Do you see what I see?

[Emily Littleton] A tisket, a tasket, a green and yellow basket...

It has been too long since the Others kept Court amongst the frozen (fallen) Kings. Too many nights since the moon rose low over their quiet gatherings. Too many days of still-cold sunlight, undappled by leaves, broken only by clouds and the on again, off again snow.

Winter could last so. damn. long. It was wearing her out.

The dark-haired Other brought her carrier bag (basket) of take out and home-made treats (offerings [sustenence for the long, cold winter night]) up to the door of Kage's building, trailing a sense of wonder (Reverence) across the starstuff along her path. She is better, tonight, less touched by the horror of it all. She is better, tonight, less soul-wearied and worn thin.

They have much to talk about, and the gravity of that cannot be communicated in the beep-beep-boop sounds of calling up to Kage's apartment so she could be let in through the gate. It is a solemn knocking upon doors (hearts) thing, but the technology of it all gets in the way.

And speaking of technology, Emily has left hers elsewhere.

Unburdened.
Unadorned.
Standing at your door.

And the line rings through...

[Kage] The line is still ringing (can she have forgotten) when the old building's door opens and Kage stands in the doorframe, shoeless, smiling. The smile touches her dark (no evidence of their true color, their true name) eyes and it is real. "Why hello there," she says, as if it were the opening volley in a risque joke. "I suspected you were here." And the wind is howling, above the buildings, above the skeletal trees and above the church (no bells [yet]). "Come on in before the cold rips the vision you and that food provide away."

This is the first time Emily has been inside Kage's building, if not the first time she's stood without it. The building itself is so old there are echoes (sometimes [step]) that attend movement. It isn't old at all when held against European standards, but by American, by Chicagoan, it's weathered a lot: fires, riots, generations, madmen, and Kage's apartment is just up the stairs, and she left it unlocked when she went to fetch Emily, so Kage opens the door for Emily without bothering for a key. There's no hurry; the walk up the stairs can be leisurely. The other dwellers of the building are quiet, or at least out for the night.

[Emily Littleton] The line is still ringing, but Kage has come down, so Emily puts away the intercom and shifts a little, toward the doorway. It is not a quiet night, not a quiet night at all, and the wind whispers between them even in this place, sheltered as it is by the building (old [knowing]).

There is a church across the way; this much is not forgotten, not missed out.

"Hail, and well met," she says, her mouth curling into an echo of that smile. It is warm, but not entirely unguarded. They walk up the stairs together, one after another, slowly and calmly. Like there is nothing at all wrong with the world. Perhaps, just for one night, there is nothing at all wrong with the world. Perhaps, though Emily would very much doubt it.

"It's been too long," she says, by way of an apology. "Thank you for having me over," she adds, and it is an acknowledgement. And so they dance. Helloes and how are yous, what a lovely place you haves and what have you brought for dinners. It is easy, this walk with me talk with me dance. It comes easily to Emily, because she has had to make so much come easily in recent days.

"I brought potato leek soup and some wonderful sandwiches from the deli. One's vegetarian," she adds, but doesn't say why this is important. One is vegetarian, and there are a handful of reasons why that might be. (There is a church across the way [and it is the season of sacrifice] Lent).

[Kage] "You're welcome," she says, courteous (courtesy [fault]). "You can hang your coat on the rack."

The coat-rack is just inside the door. Just inside the door, the living room; all books and shelves and fireplace and old seaman's chest for a table (travel [catography]). All tapestries and illuminated letters, framed, an R. in jewelled colours framed on the wall just beside the door. There is a leather recliner, a couch with a William Morris throw tossed o'er it, and there is a cellphone blinking and plugged in to its charger. There are a lot of books. There is a music stand of walnut and a chest or three stacked against the wall. No musical instrument in sight, not right now. There is a badass sound system: the signs are there. The floor is wood -- hardwood, spare rugs thrown over.

There is a hall, not quite just ahead, but almost just ahead, with closed doors and a little crook at the end, turning into a couple of stairs that lead up to a door only half-glimpsed from here. The other side of the hall and the entrance: the kitchen and the dining room, a thick, Pre-Raphaelite table of wood with beeswax candles lit [the wick is quick] and burning haloes of radiance into the air. There is a lamp on in the living room, and the fireplace is burning, but there is no light on in the dining room. There is a laptop, closed, on the floor by the wall beside the table.

"And it has been too long. But I'm hoping that you've really been well. No dangerous calls in the middle of the night. No meddlesome troubles to unsweet your sleep. Here; let me take that." And without further ado, she'll take the food to the kitchen and get out plates. Emily, if she follows behind, will notice that the kitchen's counter doesn't quite match -- it just looks new.

[Emily Littleton] You can hang your coat, she says. And Emily does. She slips out of it and carefully balances it on one of the pegs of the coat rack. (You can stay awhile [I think I just might]). Kage's home, not the first she has seen today, is warm with candlelight. Rich with the tones of hardwood and weathered accents. It is a tapestry of its own, and the warp and weave are pleasing to her.

She leaves her shoes by the coat rack, as well, and pads through the house on her tip-toes (not silently, no). She comes just to the edge of the kitchen, but waits beyond its border. Waits on something, what is unclear. Waits on Kage, yes that must be it.

"I am hoping for that, one day, too," Emily says, and it is a careful sort of thing to say. It is a no, not quite wrapped in a but we don't have to talk about that. "I have been hoping, actually, that the same were true for you. Have things been better?" she asks, a little less lyrically. Blunt. (Concerned.)

