Houseguests

[Reverence]
It is warm, and it is wet, and the canopy above is slip-shod, slippery soled, slick with rain-wet and brilliant green tiles. They hang like windchimes, fat lazy drops, they fall in concerts of thuds and prick-brights. The woods are full of rainsong today; it is a concert fit for the light that breaks through the grey ceiling overhead and falls like a spot light down to touch the lazy water. It breaks like light through a stained glass window in a church: brilliant (holy).

There is mud on the soles of her shoes again. There is dark-damp on the cuffs of her jeans. The Singer-to-be hardly cares. This is not a hard rain. It falls like kisses, like fingertaps on shoulders, like a whisper (are you listening [hello there]), like a friend to keep pace with the cadence she keeps. This rain is familiar, like the bend in the path up ahead, like the point where these two kiss, turn back. A clearing. This is familiar, this is all familiar, it is timeless (sanctuary [lonely] ritual).

She has come bearing gifts, as always, in the bag that is slung to one side of her narrow frame. Emily steps over the king-seat, straddles it, pulls her bag up in front of her. She pushes her hair out of her face with one hand. There is a glint of silver at her throat; it is not kept close to her skin now, she wears it openly, it sings: Home.

She has hurried here, sought it, struggled for it. Her breath is quickened, her cheeks are pinked. It is not quiet, no, but the song of birds is nothing compared to the prattle of men. She leans back against the branch that rises, like a coat rack, like a friend to lean upon. She looks out across the water.

Can you believe it? that look asks. The water does not answer back. I know, right? the roll of her eyes answers.

It takes moments before the calm of the Court seeps into her. Before the eye roll turns to a head shake turns to a more proper sitting posture and a long, slow exhalation.

The rain falls down, wet-slick and familiar. The water is too lazy to answer back. The birds prattle on, and on, and on. The sky is dapple grey; there is greenery overhead. Finally, Emily finds herself smiling. She reaches into the hollow of the trunk, casts about for the treasure box, looks for new secrets and hidden meanings.

[Candle]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 7, 9 (Failure at target 6)
[?]

[Candle]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 3, 4, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[?]

[Candle]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 5, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 7)
[?]

[Candle]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 5, 5, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[One more roll. AWARENESS advance guard!]

[Reverence]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 4, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Awareness: Because stuff's out there...]

[Candle] The corner (edged) of the treasure box is wet to Emily's touch. The water is a veneer, it lies like a layer of glass across the lid; it ripples like glass, too, like a glassy stream, away from the hollow, from Emily's hand, from the day, when she takes it out. The box is heavy, today. When Emily opens it, she finds a beeswax votive candle, and someone has pressed a charm against its side, something bee-shaped and medieval, something very modern. There is also a doll made out've sticks and a little note that is in neither of their writings, that isn't typed, another traveller who's happened upon their spot. The note has a name -- a date: the 4th of July. A smiley face, and a Thank you. Just some hiker who found it. Who was pleased, as they're pleased, by something so (mundane) magical in such an unexpected place. It's nice that someone wrote thank you on the 4th of July, while fireworks burst over the river, reflecting on the dark.

And lo, there is a Kage, a flake of brightness in the dark. Emily can sense her just before she arrives -- something shining, burning, amorous; something immanent, kindling -- witheringa way, the draining of -- beloved, ardence: Spring, a kiss. A flake of brightness, and it isn't dark today. And lo, today, Kage has an umbrella, and the umbrella is a watery green, as green as water-weeds and drowning girl's dresses, as green as impressionism and glass, open behind her head, and she is wearing hiking boots, yea verily, but also a dress, falls to below her knees, buttoned up in front, short bell sleeves.

And a bag, of course. Full. To the bursting. Of things.

"Hail," Kage calls, as she comes around that old familiar tree, pauses to rock back on her heels and examine something in the dirt. Then her gaze ficks up, the greeting finishes - "And well met - "

[Reverence] This is a fitting thing, a magical happenstances. A thank you for the Independence Day that almost wasn't, found by the Guardians of that shimmering gate. Emily smooths a fingertip over the beeswax. She smiles, in a way that she hasn't in some time. This offering (Gratitude [Grace]) goes a long way to soothing the edges the morning has rankled, rucked up, raised hackles: Ire, misplaced. It calms that, stays the upwelling. She is freed of it.

A thank you. Something so simple, so strong.

Emily tucks the box back into the hollow, keeps the lid shut tight agaisnt the rain wet. She will let Kage make her own discovery, take her own meanings. This place is magical (mundane); who knows what the rowan-haired Other might find when she opens the case.

"Hail and well met," Emily calls in reply. Her voice is warmer, lighter. It rises up like the corners of her mouth; her eyes dance. She is a brilliant once more, remade, renewed, rekindled: Reverent, again. "I come bearing gifts of fritata," she says, already reaching into her bag. This is ritual, see? This exchange of helloes, this gifting and taking, the smiles and lazy water. This is ritual as sure as any magic might be.

It binds them together like a ribbon-belt, shimmering, solid: surety. This is a friendship, a kinship; this is a place where her rough edges might smooth, wear down, take on a polish. This is nothing like the morning, the exchange in her apartment, and Emily is joyful that she knows the difference.

"It is good to see you," she says. The words speak volumes. They are innocent. Pure.

[Candle] "Fritata? Of what manner, with what cheese or vegetable?" Now, Kage is before Emily, in front of the fallen oak -- lightning blasted, once; see, now? How it grows, how things grow within it and around (lonesome [sanctuary]). The Orphan Disciple lifts her chin, imperious, and places a finger on it, just so, faux haughtiness, or inquisitiveness, or something. Then: ha! Treeclimbing.

The dress'll cling to her legs, but her shoes are sturdy, and Kage will, one-handed, clamber onto their throne tree, their meeting-wood, where the paths kiss, where they came upon each other quite by chance all those seasons ago, and she'll sway, unbalancing for a second, before traipsing up and up and around the coat-rack branch, until she can seat herself on a knoll, higher above the ground than leaf-litter'll make it look, higher above the ground than most things, but kept close too -- a moon, not a star. And then she twirls her umbrella, see, once, twice, and lets her bag thump to the surface of the Fallen King's oak. She sets it in a branching tine and it fills with water. Her hair is curling, condensation; tendrils are skimming over her cheeks, into her eyes, her mouth.

"Behold," she says, Magician-like: "I bring chocolate won tons." A pause, and then, "It's good to see you, Emily. How do you fare? Are we, here, at the court, to be readied against Monsters? Should our eyes be radiant and open, our hands closed and our knuckles sharp, wary grins on her lips and maybe a song to Lady Luck?"

[Reverence] "Mystery Fritata of the Leftovers, dear Lady Kage," she says, presenting the Disciple Orphan (Queen [un-felled, not yet fallen]) with a plastic wrapped bundle. It is still faintly warm. "With peppers, potatoes, jack cheese, and some crumbled Cotija, black olives, mushrooms and scallions."

The leftover bin, it seems, has been canted toward the Mediterranean. At least at Emily's house. It is less whimsical than Kage's traipsing, her lofty perch, her lilting words.

"And we come to gather in kinship, in friendship, in the wake of false friends and in echo of other times. Alas, I have taken a houseguest, because Compassion so compelled me, and she has overstayed her due. And her trading of favors, it vexes me."

A pause. Emily plucks a chocolate won-ton out of the magician's offerings.

"As does her wanton pantslessness."

It is, perhaps, just a little like other times. When they spoke of the rockstar at the soup kitchen. When their tongues were touched with nicknames and their exchanges more cryptic, enigmatic. Emily nibbles at the treat that Kage has offered, she lets the water and the verdant woods-smell mingle with the press of Kage's resonance. This is a good thing, a true thing, a thing worth fighting for. It pushes the morning further from her mind. She smiles.

[Candle] Kage clasps her hands together, twines her fingers, irreverent, when Emily begins her litany, we come to gather, and she nods after each comma, a punctuation, her eyes greener today than they are wont to be; summer brings the true out of the smoke, out of the haze, the besmirched hazel. They're almost lucent. When Emily says she's taken a houseguest, well, Kage unclasps her hands, bracing herself up with one as she carefully, cautiously, lets her legs dangle o'er, and then reaches for the Mystery Fritata, listening. "This land of the Leftovers, Em; where you come from it seems like a magical land, full fair and breezy. I confess the land of Leftovers I've waded through has been a place of nightmarish horror, where no sane woman wants to walk. Is there cutlery?"

And then, to the matter at hand, to the gathering, this: "Wanton pantslessness. Did you take a Satyr into your home? Best show them the door, and remind them how to use it. At least, for the leaving." A beat, and, "What favors?"

[Reverence] "There is not cutlery, but there are napkins," Emily says, withdrawing the latter from her bag, all folded in on themselves and kept clean. Kept neat. "It should hold together if you unwrap it carefully," she adds, for she is a clever sort, the sort that might eat Fritata on the run. Oh yes, Emily's land of leftovers is quiet magical compared to most.

"I've been cooking more, since last weekend. It's calming. I forgot how much I enjoyed it," she adds, handing Kage a napkin. Explaining the magica of the leftovers away.

"I'm making paella tonight, if you would like to help free me of my Satyr," she says, but it's playful this. She is not truly asking (or perhaps she is). Emily unwraps a corner of her fritata, peels the plastic away enough to take a bite. The rest stays neat. It does not crumble. Lo, a demonstration.

"Though I fear she is not Shining Host and summer-touched. It's only Lara," Emily says, and there's a dark that smudge-touches her eyes. It passes, this mild torment.

"She asked to do something for me, in exchange for staying. I told her there was something I might like; she asked after it; I said for her to leave Owen alone."

A pause, another careful unwrapping. A little scowl. Another bite. Chew. Swallow.

"This turned into her insisting on a massage -- I quite dislike her lack of personal boundaries, Kage." Almost as much as she disliked the wanton pantslessness. Or, perhaps, even more.

[Candle] Kage plays Echo, then, to Emily's nodding Narcissi, and she peels and bites just as Emily does, and lo! Verily, it was a revolution -- a Fritata on the Go revolution! Viva the revolution for now and for always! But that is just one nuance, just one thing that happens here, at the Court, between the hazel-eyed Orphan and the dark-haired Chorister-soon. There are some who will say that it's as easy as claiming a name; those are not as closekinned to the Mystery of it.

There is always an initiation; there must be honoring, there must be guidance, a moment of Naming. At least, this is what some believe. So Emily is a Chorister-soon, a Chorister-in-waiting, and it shows more and more, she wears it well. It's only Lara, Emily says, and then: her next sentence is most riddling, quite perplexing, and coolly radiant, sardonic Kage, Kage of the quick wit and sharp quips, begins to raise her eyebrows.

And then, after a no-that-can't-be pause -- something delicate, precise -- "She forced you to give her a massage in return for leaving Owen alone? Really? After you'd brought her home as a guest?"

Bemused. Baffled.

[Reverence] She had been about to take another bite -- her teeth framed it, she could taste it on her tongue as she breathed in -- when Kage asked her question, reworded Emily's synopsis and strung together the lapses an lacking information. Emily unwraps her teeth from around the fritata.

"Ah.... no." She says. The words are hesitant. They come as separate thoughts. "In return for leaving Owen alone, she wanted a good reason. I had only a good enough one; I fear he will not be spared."

Woe. There is some sadness to this, and frustration!

"Then she insisted on giving me a backrub. Because I am too tense, or something, and I do not think that was a good idea." No contractions; Emily is peeved. Now the fritata mouthful is reclaimed. Chewed carefully. Swallowed down.

"She cried when I pulled away from her. She doesn't know when or where to stop, Kage. It bothers me." She doesn't have to say that she doesn't feel safe around the other Disciple. She shouldn't have to say much after the card playing night. Though Kage had gone home early, and it was likely she hadn't heard that Emily and Lara had gotten off to an auspicious beginning.

"I had to ask her not to try to get into my head when she touched me. Like it is just a thing that she does -- are they all like this? Cultists?"

