[K. Jakes] [?]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 5, 8, 9, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[K. Jakes] Magnificent Mile is made magnificent by the vast array of really niftastic shops. For instance: Lego World. There are others, too, but Lego World is by far the neatest. Near Lego World there is a coffee shop, some department stores, a couple of quirky stores like Jill of All Trades and Jack of all Trades, a store divided into subverted gender norms, and did we mention the coffee shop?
We did mention the coffee shop. The coffee shop is worth mentioning again, because Kage R. Jakes is sitting on one of the outside tables -- round; a disc like a sun (like a moon, all made radiant with the sun) -- with two tiny espresso cups by her elbow, and she's playing with her iphone. There's a bag at her feet. From Lego World.
It's a day as clear as a longing, see. A nice summer day, doesn't try to simmer, to boil the denizens of Chicago. Just is. Makes one think of gold.
[Molly Quincannon] It has been said, of late, that Molly looks like death. And yes, there's a similarity or two with the Neil Gaiman anthropomorphic personification, with the black hair and the pale skin (not that pale, though closer these days, but still pale) and, usually, the cheerful smile and playful attitude. So actually, it's not the fact that Molly looks like Death that's the problem. The problem is that she doesn't. How she looks at the moment is like she hasn't slept in a week, because of nightmares too horrible to adequately describe. But she's a mage. There could be many more reasons.
Still, she goes through the motions. She goes out. She goes shopping. She has to replace her leather jacket, and never managed to yesterday. Too much angst and aggro. Lego World's display window gets a look-over, and then Molly is heading towards somewhere that there's coffee. Because coffee is needful. Thus she wanders past the coffee shop at which Kage sits and that red hair is impossible to not-notice, even for someone who looks quite that fragged. Thankful that she spotted the Orphan first, she steps to a visible-to-Kage position and waves. Smiles a tiny bit, with an effort that she feels Kage deserves. "Hey. Long time, no see."
[K. Jakes] [And I try to be Aware of my surroundings, so am I, just for kicks?]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[K. Jakes] There are people who get completely enmeshed in a world of texts (or digital scrabble, or googlemaps, or whatever they're reading on their phone), and don't even look up when the flesh-and-blood world tries to tug at their attention. Kage isn't one of these, and she notices a tug, a star, a frantic tug, the sizzling signature of another Willworker, and a familiar one to boot. That has her glancing up, giving the street a cool once-over, when Molly steps into visibility.
And Molly doesn't look good. In fact, Molly looks enough like death served upside down that Kage's left eyebrow perks. She sets her iphone down on the table and leans (an irreverent [poised] slouch) on it with her right forearm. Her weight goes onto her right hip, and she cants her head, says in turn - "No see, long time. Hey. Why don't you grab some caffiene and take a seat? I could do with company that's black-haired and charming."
[Molly Quincannon] That gets a bit more of a smile (a bit more effort, but hey; some things are worth it); it's wry, but it's there. "You do know this isn't my natural colour, right?" But it's teasing, and she nods. "Yeah, company'd be good. Red-haired company of a Kage-ly variety would be awesome. Bee-arr-bee."
She enters the coffee shop. She comes out with six little espresso shots and a big to-go cup half-full of good strong coffee, along with about ten sugar packets. As she sets about concocting something that might well be called "Caffeinated Death" out of her collection of spare parts, she asks, "So how've things been?"
[K. Jakes] The Orphan's mouth quirks, when Molly says black isn't her natural colour. "I'm trying to see you as a blonde," she says, "And I'm failing. The crow's daughter thing is definitely your ballad." Kage doesn't mean The Crow, wot the Hollowers worship. She just means the bird, blue-black and symbolic, flying in and out of the border of twilight: of death, of life. Kage mythologizes the world, see.
While Molly is inside, she sends off another text, then turns off her phone entirely. When Molly comes back, the iphone is out of sight, and Kage has finished off one of her shots -- thick, it is; Italian-style, sticks to the craw, make weaker people cough and choke and long for air, put hair on your chest! if certain folks are to be believed.