"Is it quieter now?"

[Kage] "Tea," she offers, "Or juice. Or," here, a smile, "Hot chocolate? I have real hot chocolate. The kind you pour with a chocolate pot and is thick and spiced. Or wine?" Emily will give her preference, and if it is tea, she'll have another choice: black or green. If it is juice: apple or pear. Oh, or coconut milk.

While the matter of what they should drink is taken care of, while the wind raps its knuckles against the windowpane (the kitchen has a window, tiny, shrouded by greenery; when there is light, it must be lovely), traces out messages in frost and the reaction of winter against a house that cages fire, a language nobody's learned yet, nobody will, fairytale language, means nothing but it is lovely. And dark, outside. Very, very dark.

"Have things been better," she says, an echo. And then, more quietly herself. "They've been quieter. Is that better? I've had less unwelcome guests appearing at my door, all hours; that much is better." Her mouth quirks, wry. "But I don't know if I like the quiet," wistful, maybe. "This quiet. I like to have things out -- to see them clearly; do you know what I mean? When things are too quiet, I wonder."

By now, the soup is -- Mug or Bowl? -- poured and the plates, with sandwiches, have been set at the table. Kage looks a question at Emily, while hovering at the switch which will flood the dining area with light that does not come from candles.

[Emily Littleton] "It hasn't really been quiet," Emily says, wistfully. Wishing for quiet, for that unknowing, was a sign of something. A sign of what? She doesn't know. She chooses juice, and pear at that, and they will find a place to sit. Kage will either flood the room with lamp light, or leave it half-dark from the candle flames. Emily doesn't say, but she prefers the half-light (prefers the half-dark).

"Have you heard about Enid?" Emily asks as she lowers herself into a chair. She is not fluent in the faelike tongues tonight. She is banal, dragged down to a more earthly place. An arched eyebrow, a pregnant pause. If no, then she will continue; if yes, there is only a knowing nod.

"She's staying with Ashley, now, but I think she'll be moving soon. The boy -- Austin? -- is on his own. It worries me, but I don't think it is mine to carry." Compassion. Concern. She sighs a little.

"Is it always like this? Either quiet (ice) or storm (fire), with hardly any in-between?" It is a calm question, for all its gravity. Emily is calmer now, somehow.

[Kage] "I heard about Enid," Kage says, and her tone is neutral (even [steady]). "A conventional family and trouble in China." And she listens, of course. "Why don't you think it is yours to carry?" she queries, and it is still neutral. "Do you want to do something about it?"

The room is still half-dark, half-light; the room is gloaming, and they are each softened [blurred] by flame and shade. The candleflames only flicker when they say certain words and look a certain way, moved by breath alone (and language [speak]), not draft, no ghosts. Washed gold. The question Emily asks is a question that she has asked Kage before, and it is a question that she, likely, will ask herself again and again until she has an answer (sink [swim]) that satisfies her. If she ever has an answer that satisfies her.

Kage gives the question due consideration, again, and her answer is simple: "Yes. And no. And both. It's just like living, Emily; there's always some thing going on. Some people are better at causing trouble or getting sucked into it than others. Some things are louder, some are quieter. There's a lot out there."

[Emily Littleton] She considers what Kage has asked her for an overlong moment. Emily has been on the precipice of explaining something about her past, standing at that terrible edge, all week. All month. Since she Awoke, wide-eyed and lost to the newness of it all. It has been rising in her, slowly, coming to the surface through the cracks in her veneer. There weren't enough cracks to night to let it show through; she was better rested, calmer, collected.

"I want... for him to have options. Places to go, people to talk to. So that when and if he chooses to be alone, it is truly a choice." No one should be abandoned in their time of need. It is a clear thought, one that doesn't need the personal investment she feels to telegraph across that small space. "I don't know that I am the right person to offer, but someone ought to. And if I feel that way, the only someone I can compell is myself."

There is a quiet here, and she tries not to let these thoughts dovetail too closely to the conversation at Ashley's earlier.

"And I suppose that makes sense. This is living, after all." A little smile. Not wry, just knowing. My, how we've grown in the past few weeks. "Other than this," meaning Enid, meaning Austin, "I've mostly been studying. You would be proud," she says (look Ma'). "I'm learning new tricks."

[Kage] Emily is on the precipice of some revelation (gleam), and Kage is watchful, but she doesn't feel the need (want) to pressure Emily into unspooling whatever it is she's been considering, whatever it is that touches her dark eyes with that expression. Nay; the Orphan is content to stay watchful, to listen, to eat her potato and leek soup, her sandwich and to drink her coconut milk. This is what she offers, to the first subject: "Why don't you think he already has these options, that he's just alone now because this is the way he has of staying low?" It's not an idle question. If there's a reason, Kage wants to know. Did Austin run from Ashley like Henri did?

"I'm afraid he'll probably have to stay low for a long time; maybe leave the city. I'm a little surprised Enid's going to stay, but," and there, that's the end of that thought. Kage heard about Enid. Not the whole story, but she can read something between the lines of what Enid's said, and Ashley, and now Emily. Continue with this: "It sounds as if you do believe it's yours to carry; so carry it. Just know that he's in a lot of trouble

Then Emily reveals that she has learned new tricks, and Kage raises her eyebrows (challenge [cool]) and grins (easy). "I'm glad. More of the same? Good tricks? Tell, tell. Or show."

