what sort of blackhearted knave

[Ashley] This will be the second late-night visit Kage receives from Ashley in two months. Best not to make them habit, but hopefully when the Orphan hears what Ashley has to say, she won't mind very much.

She doesn't call ahead. She already called a handful of her allies, people whose help she needs: Kage is getting this information less because she needs to know and more because Ashley knows she will be as happy to hear it. So there's no warning, just the excited pounding of a fist at her door after one A.M. Maybe she's still awake.

Ashley is hyperventilating, partially out of excitement and partially because she did indeed try to run over here in spite of how much it hurt. She didn't make it very far, and air is being sucked into her lungs in shallow, pained gasps, wet sounding, like each breath burns. She doesn't care.

One hand holds her side, and the other rests against Kage's doorframe after she's knocked and braces her, holds her upright. One couldn't make the mistake of thinking there's anything wrong, though: her smile has all the brilliance of her astral form.

[Kage] [?]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Kage] [And now, Awareness?]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 5, 8, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Kage] The door opens. Not quite right away, but without a great deal of pause. The woman who looks out at Ashley does not look as if she has just been woken up from a sound (or restless [or fitful]) sleep, nor like sleep is a god she has invited into her home. Kage looks alert, and wakeful, and dark-eyed, and pensive. There are different nuances, of course; Kage has eyes that noone ever mistakes for emotionless, although they're not particularly easy to read. Ashley is almost hyperventilating on her doorstep, leaning against the frame, and Ashley has a halo of determined hunger, of relentless thriving, around her, thick enough to stick to the roof of somebody's mouth, like dough, thick enough the hair on the back of somebody's neck to prickle for a moment.

Kage's first thought is that something bad has happened. Before she even opens the door, which is unlatched, trustfully, helpfully, she thinks: maybe something else horrible has happened - even though that the same kind've knock Ashley knocked when she came out've the Serpent's belly; she thinks: maybe she's just sad - needs to talk. Kage was not at all expecting that sort've smile.

She steps back to let Ashley in, raising her eyebrows, and says - " - you look like you just found out the sun's yours for the taking, and also, the sun kind've wants to be took."

[Ashley] It might be that after the week she's had, she was just hoping against hope for something good to happen, and maybe that's why she's latched onto this so strongly. It's not as good as, say, waking up and realizing that this past week was nothing but a horrible nightmare, but finding a lost brother in arms? It's something.

She's been so miserable that good news is magnified, is clung to and embraced, because right now it's what she needs.

She holds her side, and one might think it was maybe a stitch from running if Kage hadn't watched Ashton extract a bullet from her flesh, and the Hermetic grins up at Kage. She didn't bother to change out of pajamas, which happen to be a pair of yoga pants and a light blue tanktop. Her chain is visible; so's the dusting of freckles that covers her neck and shoulders. So are her scars.

"Gregor," she says, and another breath, and then at Kage's invitation she walks into the apartment. Kage might ordinarily be getting a hug, but the Hermetic has been sleepless most of the week, and she's wounded and just tried to run, and walking on slightly shaky legs is what she can manage right at this moment.

"I was running around on the other side, practicing, and I saw him. He's home."

[Kage] Kage is about to make some mildly caustic Jesus, sit down remark, and probably punctuate it with the triedandtrue remember, breathing helps us when we want words; slow down comment. Because Ashley did just have a bullet pulled out've her ribs; because Ashley is not the most athletic of creatures -- Kage has seen her, urbanexploration, balance that wasn't; because she's probably not taking the best care of herself. Because Kage is aware of this kind of thing, or tries to be.

She doesn't make any sort've remark or comment, because Ashley says Gregor, and steps inside. Kage's eyebrows rise up just a little more, and see, her throat is long and pale, but long, although she's not very long herself, and somehow her expression (that lift of her head) makes it all the more evident. Kage opens her mouth to reply, but then waits for Ashley to spin her tale out a little more before saying anything.

The apartment is a dwelling place for illumination just now; the lights are on, but bright as honey, dripping from a wooden spoon. The books throw shadows, and so do the chests, and the light hanging over the dining room table is on, and the kitchen light is on, too, and it glances off of a new piece of stained glass fitted in just beyond the flowering herb-greenery in the little kitchen window. For all the wakefulness of the apartment: Kage is dressed as if she was going to go to bed at somepoint. A pair of silk [roseblush] bedshorts, a high school trackteam shirt about four sizes too large for her.

A beat, and then - just for a brief flash: Kage smiles, and radiance gathers up in the corners, kindles in her eyes; a burning brand -- something that luminous and dark has to leave an after-image. "Really? Did he -- did he learn to cross back over himself, or was there another way?"

Another beat, and - "Oh, sit down. There's some lukewarm tea if you want it."

[Ashley] Oh, sit down, says Kage, and Ashley does go to do this, gratefully. The Tytalan finds the couch and braces a palm there on the armrest, carefully lowering herself and then curling into the corner as though she could hide the wound that way, protective little ball. It's still throbbing; she keeps her hand pressed to her side, because that pressure helps relieve the pain somewhat, and eventually the ache will subside.

"Tea's good," she manages, and lets her head roll back against the back of the couch, lets it rest there for a few moments while she catches her breath. Closes her eyes because sitting down again has made her just how aware she is of that lightheadedness, that she pushed herself too hard too soon. For all of that, though, the grin just won't die.

She can't imagine what Kage was doing out here - research or reading, most likely, though she doesn't think about it long. Kage smiled, that brief show of radiance, and while she goes back to the kitchen for tea Ashley explains.