[Candle] This is a lot of information to take in about Lara the Cultist. The red-haired and beautiful (sharp [as a fox]) woman whose very resonance was subversive. Who Kage had given espresso, the first time they met. Lara, who'd worn a hood up around her face until she no longer could, who suggested tequila and cardplay, who just wanted to have fun. A lot of information in a week already full of information about this particular Cultist, about her doings. The slender minutes Kage has spent in the Cultist's company, the Cultist has seemed as wellbehaved as ever they do; clearly, that is not so. Emily's sense of unsafety troubles the Orphan's gaze, and her eyebrows are definitely high; not in disbelief, but in seriously, no way, what's wrong with that dame, and a bit of measuring, an attempt at a gauge.

"What is her reason for not leaving him alone?" Kage asks, carefully. And then, "Did she try to get into your head anyway?" Poor Emily: a reoccurring theme -- other Mages, touching her headspace.

And Emily wants to know if they're all like this, Cultists. And Kage, well. Kage isn't a Hermetic. She isn't an Akashic or a Verbena, she isn't a Euthanatos or a Virtual Adept, and she has none of their prejudices. Her prejudices are her own, and firmly entrenched. Her expression becomes wry, rueful, and she says,

"The Cult of Ecstasy. I've been told by others that they're about boundaries -- about breaking them down; about finding liminality. That's part of why they understand Time so well -- uhm, that's what I've been told, as I said. In my experience, they usually seem less conscious of personal space than others, but that doesn't have to mean they're rude. T.H. is definitely not a typical Cultist. Lara -- I'm not sure." A beat.

This is Kage. She still tries not to sway the newer mages one way or another with her opinions on Traditions. [Not her style.]

[Reverence] [Nothing to see here, move along.]

[Reverence] Emily sidesteps Kage's question about Owen, but it is not artful. She simply lets it fall by the wayside. There are other, more pressing questions to answer. It is not crafty, this, but perhaps it will not read as wanton deception.

"Not today," she tells Kage, instead. "She has, in the past. She can be very convincing, and I'm not sure where innate talent ends and magic begins. Or Tequila, for that matter."

A frown, a most decidedly unhappy frown. Emily is thinking of that night, with the cards. She is grinding her teeth, there, oh! Best stop that.

"I prefer Nathan's company to Lara's if that's any comment on character," she says. And Nathan shot Owen, something Kage would know by now.

[Candle] [?]

[Candle] "Why? What did she do to you, in the past?" Emily mentions tequila and there is a pang, a little thorn, of avowal; a snag, something that localizes this and Lara used magick on me moment to a certain day and a certain place, and she frowns, growing grave-eyed. She'll listen for Emily's answer, too, and nibble on the fritata carefully, as delicately indeed as any slender wood-nymph, as any dryad, come out've the scorched wood to stretch herself against the rain, and her left foot sways a little in the air, back and forth, forth and back, and hiking boots are heavy, pull their people down to the ground, fasten them on this earth. No heavenly paths for you.

And Emily, well; she has sidestepped a question, and it was not done gracefully. Moreover, that sidestep, that particular way of addressing another portion of the conversation first and foremost, casually, well: this is a trick that Kage R. Jakes knows very, very well. A shadow, and a light, and they are the same thing: make the same shapes in the world. She leaves it for now, but only because she has those questions, the ones she just asked, and because she is regarding Emily, and her eyelashes are sooty, dark, when they intermingle, when she blinks just like that.

[Reverence] There is a pause, and in that pause the rain falls down. It kisses their cheeks. Kage blinks, Emily blinks, the tiny drops that cling to their eyelashes kiss and coalesce, run down their cheeks like tears. It's all kisses and raindrops, this pause. The rain falls down, the Apprentice looks up. Up. Up. And then down again.

"That night, when we were all playing cards? You left -- wise choice, by the by -- and Owen came up from the well." And this? This is the reporting voice, it's the cadence. Were they not perched on a fallen King, nibbling wonders from the land of leftovers, Emily would be standing, shoulders square, hands clasped before her: courtly, then, and prim and proper. "He joined the table; Lara wanted him to drink to join us --"

A break here. A secret withheld. It is intimated, by the gravity of her pause, by the unwillingness she has to push onward with that thought. And then it is set aside. There is a problem, then, with Lara and Owen and alcohol -- or some subset thereof -- or just Lara or Owen -- or simply a problem. But Kage is bright, she is quick, it will sort itself in her head shortly.

"Owen went outside. I left to see if he was alright, but Lara..." Again, the teeth. The grinding. Self-chastizement. Emily exhales and it is scalding; there should be tendrils of steam: fire-breathing, angry. It is simply a sigh, though, and no tendrils, no flames. "She didn't want us to go. She said something; I don't remember what. And then she was looking into my eyes. Telling me it would all be okay."

Scorn. Emily picks an olive out of her lunch. Flicks it aside. Unwanted. Too salty. Too something. Unpalatable.

"She tried the same on Owen, I think. It didn't go over well. I tried to go out the back... but then he came back inside. I was," a frown, as if the face she made could grow more displeased. "I had too much to drink, when we were playing. Owen helped me get home. Lara was being very smug. I think she thought she was being helpful."

[Reverence] Kage is Emily's rowan-haired Other. She is the coldfire hair; she has the emerald-quick and occasionally hazel eyes. Her path kisses Emily's in the depth of the wood. They have kept Court; they have held the Breach. It is harder to keep from Kage things that she keeps back from others. Ardent, shining, amorous, immanent.

There is a softness to Emily's voice when she says his name: Owen. It is an affection, familiarity. It shapes the secrets she does not share; it is a closeness. Emily does not name it as anything but friendship; she does not call it out by another name, will not know it if it is set before her as openly as that. But there is warmth to it, this thing she is protecting (from Lara, from herself, from Naming). There is peace to it as well.

It is unsteady and uncertain, yet. It is hopeful.
to†Candle

[Candle] "This was inside the White Fence House?" Kage says, after a beat. After a beat, because again: it's a lot; because she is considering, and considerate. Her gaze tarnishes up, you see. And the dark, it doesn't reveal much; of course, neither do bright things, and Kage, Kage can be bright.

Kage, whose skin is warm, is flushed, who is wearing a dress to go hiking, who was briefly haloed by delicate green, by manmade metal spires, sheltered from the rain by dint of that halo. Kage slouches, and she pulls her knees up to her chest, looping one arm casually around them. Whatever it is she reads from Emily, whatever it is the other girl has, she feels no need to harry it, no need to comment, no need to hurry it, no need to point and gawk and say, look at that growing, curling thing, look at it.

Ardent, Kage.
And withering, too.

"Jesus. I'm sorry, but I had no idea she was so." No adjective. Just: was so. Brief, perplexed pause, and - " - Do you actually need help getting her out of your apartment?"

[Reverence] This was inside the White Fence House?
"Does the porch count as inside?" Emily asks. So, on the premises. Under the roof line. Inside was a matter of context.

"I may," she says, chewing on her lower lip for a moment. "I told her she could stay tonight; I'm even making dinner -- I don't know why, though. I don't like her as a person, but I feel compassion for her as a human being. There's something wrong. She's diminished. I've been diminished."

A pause.

"But I won't sleep there while she's there. I've stayed other places. And she's passive aggressive." There's a pause. Emily doesn't know how to explain this, there's no simile or metaphor. She has not met anyone as manipulative as Lara, as wantonly emotionally manipulative. It makes her angry; her vocabulary fails. Emily does not want to say, like the other Graduate Student in her lab, she is such-and-such like, whoa. That is a failure of the English language, but it feels apt.

Lara is manipulative, like, whoa.

No, she can't bring herself to actually say it. Instead she eats the end of her fritata, throws away another olive. Shrugs.

[Candle] "Do you need a place to stay?" Kage asks, "Because," a brief pause, a briefer smile; the impression of it is moonlight, kissing a lake, dappled dark, "I have a place to keep houseguests. You'd be welcome." While Emily ponders a response, or just responds, Kage pays mind to the fritata again, and it really is delicious. She eats well with her Magely aquaintances. Almost, almost, almost with a foodie's snobbery, all of this.

A beat. A measure. There's noone coming up the path that winds down to the parking lot. There's noone coming up the other path that winds down to the parking lot. There's noone hunting in the woods, not near enough for them to know. There's noone: this is solitude; this is solitary. There are no footprints, but the ones they leave.

Ah, sacrosanct things.

"And, well," Kage says, "Compassion is tricky. It's like the Sun and Icarus, you know? Good, that it's there; fine, that it lights the way -- in fact, totally necessary. And then bad for some people, in certain situations." A brief beat. And, "I admit, that wasn't one of my better metaphors."

[Reverence] "I would appreciate a place to stay, at least for tonight," Emily says. There's gratitude underlying the words. "I shall bring you paella in payment, and some croissants if there are any left when I get back to the flat."

They eat well, these Orphans (one for now and one for always). The share fine things, good conversations, treasures, wonders, treats. They uplift and bolster. Sacrosanct things indeed.

"I think I'd best mind my wings for awhile," she says, with a nod to Kage's metaphor (perhaps a nod to a young boy's Naming, as well). "At least until the sun-scorch has mended."

[Candle] [Roll credits!]

Justine

[Justine Noble] Justine, so far, has found Chicago to be rather charming. It strikes her as...well, a bit more backwater than Boston, so to speak, but Massachusans are notorious for thinking such things, for holding high the superiority of the upper east coast. (Justine and Ashley were amused to hear that they call them Massholes, in the midwest.)

Needless to say, she finds the restaurant on the antique ship also charming.

When she'd first heard that hesitance in Kage's voice on the phone, Justine understood it to be: well, this is unexpected, we have mutual acquaintances, this is a little strange. She was friendly, but didn't fully explain herself over the phone, particularly after Kage had already acquiesced.

She follows Kage inside and then down belowdecks to the seating, taking in scents of food (garlic, spices) mingled with water mingled with the aged wood around them, the dim lights. Once they're seated, she reaches up to comb her fingers through her hair to straighten it, to pull any stray strands over her shoulder with the rest.

"How are you, Kage?"

[K. Jakes] [?]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[K. Jakes] The Mage who decided to look at the ship restaurant through the lens of Entropy would likely choose not to eat there (unless they were fascinated by the knots of luck [the tangles of unforeseen good fortune] which are all that holds it together). Kage looked, once. Because she's done so, there are a couple of seats that she won't sit at even if they're the only ones available and if it looks like the waiter or waitress is taking them to one such seat she says, Actually, why not that table, over there. That's what happens, and they find themselves seated in an alcove (echo [echo]) that is all curvature all no ghosts trapped here lines with some bread, olive oil and vinegar to keep them company as they read over the menu.

Kage rests her forearms against the edge of the table (courteous) and rests her fingers on the cool glass of icewater the waiter set down. The condensation clings to her fingertips, and one droplet gets on the delicate skin of her inner wrist, starts to trail down. Feels good, with how hot it is outside. Feels good, with all those clouds in the air and oppressive.

"Wouldn't complain," she says. "Are you anxious to go home again?"

[Justine Noble] Justine has picked up the menu, is perusing it while they sit there. While she has some skill in the Ars Fati, it's not something she regularly applies when she goes out: sometimes one is better off without Sight in restaurants, she's found. Being able to see tiny bacteria on tables and collections all over door handles would be enough to turn anyone into a germophobe.

She glances up toward Kage, smiles at the question. "I wouldn't say -anxious,-" she says. "It's been really nice to catch up with Ashley and see what's going on here. I haven't really seen very much of her since she left last summer. But it'll be nice to get home and see Bran and my fiance again."

Though she doesn't relish the idea of telling Bran about the trip. Generally she would, but she knows that telling him about the archangel, about going into the Umbra and helping to avert an apocalyptic event, is just going to make him sulk for a while. Adam will be the one she'll be excited to tell about it; perhaps even Simon, when he's in town again.

Another smile, and she adds, "Simon asked about you, by the way. He was a little worried with everything that was going on." She expects Kage to be vaguely pleased at this: it's nice to have an old mentor's concern, after all. For all she knows that's all they were.

[K. Jakes] [K: -_- ]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 6, 8, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Justine Noble] [o_
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Justine Noble] [Reroll!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 3, 7, 8, 8, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 7)

[K. Jakes] "Then no urge, I guess, to leave Boston's luminous crowd, and inject more tradition to politics here?"