[Emily Littleton] Emily's breath pulls in between her teeth, sharply. As if something Kage has said has wounded her, or pressed hard against some half-healed hurt. Her expression tightens, then releases a little.

"I picked them up from the airport," she says. No pause. No time to think. "Enid was upset, but Austin was not well." Not well, the words are so unassuming. So understated. "I worry because he was hurt, perhaps deeply, and he left Ashley's soon there after."

Now a pause, a sip of juice (sweet [concentrated]) to wash the thoughts down. "Though you're right. It's presumptuous of me to think he doesn't have options." To worry. Though Kage had questioned, not stated, and Emily was internalizing (assuming). She cared; perhaps that was a flaw.

The worry fades into something brighter, warmer. "The same and yet different," she says; so helpful this doublespeak is. Down she sets the juice glass, up tilts her chin just so. (Proud [triumphant]). "I would like to show you, but I have never tried that before..."

[Kage] The sudden scrape of the other (for how much longer?) Orphan's breath causes Kage to raise both eyebrows, her hand to still on her mug of milk (warm [honey]). There's nothing so obvious as a headtilt, but she is watching Emily just a little more closely, just a little more carefully, why, ah, oh.

"Well. He could just be proud. Some people are too stubborn to accept help when it's offered just because of who it comes from." A beat. "It would be just as presumptuous to think he does have other options; especially if they called you to pick them up from the airport. Poor Austin," Kage adds, and if Austin were around, he probably would not appreciate the half-absent tone or the sentiment.

The same and yet different, Emily says, and Kage's mouth crooks. Easy. "Show, anyway, whatever it is; I'll use my own eyes to watch. Are these Jarod-taught tricks?"

[Emily Littleton] ((Oh say can you see..., Arete 1, extending to next round))
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 4 (Success x 1 at target 4)

[Emily Littleton] ((Extending ... Arete 1))
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 4 (Success x 1 at target 4)

[Emily Littleton] Poor Austin.

Emily nodded. There was not much to do beyond that, not now. And Kage is asking for her to share, for her to conjure up that gathering sense of Reverence and to spin it into soemthing shared. This is new, for Emily, extending her senses beyond herself. It is not quite defying gravity, not yet, but it is growth of an unplanned and organic sort.

She pushes the sleeve of her sweater up so that her fingertips can find purchase on the pulse point in her wrist. The younger Orphan stills her body, quiets her mind, and lets the rhymthm of her own life crowd out the other details that press in on her awareness. Slowly, she goes slowly, because this is all still new and because this is the first time she has tried without Jarod nearby.

It is imagined, perhaps, how the table falls into a hushed calm. How the half-dark around them deepens, thickens, only to shimmer faintly with something. Kage knows that something, and it burns brightly within Emily (in a place she cannot yet touch [cannot yet see]).

The ba-dump thump beat threads through everything, and broadens, slowly, spreading out to be an awareness of so many smaller sub-patterns. There is less here than in the garden, so Emily and Kage stand out like densely woven tapestries. There are other lives here to sense, but they are less patterned, less vibrant.

When she had this Sight tethered firmly to her own consciousness, then she reached out to welcome Kage into it. To touch the other Orphan the way Kage had opened her eyes to Grace (longing). Even though, in doing so, Emily opened herself up to scrutiny. Kage would see her pattern as Jarod had, with the scars and reminders of past hurts indelibly carved on the shape of her bones, the stretch of her sinews. They could also see in each other the vibrancy, dynamism of unbridled hope (Creation).

[Kage] [pause button!]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 3, 6 (Success x 2 at target 3)

Just visiting

[Emily Littleton] Not long ago, two Awakened women had traded pleasantries and concerns in the cold of a Chicagoan winter night, on a non-descript street corner, in the shadier part of town. It's the sort of set up that rarely leads to good things, to progress, yet here we are now.

Emily approaches Ashley's home, with her messenger bag slung over her shoulder and across to the opposing hip. Her fingers are wrapped about the strap and she is, admittedly, a little nervous as she reaches up to rap once, then twice on the door. She does not ring the bell.

It is a strange thing, the mending of fences, putting things right again. Even without a transgression to apologize for, there is a tight knot in her stomach : concern. Whether the door is answered by Enid or Ashley, and whether or not that answering is presaged by the scrabble of canine claws on the floor beyond, Emily is smiling softly (politely) when the door swings open.

"Afternoon," she says. "Mind if I drop in for a bit?" she asks.

[Ashley McGowen] In keeping with the bizarre sleep habits Enid has come to notice, Ashley did not arrive home until rather late this morning - nearly nine o'clock - after which she promptly went to her room to doze off for a few more hours. For the most part Enid has been left to her studies during the past week, accompanied, of course, by long journal entries, by papers and quizzing on this or that treatise or book.

Someone knocks at the door and Emily can indeed hear the scrabble of claws on wood within, and then a heavy thud against the door. Another voice, scolding the dog for jumping and telling him to stay down.

The door swings open, and there is Ashley, hair damp from a recent shower and keeping a finger hooked around the dog's collar. She blinks when it's Emily she sees standing there smiling. "...Hi. You can come in," she says, and she moves off to the side out of the girl's way. She's only jeans and a red T-shirt, and her feet are still bare.

[Enid Geraint] Enid is curled up in the chair that's become 'hers' in the time since she got back, time she's spent living here - she goes out for twice-daily runs now, but for the most part, she's curled up there, working on said papers or being quizzed. She's a good, voracious student, is Enid; under normal circumstances, she's the kind of student that every teacher wants. Now, though she's coming back into herself, she's still a bit pale and wan. She's mourning, really, though she won't admit it to herself - let alone anyone else - and her confidence has taken a huge hit.

