But What End?

[K. R. Jakes] After Kage'd left Nathan and Ashley to themselves, she'd gone to one of her sister's houses. Then she'd gone out with friends (human [asleep]), but they'd noticed that she was quiet. They'd noticed that she wasn't thinking about them. They'd noticed that her eyes kept tracking some point across the room, and they'd looked, but they hadn't seen any cute boys or interesting broohahas. Today, Kage gave Ashley a call. The invitation had been fairly simple: "Hey, come over. I want to talk to you about Morgan; I'm thinking she's in trouble. Different trouble."

There's no pretense that Kage is inviting Ashley over for just another day of hanging out -- they've done that before; they've played the games, they've gone for drinks, they've chatted about things philosophical and things which strike them as important. Things that are important, but are not immediately threatening their lives or their sanity. There's no pretense that this is just for dinner or lunch.

[Ashley McGowen] I want to talk to you about Morgan, Kage had said, and it was probably lucky for Ashley that she got to hang up the phone afterward, that she had time to process it. She'd cut the line after a long pause and an "Okay" and a long look out the window that Kage couldn't see. Morgan is at her apartment nearly every day to read and study; she knows the girl is not hurt, not dead.

It leaves her to imagine other horrible options. The way a caretaker worries, the way a parent worries, until she Wills it out of her head as she takes the walk to Kage's apartment, because there is no sense in it.

When she knocks, she's perfectly calm, though there's a gravity to her carriage and her expression that indicates that she knows Kage probably would not have made this invitation if the matter weren't serious. She stands at the doorstep with her hands in her pockets, rocking back and forth a few times on the balls of her feet (too much time around Wharil) and glancing, occasionally, toward that spot in the hallway.

[K. R. Jakes] The door opens. Kage rests her forearm against the door's side; her hip is cocked. This is a casual, graceless gesture: it also blocks most've her apartment from view. This is automatic; it isn't that she doesn't trust Ashley, and Ashley's already been inside. "Hey," she says, and her hand slides down the side of the door, and she steps back, letting the Hermetic cross the threshold. "Tea?" she asks, courteously, and it's almost a ritual: by now, Kage knows what tea Ashley likes, and Ashley knows what drinks the Orphan will offer her. There's no sign of the musicstand, today, and no sign of the violin. There's a stack of academic journals on the coffee table and the light's on in the study, slantwise spilling across the hall. "Sorry I ditched you the other night," she adds.

[Ashley McGowen] Kage asks if she'd like tea, and the Orphan gets a nod as she steps into the apartment. She notes the lack of violin - because when it was present it was one of the first things her eyes went to in the living room, that and the music she can't read anymore - and the academic journals laid out. She'd be curious about them, ordinarily. Now is not the time.

"That's okay," she says. "I'm sure it was healthier for your blood pressure. You just missed a Kaya story." Which she might elaborate on, except that irritation has leaked into her voice at the mere mention; besides, the Shallows are a matter for Wharil and Gregor.

Then there's the intake of breath, which she doesn't intend to be audible but it is, sharp and held in the chest. As Kage steps into her kitchen Ashley pauses outside it, folding her arms, and says, "So what's up with Morgan?"

[K. R. Jakes] "This, then," Kage says. "We were chatting the other day, and I noticed she had a spiritual brand on her chest. Half of a heart. It's the kind of mark that -- well; I've heard them called angels, demons, gods, as well as kami. I don't know what Order of creature -- but it's the kind of mark that a powerful spirit usually places on someone they've an interest in watching over. This interest isn't always benign. When Nathan was telling me about the woman with the sword and his perspective," her mouth quirks, faintly; Kage is inscrutable, but she still has opinions, "on what happened with that kid who died he said they also had marks. Marks that sound like the same thing: a club, an ace. And now Enid's got half-a-heart. Both of those others: what? Made deals? Went mad? Died?"

[Ashley McGowen] Ashley's arms lower away from each other, hands still slightly curled for a few seconds as they hang at her sides as though they want to clench. Or grab onto something else (a dead boy, Nathan, herself were it possible) and hold and shake and beat sense. "Ah," is all she says for nearly a minute, and it doesn't take a particularly perceptive person to tell that she's numb at the news.

"She was having dreams about the dead boy. She told me something wasn't right, and after I checked her out with Mentis I didn't...I should've..." Dwelling on guilt isn't her manner, though. Her hands come back up, lock around the back of her neck (duck kids, tornado) and smooth forward as though to squeeze out tension.

