Apple Seeds

[Emily Littleton] It's a null moon night, which ought to mean that the Orphans are bright enough to stay in doors. But it's a null moon night, just before yet another assualt on (her sanity) something awful that goes bump in the night, and Emily needs a bit of lightness, a little kernel of hope to take with her into the breach. She's called Kage, and asked her to meet at the bend in the path -- of a more local stand of trees and grasses -- where a broad tree overhangs a park bench.

It's another one of those things that they will both know when they find it. There are more distinct directions, sure, but it amounts to under the old oak (?) tree sans yellow ribbon.

She has the apple seeds in her pocket, again. The ones gleaned from a place not here and not now; a story book that dumped them back out into the clearing beside the Fallen King. She's asked Kage to bring the Apple Book -- to be careful with the Apple Book; no more falling into stories, no more wheel turning, no more observances of long-forgotten things. It was a hell of a journey when there were three to mark the passing paths; it'd be too much to go alone.

Emily is there, with her messenger bag, and this time it is not full of computers and calculus. There's a book on botany, and another on horticulture -- they are not the same you know. The Initiate (newly-minted) is good at homework, does her research, both in book-form and online. Perhaps between the cues in the Apple Book, and the best practices of gardeners gone by, they'd be able to raise the seeds into a tree.

Out of season.

There's a little (ir)reverence in that.

[Kage R. Jakes] The park sprawwwls like a cat plopped in the center of a bed (your bed) just when you're exhausted and you really want to sleep. You realize that the cat is a small creature. You realize that the cat cannot, physically, take up the entire bed, because it is small. Yet the cat is sprawwwwling over your entire bed, in defiance of reason. That's what the park is like; Kage knows that it isn't Central Park in New York City, which hides fairytale forests, and that it is bordered by city and nightlife, that the crevices and nooks aren't likely to unskein or unspool into the need for a map, because there are landmarks, the illuminated fountain, the Cloud Gate, the museums, the colliseum pillars, all, all: it's not the hugest of parks, basically; it's not a giant. Yet, yet, yet: under the Null Moon, looking for the bend in the path where a broad tree overhangs a park bench and an Emily is waiting with books to study in the dark park like some kind of invitation to Mystery, or at least some odd looks, the park feels like it's too great to map.

Still. Kage is good at finding people. Kage is good and finding things, too. And she finds the place Emily meant, walks down the path with her red hair in (burning [russet]) braids, woven into a coronet, and an umbrella just in case it starts to rain again, and a summery jacket with sleeves that go to her elbows, and a bag in which there is One Mysterious Book, which she was wryly amused to find herself still in possession of, after the Strangeness.

She doesn't shout out a greeting, slightly archaic. No; she plops gracelessly down onto a bench beside Emily or the grass beside Emily or finds some place to plop, and says, "The park grows vast when the moon's not making sure it keeps to its borders. Or something. Were you waiting long?" Then: a brief smile. "New news?"

[Jarod Nightingale] [Awareness]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 5, 9 (Failure at target 6)

[Jarod Nightingale] [No, really]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 7 (Failure at target 7)

[Jarod Nightingale] [Fine, you win dice. You win.]

[Kage R. Jakes] [But what if...? Is Kahseeno nicer to moi?]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 3, 5, 5, 7 (Failure at target 8)
to†Jarod Nightingale

[Jarod Nightingale] Speaking of cats.

This was the second time in one week that Jarod had run into Emily in the park. On this occasion, though, he was alone. Wherever Ilana was (probably at home - it was getting late, after all), that place was not here. And one could wonder about that. One could wonder how a single parent of a ten year old managed to get out to wander the city alone after dark. (It probably involved a sitter, unless Jarod was even less responsible than he seemed.) He'd been walking through the park on his way to the lot where he'd left his car an hour and a half ago, but he slowed as he caught sight of Emily's familiar figure seated on a bench. There was another woman there with her - a pretty, petite creature with brilliantly red hair.

