Mindfulness.

[K. Jakes] Israel just manages to escape a [lecture? (not quite)] discussion on how priests and priestesses of the 'Old Days' were leaders and the Hierophant is also the Priest and he is the Emperor's other face [just for starters]. Instead, the diminutive blind woman gets Kage's contact information: a phone number, said evenly enough, an e-mail address, a name. And Israel also is given, although she's not equipped to receive, a quirk of her mouth when she advises Ashley on the chantry's rules [the Society of the Nameless 'Crow's rules, after all] and on the breaking of them. How in-teresting.

And Ashley gives her a Look, and a reassurance. And Kage, she hesitates again - briefly - and then says: "Yes. I'll let you look at something in return, if you'd like; I'll let you see - " This, watchful - " - Him, if you'd like. Or something else."

[Ashley McGowen] [Mind 3, -1 for focus, -1 for practiced rote, -1 for resonance Entropic: Hungry, spending WP 'cause a botch would be real bad!]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 5, 6 (Success x 2 at target 3) [WP]

[Ashley McGowen] [Extending!]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 3, 5, 9 (Success x 4 at target 3) [WP]

[Ashley McGowen] Kage offers something in return, which Ashley had not been expecting, to judge by the way her eyebrows raise. Maybe she'd intended to offer this without anything in return from Kage: a gift, of sorts. Sharing with a friend. Then again this is Ashley's world: a gift is never unilateral, it never extends to anyone without the expectation of something in return, even if that something is unspecified. Even if it goes without fulfillment for some time.

"Okay," she says. Nods when Kage suggests seeing Him, because this is something she has always been curious about, this Other who appears to Kage. Who Kage says speaks to her, like a companion. It's something Ashley can't imagine. Her companionship is a cold set of coils, massive scissor jaws that champ at sky, yellow eyes parted in the center. "You ready?"

Assuming the Orphan gives her assent, there is that surge of Will. Kage has felt it before, but never on her, only felt that presence in the air around her on a prior visit to the chantry. Heavy weight, surrounding but not constricting, not tightening, jaws that could close but don't. A firm hold. Only Ashley isn't taking, this time: giving is something she's far less used to, this bridge of consciousness, tentative, and it takes longer as a result.

Other Traditions would say that they lose themselves in each other, that they become a part of something greater. Ashley's is what it is: two Minds, separate and distinct, one relenting to the other however temporarily.

The Hermetic's Mind yawns open, and there's a lot held back there. That, Kage is immediately conscious of. Primal undercurrents, the -want- and how strong it is. Memories, thoughts, half-formed and half-realized and half-hidden, obscured by how fast they move and how far beneath they lurk. One thing stands out that she wants Kage to immerse herself in and take, and there it is.

[K. Jakes] This is true, too. Kage is concerned, or was, that Ashley'd get curious. That she'd get hungry, that she'd go hunting; that she'd look around, that she'd wander off the white path [that a threshold, opened; that a meeting of two minds, alchemical - ] and it'd become more. It isn't that Kage has secrets; it's simply that she is private and also possessive. Her thoughts're hers to do with as she pleases. This is true, too. That she trusts Ashley far more than she'd like to let on. That that's mostly why she's giving in to her curiosity; that she's agreed to this; that she's offering tit for tat [show me yours (check out mine)]. And this is also true -

- that she gives her assent without another hesitation. With a quirk of her mouth. With her chin, cupped in her palm, and her eyes on Ashley's face. With an easy quip, a suggestive lift of her eyebrows, Oh, baby, underlined by gravity. Kage does not yet concentrate on Him and she does not yet pick the memory that'll do [or maybe He'll show his face now (maybe He'll just let eyes look out of her eyes)]. Why? Because Ashley's Mind is all around hers, along with her particular resonance: crushing jaws, hunger, Hunger, midgard serpent, coiling, desirous. Many who've felt it have been afraid -- and why wouldn't they be?

Kage's heartrate picks up and she inhales, slowly. But she isn't afraid; not precisely. There's no moment of panic [or if there is it's so miniscule]. Because Kage, she's the sort've person who'd get swallowed up by a monstrous serpent, and, although it hurt, unable to breathe, well, well, well - she'd draw a breath, find its heart, somehow, and cut it out. Because Kage, see, is one of those. Problem solver. Die trying. Never say die. All that. Because Kage is stubborn.

So, fine. Fine: she doesn't even try to struggle; lets herself get swallowed; swallowed down into that memory Ashley wants her to see. Doesn't, although it's tempting, herself try and trawl some've Ashley's thoughts out've the deeps. Because that's not what friends do, and it's impolite, anyway. She's curious. Driving force.