"I don't know if they made any deals," she says at last. Heavy. "But the mark drove the woman mad. I saw. Just couldn't help her, and Kaya didn't remove the brand, though she said she could."

[K. R. Jakes] "Kaya," Kage says, running her fingers through her hair. It's loose, today, and getting long; soon she'll cut it again (keep it back, shoulder-length, middle of her shoulder-blades at least: but it's getting long). Then: "I can't remove the mark. I could only see it; I studied it long enough to tell whether or not there were traces of -- well, anyone who might've been caballed up with those blackhearted fuckers," meaning Marla and Jackson. "There weren't. The feel of the magick was clean. Just Higher Power. Doesn't mean good. Doesn't sound good." A pause. And: "Why in the world didn't Kaya remove the brand?"

[Ashley McGowen] "When we got into the grove, she cut off an ogre's head with a broadsword," Ashley says, with a sigh that indicates that this is an old source of aggravation by now. Something unaddressed. "And Nathan started shooting at her and Kaya started screaming about how she was an evildoer and tried to fry her with the Ars Vis. So the woman attacked Nathan. I looked into her mind and she didn't -want- to kill him, she was just crazy with grief and guilt and he was shooting her. So I pacified all three of them."

There's a twist of the mouth. Perhaps she finds the situation ironic: Ashley McGowen, chosen of the Great Serpent and peacekeeper. "At which point Kaya started blaming me and saying that the effect I put down kept her from removing it. Which it shouldn't have done." A sidelong look to Kage, touched with that same irritation and something wry. "Meaning, I have no fucking clue why the woman does anything. I'm not bringing Morgan to her. There has to be someone else who can help."

[K. R. Jakes] "An ogre? Literally, a monster out've fairytale? Or is that euphemism for somebody's mother in law?" Leave that aside, then. The water has boiled, and Kage moves away from the [new] counter to take it off've the stove and turn the stove off, to pour the water into the pot, let the steam rise up to give her oracles [to kiss her cheeks]. The Orphan's got a swagger, lilt-step: see?

"I wouldn't suggest dealing with Kaya," Kage says, when she returns to her place. "Not least because, given Morgan's issues, given the fact that Kaya should be dog-tagged any day now and hauled off to rehab -- well. I honestly don't want to deal with her much myself. Too inconstant." A brief pause, and she's thinking about something, or someone. "What is it about Chicago that makes Dreamspeakers crazy?"

[Ashley McGowen] "It looked like one. Monster out of a fairytale and all," Ashley says, brow furrowed. "I thought it was a man at first, but the head rolled over." The Hermetic is still deeply troubled by the news: her arms are folded again, hands gripping either side. Her gaze has wandered to the far corner of the apartment at some inspecific detail, dark with concern for her apprentice (an anchor, one of the only.)

Then there's a glance back at Kage, a quirk of the corner of her mouth at the question. "In Gregor's case," she says, "I think it's his Avatar. I don't know. Maybe dealing with spirits all the time just makes you terrible at dealing with people." Which, coming from someone like Ashley, is pretty rich, and the irony again does not seem to be lost on her. She knows she could have better people skills.

"...As far as I know she's the only disciple who knows Ars Spirituum though. I don't know who to bring her to."

[K. R. Jakes] In Gregor's case, Ashley says, and Kage nods: acknowledgment, agreement. The first time she and Gregor met they'd discussed their Avatars: Alt(e)ars, whatever it was they called them. Of course, He hadn't been very nice: He'd been standing by, making remark after remark, and she'd reacted to one in front of a strange new magi, and that isn't something Kage allows herself to do if she can help it. Not everybody understands that her Avatar is, apparently, different: that He is a presence in her life impossible [implausible] to shake. Now, as she has this conversation with Ashley, He walks out of her study, into the bedroom. As he walks, the shadows grow more tenuous; He flashes her a smile, and it smoulders. There's a star in His hair, and the scent of Old Spice [she really wishes He'd choose something else]. A shadow swallows him, or he walks into the bedroom: who knows which? It's been twentyfour hours since she's seen Him.

"Perhaps," Kage says. "But it was one of the first things I noticed I could do, after. And I don't feel like I deal with people any more terrible than I did before." The corners of her eyes scrunch up, a smile that begins, but doesn't finish. "Need it be a Disciple? Perhaps Gregor would be able to undo the bindings."