The way Kage phrases that, there's no capitalization of the word T, although Justine's Tradition, capitalization included, is actually why she's asking. Not just her Tradition, but: what Kage knows of Justine, of Bran, of Ashley, of students of Hannibal. They all tend to be, one way or another, even if it isn't immediately evident, ye parfait lyttel Hermetics (Architects). And Chicago's just starting to establish a community, and how that community works. Every month, it gets more and more entrenched, and every month, there's some new challenge. Ashley's in the middle of it. Kage has managed to keep herself on the sidelines, for the most part. She doesn't know that Morgan suggested she tie-break a Hermetic arguement about who should lead that Tradition. If she did, she'd be well amused.

Justine mentions a fiance and Kage glances, automatically, toward Justine's left hand, toward her ring-finger. Says, "How long have you been engaged? Who asked who?" She almost asks, as a joke, whether Bran or Hannibal were consulted, but she doesn't really know what the dynamics are. Kage isn't the kind of person who gets lulled into a sense of false familiarty, just because she knows someone who knows someone who knows someone. People are themselves, when all's said and done. They're not their influences, however brightly they wear them.

Justine says Simon asked about her, and Kage (apparently [obviously]) takes it in stride. There's a brief pause, and the Orphan glances down at her fingers, at the water, as if she'd forgotten about it and something suddenly reminded her: maybe that drop of water which was slowly, slowly rolling down her inner wrist and suddenly decided to make a speedy dash for it. The trail of water gleams, in the dim light, and she sits back, wiping it away with the palm of her hand. Her smile is rueful, a little wry; touched by gravity.

"That's my fault, I suppose. When the bridge fell -- I don't know how much Ashley told you about that, but I'm familiar with Ars Sprituum and Ars Mentis." None of these words are hers, so she has no trouble using the words of whatever Traditionalist she's talking to, not if she knows them. There's ease. "And it was intense. And frightening, and painful. I called to ask him if he had any ideas on what the Hell it was about."

[K. Jakes] But then, Justine is particularly perceptive, and although she doesn't know Kage well at all, it doesn't take her guess work to read the (concealed [sheathed]) signs: pulse, jumping in her temple; the way she glances down; a feeling, something in the bones.

Kage isn't vaguely pleased to hear that Simon's asking after her well being, that he's worried enough to mention it to someone like Justine. Kage is (mostly secretly) a passionate creature: and it makes her furious, and anxious, and worried and pleased. The dominant emotion is fury, though: nothing flaring up, just something old, a knot of old (hot) resentment.
to†Justine Noble

[Justine Noble] She almost misses it, that anger that Kage buries. Maybe Justine is looking for it, suspects because she knows Simon and Simon seemed a little hesitant about asking after Kage to begin with. Either way, she frowns a little at what she sees, and decides not to pry into what's probably a sensitive subject. Some people split from their mentors on poor terms, after all, and Kage did not join his Tradition.

"Ashley told me," she says, of the bridge, of the events with the demon. "She was...well, she was visibly shaken up when she told me the whole thing, so I figured it was bad. I don't blame you for calling him. Simon seems like he'd know a lot about something like that. But I'll let him know you're safe. He'd probably be glad to know."

There are no needles, there, hidden in her words and waiting to stab outward as they reach Kage. Nothing persuasive, either, nothing to suggest that perhaps Kage should call Simon herself. Just: Simon would be glad, Simon asked.

"As for politics...I'm pretty happy in Boston. Ashley seems like she's doing all right, and this is her project." She says this with a glance over to Kage, because she wasn't really sure whether it was a serious question, whether she was seriously asking whether Justine and Bran would migrate to Chicago to help raise the chantry. In case it was, though, she adds, "Besides, having Bran and Ashley in the same city for more than a day or two would be a nightmare for us all."

It's her turn to smile ruefully, though it fades into something more pleasant, friendlier, as she adds, "Adam and I have been engaged since New Year's. He asked me."

[K. Jakes] The Orphan's gaze is eloquent (expressive [look]) when Justine says that Simon seems like he'd know a lot about that kind of stuff. Acknowledgment, confirmation; it's just in the way she looks at Justine. She isn't always opaque. He'd probably be glad to know, Justine says, and Kage takes a sip of her water, says, a touch sardonically, "Maybe." And then, sans sardonicism: with a radiant (mischief [suppressed]) lilt of her mouth. An almost smile. "I'm sometimes sorry that I didn't loot his library when we parted ways." She may or may not mean that literally.

Justine isn't certain that Kage's question was a serious one, but it was. She's been interested in the Traditionalists getting organized ever since she realized just how disorganized they are. It's likely that the Mages she regularly interacts with don't even realize it. Kage: she stays removed, aloof. "And how are things in Boston?" A beat. And, "Your projects, as it were."

But interested, see. "May I...?" Kage reaches across the table for Justine's left-hand, to better examine the (simplicity [loveliness]) band around Justine's left finger. Her fingertips are callused, because she is a musician, and there's a bandaid around her left thumb. The bandaid is Flintstones. She grins. "Did you say yes right away?"

[Justine Noble] Kage is sorry she didn't loot Simon's library. Perhaps she actually is. Justine laughs as though it were a joke, as though she wouldn't -really- consider stealing from her former mentor, now estranged. This is not something she would ever consider doing to Hannibal, even if they were to have a falling out, but Simon strikes her as considerably less vengeful.

"Well, I don't really have any specific projects of my own," she says, "but Bran is doing well. The Technocracy's lost a few footholds in Boston, and we killed a Massassa - " pause, clarification " - a vampire about a month ago." There's another smile touched with ruefulness; these things happen, when it comes to Bran sometimes. "I mostly just try to keep the peace and try to remind them to stay human, you know? That's enough of a project for me."

She allows Kage to hold her hand up, to examine the ring, and grins. It's not ostentatious: she and Adam are not ostentatious people. "I did," she says. "I met him...soon after we got back to Boston, actually. I'd been thinking he'd ask."

[K. Jakes] "Why not?" she asks, in terms of Justine not having specific projects of her own (idealist [purity]). Kage doesn't seem accusatory, or shocked; just inquisitive. Just interested. Her expression has been neutral (detached [aloof]) so far when Bran is mentioned, a darker shade of green, a passage.

He hadn't impressed her when she'd met him, and Kage remembers: but she hadn't been much impressed by Ashley, either, and that doesn't seem to have stopped the Orphan and the Hermetic from becoming (unlikely) friends, somebody Kage'd express her worry about disappearing from her family to, somebody Ashley'd entrust her dog to, make the stupid speech to. Judgment, plenty. But reserved: flexible. Her glance shades to something understanding when the Flambeau mentions remind them to stay human. "I suppose that's true; not necessarily fair, if you feel yourself missing something else. But true."

She gives Justine her hand back after examining the band. Kage has had an older sister get married, and a couple of friends now. She knows the appropriate noises to make, and although she doesn't foresee marriage in her future (just Kage, husband, and Him? Ahahaha, no), she can appreciate the (dead [meaningless]) ritual of it. Balladry, after all, and myth: ties that bind, contracts, deals. "Does he get along with your people? I mean, he's not Hermetic, is he?"

This is about the time that the waitress comes to take their order. Kage lets Justine order first, and she orders some bizarre sounding boozy woozy in the knees drink with the word Starbright in it, for herself. Is firm on lavender gelato for dessert. Is up for appetizer-splitting, and orders the summer squash and asparagus ravioli in cream sauce.

[Justine Noble] "Well," Justine says, of projects, "I like to learn, obviously, and I try to do a lot of work to keep people safe. I help Bran with his work against the Technocracy. But I think keeping the Traditions working together peacefully and reminding people of the right thing to do is my real work, honestly." Another of those smiles, from the corner of her mouth, gaze trailing away before it finds its way back up to Kage. "I really care about Bran and Ashley, but I was worried about them for a while. I think having this much power makes people go a little crazy. Especially when you've got some inhuman thing in your mind telling you what to do, you know?"

Justine places her order, orders a lighter drink - something kind of fruity. Doesn't drink as heavily as either of her cabal mates, doesn't share a fondness for beer or hard liquor. Wine, sometimes.

"Do you have any projects here that you're working on?" she asks, because she is curious. Wonders what an Orphan gets up to, particularly since Ashley's said Kage isn't terribly involved in the Tradition politics here.

"As for Adam...yes, he generally gets along with them, though it's pretty common to hear that marriages to non-Hermetics are doomed to failure. Bran does the protective older brother thing sometimes, but I think he likes him. Ashley liked him. They argued theology, but that's pretty much how Ashley shakes hands," she says, with a smile. "He thinks Hermetics are kind of intense, but Adam can get along with just about anybody." So, strained: that much is communicated. But it works, in the end.

[K. Jakes] There's an empty seat (just a shadow [just a fall of light]) and Kage gazes at it for a beat. A piece of bread, golden as honeycomb, is snapped in half, steam wafts up, a little ghost: given up. And she dips the bread in vinegar, in oil, and the two are forced to mix, to soak in. Her gaze slides back to Justine; attention, attentive. Her eyebrows quiver for a second, and then: "That presupposes that the human thing is the right thing to do. That, in the end, the leaving of humanity, the departure of the regular rhythms of thought, is wrong. Do you ever doubt yourself?" Devil's advocate. Kage understands all too well what Justine is talking about. After she woke up from her Seeking, she was worried that she'd grow madder, forget things she valued, become more heartless. Hasn't happened. Yet.

Do you have any projects here that you're working on, Justine asks, and Kage's mouth quirks: "Life would be pretty tedious without work. There are things I want here."

[Justine Noble] Kage glances at that empty chair, and Justine is a perceptive woman. She doesn't miss that. She also doesn't think -she- heard anything, so Kage gets a brief furrow of the brows, so quick that she probably doesn't see it. By the time she's looked back up Justine is listening to what else she has to say, about humanity.

"Well," she says, "I do doubt myself, sometimes. And I don't mean human things like...petty humanity, I guess. I try to make people remember to be compassionate and not to go overboard with what they can do. And make them remember that Awakening should be a responsibility. I suppose that it might be wrong and leaving those things behind is the way it should be to Ascend, but that just doesn't feel right to me, and it doesn't seem like what God would want for us."

A shrug, here; Justine is unabashed about her religious influences. She, too, reaches for a piece of bread, dabs it in the vinegar and oil, and looks back at Kage. "What kind of things?"

[K. Jakes] [Hm. Do I see it? Percept + Alert.]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 4, 5, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[K. Jakes] "I..." a brief pause (a cessation [noiseless]). "Hm. I find that many - I believe I'd even say most - awakened individuals behave the way they do in service to compassion. That's not to say that they're caring individuals, who look out for one another, who actually care what something costs another." Justine's religiosity doesn't disturb Kage, or check her interest. There's no disdain (as would be common in a lot of academics) and there's no condescension. She accepts that it's what works for Justine. She's accepting of a lot of things, Kage. Things that don't connect, things that don't fit: they do, as far as she's concerned. All one story, all one Mystery. All one fucked up maze.

The red-haired woman does notice Justine's look after she glanced at the chair, and it's only long practice that doesn't have her glancing at the chair again. She doesn't quite flush -- or maybe she does? A little? Her eyes deepen, anyway; touch on the luminous, stay opaque (reflective [secret]).

A segue. Justine wants to know what projects Kage is working on. What does an Orphan do with one's time? There are no Tradition goals to reach. There are no day-to-day bureaucratic Awakened hassles to feel obligated to. So: really -- what? Kage runs her fingers through her hair, tucking the bright colour, vibrant, back behind her ears. "They won't sound very noble," she says, rueful. "But I'm trying to figure out how to see things I can't see yet. To answer some questions I have." A beat, and, admission: she doesn't think Justine will tell Ashley, because she doesn't think Ashley will care to ask. "And I'd like to see the White Fence House safe, and the people inside it up to usual fuckwittery, instead of ... Stuff that'll get them killed and unleash ancient evil."

This is a life in which she means that.

[Justine Noble] "But the caring is what's important," Justine says. "Not just paying lip service to the idea of compassion or using it as a way to justify whatever you want it to justify." Because even if there weren't examples of this being done throughout history, Justine has seen it done more than often enough with the people she knows. Not a woman who believes that the ends justify the means, Justine.

"When you can bend reality, you shouldn't be able to get away with not caring for the consequences or not caring who you hurt." In another life perhaps she might have made a good Technocrat. It's ironic that she's killed many, not just a few, and works against them. More than ironic: it might be a little hypocritical.