It's to be expected, really.

There's a knock, and Zane scrambling, and Ashley answering the door - and Enid doesn't even look up until somewhere around 'you can come in'. She sees Emily there, and musters something close to a smile, though it's a pale imitation of the one to which Emily's accustomed.

"Hey. Should I make tea?"

[Emily Littleton] "Thanks," she says to Ashley, with a warming smile. Now that the dance is begun, Emily can squish that nervousness down deeper inside her. When it really matters, when she's had some time to prepare, she's fairly good at smoothing things over and making everything seem okay. She crouches a little, just enough to give Zane a hand to sniff at, a rub on his head and a brighter yet smile, before she steps past them and into the home.

Emily's wearing the same coat she's always wearing these days (and nights). There's no sense in having two coats when one is perfectly serviceable. Underneath, though, is jeans and a solid color tee with some witty programming expression (or joke) on it.

"Hi, Enid," she says, warmly, when the other girl rouses from chair. "Tea would be lovely," Emily adds as she slips her messenger bag strap off over her head. Unbuttons her coat.

"I brought you something..." she says, once the girl has headed toward the kitchen. This gives her time to pull out the white 'berry, show it to Ashley for approval/acknowledgement. In a lower voice, she adds, to Ashley, "A friend of ours made sure that it's secure. He does good work, but said you'd still probably want to have it looked at again."

Emily hoped that Ashley could sort out their mutual acquaintance. There were only so many people in town who could make tech toys into better tech toys, after all.

[Ashley McGowen] She's noticeably less tense than she was when they met on the street the other night, but evidently still not enough to return the smile. After Emily has stepped inside, Ashley reaches behind her and closes the door. There's an earthy, faintly herbal scent to the air, is the first thing Emily would notice: wood and leather and tea mingled together.

The rest of the apartment is in warm tones, browns and reds and creams; two brown leather chairs and a couch are arrayed around a coffee table, a rug covering the floorboards. It has the hushed, comfortable feel of a library, and it should: the walls are lined with wooden bookshelves, all stacked with a variety of titles. Hardbacks, generally.

Zane pads off and takes a corner of the rug that's slightly matted down: a normal spot for him, evidently.

"Sure, Enid, tea would be fine," Ashley says, though she doesn't look at the girl; instead she chooses to have a look at the white Blackberry Emily is extending toward her. She nods when Em says it was done by a mutual acquaintance, turning the phone over in her hands. "I'll have to thank him," she says. "I don't know much about this stuff, but I'll trust his word on it."

The phone, she passes to Enid when her apprentice emerges from the kitchen, and Ash gives Emily a short nod. "Thank you."

[Enid Geraint] Water's put on and tea set into a ball to steep in a pot once the water's right, and then Enid emerges . . . to be handed a phone. It makes her blink, this - she'd figured that would be one of the first things she took care of once her whole money situation was taken care of. The bits she heard about security and what not make her blink, then shrug; she knows it's important, but other than that, it means little to her. She figures it's something like added firewall and virus protection or something, but both are things that she, as who and what she is, takes for granted.

".....thanks," she says, half questioning and obviously surprised. "You didn't have to do that, you know - I'll pay you back as soon as I can."

And she will - of course she will. Enid's a proud girl, and an independent one for her age and upbringing. Just because she hasn't had to work doesn't mean she hasn't been instilled with a sense of its value.

[Emily Littleton] Emily was still standing, with her messenger bag at her feet and her jacket layed across one arm. She looked between Ashley and Enid as the phone changed hands. Her expression was a little more serious, but no less warm.

"The phone's in my name. It's tied to my account. If anyone asks -- though it really shouldn't come up -- I'm a friend of yours and you can't get a cell with a data plan on your own because you haven't had a credit card yet. I'm just helping you out." Emily says this plainly. It's a very simply cover, one that should require no finesse in lying, no great skill to remember. Perhaps the paired Hermetics would be surprised, in part, at how easily it comes to her.

"For the most part, you can do whatever you want with it. Try to be smart about your information, though. Don't go facebooking just because you have web access -- things like that." Enid is, after all, a teenager.

Emily looked to Ashley for a moment, then shrugged a bit. "You should probably keep it in my name for awhile. I don't mind. Just give me a heads up if you manage to send a few thousand text messages to the ISS or anything." A quieter smile. End of lecture. Not that it was much of one.

This bit, though, is directed to Ashley. "Chuck says we should go over everyone's electronics. He tied down my phone, but we'll be going over the rest of it together soon. Any idea how to round up people with their mobiles, etc, and get them to let us secure them?"

She had no idea at all how to convince the Awakened community to do anything. It seemed to Emily like that might be a lot like herding cats. "Know anyone who could help?" It's a big, big job.

[Emily Littleton] "Oh, and," she adds, belatedly, with a less serious smile. "You're welcome." It was good to be helpful, and that seemed to have bolstered Emily a little, too.

[Ashley McGowen] "We'll be calling a meeting within the next couple of weeks," Ashley says. Who knows what she means by 'we' - if Emily has been paying attention, she might be aware that Ashley is in a cabal. She might be aware of how frequently Ashley and Wharil are seen Working together, of how much information they share. "We can bring it up then."