"Caffiene is to Molly as spinach is to Popeye?" Kage says, while she watches Molly concoct her vile, vile concoction of Caffeinated Doom (Death). A modern day Circe with some modern day juice. Then: the loaded question. Loaded, for any Magi in Chicago -- usually. "Things have actually been good," Kage says, and there: a brief smile, turned inward, but utterly radiant -- makes the plain woman briefly gorgeous. "Really good. I've been working; I just got a new job. I've figured out how to open a door and walk into a room on the other side of the house, which sort of hurts, but is a lot of fun."
Another brief pause, and, "I've also been managing to sleep sweetly, which is a bitch. A bitch that, no offense, looks like you know pretty well. How many times a day do you drink that sort of thing?"
[Molly Quincannon] "Light brown, actually," she says, addressing the last thing first. "Used to wear it long, too. We've all got life-phases, I guess. This works for now." She indicates her hacked-herself-with-kitchen-scissors coiffure. "And I'm glad things have been going well for you. Sounds pretty ideal, all things considered." It's not envy in her voice; it's wistfulness and maybe a bit of longing. "What's the job?"
Then, the question about how many times a day she drinks 'that sort of thing', and she sighs, addressing most of her response to her coffee. (Because it is coffee. There's probably more coffee than water in it, now.) "This? This is new. Well, the concentration is. You know, the dosage? I've always been a bit of a caffeine fiend, but now ... well, yeah, I know that bitch well. I've been introduced to 'that bitch' by experts. Really ... motivated experts."
Yeah, Kage is Aware today. Of her surroundings, of mood, of vibe. Molly isn't talking about random nightmares. Shit has Happened. Big, nasty, probably mage-related, definitely horrific Shit has Happened. She will talk about it, at least in part - in fact, probably wants (or at least needs) to, but ... some things need a lead-in.
[K. Jakes] "Interesting," Kage says, in reply to: what's the job. Because it is. And although that'd be a true answer, and Kage is always truthful, although not always forthcoming, she elaborates to say: "There's a guy I know who needs all there is to know about the angelic tradition in the Talmud, so I'm dredging the waters, so to speak, so he doesn't have to."
Beyond that, though, she listens to what Molly's got to say, twists her first espresso cup around a couple of times, because caffeine just gives her energy, bottled up lightning with no place to go. And Kage reads, in Molly's reply, the cadence of it, that Shit Has Happened, Is Happening, Is Bad. And Kage, albeit independent to a fault, when it comes to Magely happenings, takes a quiet breath. And on the exhale,
"Well. Maybe they'll have midlife crises. Decide to abandon their areas of expertise, and open up a pizza parlor. Tolkien-themed. Run a railway car restaurant." A beat. And, "I understand." She understands drinking so much coffee that it's hard to go to sleep, because sleep is a place that isn't restful to go. She understands that pretty well. "You want to talk about them?"
The experts, the dreams.
[Molly Quincannon] The bit about pizza parlours and railway car restaurants get a slightly bemused (though also faintly amused) look. Then the question, and the motion she makes is somewhere between a nod, a shrug and a twitch.
The first thing she does is pull the neck of her T-shirt down and aside a bit to expose her collarbone and more of her upper chest. There are faint scars there - small and seemingly not a big deal ... if one could ignore the mangled tattoos around them in a pattern larger than the faint scars. Magical healing, perhaps. "Gunshots," she says, then lets her collar settle back to its original position.
Then, the rest. Short, not-quite sentences. Simple words, full of meaning or utter gibberish or somewhere in between, depending on who's listening. "Nephandi. They tried to make me walk the Cauls. Two days, they had me. I'll never be able to thank Israel, Solomon and Nathan enough, for what they did. But the rest - the leader - they're still out there. And it's going to get ugly."
There. It's a start.
[K. Jakes] The red-haired woman closes her eyes, briefly, when Molly says the dirty (ugly) word. The black-road black-hearted bastards, bloody-fingered and undone by an unshadowed life: Nephandi. Briefly is the key, here, the emphasis. Beyond that, she lifts her chin in order to better see the scars, faint memories of a mutiliation that's occured far more recently than the scars themselves'd tell you, and the ruination of skin-art.