Kage mentions the White Fence House, and there's a moment of confusion before Justine realizes she must be talking about the chantry, and laughs. "Well, for one thing, I'd call pursing knowledge to be noble. I mean, not everyone might, but I would." A shrug here. "And for another I'm not sure most chantries ever find themselves at peace, unfortunately."

[K. Jakes] "Yes. But that's the usual fuckwittery," Kage says, not quite dismissively, of chantries and peace. "That's not -- loss from inside; a lack of connection. Or, if it is, it's established and there's someone with the ability, or at least the connections, to handle it. I'd like to see the traditionalists here get their act together." And one might very well wonder: why? Then again: one might very well make assumptions.

And Kage smiles, spark. "And oh, no. I didn't mean that learning isn't a noble pursuit, but I just want to know for myself, not for any particular cause, not because I have any particular end in mind. It's tricky; I think the next thing I'm going to try to figure out is -- well. Base metals, the heart of stone: that kind of thing." This is all more or less true. That's not the only thing Kage is going to be studying in the next few months. How to shoot from the hip, what the names of angels are, how to bottle lightning: these are all of interest. And, ever present, this: how to un-clot the blood; how to un-dark the body when a shadow is threading through it (poison [rebel]).

And, also, this: a slight frown. "I don't think that it's not caring about the consequences, though. I think it's -- hold on. Let me think of a good example. Then I'll return back to that topic of conversation."

And, lo! There is food brought out.

[Justine Noble] Food is set on the table, and Justine goes to upwrap her silverware, spreading the napkin out over her lap. Pasta is occasionally a worrisome thing even with a careful hand. "Why are you interested in seeing them get their act together?" she asks Kage, and this is curious. It's seeking understanding. "Well, and...if you want to see them get their act together, why not join and make it happen?"

There aren't any ulterior motives in the question: Justine is not trying to sneakily suggest that Kage should, not trying to manipulate her into the decision. It's just the question, it's just seeking the truth. Then there's also, "Bran knows the Ars Materiae. He's really familiar with it, actually. But I'd figure you have a lot of people here who know it, too." It's a useful art, after all.

After that, she forks up some of the pasta she has, waiting for Kage's answers, waiting for her to think of her example.

[K. Jakes] Kage's brows draw together, brief. "Join what?" That isn't a sneaky question, either: isn't a trap, trying to trick Justine into something undiplomatic. She just isn't certain what Justine means.

Bran knows Ars Matteriae. Kage says: "Oh, yeah? Why'd he focus on that?" A beat. "And, not really - there are a lot of Machine Poets who'd try to teach me. One of them turned my kitchen counter into pie crust accidentally, so I'm fairly certain she'd be willing to try and explain the ins and outs, but ... That kind of ... Blah, blah, crazy technology! blah!, doesn't really ... That's not at all where my skills lie. That's ... the opposite of water to the seeds."

And she's still, evidently, coming up with an example. Conversations, they're wandery, vagabondy things. A breath, and she nudges her plate toward Justine, a silent offering. Says, finally - "Okay. Do you know Jeffrey Banks?"

[Justine Noble] "A Tradition," Justine clarifies. "I mean, there'd have to be one that you could join so that you could try and get them organized if it's what you want, I'd think."

Of Bran, Justine says, "He's interested in the alchemy angle. I personally just think he thought it was fun to transmute things, even though he'd try to make it sound like he was interested in the pragmatic aspect for Hannibal," Justine says, smiling, because she's remembering Bran the apprentice, bending metal. She spins some pasta around her fork, making sure it's secure before she looks over at Kage. A little sympathetic. "I'm not sure I could wrap my head around the Sons of Ether either."

Jeffrey Banks? That, she just shakes her head to. Transfers the forkful of pasta to her mouth, watching Kage.

[K. Jakes] [Subt roll, again!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 6, 7, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Justine Noble] [Perception + Awareness]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 6, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[K. Jakes] [No reeeally.]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Justine Noble] [Reroll!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 3, 4, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[K. Jakes] [Perceptive jerks!]

[K. Jakes] A beat. A cup's full of water, and the cup is silver; is moonscrim. A beat, and it's visceral: it's the pulse. And then, with just a touch of wry: "I don't think that joining a Tradition is particularly helpful one way or another when it comes to organizing the rest of the Traditionalists. I mean," another brief pause, briefer, "When Ashley and I first re-met here in Chicago, all I heard about, from everyone, was how this Orphan Disciple had been The Guy, how he'd been the one they were all waiting to lead them. And Israel, well: she gets by quite well. She has Father Ward, of course, but I think she stands on her own."

Which isn't an answer, per se, except insofar as Kage seems fairly (stubbornly [determinedly]) adamant against joining a Tradition, just because it would make some things easier (make some things harder, too). The alchemy angle gets a half-wistful, half-yearning, half (three halves make a whole: add a fourth: make it serious). It's followed by a half-smirk: "I can imagine all too well what Hannibal would have said if he'd suspected you guys did anything just for fun. I'm actually surprised he maintains relationships with his students. No offense. I mean, I guess I shouldn't be surprised; I still talk to him occasionally."

"And, okay. Jeffrey Banks. He's sort of -- no. Here's a better one. There's a Verbena I know, through Jeff actually, who's pretty heartless on the surface. He's sneaky, he's forgettable and he lies. But he does it all for this guy, because he believes this guy is right. And he believes this guy is right, because this guy saved him, made it so he wasn't just -- lost, forgotten. Because he thinks that this guy'll make it so noone is lost and forgotten. That's compassion, you know? That is, essentially, what drives him -- I think, anyway. The desire to not be alone like that. He doesn't really seem to care about other people all that much, but he's shaped by that first caring. It's not an excuse; it's just the beginning."

[Justine Noble] Justine listens to what Kage has to say about Israel, about The Guy who was supposed to rally everyone around his banner in the before times. She doesn't dispute this: Justine doesn't have a problem with Orphans remaining Orphans. She feels a little sorry for them, which is perhaps condescending in its own way, but doesn't think they should be shepherded into a Tradition if they don't want to be. "I understand," she says, because she does. "You didn't answer why, though. Why organizing them matters."

Of Hannibal, she just smiles. She knows her mentor, she knows how he thinks, and from time to time it surprises her a little too. Justine has, once or twice, hoped that he actually cares, but doesn't hang a lot of that hope on it.

"I see what you're saying," Justine says, with a nod. "I guess...I'm maybe just used to people like Ashley and Hannibal. They don't really put up any pretense at doing things for compassionate reasons." Another smile, here, because she's also used to Bran: Bran who for a long time claimed that compassion was why he was doing what he was doing even after he didn't feel it anymore.

"It -is- complicated, given that he might be willing to hurt other people for those other things he cares about. But I'd call that a beginning, like you said. It means maybe he could eventually be guided toward actually caring."

[K. Jakes] While Justine is speaking, Kage cuts a ravioli in half with her fork, then spears it and a piece of asparagus, drags them through cream, takes a bite. Another, and another. Food is just as good as conversation, and both are courtesy things, see, both are important. When she has swallowed, taken a sip of her froufrou (old-timey, sling-sloe, Untouchable, hah) drink, washed it down, heard it all, Kage says, "Aren't you willing to hurt other people for your cause, or Bran's? Ashley's? Adam's?"

This time, when Justine mentions Hannibal and Ashley, her eyebrows rise (slow [ascent]). And, to that, "And I think Caspian is motivated by a form of compassion." A pause, pregnant with the possibility of, say, a lightning strike, a smiting from God (who's laughing, somewhere). "He wants people to be strong so they don't break. I don't think he's actively -- well. I don't think he's usually actively cruel, just to be cruel, just to put people down. And if you've got his attention for a long time, it's because he wants you to break, or to be strong, um, hopefully the latter, I guess. There's got to be a reason he thinks that way. Something heartdeep." A faint smirk. "I could just be saying this because I think it would annoy him, mind you."

And: Justine calls her out on not answering. Daiyu did, too. Why organizing them matters. Kage presses two fingers against her mouth (kiss [me]), and her gaze tarnishes up, something pensive; something occult, occluded, and she half-glances toward that chair, again, then past the chair, toward their waiter, then back at Justine. A direct creature, Kage. "Because," she says, "when they're not organized, it's more of a mess for everybody."

[Justine Noble] "Well, yes," Justine admits, "but I try not to. I don't hate the Technocracy the way Bran does, but sometimes there isn't any answer other than to fight. Or...well." She reconsiders those words, amends, adds, "Sometimes fighting is the best answer because the cost of the others is too high."

What Kage says about Hannibal: it's something Justine hasn't noticed before. She's been around her mentor a long time, she's perceptive, but the way she's seen him has always been from the eyes of a student. Kage has an angle she simply doesn't have, knows different things. So Justine contemplates this while she washes down a piece of broccoli and a noodle. "Ashley's mentor was like that too," she says. "I wouldn't be surprised if there was something, if that's true. But, I mean, whatever his reasons...you could argue that his methods could be a little better."

The latter answer just makes her smile as she drags a few noodles through sauce, spears them carefully so they don't roll off the fork. "A mess for Sleepers, or a mess for you? Or both?"

[K. Jakes] [Subt! I don't even realize I'm misdirecting!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Justine Noble] [Are you misdirecting?]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 7, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[K. Jakes] A mess for Sleepers or a mess for you.

"Isn't there a song about how a girl's gotta look out for herself?" Kage says, and her smile is easy, after a moment. Kage is someone that many other Mages just find themselves trusting, or deciding to trust, telling things to, telling But don't tell, whatever their reasons. And yet, she says stuff like this, stuff that doesn't quite answer the question, but seems to imply an anwer, an answer that has nothing at all to do with helping others, with being anything other than Solitary, than self-sufficient and independent, and screw the rest.

It's odd. There are odder people to confide in: Ashley, maybe. (But don't you want someone like Ashley to see you? Don't you want them to notice your problems and make you real? Strong personalities; they work like that, sometimes.)

"What was Ashley's mentor like?" Kage asks, curious. "I got the impression that she became persona non grata." It's a little prying, this question, or could be construed as such; it's nothing she's thought of asking Ashley before, certainly, at least not until this moment, not until the comparison.

[Justine Noble] Justine listens to Kage's answer, and doesn't admonish the other woman. Kage, from what she's seen, is likable, may be one of the more compassionate mages she knows - though, of course, her experience is limited. But she's heard things from Ashley. She's heard that Kage tried to save the Marauder, that she kept him in her apartment. Ill-advised, but it definitely shows her heart to be in the right place.

Even if that weren't the case, well, this is something she's heard plenty of times from Ashley, and not said so lightly, with the kind of poise Kage always seems to manage. So to that, she just smiles. Justine does that a lot, diffuses things with that expression that seems to light up her rounded features, her light brown eyes.

Ashley's mentor, though. That draws a sigh from her, some consideration before she answers. Were it her, she isn't sure it's something she'd be comfortable with a friend telling other people about - but she also knows Ashley, and well enough to know that Ashley typically doesn't mind other people knowing the truth. Is quite adamant about it, in fact. That's the only reason Kage gets an answer.

"She was executed for infernalism, actually," Kage says. "Two years after Ashley became an initiate. It was...well, it was kind of unexpected, honestly. She was a very hard woman, and she didn't treat Ashley very well, or any of her students, but she wasn't corrupted with most of House Tytalus during the Massassa War. She fought against the corrupted ones, so it kind of caught people off guard. Ashley was pretty thoroughly questioned by House Quaesitor."

[K. Jakes] "Ah." Kage has little sympathy for the Fallen (descent [demon]). Not now, not ever. There was a time - brief, in the beginning - when she half-thought that He wanted her to become something bloodyfingered and blackhearted, something on a black road, but that wasn't for very long; He isn't that kind of demon (Adonai [gibborim nephilim]). And she forced herself to read all of the rituals in Marla and Jackson's journal, to make notes on them, to remember. She had no urge to use them. She doesn't thirst for power, not like that. "How did she get found out?"

[Justine Noble] "A Quaesitori hunted down one of the Nephandi she'd been dealing with, and he gave her up," Justine says, twirling more pasta on the fork. It's a casual gesture, intentionally so: this is heavy subject matter, the Fallen and those they begin to corrupt along with them. "She actually didn't even fight them when they came to talk to her, apparently."

[K. Jakes] "How did they know that the Nephandi was telling the truth; did she admit that she'd -- wavered?"