"And speaking of Facebook and things like that, Enid," Ashley says, with another look toward the teenager, "don't use them. Or, if you do, don't add anything that can be traced to your location or people you're with, like pictures." A little more softly, she adds, "You're going to have to have that kind of thing at the forefront of your mind from now on."

[Enid Geraint] ".....I wasn't planning on it. Uncle Zeke and Uncle Dan are on my facebook," she says quietly, with a twist in expression that reads like grief and guilt and anger and betrayal; she's not nearly so good at hiding away thoughts and feelings as Emily is. "And most of the other people on there would rather I'd disappeared after Halloween. But thank you for the warning."

Lecture, whatever - it had been unnecessary, though Enid understands why they'd felt the need to give it. She is a teenager, after all, and facebook is an easy, efficient way of keeping in touch with a lot of people.

"And I don't really . . . have anyone to text," she adds. "But I'll keep track. I'm not going to run up your bill or anything."

[Emily Littleton] "Don't worry about the bill too much; my bill's already sizeable because of the way I travel." A little shrug, a warmer smile. "Mostly, I wanted you to have a way to get back to normal, a little. Get in touch and keep in touch with the people who care about you."

There's a pause here, as if Emily isn't quite sure what to say. How to say what she might want to say. She's still standing, half in and half out of the living room.

"You're looking better," she says, at last. It's an appraisal, and Enid will know that much. "And you're even almost argumentative again," she teased, lightly.

Then there was the matter of a meeting, Ashley had mentioned. Emily canted her head curiously at the we, and the time frame. Rather than questioning, though, she nods. Her teeth catch the corner of her lower lip momentarily, thoughtfully, then she just lets it pass.

[Ashley McGowen] "I've been keeping her busy," Ashley tells Emily, with an almost affectionate glance in Enid's direction. Cultists lose themselves in indulgence, in ecstasy; Verbena lose themselves in their lower selves, the part of them that is an animal; Virtual Adepts lose themselves in some other world that looks just a little more pleasant than this one. Hermetics work.

"If you two want to talk, I can step out to my study or something," she adds, with a quick jerk of her head toward the first of the doors in the hallway.

[Enid Geraint] "She has been keeping me busy. Miles and miles of papers on everything," she says, though it's without the smirk that might have come not so long ago - it's grateful, in fact. Pouring herself into books and papers leaves little time for introspection and remembering, after all.

"And you're fine, unless you have something else to do. Tea's just about ready, and there are muffins."

The baking's tapered off, but still happens occasionally - like the writing and study, it's good for Enid. It's a way to separate from herself, from everything that happened. It's a way to not think about how she hasn't talked to Austin since he left days ago, though were she him, she probably wouldn't want to talk to herself either. So she certainly doesn't blame him.

"And I'm never argumentative. I'm a brilliant example of easy going good nature, I'll have you know."

[Emily Littleton] Emily chuckled a little at Enid's last statement. It was a warmer sound. In the time since they had last seen one another, something in the Orphan had given way as well. They were all on their way to recovery -- from trauma, from stress, from the weight of the world settling down on one's shoulders. It was a good thing, and apt for the time of year : rebirthing, renewal, in anticipation of Spring.

"Oooh, muffins?" she inquired, with a lift to her tone and eyebrows. "I don't mind if you stay," she said to Ashley. "It's your house after all," a lighter tone, gently wry. Emily doesn't mind if you, she says, which could be taken a lot like please in the right contexts.

A seat, then. She belatedly finds one, settles her coat across her lap. Pretends she's there for more than just dropping off the phone. It could have been just an errand, if Enid hadn't felt social or if Ashley hadn't let her in. Emily was flexible like that, today, right now, because the situation dictated it.

[Ashley McGowen] "Enid," Ashley says, with a glance toward the kitchen, "I thought we said no more baking." It's admonishing, but not too harsh; she knows it's how Enid has been coping, taking her mind off of things and giving herself something to do with her hands.

Ashley, too, has a seat, dropping down into one of the chairs across from Emily. She's a little lost, truth be told: smalltalk isn't her strong suit, and she can't take part in many of the conversations that the two girls might have. "Did you give any more thought to what we talked about the other night?" is what she settles on, at last.

[Enid Geraint] "It's better for you, and cheaper, than buying muffins at a coffee shop or whatever," Enid says as she disappears into the kitchen to get the pot, three cups and three muffins - large, but not head-sized as ones from the aforementioned coffee shops might be. "And I slowed way down. So there's that?"

It is, indeed, a part of how Enid's been coping. If she truly weren't allowed to bake - which is a thing she's done at all extremes of emotion since her mother started teaching her how - she'd be having a lot harder time of things. She might have to actually think about what happened, and what might be going on with her mother, her aunt, and her remaining uncles.

Once the tray's settled, though, she's quiet for Emily to answer Ashley's question; she's curious, doesn't know what it was that they discussed, but not nosy.

[Emily Littleton] "About defying gravity?" Emily asks, and it's not some witty retort this time. That was, after all, a topic that had come up in friendly (but not idle) conversation.

And then Enid comes back, and there's a polite thank you and a slight shift of her posture to include them both. So that it was a conversation of three, not a tete-a-tete with a bystander.

She rests her right elbow on the armrest, tips her head so that her temple rests against outstretched fingertips (long fingers, deft and graceful). Her expression is thoughtful, without becoming too serious. Pensive without being pained.