"He's not back yet," Ashley says. "I had to leave him on the other side. But he found his way back. I just need to find a way to bring him back over...I thought maybe Atlas could do it, the way we opened a Shallow in July." Her breathing is steadying now, her head is beginning to clear.

Suspecting that Kage might not understand how this was accomplished, she adds, "I can cross over, kind of. There's...it's all thought, it's all concept, even if you can't touch it, and so you can walk that plane with the Mind. And that's how I met him."

[Kage] He's not back yet, Ashley says, and doesn't see the -- not wariness; not disappointment, quite; the flicker, as Kage rearranges the news in her mind. Gregor is home; he is back in Chicago. Gregor is not home; he is still in the world of ghosts and shadows. It's a world Kage has always been able to see - since she was first Awakened; a world she's been tempted to peek in on again, after a spell when she just didn't want to know what was pressing in on the other side of the drum (we're inside the drum [they're the fingers that make music] no, that's not right: we're the fingers, they're - that's not right, either. That's shamanistic bullshit. We're - ).

The shape of her mouth becomes thoughtful, while she reaches up and takes a mug down from one of the higher shelves in her mug cabinet. The dishwasher is full, and also broken. The kitchen smells sharp, of lemon scent clean. The shape of her mouth stays thoughtful while she pours tea into an I

[Kage] He's not back yet, Ashley says, and doesn't see the -- not wariness; not disappointment, quite; the flicker, as Kage rearranges the news in her mind. Gregor is home; he is back in Chicago. Gregor is not home; he is still in the world of ghosts and shadows. It's a world Kage has always been able to see - since she was first Awakened; a world she's been tempted to peek in on again, after a spell when she just didn't want to know what was pressing in on the other side of the drum (we're inside the drum [they're the fingers that make music] no, that's not right: we're the fingers, they're - that's not right, either. That's shamanistic bullshit. We're - ).

The shape of her mouth becomes thoughtful, while she reaches up and takes a mug down from one of the higher shelves in her mug cabinet. The dishwasher is full, and also broken. The kitchen smells sharp, of lemon scent clean. The shape of her mouth stays thoughtful while she pours tea into an I heart Bayeux Tapestry mug, then pours the rest of the pot into another mug, one with a picture of the Evil Queen from Snow White looking witchy next to a Renaissance image of golden-haired Eve reaching up for the apple whilst the serpent coils around her which is in turn next to a picture of the apple logo. The legend says: F*ck Apples.

Kage pads back out of the kitchen (and she's wearing socks, boring ones, vanilla coloured, ice cream), and down the step into the basin of the living room, and she circles the couch to hand Ashley the tea. It's something with clove, and orange, cardamom and anise; something that feels a lot like the ending times of summer, like gold turning to brilliant rust - and, as promised, it's luke warm, maybe a little strong, coarse.

"That should work. I don't think it was one of those talismans you read about or hear about that work once and then diminish. And it was fairly easy to activate." Activate, Kage says, instead of operate; it's an important word choice. One doesn't operate magick. One works it. Activates it. Uses it. "Is he okay? How was he when you saw him?" A beat, and then -- a crooked smile, a halfed thing: "Is that one of the things you learned in Boston? Interesting?"

[Ashley] Ashley is amused by the mug, holds it up and looks at it for a few seconds after it's delivered into her hands. It's lukewarm, but Ashley generally doesn't like her tea too hot anyway: sensitive mouth, she always ends up burning her lips or her tongue if she tries to drink it too soon. Right now she can sip it right away, and thankfully it isn't lung ching or jasmine.

After a second or two it occurs to her that her shoes are still on her feet, and with an apologetic glance toward Kage she reaches down to untie them, to slide her feet out of the embrace of the canvas. The sneakers, which are beginning to look a little battered, scuffed at their white toes, are lowered to the ground next to the couch, where they rest formless.

She didn't miss Kage's disappointment, and this probably isn't as exciting for her: she didn't get to see Gregor there, speak with him. He's still distant for her, she can't just hop over.

When Kage asks how Gregor is there's a wince that crinkles up one of Ashley's cheeks, makes that eye into a half-moon just briefly, still crisp blue, the color of cornflowers, and it isn't because the tea she's sipping at is too hot. "He's...well, he's been totally alone for months," Ashley says, "with no contact. Just thoughts. He was...he cried when he saw me and got kind of incoherent." She was touched by Gregor's reaction then and is still, even if she can't fully communicate the intensity of those few minutes, the emotion that flew about. That's the nature of the physical world. Everything is muted.

"And yeah. I learned to do it in Boston." A pause. "You can see everything that's ever been thought or dreamed. Some really amazing things. It's all just...totally abstract."

[Kage] Kage tucks one leg beneath her, and leans her back against the arm of the couch. This is a comfortable position; one she finds often. To Kage, a couch often seems like a thing to half-recline on, and its back is little but an elbow prop, something to lean against but not into. And got kind of incoherent, Ashley says, and Kage makes a sound like -- air, unknotting; like harvest-smoke, seething over the edge of a oil-painted [Pre-Raphaelite (Symbolist influence?)] field. The very edge of night. Not a sigh, just a certain kind of exhale.

"Ah," she says. Because Gregor was never the most coherent, never the most steady, stable, of mages. The dreamspeaker could embody his resonance in a lot of ways; could inhabit it in a way Ashley only inhabits Hunger, really, when she's chowing through an all you can eat buffet. He set people's nerves on edge, sometimes. And if he was incoherent enough to cause comment -

Kage's gaze is blank, and she stares at her front door: enspelled, ensorcelled. "Henri came over the other day," Kage says, "And she mentioned Gregor. She's convinced herself that he's on vacation. In Tahiti. And he's too busy to write."