Also true. Finally true. Truth to end all truths.

[Ashley McGowen] That there's trust there, more than she lets on: that surprises Ashley, and that hums beneath, thrums like a rhythm below water. She's holding back much of that, most of her Hunger, and it's more to be considerate to Kage than because she wishes to conceal, to hide, because this is new and its newness would be disconcerting for anyone. That's also true.

This is not something Kage can see as a detached observer. She isn't standing off to the side, a disembodied soul in the chantry's basement, looking in and coming to some subtle understanding of what is going on. No. Kage probably knew what this was going to be like, even before she sank down into the memory, but it likely doesn't prepare her any better. She is Ashley, and what she can immediately tell is that Ashley's memory is very, very good. Few details about the basement are unremembered: it is a picture, a vision in sharp focus, clarity, springing forth.

This is what Kage sees/hears/feels:

The wounds in her back sting whenever she shifts her muscles, a tension, blooming pain if she moves too fast or too suddenly, an exhaustion that sinks into her bones, soul deep. A voice, sultry and sleek, deep in the chest, low alto (somehow, Ashley hears those tones, which strike her as unusual) asks whether she has come to talk or take, and Ashley, earnest: to talk. There's a stone well there in the center of the sparse room, ancient and weathered, and there is no bottom, and yet up comes water smelling of jasmine and ambergris, steam that washes over her face like a warm cloth, like her mother bathing her face when she was small. Ashley as she, hesitant, climbs up on the edge of the well and looks down into the water, wavering reflection, burning curiosity tethered by caution (don't touch the water, you don't know what it is!)

That Catherine is amused at her bluntness, at her spirit, and that with it, Music (pure, primal, simple and resonant) spills forward. A gift, one that brings forward a rush of raw, torrential emotion, and Kage is spared none of it: joy and wonder and hope, something remembered and forgotten, something that makes tears spring to her eyes even though she's embarrassed by them at first, raising a hand to wipe them away.

That Catherine says: You have bled for me, let me bleed for you, that the water is her blood (they scoff, she and this Other presence, at what has been known before time, long before that burnished goblet grail), that Ashley's encouraged to enter if only she'll Trust, Trust. And trust she does, did the moment that song found her core.

That the rest melds into a steady flow of emotion, back and forth between herself and this other presence, mixing like water, a give and take. Music that continues, pulses, becomes a harmony, blends into ecstasy. That Hunger is a thousand things, a pain in the guts that chews until it maddens, a Hole where music was, the deep pang of unrealized dreams, fascination with a new book between a pair of hands, unrequited love (new love), friendship, desire, want, need. Ashley's Hunger surging forward, consuming, and the node never shying away, only giving, meeting, sating: and for however long she stays there suspended in the water, she feels satisfied, and it's something she -hasn't- felt in a very long time.

That she can only ask, after a while: What are you? and that Catherine is many things, is who she was and what she's become, and that she's damned tired. That Ashley gives ardent words, that the old ways aren't gone, just adapting, that she vows, Vows, to protect and revive, adapt and renew. That there's a thrill through that Other, and thanks, and that she does feel loved by something, by some greater presence, for a brief singing moment before the water surges, bears her out and to the top of the well.

On her feet. Dripping, and whole again.

[K. Jakes] And that's all, folks.

And wasn't that strange. Wasn't that a ghost ache of a thing, wasn't that its own black bead; wasn't that bone-hard, wasn't that a kicker. That, this - being so completely the woman who named herself Ashley McGowen, the woman who was involved with Hannibal Caspian Temple's [favored (proud of)] student, that arrogant, close-minded, unsafe - that things'd go so differently than expected. Unimagined things.

And didn't that hurt, remembering ? And wasn't that just - ? And didn't it - ?

And that's all, folks. When Ashley's memory is done, Kage's eyes are wet with tears, luminous with the shared emotion-that-wasn't-hers, but, briefly, was, and there's something sharp in it. She rubs her eyes.

[Ashley McGowen] The memory ends, and it's Ashley's: she isn't wiping tears from her eyes now because she's relived this over and over until it isn't as raw, but still hasn't lost sight of its meaning. Hasn't stopped being gripped by it. She's been cleansed, that taint has faded and left nothing but soul shine, and that experience alone, having surmounted, would have been enough. But this also happened, and how could she -not- have been changed by it?

