Lost for words. Ashley looks down into her glass, looks away at the floor. Not at Kage. "I don't think so," Ashley says. "She was really scared. Looked like she was praying. But Solomon...he summoned the ghosts, to find out what they knew, and I had a chance to talk to her on Monday. Just for a few minutes, but..."
[K. R. J.] Brief pause. Infinitessimal, again. And then: "Was it okay?"
[Ashley McGowen] Ashley doesn't answer, at first. If it was hard for her to recall that night, it's equally hard for her to recall Monday evening, speaking to her mother and thinking These are the last words she's going to hear from me. Making sure they were good words, that she knew that she wasn't going to be trapped forever, hungering after all the things she wanted to say but didn't have time for.
"It was okay," she says. "She was really scared, at first. She told me she didn't regret having me, and that she was sorry she didn't try to get to know me better. She told me that they were still trapped by the demon, but Catherine's sheltering her and kind of...is letting her sleep until we free them and they can pass on. She asked me if it would be okay." She's speaking slowly, the kind of speaking someone does when they're trying to talk around food.
[K. R. J.] Kage takes this in: her jaw (delicate) tightens. Behind the drink: she has stopped turning it around; has it in front of her mouth. Her breath is condensation on the glass; a fog, unrevealing. Why? Because it's wrong and it horrifies her. She doesn't say anything.
[Ashley McGowen] Her mother's soul is trapped: limbo, she'd heard it described, a place where they were just...stuck. No doors, no windows to elsewhere, no way to pull themselves out of that insubstantial prison. Ashley knows that simply dealing with whatever plans with the cup, the chalice, won't do anything: her reasons for wanting to go after the demon are more than just simple revenge, though part of her is indeed furious, wants to lash out at something that hurt her, something that took something away from her.
She also doesn't know how to react to Kage's silence. There's a wandering gaze, wandering around the floor and the room to the window, a wondering whether she's said too much, and it brings her composure back together. She doesn't say anything either.
[K. R. J.] Kage wishes she knew more. This happens; this happens a lot. This wishfulness, this yearning; it's as familiar to her as the act of opening her eyes in the morning [groggy with nightmares... Will this day be different?]. But she wishes she knew more. It's this that keeps her quiet. This, and what do you say to a friend who's Mom's soul is held in purgatory by a demon? They don't make a Hallmark card for that [there aren't any poems, either]. Finally, finally: exhale, heartbeat: ticks. Kage says - " - okay. So maybe we'll have to give Independence Day another meaning. I'll see what I can turn up."
But Kage is also - believe it or not - an optimist. There's always a way, after all. Always.
[Ashley McGowen] Kage says she'll see what she can turn up, and Ashley knows she means what she says, that she wants to help, that she will look. In spite of how aloof Ashley can be, how difficult, how headstrong, a lot of people have been kind to her this week, in their own ways: some simply tried to cheer her up, some tried to share her grief and lessen it, Kage is promising to help. It's not something she expected.
"Thanks, Kage," she says, swirling most of a glass around the melting ice and then setting all of it aside. Ashley can't rightfully be called an optimist; she's simply determined to do things because she can't consider other options, because she will fight her hardest until she can't fight anymore. And she will be determined, likely tomorrow. After she's had time to shore herself up, to come to terms with things enough to put them aside.
[K. R. J.] Thanks, Kage, Ashley says. Kage's eyebrows draw together for a second; a line appears between them. Then her expression smooths out (more or less), and she lifts her shoulders. Not-quite-a-shrug.
Then: "If you want or need to talk about it. I mean, the personal stuff." That's all. It's followed by this: "Or. And. Want to play another game?" Another game, before Kage goes; she doesn't say it. A game is focus, a game is rosary beads. All those moves, manipulations.
[Ashley McGowen] "It wouldn't change anything," Ashley says, of personal things, of things she could say to get off her chest but that would ultimately still be there. She'd still feel them. Ashley isn't the sort who draws any great comfort from other people knowing how she feels just to know.
"But we should play."
[K. R. J.] [Play Well? +1 diff 'cos, uh. Sangria + Doomnews.]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 6, 7, 8, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 7)
[Ashley McGowen] [Leeeeeeeet's see about this.]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 4, 4, 4, 7 (Success x 1 at target 7)
[Ashley McGowen] [Rematch!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 4, 6, 6, 9 (Success x 1 at target 7)
[K. R. J.] [Re-match?]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 4, 6, 10 (Success x 1 at target 7)
[Ashley McGowen] [Ties are dumb.]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 7)
[K. R. J.] [You can't tie in chess!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 7)
[Ashley McGowen] [Argh! Just admit defeat, Orphan!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 3, 6, 6, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 7)
[K. R. J.] [-_- Whatchoo call me?]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 6, 6, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 7)
[K. R. J.] [roll credits]
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