[Justine Noble] "House Quaesitor typically uses the Ars Mentis during their questioning," Justine says, "with a little of the Ars Fati thrown in. I don't know whether she ever actually admitted, but they did gather some evidence. Books that she had. And those kinds of things can imprint themselves on your resonance, though there are ways to hide it when it happens."

Justine thinks about this for a moment, shrugs. "I was a little drawn to House Quaesitor, but I didn't go. They have a lot of ways to investigate, though. I'm very sure she wasn't wrongfully accused."

[K. Jakes] "And her students; were they untouched?" These aren't necessarily questions the Order of Hermes would appreciate from an outsider, and Kage, for all she's aquainted with Hannibal, with Ashley now, for all that both of these mages have thought she'd do well in the Order (and at least one of them is conscious enough not to suggest it with any seriousness), is definitely an outsider. Her question is bare-bones tone, though; there is no ornament. A pause, and then, "What's your specialty?"

[Justine Noble] Justine doesn't seem to mind the questions, to find them impertinent. Kage may be an outsider, but she's a fairly trustworthy one: was cabaled with one Hermetic, is (good? tentative?) friends with another. They're the sorts of questions Justine expects she herself would ask, were she in Kage's position. "Ashley was," she says, "but there was a student she'd had a few years before Ashley who she'd sort of dragged in. Her case was a lot less clear-cut, though, from what I heard. She was heavily censured and nearly expelled, but they didn't see a reason for execution."

Justine looks up at Kage's other question, laughs, and says, "Me? I have a more martial skillset, believe it or not. I specialize in the Ars Essentiae."

[K. Jakes] "What was her name?" The other student, she means. Another bite of ravioli, while Justine is talking; it's good. The ship doesn't rock. There's no lullaby beneath. Justine has a more martial skillset, and Kage doesn't seem particularly surprised (Hannibal's student, she's heard stories [he talked about his students, on occasion]), just: "Why?"

[Justine Noble] "Aurelia Corvus," she says, offering the name up without hesitance. Again, it's something that Kage could find without needing to do too much digging: she doesn't think the Orphan will use the information to harmful ends. Like Ashley, Justine can be rather trusting.

"I like the idea of being able to protect my friends, and protect the Sleepers," she says, "and a lot of Hermetics don't really specialize in martial abilities. Besides, I'm good at it." There's a smile, and then she adds, "I have battle fury...you know, like berserker legends? That's contributed a lot to my decision about what to do with my skills."

[K. Jakes] "The prince in his wisdom puts trust in such men," Kage says, and her tone of voice is of someone quoting something. "Is your mind dull and are you exhausted after you've been transformed by fury?" Ashley'd mentioned that Justine went crazy in battle, became unstoppable. Kage takes a sip of her drink, washes away a taste, and then - seriously, because she'd like to know: "But why do you think - unless I'm misreading motivations - that, because you've battle fury, it was wise to hone your skills along those lines? Can you think when you're berserking, or do you attack friends as well? How do you stop? And why would you give power to something that was uncontrollably angry?"

[Justine Noble] Justine smiles when she hears that quote: she knows where it's from, understands that it's appropriate. It's a little tinged with sadness, that smile. It's easy for an initiate to be lured down the black road by a mentor, and this, she suspects, was part of the reason for the leniency of House Quaesitor.

She, too, takes a sip from her drink. Kage poses good questions, and Justine gives a lot of thought to each of them. "Well," she says, "it's more of a danger now than it used to be. Before, when Ashley was with us, she would direct me, and then calm me down when I needed to be calmed. Now we have to be really careful and make sure everyone's informed of what's going to happen, make sure there isn't anyone nearby who could get hurt...it takes a lot of preparation. Usually, I can control myself again when I want to. And yes. It is dangerous. But so are most of the things we can do."

[K. Jakes] "This is reminding me of our conversation on the chalice," Kage says, after a moment. Her lashes sweep down; kiss her cheekbones, linger, stay (pray [reverent]). And she rests her elbow against the table, propping her chin in the palm of her hand. "So you're your cabal's weapon? Is your fiancee going to join?" Most of the things we do are dangerous, Justine says, and Kage frowns -- a touch: "Ye-es. But most of the things you and I and etcetera the rest might be able to do aren't -- it's not like: Hey, danger, I recognize you; now I will make you even more dangerous, and give myself over to that danger." A beat. "At least, I hope that's not what it's really like."

[Justine Noble] "A little," Justine says, of the chalice conversation. "I think Adam might want to join the cabal...but Bran might take convincing. He's...well, after what happened with him and Ashley I think he's kind of skeptical, even though Adam and I have a much more stable relationship. And are getting married." A little annoyance creeps into her tone, here: it's a point of contention with Bran, and like any other sibling pair, they have their fights.

"And I do see what you're saying. But I think that I've done a good job restraining it, and it's something I Awakened being able to do...so I'm just working on using it for the right reasons, and I'm making sure I keep the people around me aware of what's going on."

[K. Jakes] [Steals Successes?]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 4, 5, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[K. Jakes] [Heh heh.]

[K. Jakes] The red-haired woman doesn't choose to comment on what happened with Ashley and Bran; not directly. Neutral, Kage. She'd seen them all in the twilight of their time together, after all, just as they were beginning to realize (thanks, Simon) how broken they were. She still has opinions; Kage doesn't forget initial opinions, not ever, although she'll revise (occasionally [sometimes]). Instead, she asks this: "Skeptical because you two are a couple, or skeptical because he doesn't think Adam has something to contribute, or skeptical because Adam isn't a Hermetic?"

A beat. Kage's fingers find her own pulse, just behind her ear. The flesh is delicate there: sensitive. This could be a focus. Any little gesture can, when a strange Magi is around. They're a wary bunch, usually, Mages - but Justine seems trusting, and she has no reason not to be. "Did you ever berserk on Caspian?" she asks, and seems to be letting the philosophical ramifications of Justine's choices rest at that. With Kage, though - well. Justine doesn't know, but Kage often returns to a theme.

[Justine Noble] [paused!]

[Justine Noble]
Justine things about this tri-question, the clarification. Ashley and Bran, well, she didn't expect Kage's commentary; that isn't why she brought it up. Right now, this might be the closest Justine ever comes to venting. Why not: who else would she have to vent to? Ashley, who wouldn't hesitate to insult Bran even if he were right? Other Hermetics? No. "I think all three," she says. "The first two, more than that Adam doesn't have anything to contribute - though he is an initiate, and he's good at staying out of sight and downplaying his strengths, so I think Bran misses it sometimes."

Her eyes do follow Kage's fingers as they reach behind her ear to that pulse, and it occurs to her, briefly, that it might be a focus. Justine is perceptive, though. She's observant. So while it gives her a bit of pause, she trusts in her own attunement to the world around her.

She smiles, at the last question. "Just once," she says. "Back when I was a very new apprentice. It was how I discovered I could do it, actually. It was during a lesson in the Ars Essentiae, and...I suppose he made an error in his casting or something, I don't quite remember...but some of the charge fizzled my way. It wasn't much, but it was enough to set it off. I think he was just as surprised as I was."

[K. Jakes]
"I thought Bran was a leader; doesn't he understand that a leader can't be alone?" Still, neutral; no edge. "That leadership doesn't happen without help?" A beat. And, "Does Adam just want to join because he loves you?" Just, Kage says, as if love were a just thing, a thing that is just.

And Kage wasn't more than an Initiate herself until very recently; Hannibal doesn't know that she's gone through a Seeking, and neither does Simon; she hasn't called anyone, and the fact that Ashley found out (celebration) the way she did was chance and happenstance and convocation. But: she doesn't have a hierarchy; she recognizes power, raw, and levels of it, and the danger represented by higher levels. Kage is cautious of Disciples, and more than cautious of those who've ascended beyond that. That isn't to say she isn't careful of initiates, either. It's not necessarily strength -- but how it's applied. All to say: Kage listens, see. Because Kage is a decent listener (investigative minds), and she also asks, "Why does he downplay his strengths?"

And Justine, just once, berserked on Hannibal Capian Temple, and she listens to that, too. When Justine's done, her smirk is a dark and radiant thing; it makes her almost lovely, but mischievous (deviltry), although it's a muted thing, too. Reserved. A beat, and then: serious again. "I'm surprised you put it down to human error; I can't count the number of times I saw him beat the ever loving love out of someone. Or threaten to."

[Justine Noble]
Now, this: it gives her pause. Because Kage just asked a question that she hadn't thought of, perhaps the thing that Bran hasn't quite articulated either because he couldn't quite figure out what he wanted to say or perhaps just didn't want to hurt her feelings. "He doesn't really have a big overarching goal the way Bran does," Justine says, "and I think he's looking for one. So maybe it is just because he loves me. It's hard to say. And...Bran does, definitely. I just think 'help' and 'cabal' mean two different things to him."

They do to Ashley, too: it's one thing she and Bran have in common, at least. Justine and Kage weren't there to hear the protests she put to Wharil when he wanted to invite in most of the city.

Of Hannibal, Justine grins, twirling a bit of pasta around her fork but not yet lifting it to eat. "Well, he tried to put it off as purposeful, but that's Hannibal," she says. "I thought it was, at the time, except now that I know him better I'm not so sure. I've never seen him harm one of his students on purpose. Even when he was angry."

[K. Jakes]
"Well. A cabal's definitely special, but ..." A pause. Kage, too, has strong views on what a cabal is and what a cabal is not. They don't necessarily need to be not for me, no thank you. There was a reason she suggested it to Wharil and Ashley, months ago. Moons; they've risen and fallen; there's been a solar eclipse, an earthquake, a storm. And the reason wasn't just because their reaction was priceless.

"But aren't you each other's support? Don't you keep each other's hearts burning strong?" Neutral, still. And there's no trace of irony. Well, maybe there's a trace; Kage can be a sarcastic (etched [delicate]) creature when she wants to, sharp-tongued when she's irritated. She isn't irritated right now. "What does cabal mean to you?"

Of Hannibal, Kage wriggles one of her shoulders, and says, deadpan - "He dislocated my shoulder once."

[Justine Noble]
"It means a group of people I'm close to and can work with both," she says. This is decisive, said without hesitation: Justine knows what a cabal means to her. Perhaps has thought about it, while she and Bran have been discussing. "I put more importance on the former, though. I think Bran feels similarly...but maybe he isn't sure he can work with Adam. I'm not sure."

Kage says that Hannibal dislocated her shoulder, and Justine blinks in both surprise and concern. As though it had happened a few weeks ago. "Well, I know he -is- capable of hurting people," she says. "I've just never seen him do it to his students."

[K. Jakes]
"What kind of work?" Kage asks, and it isn't a meaningless question. Kage doesn't ask many of those. Even the ones that seem pointless, even the ones that seem like they're just some throw away, they've usually got a design.

"To be fair," because Kage is just, usually -- and she says this after a moment, after Justine's expression waxes concerned, "There may have been an interesting glowing thing involved before the shoulder dislocation event occurred." Deadpan, that. Completely.

[Justine Noble]
"Against the Technocracy, mainly," Justine says. "And he wants to unify the Traditions...we both think that'll end up going hand in hand. And take most of our lifetimes, in all likelihood." Justine herself doubts that it -can- be accomplished in their lifetimes; Bran does not. Bran wants to be that agent of change, wants to champion it, bear its banner.

"An interesting glowing thing too dangerous to touch, I imagine?" Justine asks, laughing, both at Kage's deadpan manner and the words themselves. It's a little relieved, that laughter. She wants to believe the best of everyone. Hannibal is not exempt.

[K. Jakes]
"No, no," Kage says, with a brief almost smile. "That's not what I meant. I remember that. I mean -- unless work against the Technocracy is the only work you see fit for a cabal to come together to do."

An interesting thing too dangerous to touch, Justine imagines, and Kage's mouth quirks. "Maybe," she allows.

[Justine Noble]
"No, of course not," she says. "A cabal can work together for all kinds of reasons. I meant it as a sort of catch-all...like do magic with him, fight beside him, rely on him to help us speak to the other Tradition mages in the city. Personally I think Adam would be helpful for speaking with the other Traditions. And he's a counselor - he tries to do more for the Sleepers than just remove supernatural threats, which I think is admirable."