So she just stands there, her dry eyes (well, okay, they're rimmed with the force of the memory) meeting Kage's, and she gives the other woman a few moments to collect herself. Doesn't press, doesn't pick up Kage's emotions and weigh them. She too is being polite.

Then, in Kage's mind, because Ashley seems to forget when things are like this that there is such a thing as talking, physical speech (she really does): a voice that sounds much like Ashley's own, but lacking that flat characteristic it sometimes takes on. High soprano, affecting remembered tones, and there's something deep and resonant and sibilant beneath it, an undercurrent. When you're ready.

[K. Jakes] [A'ight. First! Char+Exp: Heeeeeeeeeeere, Avatar. Heeeeeeeeeeere Avatar-Avatar-Avatar. Won'tchoo come out to play.]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
to†K. Jakes

[K. Jakes] K. Jakes
Tue 3:48 am
Roll valid
to K. Jakes
[A'ight. First! Char+Exp: Heeeeeeeeeeere, Avatar. Heeeeeeeeeeere Avatar-Avatar-Avatar. Won'tchoo come out to play.]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
to†Ashley McGowen

[K. Jakes] [Avatar: Pft, no.]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 5, 5, 5, 6, 6, 7 (Success x 4 at target 5)

[K. Jakes] [A'ight. Mind! baby. Time to Sharpen That Memory You Want To Share. Time To Offer It Up On A Silver Platter. Look! Right here! Focus on this. -1 always in mah own head practiced. -1 time, yeah sure. Heart of the maze. Go on, dive in!]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 1, 4 (Success x 1 at target 3) [WP]

[K. Jakes] [Aw, helllll naw. Extend-y! Am Not Reluctant! HONEST.]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 2, 7 (Success x 2 at target 3) [WP]

[K. Jakes] "A second." An echo. A moment. A bit of time. A smidge. A grain of sand.

And then [O, amorous; O, leeching; O, ardor, impassioned, O withered, withering - O, to take, but mostly (touch) trace a lover's circle on trace a lover's prayer labyrinth across feel that prickle-tip-toe of] the Orphan on the patio of the White Fence House re-orders her own thoughts, controls them, builds-a-labyrinth around one particular thought [ - how to show Him (where to show Him) - ], and that's what she offers Ashley.

"There," she says, aloud, although she's distant-eyed, lost-in-the-thought, salt-in-her-eyelashes.

There, she says, and Ashley completes the bridge Kage isn't quite strong enough to create herself, devours the memory [ivory & horn], swallows the gate, and when she does, when she takes that hard bitter little pill -

Remember this? Remember how the streetlamps glowed? Remember how their light was a fall of amber; how its language stuttered, just over there - by the dark edge of the parking lot? Remember how still the gutters were, how full of dark water, reflective but without revelation? Remember how rain-wet the air was? Remember how the shadows, city-shadows, urban - how they cut? How they fell, blue? Yes. You remember. And remember this? Remember how happy, how elated? How your steps were swift, but careless, casual, because you were glad to be alive, because you were pleased with how tired you were, because it was good, good, good - remember that?

Remember this? The sudden fall of a reflection, dark, uncertain of its own shape, man-shaped, vague, in the driver's side window, as you unlocked the truck? A moment's startled Oh Really Now as you turned, and there was a man, came out've nowhere, smoke and shadow, plain but dark-eyed, dark-coated, highwayman's coat modernized? Remember? Sure you do; all too well. The brief conversation that followed; how, after he'd turned - (You - "I don't smoke." Him - "Didn't ask you to. Just want a light - no fire to spare, Red? No flame?") - and walked down the street you'd followed. Because you'd known: figured it out when you saw His shadow tremble; when you saw a gleam (maybe) in his hair, a star, swallowed, visible briefly like a drowning person's hand, flailing, hallp, swallowed. But the guy, the guy - he looked ordinary, and it was only that you knew, felt the knowing, tugging, there, and that's why you followed --

Remember this? Remember? Yeah. Of course you do. You remember the rain, too. Remember how the rain kicked off've the asphalt like [ghost radiance] smoke -- like ash; like a halo, always collapsing. And this, too -- tucking wet hair behind your ears, uncomfortable, splashing deliberately in the puddles, angling toward a doorway, the momentary surge of what-if-someone's-watching, what-if -- and then Knowing That He Was There, feeling it like a trickle of Dread, putting your hand against the wall, readying yourself to (silly mood) spin and say, Boo, disrespectful, deliberately irreverent, because the happiness was tinged with fear now, anticipation, and then --