His steps approached, and then stopped in front of the two women, and he glanced down at the books in Emily's lap with a curious expression. "Is that for a class, or are you planning on starting a garden?"

Then, because Kage was there, and they hadn't been introduced (only over the phone, briefly, long ago), he offered her a small smile (and it was a pretty, seductive thing, for all that he was probably just being polite) and a fractional nod of acknowledgment.

He looked nice, tonight. He looked like he might have been out. (As in, out to dinner, or maybe a show, or something else thoroughly sophisticated.) He had on a black suit - Prada - that fit him inordinately well, and a deep red silk shirt showing beneath the jacket. There wasn't a tie, though, and the top couple of buttons had been left open, so that the gentle drumbeat of a pulse could be detected at the hollow between collar-bones.

(He did not look at all like Verbena.)

[Kage R. Jakes] [I'm Aware, aren't I, Kahseeno?]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 6, 6, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Jarod Nightingale] He feels like being wrapped in silk. He tastes like very good wine, or strawberries dipped in chocolate. It's strong, that sense. It overwhelms. Soft, luxuriant, intoxicating. It feels like an invitation. (It feels like the best kind of sex.)

He also feels like winter.
to†Kage R. Jakes

[Emily Littleton] To Kage's smile there is a carefully curled smirk. "Oh, always."

There was always new news, and occasionally it was even good. Whatever Emily had gathered them here to talk about, not in their usual rendezvous spot either, it was good news indeed. There's a cat that ate the canary smile hiding just behind the smirk. This was layered amusement, self-satisfaction in the face of coming certain doom.

She was so very tired of Doom. Living in Chicago and wishing for quiet days was like living in Seattle and dreaming of sunshine and summer months. Futile.

"Ashley called me an Initiate," she tells Kage, sitting up a little straighter and all but beaming her new title to the other Orphan. Ranking up, in this passel of magi, was an excuse for baked goods.

Of course, this self-congratulatory moment leaves her blind to the approach of a particular Disciple. (Emily is forever outranked by the company she keeps [and doesn't oft enjoy the company of her 'peers.']) She's grinned at her rowan-haired Other when Jarod -- see also: Rockstar, the Verbena, the Mentor (part 1) -- appears. Not so much out-of-thin-air as Owen was capable of, but the comparison begs making.

That same broader than usual smile is turned his direction. Her gaze slides up to meet his. She's no longer that gawking co-ed. He is beautiful, and there are memories there, but she's more centered. The smile softens, just a hitch, then solidifies into something certain and politely tempered.

"I want to grow an Apple Tree," she says, and the noun has a particular weight to it. The way they throw around words like Tradition, and Awake. It's resonant, particular, singular in its intent. She arches a brow almost playfully.

"Jarod, this is Kage." Odd that she introduce her to him first. "Kage, this is Jarod." Oh, not odd at all. That little lilt gives the patterning away. There's a touch of amusement (wry [tempered]) to the curl of her mouth when she glances to the other Orphan.

"I don't know if you've met, properly, yet."

She doesn't offer up last names, or titles, or ranks, or Traditions. Just givens (first names) and her comfortable fluency with them to mark their merit. She shifts the books on her lap a little, glances between them.

[Kage R. Jakes] It's true to say that Kage is a wary creature, always, and she is especially wary of news, when the news is and then this cabal and also and then guns and also and the children were and also, kidnapping, burning, tainted, bad of late. It's also true that Kage doesn't even react to Henri's phonecalls by cringing, or by cursing internally. Kage takes these things as they come; Kage takes them coolly, and delves deeper when necessary.

Good news is a surprise, and it touches her mouth with wistfulness (yearning), before sardonicism decides to also dwell there. Her smile of congratulations, y'see, starts out as a hint. But it grows: apple-tree real, see? Because she's happy that Emily is happy, and happy for her that she's advanced enough to call herself an initiate. "Well, if Ashley called you an Initiate, you must be one," she replies, teasing. "What mystery are you initiate of?"