Beat. Then: look. It is, a little, like watching someone draw themself out've a spell, ensnarement, unnatural stillness. Kage turns her eyes back on Ashley, intent, interested, fervent, ardor, cool as a fountain of moonstroked water, all clotted with a mappery of moss -- it's a wanting sort've alertness. "That sounds amazing," she says: " - swimming in symbols and trailing mythologies, seeing shapes before they're shapes, when they're more their shape than they ever are." A beat. That halved smile, again, crooked. "What do you look like as an abstract thought?"

[Ashley] [Alertness!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 8)

[Ashley] Kage tells her about Henri deluding herself, convincing herself that Gregor is just away and is safe and happy somewhere. She understands why Kage finds this to be sad: Henri's lost important people, after all, was close to Dylan and was fond of Gregor, and they're both gone. She herself can't muster much emotional connection or sympathy. Henri isn't hers, after all, and she isn't here, Ashley isn't being confronted face to face with Henri's sadness. There's just a lift of eyebrows, then a furrowing.

"He was really happy to see me," she says. "And I already called Israel, on my way over here. She told me that when we get Gregor into the basement of the house on the other side, we can lower the Gauntlet enough to bring him through. I was going to stay with him, or come and visit him, but he wouldn't let me." And the way Ashley says this it's clear that she's just respecting Gregor's wishes. That if it takes more than a few days she will be stepping through, she will be finding him, she will be making sure that he has a way to touch humanity and the familiar. She isn't going to leave him alone.

They're facing each other, because the way they both treat the couch is the same: Ashley keeps her back against the arm too, curls her toes into the space between the cushion she's sitting on and the middle one. Her tiredness is deep, soaked into her bones, and so her head is still lolling against the back of the couch, her body is still pressed into it as though it were an embrace. Her knees are curled against her chest.

"Everything's True," she tells Kage, of that other world. When Kage asks about how she looks there's a smile there, tugging at a corner of her mouth, at the corners of her eyes, touched with self-consciousness. "My shape," she says, "but covered in fire, the bright white kind, all springing forth from the eyes. Blue, like the heart of flame in those really hot fires. I've never seen myself, but you choose how you appear to everything else, there. Or sort of choose. It's just...you, as you Know yourself."

[Kage] [Kitten SNEAK. +2 diff 'coz I r not practiced.]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 1 at target 8)

[Kage] "I'd probably be vain enough that looking at myself would be one of the first things I did," Kage says, and then -- a touch wry, or rueful: "Even if the effect is just like making an endless mirror hall of a mirror hall of a mirror hall." Mirrors are an appropriate Gregor Fullt topic, and Kage's gaze loses some of the wanting alertness -- becomes pensive, again. And then, "What was the most interesting thing you've seen, while in your I am White Flame And Blue Fire Ashley shape, other than Gregor?"

And then, while Ashley is answering, this happens: There is a disturbance. A sort of rippling puncturing sound (tiny [prickle]) on the back of the couch back. And then: silence. A moment later, a dust bunny moves underneath one of Kage's chairs, the one just next to the couch. And it's not really a dust bunny. It's a kitten, hunkered down, watchful. It starts to sneak, clumsily, toward Ashley's shapeless canvas sneakers. More specifically, a lace.

[Ashley] "I might have to do that," Ashley says, momentarily amused. But mirrors, yes, they do remind her of Gregor, they remind her of the shattered mirrors she found when she found him dragged into the Umbra. Of the coat she gave him, lying folded there in the corner. She's kept it for him, to give back to him when he returns. But she can be at least well assured of his return.

"All kinds of things," she tells Kage. "The city looks different, and you can see how the way people think of it sort of leaves its mark there. Some parts of Chicago look like this crumbling ruin, and some are these elaborate towers made of glass. And you see dreams...like beings made of light, and I saw this winged serpent once, just kind of weaving through the sky. It's all like that, there."

And then, while Ashley is answering, she catches sight of that little furry shape stalking her sneaker, and her expression transforms from something wistful, something that's holding something else at bay, into a delighted sort of flicker. She pulls away from the couch, leans over to watch. "I didn't know you got a kitten."

It isn't touched, yet: she lets a hand curve downward toward it, lets it investigate, curves a finger to stroke along its tiny chin and jaw if it lets her.

[Kage] [Kick Harv's Ass With Badassitude!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 6, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
to†Ashley

[Kage] "Can you change anything when you're there?"

There is a city. The undercity; the root of city-squared. Ashley talks about that city; Kage listens, and she cups both hands around her mug, holds the mug up in front of her mouth, then takes a slow sip, then tucks it under her chin, compact, neat. The Orphan is frowning, a little, as she listens. This is a thoughtful thing, not an unhappy one. Because Gregor - he's coming back, he's going to get out, and that's a good thing. Because working things out in her head rarely make her unhappy. Kage likes the work of it the way those folksy craggy craftsmen you read about in hippy tracts like the work of clay and mud and farming.

And Ashley spies the kitten. Kage smirks, although goodnaturedly; it's a sliver-thing, a silver-thing, a glint and the shadow underlying a gleam -- not burning, but fallow. "I didn't. He's a birthday present for my niece, so this is not his permanent home."

The kitten is very small. The kitten is also very fluffy, and its paws are huge. When Ashley lowers her hand toward it, the kitten ducks its head suddenly and looks up at her. Its eyes are a sort of gray radiance, which matches well with its soft-gray and soft-white fur. It dances sideways, and gets tangled up in Ashley's shoelace, so when it can't lift its paw as easily, it starts to chew on the shoelace, grr, arr, grrr. Then Ashley's hand gets its attention again; maybe she withdrew for a moment. Maybe she started petting it, anyway, and its little hips went right up, and its little pointed tail undulated upwards too. Either way, it lifts its chin and makes a sound like:

"Mrr-rrr-rrrr-rrr-eeeeeem."