Doing it. And, look. You remember this, too. That He's a creature to be adored and a creature to be feared. That he's beauty (desire) and he's terror (nightmare [lost]), at once: you remember [know it in your bones]. And you, thinking about this memory, sharpening this memory, see Him just like He can be at his most awesome, in the old meaning of the word, as well as his most ordinary [least annoying]. He looks like (no, really: no. Nothing is that lovely, nothing is so fine - nothing is so fine and rough at once, nothing is quite so much like it'll touch you and you'll claw your skin off to be naked with it, nothing's quite so full of wanting, yearning, lost-forever, worship) a man limned in the antithesis of radiance. There are stars in his hair, and there's burning in his eyes, for certain; the burning isn't drowning; it's sacrificing itself. He's dressed like any guy, any guy in his early twenties; he isn't a man, he isn't human, and there's not a single doubt. He grins, and, just like it's a favor, glances down at his feet, his teeth're sharp, and rain doesn't halo on him where it hits, although it dapples his reflection.

" - Just do what I want already," he says, in this memory, along with some callous endearment in a language you don't know and can't quite remember, something you tried to remember then, and don't, still don't. Don't. You scoff. You're focused, now. Like, listen up - listen up - this, this, this - will be interesting. "It'll be as easy as dying. Promise, cross my heart, cross yours too - "

You remember grinning, too. Feeling pret-ty bold, not worshipping this creature, the way maybe it'd like - remember reaching out to touch Him, It, all casual callous, and saying - "Did you see what I did?"

And Him, nearly human (and that, more terrifying than most - ) - "I saw."

You remember, too, that he stuck close until you got home. That he mocked you when you couldn't unlock your truck door [broken, jammed (His fault?)]. That he was silent, aloof, moon-radiant, moon-dark - ghost-thing, fox-shadow, unbelievable, fading back into your shadow, which you (irrationally) worried about for half-a-second, when you saw someone you knew, but He was still there, there, there --

You remember. You remember being happy, glad.

[Ashley McGowen] There's this memory, second of eternity, where Kage offers a memory up for Ashley to take. Like it's some kind of tribute, the way she limns and laces and packages it for the Hermetic to devour, and there's a sort of two toned amusement: something dark, rumbling from the depths, lingering beneath the waves, and air, something lighter, bordering on reassuring. The labyrinth (like long lengths of tape around a package, ribbon pranks) wasn't necessary. That's the memory she takes, with the sort of attitude a cat affects when it bats at a ball. No claws, but they're there.

Then there's a happy Kage, a younger Kage, soaring and teasing some timeless being and affecting irreverence. There's Him: Kage's hunger burns like her own and for a few seconds it's familiar even in this other space.

He saw what she -did,- and he's there. Always.

There's a grin, something wide and dimpled and genuine, as the edges of the memory fade (except they don't, it's her memory now too.) Silence hangs for a second, respect for what just transpired perhaps, before, "So what -did- you do to call Him?"

[K. Jakes] "Ha. Like He'll come when called." If he came when he was called, he would've showed up now; Kage wouldn't have been sharing a memory, she'd be showing Ashley what-is instead of what-was-once. "He shows up when He pleases," and this, sober - "In whatever guise He wants. That was one of His faces that's more His own, though." They're back to the White Fence House, the table, with the plates-of-fish around, and that's good: memory coridors are tricky, all those what-were-onces are gone. "So." Ashley is the recipient of a particularly sober look. After all, that was her Avatar, and a moment of happiness, and now it's been shared. Disconcerting, even if she meant to do it.

[Ashley McGowen] It's disconcerting for Kage. Not quite so much for Ashley, who has done this before, shared memories and thoughts and deep recesses that others pull away from the rest of the world. Not often: it's rare to find someone comfortable with doing so, and contrary to the assumptions of many she tries very hard not to take (from her friends.)

Kage gives her a sober look, and the Hermetic's hold on her mind relinquishes, loosens, as her hand drops away from her collar. Pauses in mid air, reaches back up to tuck it beneath her shirt once more. It's one of those moments when Ashley is left groping for words because she's back in the realm where she has to condense Pure Thought, and maybe this is why she's lost sometimes, socially: she has to narrow what she wants to say, squeeze all of it through a sieve.

Ultimately she can find nothing. Maybe later she'll have more questions about Him, or maybe she won't. Maybe she will offer to let Kage see Catherine, contrary to the Society's rules. Maybe she'll just bum a ride home and they'll sit in thoughtful silence or they'll find some more mundane (less emotionally charged) topic to turn their thoughts to. "...Atlas left us with the plates."

Sentimental she is not.