And there is a Jarod. Jarod, the Soup Kitchen Rockstar. There were other nicknames. She doesn't remember them all, but they'll no doubt return, or he'll get new ones. Sensuous, first. And then, wintry, winter-heart; luxuriate (imperative) first, and then: frost. A trick, or a fairytale about a boy who likes ice puzzles. She knows he's one of them before Emily ties his name to his face, and causes Kage's eyebrows, already quirking upward, to rise a fraction-of-an-inch higher. Her nod is courtesy, is courteous, and coupled with a little lift of her shoulders, a shrug.

"...And we haven't. Hello, Jarod. Welcome back to Chicago. Did you come back for gladness' sake?"

[Jarod Nightingale] I want to grow an Apple Tree, she said, as if this were something of great importance. And Jarod tilted his head and looked at her for all the world like a cat that was trying to figure something out. He was oh-such-a-feline creature. Emily had probably grown used to that by now.

Introductions were given, and perhaps he was a little used to people referring to him in that almost winking manner, because he didn't seem particularly phased by it. More just... mildly amused. He lofted an eyebrow in Emily's direction, but refrained from comment.

Kage. The name sounded familiar, but whether or not he remembered that it had been her on the phone that one night with the Marauder-that-got-away, he probably preferred not to think about it. (It was a lifetime ago. It was an uncharacteristic impulse to keep safe the delicate things around him at the potential cost of his own safety. It would not happen again. [Or perhaps it would. See: Long-lost daughter.])

So he didn't mention a phone call. Instead, he let his smile return, and broaden to something almost friendly. (Almost, but still a little too-perfect, still a winter smile.) "All of my things were still here, so it seemed an easy choice," he replied.

"Now, you really must explain to me why you're thinking of growing an apple tree at the very end of the growing season," he directed at Emily as he slid in beside her on the bench.

[Emily Littleton] It is a better night, partly because Emily is willfully focused on things not and then there were guns or and the children or on Tuesday next or at the Chantry or ... is missing. To be fair, she's also not thinking about mid-terms or the homework she needs to do, or the homework she needs to grade, or the boxes she ought be unpacking. Most significantly, she is not thinking about the waiting that Ashley advised her she was not obligated to do, and yet she could not find a way to escape.

It is a better night. Because she said so. Sometimes you had to make your own (luck) happiness.

"Just to be exceptionally difficult, naturally," she replied, without truly answering that feline head-tilt and gently narrowed (curious) eyes. She is used to this look; she remembers it well. She's brave enough to toy with it more than she used to be. And Kage is here, Kage-the-Cavalier, Kage the unflappable, and that makes the playfulness all the more rewarding.

But it yields, to the inevitable telling. To getting back at the point why the two women had gathered there. She invites him into it via a small explanation:

"We fell into a book. It was such an odd place, and there was this orchard where I landed ... When we fell out again, I had these seeds with me." She doesn't reach into her pocket to produce them, just now, but they're there. "I thought we might grow them. The apples there were truly delicious."

Emily, apparently, had not learned her lesson about young women and strange fruits in mythical gardens. Serpents and apples (cast me out before my pride), pomegranate seeds and seasons-long imprisonment (steal me away from my mother)

Oh, and, round about back to what Kage had asked her.

"Life." The grin broadens. It folds everything back in on the conversation. "Which is why I thought we just might..."

Here there's a look to Jarod, as if for confirmation. She'd yet to explore everything she could do with her new-found talent (gift).

[Kage R. Jakes] Jarod doesn't mention a certain phonecall that happened, briefly, when snow pressed heavily on the city, stilled it, when winter was at its deadest, and he didn't manage to kill a Marauder, and Kage -- let's be frank: Kage isn't precisely noted for her exuberant oversharing. Kage, who most certainly remembers, is content with this evening, in this park, as her first look at Jarod. And of course, she is wondering; it's there in her expressive [albeit not remarkably telling] eyes. Wondering things, and no need to respond to pleasantry with another pleasantry, because

an exuberant version of Emily, vibrant, Life-initiated, is playful, is arch, is smug, and spinning out the story of the book. Kage can't quite contain a brief shake of her head when Emily says she ate of the fruit, although it's something she already read in the story left after, and she says, seriously: "I like to think of it more like - and the book fell on us; after all. We were minding our own business, perfectly innocent, watching where we were going, when whumpf, Weirdness." For Jarod's benefit, perhaps, she adds, "There were instructions on the growing of apple trees in the back of the book."