[K. Jakes]
There's quiet for a moment. Kage tears off another (small) chunk of bread and she dips it in her ravioli's sauce; what's left of it. There isn't much, and it's delicious. Warming, soul food, heart food, food that stays by your ribs, gets into the blood. "Honestly, when I met you guys, I couldn't imagine either Ashley or Bran ever working with other Traditions. And look at Ashley now. Maybe Adam and Bran just need to bond - just need to be in a dangerous situation at the same time."

[Justine Noble]
Justine frowns a little at that, thoughtfully. "Yeah," is what she says at first, because she's thinking of Ashley: thinking of the woad the others walked into the Umbra with, the way it was painted on their faces. Enochian rune, though.

She can't quite finish her pasta, but also can't resist taking another piece of bread, dabbing at some of the sauce and oil at the side of her plate the way Kage is doing with hers. "I think Bran will come around," she says. "He sees the merit in working with other Traditions. I don't think it'll take him long to realize inviting them into the cabal will be good, too."

There's silence while she munches the bread, and she says, "Has Ashley been doing things like that a lot lately?"

[K. Jakes]
"Bonding when the situation's dangerous, working with non-Hermetics," polite, courteous; that word, "or...?"

[Justine Noble]
"Well, the woad. Things like that."

[K. Jakes]
Kage is a perceptive creature. Occasionally, she's accidentally perceptive. This isn't one of those times. There'd been lavender ice cream ordered earlier, and the waiter returns to collect plates (they aren't lost on the ship, they aren't going to have a difficult time finding their way out, they aren't forgotten by the waiting staff), to ask the women if they'd like to look at the dessert tray. Kage is firm on lavender ice cream; Justine is welcome to look. The tiramisu is good (but isn't it always: saturated in coffee, in cream as cold and light as stars - ).

This isn't one of her more perceptive moments. Justine says, Woad, things like that, and Kage reaction is perplexity. At least, for a moment. It's followed by consideration: put two and two together; make something out've what is there. And - " - you mean, is she behaving less like a Hermetic when she uses magick?"

But she's still not sure she's got what Justine's asking.

[Justine Noble]
Justine is a nice woman. More than that, Justine is a -kind- woman, and a just one: she believes in fairness, in giving everyone an equal chance, and will fight for those things. She thinks Orphans have the right to remain Orphans, to be who they want to be, she doesn't fault people in other Traditions or look down on them.

Justine is still a Hermetic.

"Well, yes," she says, with a frown, as though trying to figure out whether that's what she really means. A pause, and she too orders lavender ice cream. "It's just...it's not something I would have ever seen her doing before." Tactful that, because that trend of Ashley's actually worries her, particularly given the recent run-in with Gwenna Lake.

When she brings this up to Bran in a few days, he will have a different take on it. It will strike him: perhaps a reason for Ashley's success in Chicago. Bran doesn't think she's dishonest enough to feign it for the sake of earning allies. He can be.

[K. Jakes]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 5, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Okay, Subterfuge, I guess! Not lying! Just being, you know. Inscrutable - maybe?]

[Justine Noble]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 7, 8, 8 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Psh. I have both my eyes.]

[K. Jakes]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 4, 10 (Failure at target 6)

[Justine Noble]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 4, 5, 7, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Reroll!]

[K. Jakes]
The Orphan considers Justine for a long moment. There's a reason Kage has been called inscrutable; it isn't because people are just too lazy (that's part of it). It's that Kage's poise is so complete that when she is thoughtful, when she is staying a thought, most people aren't quite certain how to look under the (obvious [cool (smooth)]) surface. Luminous, see: a shining; hard to see behind that. Justine has clarity, though; Kage's eyes are tarnish and smoke because she is measuring, weighing the justice of what she's going to say, gauging the rightitude, careful.

And so. " - have you thought about this? Your battle-fury; Ashley's serpent; how they fit together? Symbolically speaking?"

[Justine Noble]
This strikes Justine as an odd question: she hasn't yet been exposed to how Kage does this, how she'll ask questions that are seemingly unrelated to drive at a point. For a second, she's put off, then she starts to realize: this is leading, it's going somewhere, and she can start to understand where Kage is going with it.

"A little," she says. "All three of us noticed it when we formed the cabal. Bran, he's a knight." There's a beat. She leaves off there, at least with that topic.

"But I've tried to control mine and turn it into something enlightened. For a while, Ashley was doing that too." Justine worries about descent: to her, a base nature, primal things, those are descent.

[K. Jakes]
This distracts her. Almost gets her off-course. Onto another subject. Justine: I've tried to control mine, and. Kage's eyebrows rise; elegant, sardonic. And then, this - "Okay. But look: it's an old thing that Ashley is connected to. That you've touched. And old things have resonance; it isn't one Tradition or another; it's just what fits - what works. And what works, what has fit before, will get slotted into whatever is now. If that makes sense. So maybe woad..."

Pause, here. Because the lavender ice cream has been brought. Kage smiles at the waiter, a brief, happy smile, unselfconscious. And then she immediately fades back to something serious: "... woad's just something that gives her serpent's personal flavor to Hermetic ritual. I mean, it's not "other." I haven't seen her trying to influence Ars Vis by first constructing a harmonium or a snarglebargle blaster or anything."

[Justine Noble]
Justine accepts hers with a smile, too, taking the bowl and setting it down, scraping off small shavings with the tip of the spoon. They pile up and fold on each other like curls of paper, cast away confetti.

Justine thinks about this, eyes rolling briefly upward while she thinks, while she tastes the ice cream. She knows that old things don't fade: they find their way back in, somehow, they find a way to recur again and again. "I suppose so," she says. "I'm probably just used to a stricter interpretation of Hermetic magic. Boston has a lot of us."

[K. Jakes]
"I know," Kage says, with a brief (lilt) smile. "I go there for work sometimes. But I usually stay below the radar."

[Justine Noble]
Kage's smile is mirrored, for a few seconds. "More looking out for yourself?" Justine asks, because she's starting to understand the Orphan, starting to put things together in a way that took Ashley months to do.

[K. Jakes]
"Do you think I need to, in Boston?" There, a subtle lift of one eyebrow. And, "How do you like the ice cream?" An honest question -- lavender is Kage's favourite.

[Justine Noble]
"Maybe," she says, noticing the lift of that eyebrow. "There are a lot of strong personalities there, with more power behind them than there seems to be here. It's hard to trust anyone."

Then, a smile. "I do. It's different."

[K. Jakes]
It's hard to trust anyone, Justine says; that eyebrow stays quirked (just a shadow [just a touch]). Her mouth curves: generous. "...Are you speaking in terms of hypothetical Orphans or in terms of yourself? Power and strength of personality equals difficult to trust?" There are some people who might ask that question and sound defensive, or accusatory. Kage sounds like neither of these things, especially not to someone as clear-seeing as Justine, as able to see with what-wrought a sentence is, a word, an expression.

[K. Jakes]
And, "When did you know that you trusted Adam?"

[Justine Noble]
"I'm speaking hypothetically," she says. "And because I can remember what it was like when I first got there, but being an apprentice will make anybody nervous anyway." She'd been meeker then, too: shy and quiet and afraid.

"Adam...hm. In the first couple of months, he got into a pretty heated argument with Bran...which is going to happen, I suppose. I'd talked to him about Bran a few times and he had the chance to say things or touch nerves to set him off and make his point, and he never did. It made me realize how level-headed he was, and that he was mindful of consequences and how other people felt."

[K. Jakes]
Pensive, for a moment. And hushed, too; contained. Kage slips her spoon into the ice cream and pushes down until the half-melted froth comes up; skims that up and licks the spoon. Repeat. Whatever she'd say in terms of trust, of hypotheticals, of Orphans and apprentices, nerves and the more-powerful, more-established Magi of Boston, she decides to leave by the wayside, conversation: fluid, flow; river. "He sounds like a good guy," she says, of Adam. "What about Ashley and Bran? Was there a moment, or did it just happen?"

[Justine Noble]
"He is," she says, of Adam. She allows Kage to leave things by the wayside: she's not Ashley. She doesn't need to home in on a point, to follow it to its end, to gnaw at the heart of a thing and break it open. She doesn't do this, because people will do things in their own time.

"Bran...I became Hannibal's apprentice after he did. He was a new initiate by then. And I was really upset my first month in, because Hannibal is Hannibal and I was intimidated by how much bigger than me everything seemed. He reassured me and helped me realize I'd be okay. He was my first Awakened friend, really."

Ashley, she has to think about a little more, evidenced by the pause. "Ashley...hm. It took a lot longer with her. Bran trusted her a lot more quickly than I did. But it was...well, once, in Boston when we were all initiates, there were some spirits that had found their way through a Shallowing in the south side of the city, and we went to take care of them before someone could come in to close it, and I went berserk. Bran went running to get out of the way when it was over, but Ashley stayed back to Will me down because she was afraid I'd hurt someone or get myself hurt. That's not something someone does out of pure pragmatism."

[K. Jakes]
Kage licks the spoon again; pauses, spoon resting against her mouth - and then she licks her lips; glances, sideways. Pensive, museful. Moon-cool, water: the saddest element. And says, "What about Hannibal? Assuming, of course, that you trust your teacher."


[Justine Noble]
Justine pauses, here, because there are ways in which she trusts Hannibal. There are ways in which she does not trust Hannibal: likely how Kage feels about most people.

"Well," she says, "he's a good teacher, and he's really done his best to give me what he thinks I need to be successful in the Awakened world. It was slow with him, too. I had to get around being angry at him in order to do it. That and...that just sort of was going to happen, in a way. You have a certain kind of reliance on your mentor, like a parent-child relationship. You have to trust that what they're telling you is the right thing, at first."

[K. Jakes]
"So I'm told," Kage says, sounding amused when Justine lays out the kind of reliance one should have on one's mentor. With less amusement, she says, "A lot of people lose trust in their parents as they grow older, as they learn to understand; I wouldn't think it was a prerequisite, trust that's somewhat deeper than 'you say fish swim; I believe you because you know about fish.' I don't mean to offend, and I hope I'm not, but how is it you came to be Hannibal's student, anyway? Were there no other options? Did you just get randomly sorted; did Bran convince you he was god?"

[Justine Noble]
Justine has to think about this, too. They're questions that dredge up long-ago history, long-ago times, things she hasn't thought about or tried to remember in a while. "Well," she says, "I don't know why he agreed to mentor me. There were a few Hermetics in Boston at the time who didn't have apprentices, but he was one of the first ones I talked to, and I was very impressed with him even though he scared me at the time. He seemed...very strong and invulnerable. The way you imagine a mage from stories would be. I thought maybe he could teach me to be like that."

A small smile, then, another scrape of her spoon at the dwindling mound of ice cream. "Of course, I developed ideas on what -I- wanted to be like later, but at the time..."

[K. Jakes]
"I see. Well. I think I can understand that," Kage says, because she is fair. And she can; she can even see why Hannibal would want Justine under his wing (she thinks she can see [it isn't very bright, this future we're peeling out've the world, skinning from the globe like an apple-jack with an apple-knife]). The lavender ice cream is flavored with cardamom and Kage's tongue finds one of the seeds. Swallows. There: lavender ice cream is no more.

[Justine Noble]
"Why did you want Simon to mentor you?" she asks, as the last of hers is scooped, pinkish foam and all, out of the bowl. She raises her eyebrows at Kage, pulls it from the spoon and then sets the empty untensil there in the bowl.

[K. Jakes]
"Hm?" The question causes her eyebrows to lift, again; she curls her fingers by the crook of her shoulder and the side of her neck, elbow on the table. The spoon is still dangled between her fingers, a thing brushed silver, pewtered up. "I didn't."

[Justine Noble]
This answer puzzles Justine. Kage strikes her as a willful creature, as willful as any Hermetic, and the idea that she might have consented to be mentored by someone when she didn't want to be just doesn't seem to fit. Perhaps she'd misunderstood, when the two of them were first introduced that evening in December: but no, Simon had called her his apprentice.

"Then why did he?" she asks, letting some of that confusion bleed through into her tone, into the tilt of her brows.

[K. Jakes]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6) [WP]
[Kage, you dope. Subterfuge!]

[K. Jakes]
Kage should be flattered; all these Hermetics who acknowledge that her will is as strong as theirs (as strong as a Hermetic's). Maybe she would be, if she knew. Maybe she'd be annoyed at being condescended to (but Kage, she is diplomatic; she can take a lot of condescension before she gets irritated: a skill). The red-haired woman takes a deep breath, exhales after a second; the breath kindles her gaze, makes it darker (absence).