[Ashley McGowen] Ashley knows there have been differences, between now and then. She can't always put her finger on them, but she knows they're there: that her drive, the persistent sense of longing, of trying to fill a hole, was not there before. But she has lost a sense of what is her Avatar and what is her and what is the result of brain damage, what she missed in her repairs, in her clawing upward and outward and into Awakening.

She doesn't know who she would have been otherwise. She doesn't think about it often.

"Maybe her Avatar warped her like Gregor's did, then. Or Rene's," Ashley says after a moment, "but I don't know how someone that dependent on other people even -becomes- a Disciple." A momentary frown. "I don't know if Gregor could help. I'm assuming...because say a brand of that sort was done with the Ars Mentis. An Initiate wouldn't have the skill to remove it. Maybe on themselves, but not on someone else. That requires a more in-depth knowledge. But I don't really have anything to lose by asking."

[K. R. Jakes] "You're right. It may be too strong for Gregor himself to handle: but what about a spirit ally? He once believed he had a solution to another problem with a Mage whose abilities were far stronger, far less fettered, than his own -- than most've that one's antagonists." There: as diplomatically said as possible, without touching on either of their involvement. Not really. Kage doesn't want to talk about that.

"Here. I think the tea's ready," and she turns, takes down two mugs.

[Ashley McGowen] "It's a possibility," she agrees, watching as Kage takes down the mugs. As she changes the subject, turns it away from the Inferno they'd briefly touched upon and that neither of them really wants to directly mention or acknowledge. (Regardless, he's been in Ashley's mind since they began to talk about the woman with the broadsword - her madness touched a bit close to home, reminded her of another person and another time not so distant.) "I'll speak with him. I...hopefully she'll be okay."

There are mugs then, and tea, and Ashley is leaning back against the counter with her arms folded still. Brooding, as she likely will be until the matter with her apprentice is resolved. Lingering guilt that she did not bring Morgan to see someone else when she first complained about the dream.

One hand idles up, scratches at her jaw. "I...by the way. The Blue Horizon substance is programmable, if you can get around the countermagic. Might be something to keep in mind if you continue dealing with Henri."

[K. R. Jakes] "Do you know who the boy was; and the woman? I remember an article about the woman I believe."

"I hope she doesn't program it to call my cell," Kage says, something amused (sardonic) touching the corner of her mouth. Kiss me. Bitter and sweet. Before she hands Ashley her mug, she opens the refrigerator, takes out a little pitcher saran-wrapped of cream, sets it on the counter for Ashley to pour herself. Her own tea: honeyed. Then, more seriously (although she hadn't been lying) : "Oh really.

A beat. Two beats. "Does this mean you've played with it since we last spoke?"

[Ashley McGowen] "No, I didn't know either of them. I didn't even see the boy," she says. "And the woman...I saw into her mind so I know her story" - this, pensive, quiet - "but I don't know what her name used to be or anything like that."

There's one splash of cream into the mug Kage hands her, a pause and then she adds another one. And, in between, a sidelong look and a grin that verges on sheepish. She told Kage before she told Wharil: and she told Kage first because the Orphan is likely to shake her head and sigh, where Wharil is likely to bounce around and frown disapprovingly and ask her is she...is she really sure about what she's doing?

"I found a sample," she says. "A very small one that'd attached itself to one of the EMTs at the spill, and I've been working on it. Not feeding it. It has a mind...just a really simple one. All it wants to do is eat." She probably has some sympathy for the little goop, all told: it's a kindred soul, a tiny rival Hunger no bigger than a marble.

[K. R. Jakes] The Orphan stirs her tea and licks the honey from the spoon. Then she cants her head sideways, indicating the table. There's no point in continuing to stand to have this discussion. They're human beings, aren't they? They aren't trees. And Kage, who may not strike most've the Magi in the city as one've the more arrogant, the more likely to fall into Hubris, has such a feminine swagger really. Kage goes to the dining room table, moving a stack of newspapers off've the chair and setting them on the floor. When she sits, she tucks one leg underneath herself.

"Where'd you find the sample? Or, rather, how did you extricate it from the EMT?" Ashley wasn't far off about Kage's reaction. She isn't sighing, and she isn't shaking her head (yet), but she's looking at Ashley with a pensive [smoke: opaque] glance.

[Ashley McGowen] Ashley follows Kage to the table, moving so she can have a seat across from the Orphan. She leads with her fingertips when she goes to sit down: Kage's furniture, the layout of her apartment, is less familiar than home. She still has to guess at space sometimes, lest some decidedly undignified incident occur, such as knocking over the chair and spilling over after it (that has happened, once in a while.)