"Ow. Looks like it already did," Kage says, calm, but it's not hard to see the shadow of concern, of resolution, alchemical: steeling. She considers Molly for a second, and then says, "Why didn't you? How'd they get you -- find you? -- the first time? Cunning mousetrap?"
A beat, and, "You know, just - say what you want to say, talk about what you want to talk. I've got questions, but you needn't spin me an answer, unless you want to."
Because wanting is important.
[Molly Quincannon] The first gets wariness. "Why ... didn't I what?" That's a very loaded question for her right now, and it shows.
The others are, oddly, easier and harder at the same time. "We've been having issues with this for weeks. Months, really, but we've only had wind of it for weeks. I got on their radar because me and a guy named Thomas got conned into helping out one of the bastards. They Mask like whoa." (Resonance, obviously.) "They had mind-fucked cops on payroll. That was my research area. The one time I went with no more backup than a room full of people, the guy sticks a gun in my face in public. I'd probably be dead if the thing hadn't jammed."
But of course, dead might have been preferable at a few points.
"Anyway, yeah; cunning traps, Mind-altered cops as tails, and then torture at the hands of a sadistic psycho cop, two faceless wonders and a twelve-year-old boy." Revulsion on so many levels; fear on so many more. "Followed by rescue and the torching of the dungeon-slash-art gallery. Because it was tainted and awful. That's the gist, anyway."
Then, quietly: "They wouldn't let me sleep. Sleep, or pass out, or anything. All there was was pain. And now that I'm capable of sleeping? Physically? It's not for long, not restful, and not pleasant."
[K. Jakes] There's a loaded question, and it just may explode. It's drawn wariness out've Molly, anyway, like drawing water out've a stone -- except it's no trick; Molly's not a moon-rock. Kage cups her chin in the palm of her hands, and her eyes are speaking things, although caught between colours just now. The bright day wants to make then green as glass, as smoke inside a green bottle; genie eyes, moss on a gray gravestone.
Before she repeats -- or clarifies -- or takes it back -- Kage listens, with dismay, to Molly's tale of woe. The dismay's clear enough, although it doesn't appear to be coupled with the little physical tells that'd say and now anybody could be watching right now oh god oh god it could be anybody. It's frightening, and horrifying, and a dark tale all things told: things to deal with.
"I'm glad you were rescued. What do you want to do now? And ... Do you just dream what happened over and over again, or do you dream in variations on a theme?" Sympathetic, burnished -- that voice.
And then, finally -- clarification: "Why didn't you walk? What kept you strong in the face of ha ha not really laughing now?"
[Molly Quincannon] The question about the dreams, the question about the walk ... they're almost the same question, though Molly hasn't said so yet. She deals with the easy question first: "Right now, what I want to do is get through this. Not forget it - I can't; I have one of those memories that keeps everything bright and shiny and new, like a Zip-Loc bag, or maybe Tupperware - but ride it out, get past it. And I want to take the fuckers down. Not that I think anyone will let me - I think they think I'm too damaged or something. I know Thomas does. But I have a trick or two up my sleeve that might fuck things up for them, and Kibo help me, I'll do it if it buys the House some distraction. It's not just me, see - there are eyes on Thomas, on Israel, on Solomon, on Nathan, and they were there before the rescue. Solomon's place got torched. So did Nathan's bar. The House is a ripe target now." Which is, as should be clear, what she meant by 'things are going to get ugly.
Then, the question - the 'why'. She regards her caffeine, drinks deep, and then says, "Most of the first day, I didn't because I was angry. Because I wasn't going to do anything they wanted. Because ... well, I remember screaming something about 'Yeah, right, because having a few tonnes of toxic waste mainlined into my soul is all sunshine and daisies, yeah?' ... and then I was just screaming for awhile." She shudders, but her voice is distant, detached. "Because my Avatar has been little more than a voice over my shoulder and a few fading pixel ghosts for years, and if I walked, I'd never know what he - it, whatever - really was. The start of the second day, I ... heard Israel. Up here." She taps her right temple to illustrate the point. "She told me to hold on. I got by a couple of hours on how it would break her heart to come to my rescue only to find me turned. I realised it could have been a trick, a way to break my spirit - to build up a hope and then crush it when the help never came - but I kept on by remembering the things I love, the things I might never love again. The people ... I might never love again. And after that ... I don't even know. I was ... so far gone, by the end, that I didn't recognise help when it came. I thought they were a trick. Israel had to put me out to get me free, in the end. I ... had been thinking about how I could maybe still throw something - surely a bit of Entropy, I could make them screw up and kill me - but there wasn't a 'why' anymore."