"I mean, at first," she says, a clarification. And then: "When we first met ... After a little while, I think he just thought it would be natural, and he tricked me into a deal."

[Justine Noble]
Justine laughs at that, perhaps because at first she assumes Kage is joking. But one can't assume, with other mages: not so readily. They're bound by different laws than other people are, after all. "How did he do that?" she asks. Not because she would trick Kage into anything. It's with a playful amusement, the kind that suggests relatively innocent interest.

[K. Jakes]
"With ingenuity, I like to think," Kage replies, a little dryly. "Maybe a little forethought." Justine's interest may be playful; may be (relatively) innocent. Now. Doesn't mean it wouldn't be different later. And then, relenting - "I was actually pretty stupid. I accepted a favor for an unspecified favor; then - bam! He wanted me to give him seven days. And, uhm. Then they became more."

[Justine Noble]
Justine laughs again, because this is a rookie mistake, insofar as there are rookie mistakes in the Awakened world. (She might be dismayed to know how many favors Ashley has gotten by doing this very thing with mages who are not apprentices.)

"Well, you were an apprentice," she says, with a touch of amusement, a touch of sympathy. "I like Simon. There are far worse people who could have tricked you into that."

[K. Jakes]
Justine likes Simon. There are far worse people. Kage stretches (arcs her back [pop?]), and sets the spoon down (at last - dink!), and glances expectantly at the ship restaurant's hall. There is no waiter forthcoming; they never appear when you're ready for them. "Sure," she says - neutral.

[Justine Noble]
Justine rests an elbow on the table, leans her jaw into the L shape formed by forefinger and thumb while she too glances toward the kitchen. She has sharp eyes, but they don't spy the waiter anywhere, though he'll likely swoop out of nowhere to take their cards, to return. She isn't going to press Kage: it's an uncomfortable topic for her, and that much is rather clear.

Besides, she has a guess or two. "Thanks for dinner," she says. "It was nice to get a chance to talk more." Beyond simply: what do you believe, do you look beyond what Bran wants. Which was more or less as far as they got a few years ago.

[K. Jakes]
Their card. Kage is treating Justine; Justine may or may not know this already. Hell: she's already put a Hawaiian vacation on one of her credit cards; why be fiscally responsible just because your soul wasn't harvested after all?

"You're welcome," Kage says. "And it was; for a tac nuke, you're not all bad company. Thank you for calling."

Should I stand amid the breakers?

[Kage Jakes]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 6, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[?]

[Kage Jakes]
The amount of time Kage finds herself in monasteries, churches, burying grounds, cathedrals and museums is surprisingly frequent. After Saturday, she did not find God and go to church, she did not pray any more than usual, and she did not feel connected to Fate, to a greater whole, she did not feel moth to flame Orphan to Faith. (Hers is the radiant flame, no? Faith to Orphan, flame to moth.)

It's Thursday afternoon, and Kage parks her (monstrous [draconic]) black pick-up outside the black gates which enclose Lake View's Presbyterian church, and jumps (she has to [it's a big car, she's a little lady]) to the ground, regarding it without trepidation. When she wanders to the front door, that door is locked. It's Thursday, and there are no services planned, no bible studies meant to be had, but there should be a woman named Dorothea Amherst inside cleaning, and that's who Kage has come to see.

She knocks on the door, but it's a church door, and it swallows the sound of her fist. She presses her ear against the wood, listening for a moment, but the door swallows all those sounds, too, and the street becomes loud, becomes singing. "Oh, come on," she says, under her breath. Another person would decide that Dorothea isn't inside, or decide that, oh well, time to give a call. That isn't Kage. Kage decides to explore, to circle around the (smallish [white board slatted]) church. There's always another door, and somebody's inside. Or maybe there's a swingset out back for the kids. Kage likes swings. They're good places to wait.

[Declan]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 5, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Oh right, almost forgot...Nightmares]

[Declan]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[And how aware are we today?]

[Declan]
It was interesting how often Declan ended up at Churches and other supposedly Holy places. Interesting because he didn't believe in God, and would not claim to be a religious person. The large wooden cross on top of the building held no particular meaning or symbolism to him, other than the faint memories it brought back of his Grandmother. (They were hazy things, those memories. Fading in and out, like a dream. He was never really sure if they were real or imagined.)

And yet... here he was. It may have been pragmatism. Some inner survival instinct that associated churches with sanctuary. Or maybe he was just drawn to the keening note of rapture that the parishioners always left on these sites, like a lingering mark. Spirituality's own kind of resonance (and magic.) There were other emotions here, too. Joy. Sorrow. Hope. Uncertainty. All were attractive things in their own way, for he fed off of these things, without even understanding how or why. Emotions spurred impulses inside of him that touched upon instincts long buried, but still strangely alive.

(Euterpe that will be again.)

At the moment, he was sitting on the ground behind the building, back leaned against the wall as he gazed up at the sky. He didn't know the name of this church, or the name of the woman inside who Kage had come to visit. Neither did he know that Kage was going to show up, but when she did, he did not seem particularly surprised. (He was getting used to these coincidences already.) Her resonance called out before her physical body rounded the corner and came into view, and Declan dropped his eyes from the clouds and smiled.

"Hello."

He looked good today. He looked like he'd been eating and maybe even sleeping. He'd showered and shaved recently. His clothes were free of stains and tears.

[Kage Jakes]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 4, 5, 5 (Failure at target 6)
[Er. Is Declan a surprise? Aware.]

[Kage Jakes]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 5, 5, 6, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Don't be jumpy?]

[Kage Jakes]
Hello, Declan says, and he takes her off-guard. Kage doesn't pride herself (on very much [although: nor is she humble]) on being perceptive, although she's noticed that since the Garden and Him and her Heart, she's more aware of the world, that occasionally the Feelings she gets are stronger, more detailed, she can guess at answers in forms that are more complete than they were before, can uncover nuances that were more subtle. But, like most of the mages who've lived in Chicago for a while, most've the mages who've just been around, Awake, part of the society of the Awakened, of the things that happen (that are noticed) by dint of being Awake, she generally pays attention to what she can sense.

And there'd been no intuition that told her one of Them was around. There'd been no gleam of perception (no hint of the protean, mutability, the fluid and transformative, the metamorphosing).

Kage is a creature of composure, however: of a self-contained sort've elegance (coupled with muted grace, something raw, unpracticed). This means she keeps a level head; this means she's Willful, and it means that she doesn't give Declan a wary look or glance over her shoulder or hesitate or jump out've her skin. Her eyebrows prick, and her breath stills for a moment, then she releases it. Her resonance is different from the last time Declan was in the same room as it: stronger, more potent; a new flavor, mingling: something kindling to immanence, something cutting, starry; something that bolsters the ardency, the Spring, the withering of winter.

" - hey, Declan," she says, and she walks along the side of the church until she gets to Declan's spot against its wall. "You look good today. How are you?"
[Declan]
She said he looked good, and he smiled in a manner that was something close to radiant. Not radiantly beautiful, mind. He was an average-looking person, all told, and although his eyes were quite pretty, his smile might have been better described as endearingly dorky. No, this was more of a radiance of spirit. He had both good and bad days, this drifter. Sometimes the bad days were very, very bad. But the good days could also be very, very good. That was part of his mercurial nature, perhaps.

"I surprised you? I'm sorry. I do that sometimes." Not usually to others like himself (to mages, to the awakened), but certainly to the Sleepers who passed by him every day while they went about their lives. He was a piece of the background. Faded. Invisible.

The boy (man?) stood up, brushing some dust off of his jeans before he leaned back again and folded his arms loosely over his chest. One might note that he finally seemed to have adapted himself to the idea of summer, and was no longer wearing a jacket. There was more vulnerability there, without the armor of extra layers. This too was a sign of improvement. He looked thin, though, with only the fabric of a white t-shirt to cover his torso. Rangy in the way of wild animals, with jutting bones and stringy muscles.

She said he looked good. A little color came to his cheeks.

"I.. thanks. I'm having a contemplative day. And you?"

[Kage Jakes]
Kage hasn't (yet?) seen Declan on a bad day. There was the day in the cemetery, where he seemed confused, scattered, disparate, lost: not dangerous. There was the day in the park, where he'd mentioned Emily, where he'd revealed he knew (a little of) what was going on, what he was, that it was new. There's now, and he is having a contemplative day. Kage's eyes are dark and expressive, and although she doesn't go around - contrary to popular opinion - with the goal of obfuscation, of concealing, whatever it is they're expressing tends to be difficult to read (nuance [eloquence]). Right now, though, they're considerate, thoughtful. Not contemplative, but close-kin.

"I'm trying to sneak inside," she says, tipping her head toward the church's wall. "The door's locked." It surprises her when churches lock their doors. Maybe because of that outdated sense of Sanctuary, maybe because of all the medieval texts she's read in which Sanctuary is a very real thing. More than a concept: a right, inviolable -- until men decide otherwise. "What do you contemplate on contemplative days?"
[Declan]
Kage was good at this - at making you talk about subjective things. Even in the few brief encounters he'd had with her, Declan had learned this much. She didn't simply let intriguing comments fall to the wayside. She followed them, peering closely like a detective with a magnifying glass. Maybe that was why so many people thought of her as something unknowable - because when they were around her, they were the ones doing most of the talking.

When she asked him what he contemplated, Declan pursed his lips together for a moment in serious consideration of the question.

"Music," he said, quietly. "I guess... it's not like... thinking, really. But it is. Just... not with words."

He seemed self-conscious for a moment, reaching up to scratch at the thin scar on the side of his neck. (He had a lot of scars, though most were thankfully covered.) "Want any help? I can pick locks sometimes. Never tried it on a door like that, though."

[Kage Jakes]
He offers to pick the lock of that very solid wooden door (or to try), and Kage puts her hands together, palm to palm (holy palmer's), fingertips to fingertips, and her smile is as crooked as the morals of what she's about to say yes to. To be fair, she gives it a moment's thought: because Kage is a courteous creature, and respectful, and she doesn't want to get Declan in trouble. "Really? Yes; please. I'd really appreciate it."

Her hands stay pressed together for a moment; her fingertips touch her mouth. Then the woman glances sideways, off toward some sparse trees, toward a city-bird singing a city-song, and she drops her hands, hooking her thumbs through the back of her belt-loops. Arms, wings. Same difference. Her gaze finds Declan again, and she'll trail the shadow of the church back and around (sinuous [cat]) toward the door.

And say, "Music. Do you play an instrument? Believe that thoughts need words in order to exist? Or should need words?"

[Declan]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 5, 5, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6) [WP]

Kage asked if he played an instrument, and some illusive shadow crossed over Declan's face. It was hesitance. It was uncertainty. No, it was regret. The thought pained him. The memories wouldn't respond as they should have - only keened softly in enigmatic despair.

"I don't know," he answered honestly, to that first question. To the next, though... "No, I don't suppose they do. Actually, I have difficulty thinking in words. Maybe that's why I don't always make sense, when I talk." He laughed a bit. Self-deprecating. "It's like... trying to translate a painting into numbers."

Dubious ethics indeed, Kage accepted Declan's offer, and he seemed pleased at the chance to assist in something, even if that something involved breaking into a church. Then again, it had been awhile since he'd attempted something like this, and the likelihood of success was minimal. He lead the way back around to that heavy, locked door, glancing around to check if someone might be watching them. When it seemed as if no one was, the orphan bent down and inspected the old lock. Then he stepped away again, looking around on the ground for something he might be able to use as a tool. Eventually he found a trash bin, and one of the bags contained an old, twisted hanger.

(One could imagine him doing this sort of thing before.)

The hanger was unbent and broken into a couple of pieces, and there was a fair bit of poking and prodding in the lock as Declan attempted to open it.

[Dex+Streetwise]

[Kage Jakes]
He doesn't know. The way Declan says he doesn't know, the ache in his expression, doesn't lead her to the conclusion that he just hasn't tried yet, that he thinks maybe as soon as he does, he'll have the knack, that Time is fluid (is a circle). The way he says it there's an absence, something wrenched, and a sorrow, something lost. Kage is familiar (surprisingly) with that kind've absence. Too familiar, really. "I own a violin," she says. "If you'd like, you can try to make it sing."

A serious look, when he laughs. Self-deprecating. "Do you confuse people very often?"