She drops an elbow onto the table, leaning onto it slightly and inhaling steam. There's another grin, this one more sheepish than the last. "I, uh. Recognized him from the day I was at the site, and paid his apartment a visit while he was at work. It was in the back of his closet. He's probably lucky I took it, all told."

[K. R. Jakes] Kage raises both eyebrows, and then shakes her head. Ashley's prophecy: realized. Her gaze is still opaque, although her mouth curves (sweet). There's a moment's startled introspection; maybe Ashley sees it. Maybe she doesn't; Ashley hasn't in the past been particularly concerned with what other people are thinking or feeling.

"Maybe," she says, neutral. He wouldn't be very lucky if somehow Ashley decided to turn it into a Hunger Monster which ate all of Chicago. "Was it just -- attached to his shoe, or something? I wonder how many other people who worked to contain the spill went home with something similar." That's an unpleasant thought.

[Ashley McGowen] Ashley does not see it, though perhaps Kage's revelation would not come as a surprise to her even if she had and would inquire about it. Or perhaps she doesn't take note of it, or doesn't notice it as unusual: Kage is prone to doing such things, giving small smiles as she comes to some conclusion or other in her introspection. It's rare that she yields them up even if asked.

"I think it came along on his clothing," she says. "It tried to disguise itself as a piece of flannel when it saw me looking at it." Which is another troubling idea - the goop is intelligent. Cunning, even. "I'd be willing to bet that other people have gone home with bits of it. But I tried to program the one I have to look for others like it and it just wanted to subsume them and get bigger, so I made it rest."

It's like a huge puzzle, a challenge that she's taken to readily. It would probably be good for her if it didn't put Chicago at risk of being devoured. "I'm actually sort of at a loss. Even if we get the ones we have controlled, there's nothing that's going to stop them from creating another spill somewhere else."

[K. R. Jakes] "How did you program it? - I mean: Does it just retain the knowledge of whatever it eats? If you feed it nothing, does it eventually starve? I -- " and Kage pauses to take a sip of her tea. The steam rising from the tea is dew (only). She doesn't set her own mug back down on the hardwood surface of the table; instead, she cradles it in her hand, and looks at Ashley over the rim of the cup. The cup is blue, dark-hued, cave-earthen: more pottery. " -- suppose I'm not certain what outcome we're all looking for here. Make certain the goop isn't going to run rampage in the city: obviously. But beyond that? Shut that particular branch of whatever it's called down? Is that even possible? It feels too big, so I suspect there must be an easy solution. A thread to pull."

[Ashley McGowen] "Why would there be an easy solution? There's none to the Technocracy," Ashley says, glancing down into the tea in her cup, opaque and almost dark gray with cream. "I'm not sure it's necessarily up to us to go charging in like heroes and shut the whole company down. I think that's what Nathan wants to do, but..."

Ashley thinks of herself as an academic most of the time. There have been exceptions to that rule: she has been in fights, she helped kill a Massassa and its ghouls, provided backup for Bran and Justine during their crusade (let's not pretend it was anything else.) But despite those things, most definitely not the sort of person who runs around shutting down trouble, taking an AK to the streets. The thought is almost laughable. "It doesn't seem to be starving. I have it inside a ban in my study at the moment. I used the Ars Mentis to Will it to do what I wanted, and it's seemed responsive to that. And to suggestions. I can speak with it."

[K. R. Jakes] "Easy was probably not the word to use," Kage says, only a touch wry. "Pretend I said 'elegant.'" An elegant solution: there. Kage believes there's always a way, always a solution; that something done can be undone, and something undone can be done, that there's no reason for bad things to happen uncontested, that there's always some hope of ... Winning. A beat. And then: "Are you thinking of keeping it, and programming it to do tasks? Like a familiar?"

[Ashley McGowen] Elegant, Kage says, and Ashley glances back at her over the top of her mug and shakes her head. Ashley, of course, does not believe in winning, despite her competitive nature: winning implies an end to the struggle, when really there are just bigger things to go up against. When really, winning always comes with a cost, and once it's paid it's too late to decide it wasn't worth it. "Maybe," she says, but she sounds doubtful.

Kage asks if she was planning to keep it, and there's another sidelong, sheepish glance: you caught me. "I can't say the thought didn't cross my mind. It's kind of...I mean, I can't deny that it's kind of fitting." The corner of her mouth twitches upward. "But probably not. Zane's afraid of it, and I don't think Wharil and Gregor would stop lecturing me. So it's just a means to an end, at the moment."