Then, about the dreams: "Sometimes, it's replay. The taunts, the temptation, the offers to leave you all alone if I would just give in, the pain. But mostly ... mostly it's the things I wonder about when I'm awake. What the Caul is really like. What's in there. What it'd be like to feel the Avatar just ... twist like that. What I'd be like. What I'd do." She stares into her coffee. "What I'd do to all of you."
Big swig of coffee. "Those are the ones where I wake up screaming. The others ... I just wake up."
[K. Jakes] Kage is passionate about a lot of things. The White Fence House isn't one of them. That picket-fenced bastion of Americana with a sacred well deep down below and Kage have had words before. They weren't pleasant words. Still: Kage is passionate about a lot of things, and she wants to see the White Fence House stay in the possession of the Mages who're tending it now, so she doesn't make any sort've face or even think overlong thoughts, bitter ones, about another martyr for the well: just listens, composed -- even for the fisson of tension that touches her shoulders when Molly elaborates in that detached (hollow [once upon a time far, far away]) voice.
"What's the trick or two, if I can ask?" And she is, and she does. Neutral. Kage doesn't really give off the vibe of someone who'd stop another person from trying to go on a quest, whatever the kind. There are eyes on Israel, Molly says, and she knew that, and it puts her latest meeting with Nathan into stark relief: and also, annoys her. Nathan: magnetized for trouble.
"Never's always so far away," Kage remarks, at some point. "There's just no reaching it. Hope can stay strong, I think, all the way into that dark." And she listens, twists her espresso cup around, clockwise, then drains the dregs. Her gaze has gone dark and liquid, and difficult, all smoked up with listening.
"I see." That's all. When Molly's finished. Her eyebrows draw together, careless. "Plagued by what ifs."
[Molly Quincannon] The 'trick or two' - that gets a smile. It's small. It's strained. But it's got that impish quality that's so often present in Molly's grins - the ones that speak her truest self. "Oh, I'm into computers," she says, wrinkling her nose a bit. "Not a V-tweaker, though. A Cultist. Dissonance Society. Same look and feel, similar modus operandi, very different life views. Fact is, though ... well, there's a saying: 'any fool can peel the apple, but it takes a real hero to eat the core'. That's what I do. That's what I did. The leader of this magic carpet ride to hell is a reclusive billionaire whose current interest - the one we're most worried about - is a charity dealing with orphanages and stuff. Apparently that's all recruiting ground. Thing is, I've hacked the charity. I got some clue about his political connections, his business interests ... his off-shore bank accounts..." She shrugs, and still that grin. "I have a friend in DC, another at the Tribune, and another who works for a real legal eagle in En-Why-Cee. Plus a good hand with a code and at least two backdoors into the Chicago PD database. I could make life impossible for that man - mundane and otherwise." She shrugs. "Spin it right, and the only way to pin anything on me is through the not-so-mundane, so ... I dunno, at least he'd have to waste time and resources to fix things." Or maybe he'd go after Molly again and make her do it. She's carefully not considering that, apparently.
Then, a sigh. "What-ifs and terminal curiosity," she admits. "It's who I am. I need to know things. Some of my bunch are junkies for running-towards drugs. Some slip up and end up junkies for running-away drugs. I was an info-junkie as long as I can remember, and I can't stand not knowing. Especially not when ... well, when there's a way I could find out. But that's not really an option, so..."
[K. Jakes] There's a pause that's almost tangible; Molly could cup it in her hands, let it dribble out between her fingers [milk and honey]. Then: the ghost of a smirk touches the corner of Kage's mouth. A glint. "Ever notice how one never hears about charming, salt of the earth billionaires? I'm considering putting together a list. Clearly, vast wealth and seclusion is a warning sign. Probably not one of the earlier ones, though. What's his name?"