She'll be happy to put the need for an answer to that question aside while Declan does his (some people would be horrified [some people would find it ironic]) dirty deed with the lock and the door and the wire hanger. Kage watches with fascination. She doesn't know how to pick locks, and although she could probably google herself a How To or figure it out if she really needed to (sharp [intelligent]), it isn't something she's had to do before. And Kage thinks, often, in terms of doors, of locks: it strikes her as strange, suddenly, that she can't do it physically.

When the lock clicks, a musical echo, a pop, under Declan's onslaught, Kage is crouched nearby, two fingers over her lips (hush shadow [kiss]), head canted, watchful and intent.

[Declan]
This might be nothing more than a game for the two of them to play. Like children playing at being thieves. Only Declan had done this for real on more than one occasion. Somehow, the fact of his breaking into a place of worship just didn't seem to strike the Orphan as morally wrong. Not when they had no intent to cause any harm. (At least, he didn't. If Kage did, she would go unsuspected.)

A smile sparked in his eyes when he heard that click. (Look! I did good.) Then he withdrew his makeshift tools and threw them back in the trash bin. When he returned to Kage's side, by the door, he looked at her as if for some kind of cue. If she went inside, he'd follow. If not, he'd stay where he was.

She'd asked him a question though. He'd been focused at the time. Distracted. Now he gave it some serious thought.

"Sometimes, I think. Depends on the day."

He didn't mention Riley, or the conversation he'd had with Nico the other day. That was a different kind of confusion, and mostly on his own side of the fence. Instead he thought about the way he'd tried to explain once, to a woman on the street, how there was this music that ran through everything. And she'd given him that Oh you poor thing look. Kage never gave him that look. Neither did Riley, or Emily. Maybe that was why he was doing better.

"...You have a violin?" There was an odd reaction to this. He perked up (interested), but there was also fear. Perhaps like that of a young teenager being faced with the prospect of sex for the first time, and unsure as to whether they were more excited or terrified. "I... I don't know. I could try." Uncertain, soft, halting words. More than one voice trying to speak at once... only one winning.

[Kage Jakes]
Kage pushes the door open with one hand. Her fingers, splayed. The door is heavy, and it groans when it opens. There is dust in the hinges. This isn't because it's a particularly unkempt church, or even uncared for; as far as churches go, this one is well-cared for, even beloved, and not just because of its tower, because of its loveliness, because it straddles the cross-currents of a poor neighborhood and a wealthy one, of a gay neighborhood and a straightlaced neighborhood. But all things start to fall apart: there's always dust, somewhere.

A spiderweb, a choking damselfly, the wings iridescent. Inside, the acoustics are excellent. They echo. Most churches built as churches have these sorts of acoustics, resonant things, full-bodied, chasing echoes down just like that. It's dark in the foyer, and it's dim (twilight [gloaming]) inside, where light falls through high (clear [and then stained]) windows. Kage doesn't linger outside; she slips into the church straightaway and looks around. There's no sign of Dorothea, and Kage pats the pocket of her jeans, feeling for her cellphone. Then she hitches her shoulder up, goes up onto her toes while she dig, dig, digs out the phone and checks her messages. None.

After this, she glances at Declan, who has followed her inside. Says, picking up on the (fervent [awkward]) way he reacts to her mention of a violin: "Yeah," she says, a belated answer. "I do. It's even got a name." A beat. And, "So do you sing, or just contemplate music? I mean, sing what you contemplate?"

[Declan]
Kage was quiet while she looked around for Dorothea, and Declan was content to explore while she checked her messages. His footsteps made soft sounds on the floor as he wandered, and his eyes kept pulling toward the windows (drawn to the light like a moth to a flame). When he stopped, he stood in a pool of colored light that filtered down from one of the stained-glass panes. As Kage spoke, he turned back as if he'd forgotten that she was there. (He hadn't, but... perhaps he'd been lost in himself for a moment.)

"I sing sometimes. Don't know if I'd say I was any good at it, but I do. Sometimes it's all I've got, I guess."

After a beat, he added, with a little more certainty this time: "I'd really like to see your violin."

(It called, it pulled, it sang - Hear me, I know you can hear me.)

[Kage Jakes]
There are no candles lit. No candles, burning, at the altar; the tabernacle is not laid out with ritual items. The interior of the church is clean, clear. There are however bibles tucked away in the pews, there are hymnals tucked behind the bibles, and a book laid out on the podium. The Book, depending on who you talk to. Kage walked further into the church once she checked her message, un-slung her hip-purse (a purse, slung-low, it bumps against the curve of her hip, not cool or hot or whatever: that's not Kage; muted style, diminished radiance, cool ardor: contradiction), and laid it on one of the pews. Her steps didn't echo particularly, and she walks around the square of multi-coloured light Declan is standing in, skirting it, as though it were a ward she's not quite conscious of. There is such gold in the day to day, and it is so much like honey.

"Then I'll show it to you," Kage says. "For a song -- sing with me?" Kage lifts her eyebrows, and adds -- relenting: "I'll show you, anyway. But it's more fitting with a song, and the air here is all about waiting for noise. Hear that?" And, silence.

Hush.

[Declan]
Singing in a church. How the Choristers would approve. But it was a church they'd broken into, and Declan wasn't a believer - at least, not in the way they might want him to be. Kage didn't seem like one either, but then, she was difficult to puzzle out. These two had something in common besides a love for music. Neither of them could claim to belong somewhere. They were separate. Drifting on a current of their own making. Rules didn't apply. They believed what they believed - and it was theirs alone to claim.

Maybe someday that would change for Declan. Maybe it wouldn't. Right now, he was like a clay sculpture that hadn't yet been fired. It had shape, but it might be changed.

Kage made him an offer, and Declan actually cocked his head to the side to listen to the expectant silence. He decided that she was right (it wanted music), and smiled.

"Alright."

[Kage Jakes]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 9 (Failure at target 6)
[You know, maybe Kage'll botch-choke.]

[Kage Jakes]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 4, 6, 8 (Success x 1 at target 7)
[BOTCH-CHOKE.]

[Kage Jakes]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 4, 6, 10 (Failure at target 8)
[BOTCH-CHOKE.]

[Kage Jakes]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 9)
[botch-choke.]

[Kage Jakes]
Alright.

Kage clambers up onto the daise and gets behind the pulpit. The church is empty; this is probably for the best. There is a stool behind the pulpit and she steps onto this, going onto her toes again, that she can lean her elbows against the angled plane where the Book is open, and she glances down at it, as if she could snag a song out've its pages. She doesn't intend on singing a hymn, though. There's nothing wrong with hymns:

Kage likes quite a few; then, Kage has rather varied musical tastes. She prefers to drive to rock or country, something wailing, with noise; maybe violins: something for blaring. At home, she listens to things more shadowed. That's what she's going to sing now. The Orphan (Disciple [really?]) regards Declan for a moment. She doesn't know him well, but she's seen enough, and heard enough, to know that he doesn't always remember, that his mind is a glass place, breaking, broken, flawed, that pressure in the wrong place could garner a reaction. What would a song do? He seems fine.

"What about this one?" she says, and starts singing a (mellow [low]) version of Song to the Siren. Something resonant, something lovely; Kage is no professional singer, but there's a pleasant roughness to her voice, a clear knowledge of pitch and key. If Declan looks perplexed, she doesn't keep on singing that song, however. Says, "Or," and instead, sings Damien Rice, sings Damien Rice's Volcano.

[Declan]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 6, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Let's roll first - Cha+Perf]

[Declan]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 3 at target 7)
[Oh RLY?]

[Declan]
[That's better]

[Declan]
"The first one," he said, almost instantly. Not because the other was not beautiful (they both were), but because the first touched a chord, for better or worse, and Declan would always be a creature who acted on instinct, without thought or consideration.

He knew this song. He knew it by heart. It meant something. And whether she resumed or not, the switch in his head had already been flipped. He was singing of his own accord. Singing to express the things unspoken. Memories he couldn't picture, but could feel. He might have been somewhere else. He might have been both here and there.

But he sang, and at first, it was a quiet thing. Hesitant - shy. But after the first couple of lines, he stopped thinking and just let the song flow as it should. He didn't join Kage on the pulpit, but rather, sang up toward her, like she was the priest and he the parishioner. Declan's singing voice wasn't professionally trained, but he did have perfect pitch (there was some kind of training there, to be sure), and a sweet, pleasant (honest) sound. He could have been in an indie band, somewhere.

Long afloat on shipless oceans
I did all my best to smile
'til your singing eyes and fingers
Drew me loving to your isle
And you sang
Sail to me
Sail to me
Let me enfold you
Here I am
Here I am
Waiting to hold you

Did I dream you dreamed about me?
Were you hare when I was fox?
Now my foolish boat is leaning
Broken lovelorn on your rocks,
For you sing, 'touch me not, touch me not, come back tomorrow:
O my heart, o my heart shies from the sorrow'

I am puzzled as the newborn child
I am troubled at the tide:
Should I stand amid the breakers?
Should I lie with death my bride?
Hear me sing, 'swim to me, swim to me, let me enfold you:
Here I am, here I am, waiting to hold you'

[Kage Jakes]
Kage isn't very cynical around Declan; then, she isn't very cynical around Emily, either. Perhaps it's an apprentice thing (you're new [you're untainted]). Wary, a touch; but not now. Not here, in a towered church -- singing. Kage sings with Declan until the very last verse, which she opts to listen to instead, except for (and there's this place musicians go too, when they're using music for fun; it's a place of concentration, of, hey, this'll sound good; experimentation) these lines: I am troubled at the tide. Should I stand (silence)? Should I lie (silence)? And, Here I am, here I am. Oh my heart. Oh my heart is waiting.

And somewhere around this time, her cellphone buzzes, vibrating against her hip. Kage doesn't miss a beat -- it takes something to rattle her (to really, really rattle her: something more than a Hello, than a Hellhound). She covers the phone with her hand, muting it, while the last phrases of the Declan's voice diminish.

Then, "That more than earns you the right to say hello to my violin."

[Declan]
Kage wasn't as cynical around Declan as she might have been around others. But then, it was hard to be cynical around Declan, because he himself was so unabashedly genuine. It wasn't that he didn't have secrets (he did), or that he wasn't suspicious of the world (often, he could be), but there was a sweetly emotional and honest (almost innocent) heart beating in his chest, and he could never entirely hide that, even if he wanted to. He was a conduit for the music that lived around him. Something inspired. Something visionary.

But he was broken, now. A small and frightened thing, jumping at the shadows in his own mind. And whatever muse it was that was meant to drive him to ecstatic heights... she too was broken. Only a whisper of her true self.

For a brief moment, though... he was more than that. And it seemed as if maybe there was hope for him after all. He didn't even notice when Kage's phone buzzed. Neither did he notice that tears brimmed in his eyes and fell of their own accord, tracing shimmering lines down his cheeks. When he was finished, and Kage said that had earned him the right to say hello to her violin, he smiled. Then he did notice the wetness on his face, but he brushed his cheeks dry with the back of his hand as if this was nothing of much concern. Some days he was embarrassed at displays of emotion. Today he wasn't.

"I'm glad."

[Kage Jakes]
Kage, although her resonance claims that she is a more immediate creature, something passionate (ardent [burning]), she doesn't actually touch people very often. Kage isn't the kind of person who smiles just because someone else is smiling, who cries just because someone else is crying, is not the kind of person who feels an echo (often [all the time]) of what another is going through and lets it affect her.

Kage is cool, see, and composed; not quite aloof, not really, but definitely (demure [muted: elegance]) not someone who necessarily knows what to do with emotional displays. Someone else might very well be moved to give Declan a hug, because he's so lost, because he's crying, because there was hope, and Kage might very well be moved to do so; she doesn't, though. Instead, she stays at the pulpit, bites the inside of her lip, eyebrows drawing together for a moment, and her mind wanders to the last man (boy [thing]) who cried in front of her. But this is good - right? It's good to express yourself; it's good to unlock things, sometimes.

So Kage drags her fingers through her hair, checks her phone's latest text as she comes down from the pulpit with a hop-skip and a jump. "Me too," she says, and there: surfacing, the hint of that smile (albeit - bemused), the one that's absolutely radiant, that touches her eyes with dark radiance, transformative.

"We can go now, actually. Looks like the reason I'm at this church isn't going to make it after all."