"I suppose the conclusion I've come to is that magic itself isn't too unlike any other Art or Science." She pauses here, barely. Emily's eyes are calm, clear and intelligent. They do not twinkle with anticipation or dance with untold secrets. Nevertheless, there is a spark there that the Hermetics, both quite bright in their own righs, would feel some kinship to. "That you learn to see and sense so that you might understand a pattern or system. And once you understand it, that you might change or influence or alter it. I suppose beyond that -- and correct me if I'm wrong, because here I'm only extrapolating -- you might begin to write new patterns altogether, or ammend existing ones in new ways." It was an abstract explanation, but better than she had managed so far.

"Assuming that's true, then defying gravity might very well be a good next step." The corners of her mouth turned upward a little. "Or manipulating odds, or healing a wound. Though I can't say I've decided on the bigger question of why. Whether it is our will alone, or something higher, or a simple fundamental truth of reality or nature that lets some of us do this while others cannot. I don't know why we Awaken, to what end, or even if there is a greater goal than evolution and growth."

The Orphan bows her head a little, thoughfully. Quietly. It is clear that she is still seeking, may always be seeking, some of these answers.

[Ashley McGowen] There's a long silence while she listens to Emily, takes in that spark in her eyes and her quiet, subdued tones. She's thinking about this, finding her own answers, seeking within. The nod Ashley gives her is slow, understanding, and it seems for a moment that she'd have a response to all of this.

Then a pause; her mouth opens, shuts, and she looks back over her shoulder at Enid as she reaches around to take one of the muffins. "Do you have any insight to offer there, Enid?"

This is something they've studied, spoken about: the drive toward perfection, toward Divinity. At present, though, she's more interested in hearing the girl's own thoughts. It's a test; so much is.

[Enid Geraint] Everything is a test.

For this, Enid is grateful. There is structure that encourages growth, expansion, but there's a purpose to it - to succeed, to exceed expectations. Enid is not the sort of girl who is okay with mediocrity, for all that she'd gladly slip into the background since her Awakening, and more so now. She is an A student who gets an occasional B and is not at all pleased when she does. She strives, and she achieves, and so it's been since she hit preschool, though neither other woman in the room would know that, necessarily, unless they picked it up simply from being around her.

Regardless, she's been asked a question. "At first, I compared it to physics - and that still applies," she says with a shrug. Defying gravity, defying inertia and momentum. Defying space-time. (Enid likes defiance, though she seldom exhibits it. The most she has, in fact, was in that wretched room, with Uncle Dan poking at her.) "I don't know why, either, but I think that's kind of . . . part of the why? All . . . existential, or whatever. As you learn and grow, you figure out the whys."

She's more hesitant than she had been before her trip; then, she'd have answered thoughtfully, but with a confidence that she now lacks.

[Ashley McGowen] "That's not an answer, Enid," Ashley says. "It's true that the 'why' may change and develop as you learn more, but that doesn't change that I asked you what your why is, -now.- Why are you Awake? You have a purpose. Justify your existence."

Her words are harsh, her tone is not. It's soft, in fact, accompanied by a penetrating look, something searching. And then, as though she's realized that the words would be harsh, her tone becomes something more encouraging. "I know you have a better answer for me than that. Come on."

[Emily Littleton] Emily's shoulders squared, ever so slightly, at the change in tone of the conversation around her. She took this moment to pour tea for everyone, before it had oversteeped. And she knew enough to keep her mouth shut, while Enid was tried and tested by her mentor.

This did not keep Emily from listening intently, or for forming her own answers in her head at the moment, lest Ashley turn the same stern language and seeking interest her way again.

[Enid Geraint] It's very subtle, the flinch at harshness-that-isn't; justify your existence, Ashley says, and Enid's lips thin. There is displeasure there, but the last helps ease it a little.

"I'm Awake because I could, because I saw a way and took it despite the potential consequences." Which makes it a matter of Will, of course, as far as Enid's concerned. "And I continue to study and learn so that I can . . . I don't know. I almost said convince myself that the ends justify the means, but . . . I don't really think I'm the one to make that call."

[Ashley McGowen] "So when you learn, are you going to continue doing things just because you can?" A quirked brow, and then a glance at Emily, who she imagines will have something to say to that. And ever so briefly, something, some wistful expression, ghosts across her features. An echo.

[Emily Littleton] "Whereas I am awake because it happened and unlike your start into this world, mine was gentle. I'd like it to inspiration or revelation, which is not to say that it is without consequence or challenge." Emily paused here, and it is obvious, in some ways, that she has been deeply steeped in matters of Faith, that there is a reason her resonance trends toward Reverence and calm.

"With new understandings come heightened responsibility. Responsibility not only to make the ends justify the means, as you said, Enid. But also to be just (righteous), to be mindful and aware. None of these things, or thoughts, occur within a vaccuum. The last few months have clearly taught us that."

[Emily Littleton] ((edit: I'd *liken it...))

[Enid Geraint] "Of course not. A child scoots, then crawls, then walks because he or she can, but she applies this to go specific places because of what can be done when she gets there. I will learn Ars Mentis because I know people who can and will use it against me." That she hates the thought of it is clear in expression and tone; no other Sphere gets the same distaste or reluctance, even as she is quite set on learning it.

"But right now," and here, there's just a hint of before-trip Enid - something in the hunger for learning, for experimentation, and even a hint of the old glee for it, "a lot of it is because I can. I want to know what I can, and how."

[Ashley McGowen] Ashley listens to this response of Emily's, the words she uses - just (righteous) inspiration - and that wistful expression persists. "Don't let fear be the reason you learn anything, Enid," Ashley tells her. "It'll make you turn inward and prevent you from doing the outward seeking you need to do to grow. Learn Ars Mentis because you want to and it's valuable."