Molly admits that she's a what-if junkie, and Kage purses her mouth (kiss) thoughtfully. Her gaze is just pensive, calm. And then she says, "So I guess your tether is all the what ifs knowing what that road would be like would keep you from." A beat, and, "There's probably another way you could find out. Mind's like a sieve; you could scoop the sensation out've someone else, and examine it." Another beat, and, wry, this - "I'm not suggesting this, mind you. I'd just hate to see some question get the better of all the other questions you might have, you know?"
[Molly Quincannon] Molly winces. "I've ... been ... really dubious about learning Mind. People keep insisting that I should, for my own protection, and I see the point, thus actually having studied it, but ... that's a lot of temptation to put in the hands of an info-junkie. I've been more or less waiting until I was sure I could handle it. Besides," she adds with a raised-eyebrow, not-quite-sidelong look, "who would I scoop it out of? They've got wards and bans too, y'know, and unless I went and roped me a Fallen, I don't think it's practical. And I know." Now, it's a sigh, and another swig of the coffee. "That's the problem. 'Two roads diverged in a yellow wood; and sorry I could not travel both and be one traveller; long I stood and looked down one as far as I could to where it bent in the undergrowth'..."
Eidetic memories do have their advantages.
"I can't take both. I can't be two people. There are so many things on both sides that I don't know. So I stay on my path, and keep walking on it with the reminder that the other path's still open, even if I never take it? Or I take what I hope like hell is the road less travelled and wonder for the rest of my life what it would have been like to stay on the path I'm on. Or..." She shrugs. "Maybe the change would burn the curiosity out of me. Maybe I just wouldn't care, wouldn't be plagued by wondering and questions anymore." Calmly, she chugs coffee again.
[Molly Quincannon] She answers the first question last, absently, as if her mind's really not there at all. "Escudero. You wouldn't have heard of him. I sure as hell hadn't. You should see his political connections, though. Serious stuff."
[K. Jakes] [>.> Am I going to investigate this dude later on my own? Should I see his political connections?]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 6, 6, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6) [WP]
[K. Jakes] Besides, Molly says, who would I scoop it out of? And Kage, her mouth goes crooked again (a smile [almost]). "Didn't say it was practical. Just that there might be a way that wasn't walking the road yourself," and she takes a deep breath, holds it for a beat. For three beats. And releases it, lets it ghost upwards. Molly's just quoted poetry, and that brings a gleam out of the (concerned [shadow]) pensive expression, albeit only momentarily.
"Do you want that? To no longer wonder, so ardently? To no longer have Information as your lover?" Kage grimaces. "Yeah. There's not really anything I can say to take the wonder out've possibility, but you know, if you ever want to talk about a what if, you've got my number. Feel free to use it."
And the Orphan just looks thoughtful when Molly drops the name, although no more thoughtful than she had during Molly's admissions, confessions, revelations of what sort've person she is. Someone who understands about temptation. "When I first opened my eyes, really, I was pretty fascinated by Mind."
A beat, and, "So did you move again?"
[Molly Quincannon] Molly makes a face, at the question about whether that was what she wants, really. That's her (Avatar) subconscious saying, Oh, John Ringo NOOOO!. The rest of her, however ... well, the brain is a fickle, fickle bitch. "Not really. Not usually. I wouldn't be me, then. Though..." The coffee is swigged down, drowning that sentence (I don't think a lot of people would exactly mind *internal!bitchslap* YOU DO TALK SUCH BULLSHIT) before it can reach the outside world. "Eh, basically, no," she finally finishes. "None of mine treat their lovers that much like shit, anyway." The offer of an ear over the phone gets a tiny smile. "Thanks. I'll keep it in mind. I ... don't talk about the what-ifs. To anyone else. I think it freaks them out. No one ... no one asked, until now."
Then, Mind: "Oh, not that it doesn't fascinate me, but therein lies the problem. I thought I had some growing up to do first, before I started developing that kind of hacking ability. Really? I wanted to start looking at Prime or Spirit, but I guess I got detoured. There are worse things. Prime next, though. I need a better look at people's psycho-spiritual bling anyway."