And this, for Emily's: "... And the book is starting to change, Em. The ink's fading, so I copied them out. And congratulations." And truly, Kage? inscrutable. Except ... well. Life. There's a note of longing. Understated, and most likely unnoticed. That same longing was there when Emily shared her Sight, after she'd first learned Life, was joyous with it. Kage'd like nothing more than to be able to affect living creatures.

But it hasn't happened yet, and it doesn't look likely to happen in the future.

[Jarod Nightingale] They fell into a book. Or, rather, a book fell on them.

It was not the strangest thing that he'd ever been told, but it was bizarre enough to warrant a look of intense speculation. Jarod glanced between the two women (one familiar, one new), and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, fingers clasped loosely together.

And... he contemplated.

Then he said, to Emily, "Do you have the seeds now?" Because, of course, he was curious. (Curiosity killed the cat.)

This other news (that of Emily's greater understanding of Life) held some interest, too. It related to him, you see. He'd shown her this, because it had been the first thing he'd thought to teach her (the thing that was closest to him.) And she'd achieved much within that sphere, in what seemed a comparatively short amount of time. There was a moment, then, shared between him and Emily. Unspoken, but communicative nonetheless. A small smile - warm, honest, gentle. (Perhaps even happy.)

[Emily Littleton] [Awareness as Empathy? Am I empathic? Or is this another one of those aware-as-a-rock days?]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 5, 8 (Failure at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] [Oh, yes. I see how it is. Thank you, kahseeno. *shakes fist*]

[Kage R. Jakes] [... But what about me, Kahseeno. Didn't we have that one awesome night...? *flutters lashes*]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 7, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] A book fell on them was not part of Emily's recent status update, either. She did not blog or facebook or twit (tweet [whatever]) her adventures in the Apple Book, and she had not told them to him in the brief afternoon catching-up session they'd had. But she hands him the textbooks now, so that she can dig into her pocket and wrest free a small paper envelope.

It was only about big enough for a gift tag, or a very small folded note, but the diminutive envelope had a proper flap, and a small wax seal pressed with the letter E. Inside were the seeds she'd saved. The corners were relatively square, still, so this was a recent adventure and Emily was not apt to carry such things in her pocketses for long.

She trades him the little envelope for her books back. But what Kage says about the book distracts her from the longing in her friends' eyes.

"It's fading?" Worry. Concern. Then resignation. Disappointment. "A shame. I'm glad you copied it down, though. Are the instructions still there?"

The Verbena among them must think it odd. Requiring instructions for planting seeds, caring after something as simple as a new-born sapling. Emily, though, is best with her hands applied to deft mechanical or delicate eletrical things. Her hands, applied to life, have a very particular sphere of influence. It is not nurturing. It is not about plants.

She did steal a glance over at her one-time Life-Mentor (sphere [and other things...]) after she'd handed him the seeds. This was something he'd helped her start, and something she'd refined after he'd stepped away, and now blended into what she was becoming. Her first reach outward after Seeking, into higher things, stronger magics, had been along his path not the Chorus's. There is a reason, but it's not told in the small secrets their eyes might disclose.

"Do you think it'd be possible to start the seeds, even though it's fall? Maybe I could keep the little tree in my flat over winter, keep an eye on it. If it got strong enough, we could plant it out by the Court..."

This she does not translate for Jarod. This matter of where to plant it, where it might find its seat and settle, that question was for Kage. The other was very much for both of them. She'd never had so much as a houseplant before.