[Ashley] Kage asks whether she can change anything. Ashley is a touch distracted, because there's a kitten, its tiny mouth chewing on the laces of one of her shoes, clumsy and entangled. And then there's a kitten arching its back into her hand, at which point the Hermetic visibly melts.

He's picked up, mindful both of the delicacy of his frame and his small claws, and held against her chest with one hand while the other rubs his ears and his chin. It's a delicate touch, careful, like she's afraid of hurting it: she's used to a dog, after all, and a big one.

After a few seconds she glances up from the kitten at Kage in order to properly answer the question. "I can't," she says. "It's kind of..." And she has to pause to think about how to explain it, frame it in terms for the Orphan. "It would require the Ars Spirituum. Because you aren't just commanding a human Mind at that point, or a Will, you're shaping an idea itself. You're shaping a form, or a manifestation of a form. If I come across someone else who is doing what I'm doing, I can affect them, but those ideas can't touch me and I can't touch them."

A beat, thoughtful. "Gregor couldn't, either. He tried, but I was just kind of...incorporeal, to him, when I was there. It was just my Mind."

[Kage] The kitten is - like all cats, even in their miniature forms - a natural when it comes to attention commanding. To Ashley's hand, the kitten probably feels almost too delicate, too light, its wiry little legs, the push of its chest (the little dash of fur, which gives it a little crest at the center of its chest - a lick of white), and it is gangly, limbs spill out of her grasp, and it flexes one of its paws, revealing each little toe, each little claw, the softer furr in between. Lion's paws. That's what it has. There are a few moments where it's clearly scared -- it goes, "Meer! Meer! Meer! Meer! Meer!" -- which might as well be translated as Too high! Too high! Wah! A giant! Too high!

But Ashley can also feel it prring, although its ears've pricked up, although it cries like that until she holds it still and closer to her. Then -- it seems more alert than content. It twitches its ears away when she tries to stroke them, but helps her along when she rubs its chin by rubbing its chin against her fingers. Its eyes close, slits.

Kage grins at Ashley, coddling the kitten. Her ears go up a little when she does. And then,

"That seems unsatisfying, in a way," Kage says. "Just seeing what's there, unable to touch it."

[Ashley] Ashley does, indeed, coddle the kitten. Cradles it, even, presses a cheek to its fur to feel the softness of it once it's calmed down after being lifted into the air. Rubs a thumb along its spine and the little ribs, which are easy to feel with as small and young as it is. It isn't held in place: when it wants to go, if it wants to go, she lets it go.

Kage's grin, Kage's smirk, are being pointedly ignored. Why yes, the stoic cynical Tytalan is hugging a baby animal. She can also light a man's head on fire.

"It is, a bit," Ashley admits. "I want to begin to study how to affect it and change what I see there. But for right now it's enough to see it," the way it's enough to see a thing as an apprentice. Right now, she's simply awash in sensation, in the taking in and exploring. "And my studies with the Ars Vitae are a lot more pressing for me, at the moment."

[Kage] "Have you met any others? Like yourself? Or seen anyone else, projecting so?"

Kage asks, because Kage is inquisitive. The light in the apartment gathers shadows in her old teeshirt; gathers shadows in her socks, where they slink down around her ankles; gathers shadows underneath Ashley's shoelaces. The kitten is a shadow, graywhite thing that it is, and it doesn't seem ready quite yet to jump out of Ashley's hands, although it investigates what the world looks like from that perch, and prrs, and prrs, and prrs, and starts to knead. Its claws are sharp, because they're kitten claws, and kitten claws are needle puncturing skin delicate.

A pause -- a hesitation. And then: "So Gregor is heading to the House, but on the otherside. Will he be recognized, when he approaches?" Kage doesn't know what defensive wards might have been put on the House; doesn't know what defensive wards or defenses the Node may have on itself (although she saw the ashed-men, the men-turned-to-dust in a single simmering blast -- ).

[Ashley] "I haven't met anyone else," Ashley says, with a shake of her head. "Not yet. Unless you count Hannibal. I saw him a few times when he was teaching me." A pause, because she knows Kage will ask, "He looks like himself, except a bit younger and more perfect. Dressed in black. Bigger and stronger and just dominates everything you see."

She continues to stroke the kitten while they talk, doesn't seem to mind the needle sharpness of its little claws. There's an occasional wince when it moves if the claws find a sensitive spot - her tanktop isn't very thick fabric, after all - but she'll just move up a hand and calmly unhook its toes, then continue to scruff its fur.

"My wards aren't going to make a problem for him when he gets to the house," she says. "Catherine...reacted like she did because the Nephandi were trying to corrupt her. That was the node itself, not the wards. She won't have a problem with Gregor."

[Kage] Kage slinks further down on the couch. The throw, tapestried-thing, tossed careless and haphazzard over the arm she's been leaning against, wooden, with the pillows on Ashley's side of the couch, scrunches with the movement. Kage rests her right calf on her left knee, and then reaches up, over, to fix her socks. She needs to shave her legs soon, if she doesn't want bristly legs; that's what she thinks, idle, when she sees her skin, when she feels it. The mug, she balances on her chest. And the kitten finds all of this movement irresistible, and makes a couple of abortive attempts to leap out've Ashley's hands. And meer, meer, meers in panic, too, until it (quickly) figures out that it can scramble onto Ashley's shoulder, and from Ashley's shoulder, the back of the couch. Of course, it is now stranded there, unless it learns to jump down, but it doesn't know that yet. It is intently stalking toward Kage's foot, devilpointed tail twitwitwitching.