A beat passes as she looks between both girls. "I think it would be really beneficial for both of you to talk about these things together more often. You have very different ideas. That's going to push both of you to learn from each other."

[Emily Littleton] "I suppose there's a point where why doesn't quite yet matter," Emily says, once Enid's spoken again. "After all, what matters should when you don't know whether you can or can't do a thing? If you can't, then should or shouldn't is irrelevent. If you can, well, there's when ethics or morality may come into play."

There's a pause, and then she nods to Ashley's suggestion.

"How is important right now. What is important. But why isn't too far off in the learning curve. Maybe that's what Ashley's trying to get at?" She asks, raises an eyebrow as she looks to the Hermetic for confirmation or negation.

[Enid Geraint] "It's not fear." There's a momentary fierceness there, and there's a hint of an Enid that some day, people will not want to cross. But then, there's the girl they know again. ".....not completely, anyway. And it is useful, I suppose." She doesn't say that she wants to - in fact, she doesn't. But that's for quite understandable reasons, and the level of do not want may well lessen as she's further removed from the recent ordeal by time.

"And . . . I'd like that. If you want to, Em."

[Ashley McGowen] "Exactly. Why isn't as far off as you might think. I want you to think about this -now- because it's going to take you a while to answer those questions, and when the time comes when it applies, you don't want to be unprepared."

Enid says it's not fear in those fierce, Willful tones, and both of Ashley's eyebrows arch, lofting upward and disappearing beneath the fringe of hair in front. She doesn't comment on it, though, and simply listens as they agree to talk more often.

[Emily Littleton] "Of course," she says, and with no small measure of warmth. Enid seems more like herself already, and Emily has a dozen or so new thoughts to mull over (which is always appreciated [more or less]). "You let me know when you're free, and I'll try make it happen," she adds.

It is an odd thing, feeling halfway between the two Hermetics and yet of a mindset all her own. Perhaps it is a perspective due to age, or theological upbringing, or cultural factors.

"You can ring me now, so planning should be easier," she adds, with a broader grin. Though now is a good time for Emily to take her leave, and she is already readying herself to stand. "I should get back to campus for a little while. But thank you both for having me over. It's good to see you," the pleasantry is extended to them both. Emily is feeling more comfortable (less closed) with Ashley these days.

[Enid Geraint] "Yeah, I'll call you. And thanks again for the phone," to which she's been clinging - she's not particularly technologically oriented, perhaps, but she's of a generation where having things like a cell phone and a laptop are more common than not. "And we should start running again. It'll be good to have someone to workout with."

It's . . . not quite a smile, not like others she's given, but yes - she's closer to normal. Perhaps closer than she should be, given, but it's a start. One supposes there will be surges forward and backslides for a while yet.

[Ashley McGowen] "Good to see you too. Thanks for bringing the phone by," Ashley tells Emily, getting up so that she can guide her on her way out the door. And to prevent Zane from trying to follow her out; already the shepherd has risen as though in anticipation of another walk. Full of energy, yearling dogs.

"Take care. Enid's going to be moving shortly, so you might want to call ahead. Wouldn't want you to make a needless trip out here."

[Emily Littleton] "Yes, we should," Emily said, about the running. "I've not been exercising enough, and the mid-term stresses are getting to me."

She's gathering her things, moving toward the door, side-stepping Zane. Ashley's house is full of activity, in Emily's mind. Books, and tea, and interesting conversations, and (of course) Zane. Force of chaos and adorable companion.

"I enjoy talking with you too, Ashley," she says, once she's back on the doorstep. "It wouldn't be needless."

And with that, the Orphan goes, feeling a bit better for having dropped by.

A new phone

[Littleton] It is a weekday afternoon, the time of day when people are caught up in work, or school, or other errands, and so the store is largely devoid of customers. These are the long, lonely hours, wherein the Blues socialize and vie for whatever innocent may walk through the doors representing a sale.

It's Emily who enters, and she walks past them with little more than a small smile and a raised eyebrow when they ask if she needs help. Straight past Greg, who has been less than helpful in the past, and up to the Geek Squad desk.

If Chuck is not already there, then she asks, pointedly, after his schedule. There is a crispness to her tone, a clipped nature to her consonants that says: I am busy. Do not waste my time. Do not dawdle. This is not the friendly, affable gamer grrl that joined in on FragFest not too long ago. She is polite, but just this side of impatient.

These are interesting times.

[Carmichael] Chuck is in the store, but in the back when Emily arrives; it doesn't take long to get him up front, though, when the voice in the earpiece (that he refuses to wear in his ear) says that there's a customer requesting him in specific. The only people he can think of who might do this are Emily, Ashley and Nathan, two of whom he'd be much more pleased to see than the third. Regardless, he finishes up what he's doing with due hast and emerges, headed for the desk . . .

. . . to find Emily, who is one of the two he'd prefer. This is a bonus.

"Hey, Little. Not having computer trouble, are you? You coulda called me on off hours to check that out."

[Littleton] Today is another witty black shirt day and this one says only root in monospace characters, leaving much up to interpretation. Most of the letter are visible in how her jacket hangs open. Emily's hands are in her pockets, and the messenger bag is oddly absent.

"Actually... I need you to help me pick out a phone," she says, with a quirked expression that implies there is far more to this dance than a simple inquiry. (Imagine that [it's the simple stuff that flummoxes me]).