[Kage R. Jakes] Emily gives Jarod an envelope with the apple pips (seeds [life]) taken from another place. Kage undoes the flap of her bag, and pulls out the book: corn-husk covers, corn-husk stitchery, rowan thread, roan ink, pages that crinkle, blonde as the harvest -- wheat-gold, corn-maid paling in the sun quaking in winter's approach; she is careful of it, by which we mean, she is careful of it falling into the Verbena's hands, the Verbena disappearing inside as well (there's still a resonance, to it, although the resonance has changed [Entropy, active]). They still don't know how it came to be in the box. Kage hands it to Emily, and says, "See for yourself."

And if she opens it, so she will. The story is still there, but the ink is fading. Obviously fading, and looks old, whereas a couple days ago, it looked fresh. "I've only grown herbs before," Kage says, nonmagical: "I have no idea whether or not the apple seeds will take, but I don't see why they shouldn't, if they're kept in a controlled environment. We could definitely plant it way out there."

And let's not lie. Kage is pensive, and also studious; Emily and Jarod are objects of her (quiet [reserved]) study. That's all.

[Jarod Nightingale] [Prime Sense - diff 4 -1(oh look, the moon's out![focus])]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 5, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 3)

[Jarod Nightingale] [Or not. Since it's a null moon. *inserts a tradition focus and makes diff 4 instead*]

[Emily Littleton] There is a small paper packet, and the packet itself is not magic, no, but the seeds within are not just seeds either. They're not just apples in waiting, trees to be. There's a thrum to them that is not quite familiar, it is not quite resonant with the world as he knows it.

These seeds bear the resonance of the place they have come from. It's a slow thing, Autumn-heavy, rich with the obtenebration that follows one season's falling and ushers in the next. Hushed here, the suggestion of Senescence. Bright, then, the promise of Abundance. Clear and quickly-cadenced, the intimation of Revelry.

These things are still clear. They're still rooted deep within the seeds that are Apple-not, not just-Apple, but rather something more. Something other. Something gently left-shifted and curious.

And no, it is not familiar. It is not remembered. It is not known. The echoes are Vernal, clearly seasonal, but this is not from some else-Earth-place.

[Kage R. Jakes] [Hypothetical... hyyypothetical postings.... let's see... leeet's see....]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 4, 5, 5, 9 (Failure at target 6)
to†Kage R. Jakes

[Kage R. Jakes] [Reeeally?]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 4, 5, 5, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
to†Kage R. Jakes

[Kage R. Jakes] [K: pft, immune.]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
to†Kage R. Jakes

[Kage R. Jakes] [Nooooooo.]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 4, 7, 7, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)
to†Kage R. Jakes

[Kage R. Jakes] [Yeeeees]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 9 (Failure at target 6)
to†Kage R. Jakes

[Kage R. Jakes]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 4, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 7)
to†Kage R. Jakes

[Jarod Nightingale] It's subtle, that little ritual. His canines are sharp (Emily would know this - she'd kissed him - he'd grazed teeth against her skin), and a small trickle of blood flowed easily when he bit down on the edge of his tongue (warm, salty, sacred life). He opened his senses as he examined the pouch that Emily handed him... and seemed pleased by what he found.

"Life has a way of thriving despite unexpected conditions. You... would be surprised." He smiled a little. "Something like this really isn't meant to be kept in a pot, though." (Oh Jarod, your Verbena is showing.) The smile faded, and he glanced first at Kage (pondering), then at Emily. "You should plant it somewhere wild. This is the season for seeds to find their way to ground. They'll sleep over the winter, and grow once the spring comes."

There was an instinct, you see, not to meddle with the natural order of things. Especially not when the thing in question was of some mystical significance.

It may not have been the answer that Emily wanted. (But that didn't mean she couldn't do what she wanted to do. It only meant that one person found the notion troublesome.)

[Kage R. Jakes] [Urk. I'm sorry; I can't stay to exeunt post. *waves wand of pretending-there's-a-good-or-serviceable-exeunt-post-after-Emily's*]