And yes, she would've asked what Hannibal looked like. What his idealized Mind hunting abstract concept shape was. Her reaction is a neutral acknowledgment, taking the information in. There's a moment of quiet. Kage doesn't take a sip of her tea, doesn't ask any other questions; it's just quiet. And then she says,

"Thank you for coming over right away to tell me. For the good news."

[Ashley] The kitten scrambles up onto her shoulder and Ashley, smiling at its antics, tilts her head to the side to make sure that none of its wayward little claws strike her neck, leave little briar-welts of red along her skin. Her eyes follow it, amused, as it tries to figure out how to get down, how to reach the feet whose movement enticed it so.

There's a moment of quiet, and Ashley does take a few sips of her tea. She's trying to focus on the kitten in order to keep her thoughts from drifting, now that the euphoria of seeing Gregor is wearing away. She wants to cleave to that happiness a while longer, instead of thinking about losing one cabalmate, one important person, to gain another.

"You're welcome," she says. "I figured some good news would be welcome."

[Kage] Kage doesn't need to be conversant with Mind to know that, now that the euphoria's fading, the initial rush of joy, the triumph of a return, of a finding, of progress made toward something good, Ashley's drifting back toward melancholy, toward diminished, uncomforted and grief-struck. She understands that Ashley doesn't want to let go of the glow of good news yet, which is why she doesn't ask Ashley what she's been thinking about, when not exploring the abstract [thought (Dream)] spirit-side [world (universe)]. Which is why, just now, she says, "Yeah. It is."

And a beat, a measure. Kage watches the tip of the kittens tail as it prowls closer to her. Maybe she gives her toes a wiggle, just to entice. And at the end of the measure, she says, "... any leads on how you plan to pursue the Ars Vitae yet? Map you want to follow? There's a lot of good stuff in the White Fence House's library."

Kage knows this well, after all. And: At this point, the kitten gets distracted by The Ultimate Menace, and its ears flatten, and the furr on its back bristles up, radiates like a spiky halo, and then it starts batting at and biting its tail. So furious is the battle, which the tail seems more than equal to, that the kitten goes tumbling off the top of the couch onto the cushions between the women. There is stays, blinking, as if stunned.

Its tail twitches.

And it pounces, again.

[Ashley] Kage mentions the Ars Vitae, and if truth must be told Ashley has not thought about it much this week. The only way she has thought about it has been in terms of: if I'd just, if I'd only, if I hadn't been. That kind of guilt, that kind of self recrimination, that's all part of the grieving process. It's a thing people undertake in order to find reasons, in order to protect themselves to try to find a way to keep such a thing from happening again.

Of course, there is no way to protect yourself from loss. It happens, because it is an eternal a thing as conflict. That acceptance is all part of the grieving process too.

"Well," she says, after a moment's pause, after another swallow of tea, "when I was in Boston, I talked to someone who suggested a Verbena I could speak with there. I'm going to go and look for him, my next visit, and ask if he'll teach me. I think my mind is made up as far as following two paths, unless something really goes wrong."

Then the kitten falls, and there's that expression of almost-surprise on its face, the way it has to gather itself together. Ashley smiles at it, and that smile broadens as it recovers itself and pounces again. "...Sure you don't want to keep it?"

[Kage] "Maybe another Verbena will decide to stay in Chicago," Kage says, the kind of idle observation one might make of a cloud on the horizon -- maybe it will move this way, if the wind so decides to blow. "I'm actually really surprised that there aren't more here. I'm used to them being around -- one of the first Mages I ever met, and actually talked to about Awake World versus Sleeping World was a Verbena. The first was a Cultist of Ecstasy." There's a certain texture, not-quite-dreamy, that overtakes a voice that is remembering, being memoryful, and there it is -- musing, museful. And on Kage, this sounds cool, and very self-contained. A sign post with no road.

And she smiles, and briefly, it almost kindles into one of those smiles. Almost. Doesn't quite make it; still. Still. She says - " - I go out of town a lot, and there aren't very many people I'd want coming over and poking around my place when I wasn't home. Julian, maybe. But I don't know. Besides, what kind of black-hearted knave would I be if I stole my niece's birthday-present kitten?" A beat. Amused. "Do you want to keep it? Friend for Zane, when you're busy?"

[Ashley] "Maybe," Ashley says, dubious, because she has noticed Verbena don't have a good track record with sticking around. She's noticed that she's gotten along with all of them, too: Alice, could have been a friend; Jarod, left a week after she spent the night at his place; Carter. "They had a big presence in Boston, but I never talked with them much while I was there. I didn't really talk to any until after my mentor had already picked me up."

She never speaks of Victoria Kurtz by name. As though she were afraid it might summon her presence, or (more likely) as though the Name itself were distasteful to her, foul on her tongue. "She didn't want me speaking much to other Traditions when I was an apprentice. Said it'd confuse my training." Which, indeed, it might have, had she spoken to a Verbena during her apprenticeship. Even a Dreamspeaker.

Ashley, too, smiles at the mention of taking the kitten. Wiggles her toes at it, to entice it back over, then extends a leg and nudges it, wiggles her toe against its soft underbelly to tease it, oh so gently. "I can't afford more vet bills," she says. "Besides, what sort of blackhearted knave would I be if I took your niece's birthday present kitten?"


[Kage] "Your mentor sounds like an ass," Kage says, dryly. "If she was afraid her own vision wasn't strong enough to shine past everyone else's, she shouldn't have been teaching. I think Caspian might've said something like that once, actually." A pause, and then, "How did she and your Dad get on?" A pause, precarious; Kage's eyes go a little distant, again, some thought that is reflective, but reflects back -- not out. Then: "So, following two traditions, huh? Would you introduce yourself with both at once, or keep one on reserve?"