Then she frowns. "Um ... no, I didn't move again. Fortified the place a lot, and I need to find a way to make sure that authorised visitors ring the doorbell and don't ... you know, knock, or even so much as touch the door without the access codes? And for all I know, I'll find Atlas on my doorstep some day soon with high-grade digging equipment and the means to turn my place into something out of Bergen-Belsen? But I haven't moved. Why?"
[K. Jakes] "There is so much to see, it can be difficult, prioritizing," Kage says, calm and cool, but there's a touch of wistfulness (yearning) in her voice. There's a lot she doesn't know yet. There are whole avenues of experience that she just can't experience yet. She has theories as to why, and she's been making in-roads in a few of what other Mages call Spheres, but they're just in-roads for now. "Doesn't feel like there's enough time."
Molly says no one's asked until now, and Kage shrugs, leaning back in her chair, lifting her hand to drag it through her red, red hair, hold it at the back of her skull, gather it at the base of her neck. "Well. I think it's important."
"And," a brief grin, "looking at people's psycho-spiritual bling is pretty damned useful, when it comes to the besmirched. But everything's useful if you maguyver it right, hm?"
And Molly says, Why? And Kage, who has raised both eyebrows during Molly's explanation of newly fortified old auto-parts shop, whistles, low and clear, then says - "Because I'd be real tempted to, in your shoes. I've gotta say: am sort of glad I haven't had the time to wander by and knock on your door in all innocence for a cuppa that green soda gunk."
[Molly Quincannon] "There is if you make it," is Molly's response to there not being enough time. Time is, after all, her Trad speciality. "Though there's a ways to go before I can do that yet. Still, while I admit that prioritising can be a bitch, at least it's, like ... a weather-vane for fate. What you need and want to know showing which way the wind's blowing? But MacGuyvering is useful," she adds with a bit of a grin. "Time, Correspondence, Entropy and Forces. So right time, right place, right circumstances ... and a lot of bang for your buck. Combine 'em and it's more versatile than most people think."
I think it's important, says Kage, and Molly sighs. "Yeah. I guess it is. Anything that preys on the mind this much has to be."
Ah, the bit about the move. The laugh isn't really amused; it's bitter. "There are two schools of thought on that. There's either 'oh-em-gee they're gonna blow it up', to which I say, 'fuck that' ... or there's 'they've taken enough from me; they're not taking my own home, 'specially not on the emotional and mental comfort zone levels'. There's a line. So I'm just making it as safe as it can be and letting the rest take care of itself. And 'that green soda gunk' is awesome, why the hate?"
[K. Jakes] "Oh, Forces," Kage says, quiet - and then with a snick of a smile: something touched with a hint of shining. "There's an art I haven't captured, quite yet. Love-hate, Molly. Love-hate. And that sounds like a veritable cocktail of versatility to me," here, the smile fades. Not because she's suddenly thought of something serious, or come-all-over with gravity; just because people don't generally smile like Fools.
There are two schools of thought, Molly says, and Kage listens to that, too. And she seems to understand, although she doesn't say as much now. Offers this: "There was a time when people I didn't want coming by came to my apartment all the time. They'd find it before they even knew I was there. Didn't like it at all. But I do really like my apartment."
And this happens at once: Kage wrinkles her nose and her eyebrows perk, just a little, expressive, re: why the hate. And there's a buzzing, buzzing from the bag by her feet. An alarum. An alarm. "Anything the color of Slimer is not to be ingested frequently." Kage sits up, glances downward, then back up at Molly - "And on that note, I actually have to run. But it was ..." Humor, a touch of it -- wry, "Nice seeing you again, Molly."
A beat. "Sure am glad you chose the road you did."
[Molly Quincannon] There's an alarm in the bag. But Kage's iPhone is on the table. She's been trying not to pay it too much attention, but as Kage packs it away, Molly says, "Well, if you ever want to capture that art, let me know. If you know your way around an iPhone app, you'll love being able to turn that thing into a magic-wand-slash-shotgun. And it was ... serendipitous, seeing you again, Kage."
Then, a tiny smile, and, just before Kage heads away, before Molly goes back to pondering the roads travelled and untravelled over a cup of coffee dark as some of her trains of thought? Before Kage is out of earshot, there's a quiet, "...And thanks."
With that, they're both off back to their respective days.
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