The kitten has Tazmanian Devilled its tail quite enough now, and it's now lying down, panting so hard its little tongue is out between its sharp [vampiric] teeth. When it notices that it's being watched, the kitten flops over onto its back, exposing its tummy and rubbing its head against the cushion a few times, before pausing to watch Ashley, then Kage, with a cocked-head look. It's a watchful, wakeful, troublesome little thing that blends in with shadows, which is why there's

so much light

in Kage's apartment. She's already stepped on it once.

... Or twice.

[Ashley] The kitten is panting, its little pink tongue (covered in rasps, tiny burs) poking out from between its needle teeth. It rolls onto its back, and Ashley obligingly leans over to rub the kitten-swell of its stomach, mindful of the fact that for many kittens this is something that triggers play. Play in which they grab fingers with their sharp little claws and curl up around them and bite them.

Some like it, though.

She glances up from the kitten at Kage while she does, which is something she might soon regret doing. "She was a bitch," Ashley says, matter of fact, without much bitterness. "I think it's better for my beliefs to be challenged, obviously." Obviously because: she seeks this out, she engages people in discussion, and Kage has seen this. "My dad wasn't happy that she was my mentor. He kept warning me that she was giving me an imbalanced view of conflict."

A Vajrapani thing to say. Ashley's throat tightens for a moment, and she glances away, back to the kitten, and continues. Tries not to think about it. "I'd probably just...I don't know. I definitely wouldn't introduce myself to other Hermetics as also being a Verbena."

[Kage] The kitten does not (immediately) grab at Ashley's fingers with its too-big kitten-paws, although it flexes its claws, although the pink pads of its soles are revealed, then curl inward, half-hidden, revealed/splayed again, and its purring kicks up to Old-Car-From-The-1950s-Needs-An-Oil-Change decibel level. When Ashley's glance finds Kage, the kitten curls around Ashley's hand, and there's a moment where it looks as though it's going to bite her knuckle. Teeth make an indent, but don't break skin. And after a taut moment, it gives her a lick, lick. And the tip of its tail twitches like a livewire, belying that squint-eyed sleepsterness.

And Kage can see the moment when Ashley makes the association between what her Dad would say and what Daiyu might say, what they both were trained into. Her ears lift a little, but this time not because she is smiling; because she swallows, and lifts her tea-mug off of her chest, presses it in front of her mouth. She shouldn't do that when she means to speak, but she does.

" - Why not?" she says, following the other-line-of-thought.



[Ashley] The look she gives the kitten when she feels those little teeth - still milk teeth, still tiny and sharp as starlight - prick her knuckle is a little reproving. Eyebrows lifted. And then it starts to lick her instead, and the expression is rather quick to melt away. Becomes a grin, broad and uninhibited. She rubs the knuckle of her other hand under its jaw, against its throat, feeling the vibration of its vocal cords.

The kitten has, for a few seconds, drawn her gaze back to him away from Kage, but she looks at the Orphan again at that question. Trying to banish the association of Vajrapani from her mind; it's helped a bit by the kitten, by having a distraction, not to mention the flood of endorphins.

"They don't really respect the Verbena, as a Tradition, most of them," she tells Kage. "I imagine it would be hard to work with a lot of them if they saw me as half-savage, or giving in to my baser nature." A wry twist of the mouth, there.

[Kage] [.....moooost of them? WP]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 5, 6, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Kage] The red-haired woman does not bat a lash or raise an eyebrow, although there is a quality to her silence which is best described as consciously neutral. Her eyes are on the kitten now, too, as it playbites (lovebites) Ashley, licks away the wound, and basically wriggles in a puddle of fur, playfulness just barely contained by pleasure. "I suppose it would be," she agrees. "Although on the other hand, you might have a few problems from whiny But You Didn't Tell Mes, if your hidebound allies ever found out from other sources. And if you say, Well, they didn't ask what my other Tradition was; they should've looked into it if they wanted to know, I'll say, Ha! That never works in a court of You Didn't Mention That." A beat. Her mouth curves, a little. Gracious. Grace.

And the kitten suddenly disentangles itself from Ashley entirely, streeeeeeeeeeeetching ooooooooooooooooooooout and aaaaaaaaaaaaaaarcing its back. The war with its tail has been forgotten. Ashley's hand has been forgotten. It goes toward the edge of the couch and looks down, then decides, no, that is far, far too high. It looks towards Ashley, and it looks towards Kage, and then it starts trotting off along-the-edge toward the Orphan, as if to say, hey, you might have changed now that there's someone new here. What's going on? It starts to climb onto her stomach, and Kage winces.

Claws.

[Ashley] Ashley misses that conscious neutrality of Kage's, that effort to remain diplomatic in the face of Hermetic arrogance. Ashley, since she has been in Chicago, has indeed realized the truth of her Tradition: they feel superior to everyone. And perhaps she doesn't really agree, anymore. Perhaps she isn't really sure of how she feels about that because it was so much of what she believed for so long, even if she still feels her way to be the Right Way.

It's simply that being a Hermetic is no longer so large a part of her identity. She's simply Ashley.

She leans back into the arm of the chair again when the kitten wanders away, watching with amusement as he uses Kage for a jungle gym. "You're probably right," she concedes. "And I'm sure they'd find out. Those things travel." Then, thoughtful, "And I'd have to deal with the same political shit then and a lack of trust."

[Kage] Kage says, "Right. Of course, you probably don't want to be too Hi My Name Is about it." This is one of Kage's habits, and it's at odds with the rest of who she is, sometimes -- this casual, albeit creative, slangyness. There's a rhythm to things Kage says, sometimes; a cadence she drops into, easy. "Then they might think you're trying to rub it in." Another beat, and then the curve returns to her mouth; a pale smile, smokeling thing, seen through citylights at night. "Always someone around who can spin it either way, if they really wanted to."

The kitten reaches Kage's chest, and Kage winces again and sets her tea-mug hastily down on her chest-table, then scoops the kitten up with both hands, although really, one would do. She holds the kitten aloft, high over her head, and it starts to cry, meer, meer, meer, limbs splayed, paws flexing, eyes alert, ears pricked really high. She takes pity after a second, and brings it down again, putting it off somewhere closer to her shoulder. It promptly settles on the arm of the couch

and stared fixedly at

a strand of her hair, which curls at her shoulder, and moves a little -- see? Just then, it moved, because she moved -- when she says anything.

[Ashley] You don't want to be too Hi My Name Is, Kage says, and Ashley looks over at her and blinks. Rests an arm against the back of the couch, and her body is soon to follow, her head pillowed against it near the top. There's a question there, but it takes her a few seconds to voice it, and when she does, it's careful. "Well, how would you say it?"

Kage picks up the kitten and holds it aloft over her head, and the pitiful little cries draw both an amused smile and a furrowing of the brows from the Hermetic: a confused sort of amusement, something that is simultaneously pitying. Because it's a tiny kitten.

"Watch, he's going to, uh, bite your hair, probably," Ashley says when Kage sets it down again, before it can go for that strand.

[Kage] "I don't know," Kage says. A pause. Kage half-turns her head to look at the kitten just as he lunges for her hair, and he jumps back, awkward, half-skittish, as though surprised to find a human chin and jaw where there should be -- there they are! Right there! He looks up at Kage, reaches out a paw, and bats her hair. She lets him. He presses a strand down. She lets him. He looks at her, and flicks his ears back, and looks quite as if he's about to do something evil. Kage scoops him up again, depositing him on top of her knees. Her sweatpants are thick. And he can try to get himself down from there. "Thanks." Another beat. And then, "I don't introduce myself as anything, now. And while it isn't very," another pause, this one more textured; the words clot, somehow, on the way up; tangle up, then drift apart, "problematic in Chicago, I've been in cities where it is."

[Ashley] Ashley smiles at the kitten's antics, that skittishness and boldness together: how like a cat. That willingness to take on a creature twenty times their size is part of what she likes about cats. It's muted, there, against the back of the couch.

The Hermetic frowns, curls up with her knees against her chest, hugs them there. Her habit of doing that always makes her look smaller, almost frail, particularly in her currently rather sleepless state. She'd hoped, in asking, for some guidance: it is difficult for her to imagine how to be simultaneously forthcoming and indirect, how to be open about her dual affiliations without being too hi-this-is-my-name. But she knows it can be done; she's seen Kage and Bran both manage this kind of thing.

"I have too," she says. "It would be a problem in Boston. Especially right now, there's this kind of feud." Kage may or may not have heard; she assumes she has, from Hannibal. There's a thoughtful pause. "I guess it's an opportunity to shift perceptions, if nothing else." She's confident in her ability to deal with varying degrees of scorn, at the very least.

[Kage] "A feud?" Kage smiles, faintly; a gleam. "Betwixt whom? The Montagues and the Capulets? Is Justine all right?" Kage takes Traditionalist squabbles as seriously as she takes Nephandic activity and Technocratic activity, if the truth were to be told; it comes from being an Outsider, with noone to call your own, or it comes from being a survivor [a survivor falls into despair, and builds a fort; a nest, and then watches the horizon until there's a gleam of hope, and then drags himself toward that gleam of hope even though despair clutches. A survivor seriously thinks things over, before defining them. Adam was not a survivor at first, but he didn't need to survive. He didn't pluck the Apple. Eve did. And they both had to become survivors, survive Eden].

An opportunity to shift perceptions. Kage says, thoughtful - " - I think it's just a people thing. Everybody hears your name differently. Pay attention to that, and then," a shrug of her shoulders.

The kitten has been watching Ashley from Kage's knees. Its bright, pale eyes are focused. Once, twice, three times, it almost leaps from Kage's knees, back onto the cushions, and pads over to the curled-up-human. It hasn't yet, although its head has bobbed up, up, down, down, because it doesn't know what to do yet. When it does leap down, it's more a quick, awkward fall.

[Ashley] "Justine is fine," Ashley says, thoughtful. She believes Justine is fine, but what she heard from the gentler (sometimes) of the two Flambeau was troubling in the very least. More troubling is the idea that they were willing to take that sort of action with another Tradition; the part of Ashley that appreciates social contracts is troubled by the idea. "There's a cabal of Verbena that Simon and Hannibal pissed off, I guess. Big names in Boston, or one of them is. Bran and Justine kind of got dragged in, and I guess there was a fight and the leader got his head fucked with to make sure he didn't go after them. Justine warned me while I was there, just in case."

Wry smile, at that; Justine didn't know the affiliation Ashley has been considering for months now. Her curiosity, her draw toward that other part of herself, that other path, her Avatar's influence.

When the kitten tumbles to the cushions, rights itself, gives its confused little blink, Ashley smiles again and peers over the tops of her knees at it like some kind of hill creature. Ducks again, pulling her eyes out of sight, once it glances her way.

[Kage] [>.> for a present, maybe.]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 5, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Kage] "Ah," Kage says, and that's all. Understanding, like a click as a piece fits in with another piece (just fit [like that]). The red-haired woman nods, once. And then, one of those smiles, albeit touched with something more roguish, more rakish, than usual. Wide smile, and the gorgeousness filters through her eyes -- light illuminating smoke (ardent [burning]). "You realize you've only mentioned what the other Order of Hermes magi will think. Not what the other Verbena would think. Or do you not think they'd be as difficult to work with?" Because that latter point -- well, perhaps valid. Depending.

The kitten's tail snakes up when Ashley peeks at it, then hides. And then the kitten wanders across the couch, and settles itself on Ashley's foot, purring, and curls into a ball, one paw over its face. Takes time to settle, and then stays.

[Ashley] It's hard not to return Kage's smile, when she smiles like that. It's hard not to reflect that brilliance, that illumination, even if you are Hunger. Ashley's, though, has a sheepish cast to it, a flick away of the eyes and a lowering of her head, her face. "I've mentioned them because I know how they stereotype the Verbena. I'm not entirely sure what the Verbena think of Hermetics."

But oh, she can guess. She's encountered often enough the joking, the shoulder jostling, people who've told her that she's all right for a potter, that she isn't what they expected. That they usually don't like Hermetics, but they'll make an exception for her. "I, uh. Think the other Traditions think we're pretty arrogant. Not unfairly," she says, because Ashley is just, and Ashley thinks of Basil right then. Perhaps slightly unaware of how arrogant she herself was, for a long time.

The kitten wanders over and curls up on her foot when she'd been trying to entice it to play further, and Ashley's gaze softens after a second. She reaches a hand down around her leg and strokes the top of its head and shoulders with a finger, then lets it sleep.

[Kage] [Man. You're sooooo much better than a wry O Rlly, You Hear Tell That Other Traditions Think You're - gasp - Arrogant? look. Right? WP FOR VIRTUOUSNESS!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 6, 8, 8 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Kage] This is one respect in which Kage differs from many of the Wakeful who've interacted with Ashley. Kage didn't like Ashley back in January; Kage didn't find her all right for a potter. Kage found her to be Hermetic, and reckless, and arrogant in a just before the fall sort of way, and just some unstable Orphan are words she still remembers. Will always remember, however much Ashley changes [she thrives, now; she is poignant, now, and determined]. While Ashley replies, Kage blinks, and the blink turns into a - simmeringly - long blink. When she lifts her lashes, the kitten has

suck up that it is

curled so that it's on its back, and its belly is exposed. But its paw is still over the front of its face. All that's visible are the ears, the shut eyes. A whisker, two. Its tail isn't even moving, as if the tail itself were so utterly consumed by exhaustion that it was too much effort to move. And it is still on Ashley's foot.

"Do you think it matters very much, what the other Traditions think?"

[Ashley] That's a difficult question for Ashley to answer. The gut reflex, the trained one, is a no: what they think should not matter, because they just don't understand, you see, and they're jealous of a group they aren't good enough to join. But she feels differently, particularly now, particularly when she's been close to so many, engaged them in discussion.

The kitten, its exposed belly, is a good distraction, and that too is gently stroked rather than tickled, rather than scratched. Ashley frowns while she thinks about the question, trying to sort out her responses.

"It matters to me that I'm trying to join another," she says. "And I think that criticism should be considered and weighed. If it's...it's one thing to have pride in being part of an elite organization. It's another to have false confidence if the other organizations are also elite but different." A quick glance to Kage. "I'm still not entirely convinced of the latter, mind you," she adds, almost defensively.

[Kage] The Orphan makes a sound in the back of her throat (sensualist [distant]) which is thoughtful. Thought-sound. Pensive-thing, sieve-for-catching-stars-in-water, for-catching-out-brilliance, snagging-it, thorns. The quick glance isn't particularly revealing, really. There's no smugness. Kage is rarely smug, truth be told. Pleased with herself, sometimes, but not smug. That requires an ignorance -- a blindness; a refusal to see. Kage sees, usually.

"I think that's how all insular groups work. Particularly 'special' insular groups, who think they know they're the Right to right all wrongs once and for all and make fiction out of life." A beat. And then,

"And I'm too tired to drive you home. Want to stay over, and keep the kitten out of mischief?"

[Ashley] Ashley often is smug, and her defensiveness was a product of the expectation that Kage would react as she would. It is sometimes the only time she can gauge, by imagining how she would react, or by imagining how others have reacted in the past, and even that is quite limited to a few occasions. She's expecting Kage to be, but shows no surprise when she's not.

"Yeah," she says, "I guess so." And leaves it at that, if allowed to. She, after all, is still making up her mind (she's already made it up, just has to admit it.)

Ashley's answer to the invitation is a brief twitch of the mouth, smile, which is a yes, and then a glance down to the kitten. "...Your niece isn't going to miss him?" It's a protest. Really.

[Kage] "'chaela doesn't know she has a kitten yet," Kage replies, neutral, but -- no; a dash of amusement. "I think she'll be fine. Grab him, raid the refrigerator, whatever - I'll make up the - " barest fraction of a hesitation " - study couch for you."

[Ashley] "Good. I think stealing a kid's kitten would rank up there among the more heartless things I've done," Ashley says, amused, with a glance down at the animal sleeping on her foot.

A smirk, and an "Oh, cold," that isn't really heartfelt or even an objection, accompanies Kage's invitation to make up the couch. She (carefully) gathers the kitten into the crook of an arm, and heads toward the study. And when she settles into the couch after Kage has gone back to her room, she'll happily let it curl up where it wants.

Probably to be woken by it batting at her hair or her face in the morning.

[Kage] [Whoa. Don't be all paranoid twitchy guilty.]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 5, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)