"Feeling up to the task, love?" she asks, dangling that endearment easily (fishing, fishing) without any real weight behind it.

[Carmichael] ".....I know the blues are irritating sometimes, but they're really sort of better at the sales thing than I am. I just fix stuff," he says with a grin and a shrug, all that affable chill that is what she's always witnessed in him. He could be a good influence, as that sort of thing goes.

"But I'll see what I can do. What kind of phone do you need? And what happened to yours?" He knows, of course, that she has (or had) one and, while it amuses him to imagine it all fried like her breadboard had been, that seems improbable. "Everything's alright, yeah?"

[Littleton] Emily motions with her head for him to follow her. It's an easy thing, a practiced lead. She can be good at that, in the right moments, in the right places. (I don't want to talk here), it says, and the other Geek Squad members could imagine why that might be. Especially with the way they interact, almost as if they'd been friends far longer than a week and a half.

As they move away from the desk, she starts talking again. It's easier, this time, than the last time he'd seen her -- fried breadboard and all. "I need a solid, secure device to add to my account," she says, leaning a little on that word. They both knew its importance. "For the friend who turned up suddenly, after going missing."

That was not how Emily had described Enid before, and the subtle shift was nuanced but plain.

[Carmichael] An eyebrow raises as he glances over the array of retail phones they carry - all new model, some more easily hacked and modded than others. "What carrier? I know 'berries are awful, generally, but I modded and hacked mine like no one's business and no one's gonna find that sucker unless I want them to. Don't even think of telling me she wants an iPhone, because no. Maybe a Palm, though I haven't toyed with them as much as 'berries. I'd say a 'droid if they were out yet, but . . ."

He shrugs again, already pointing out the acceptable possibilities.

"How secure does she need this to be? I mean, who are we hiding her from? Because that will totally effect how much needs to be done, and how deep and convoluted it all needs to be."

[Littleton] And this is why she's come to Chuck with this quandry. He's run through the laundry list of acceptable devices (note please: "acceptable" rather than "available"). Emily is nodding as they walk, slowly, toward the mobile phones and PDAs section.

Too slowly to be accidental. Chuck may put it together, after a moment, that her pace was chosen so that this part of the conversation occurred in the no man's land between regions of the store. Where they were less likely to encounter passers-by or over-eager Blues.

Never the less, she looks around them furitively, then leans in a bit closer to say something to Chuck in a low voice. "Her mother is a Technocrat," Emily says, plainly. (For your ears only.) There is a small pause, in which she draws away, and pulls her own phone (the 'berry today, nowhere near as secure as Chuck's) from her pocket as if to give them a starting place to talk.

It all looks so coincidental to any of Chuck's coworkers. Mostly because they cannot see the meaningfully arched eyebrow, or the grave but calmly comported look in her eyes.

She'd pulled her phone out, though, so now she needed a reason to be holding it. "If we're going to put her on a data plan, I suppose I should move off the 'berry to something with secure email, at the least. Right? Who knows what sort of web-browsing and attachments teenagers get into these days." It's effortless, how she covers these things up. And that might not be entirely comfortable for Chuck.

[Carmichael] ".....jesus, Little, you don't screw around when you pick your friends, do you? I'll need all your devices too, including your key fob if it's one of the remote start/unlock whatsits. And that, in case you were wondering, is not a request. And if I'm working with that level of security, we're going to go 'berry despite the latent problems, because I have most experience with them. 9000 or 9700 Bolds, either'd be good for a kid."

Boxes are pulled out and he looks at them, shrugs. "Black or white? She can get one of those sleeve things if she wants to pretty it up or whatever."

No, the ease with lying isn't a comfortable thing for Chuck, but it's not a bad skill to have - he doesn't fault her for that. It just makes him wonder what she's keeping hidden from him, if anything, and why. And they're expensive phones, the ones he's chosen, but he can guess that - since Em's come in with obvious intent (and intensity), that's not going to bother her.

[Littleton] "All of my devices?" Emily asked, looking down at the lone PDA in her hand somewhat thoughtfully. "That... may take some doing, Carmichael."

The way she said his last name was familiar but also efficient. It was a little bit more formal, almost military. There were so many things about the young Orphan that Chuck didn't yet know. Undoubtably, he'd do some digging now.

"At least one of my phones can't be modded," she says, and it's non-negotiable. "I only use it overseas, when I'm with my parents." There's a little pause. "At a U.S. Embassy." This much is not discussed further, but it's likely to raise eyebrows.

At this point, she hands over her 'berry. "Enid can have a white one. If I need to upgrade, I'd rather go with black. And for my sanity's sake, I'll need to be able to tell them apart. Please tell me we can get nonsequential SIMs for them, though."

[Carmichael] "Well then, the rest of them," he says, not pleased but resigned - he may not know the exact rules, but he can guess that the government doesn't want random people screwing around with its stuff. "And I want to look that one over, make sure nothing's gotten at it. If the embassy's not down with my hacks . . ." They might well be more comfortable with the Technocracy's, but that's neither here nor there.

Non-sequential sims aren't a problem, he doesn't bother to say - it's him doing the work, after all - as he plugs in the new phone after popping one in. It'll need a charge for what he's going to do to it, and that's not even counting the deeper, more magical stuff he'll hit it with.

"She living with you, the kid? She been checked for mods of her own?"

[Littleton] "Not with me," Emily said, both of the other phone and the girl. It was a nice multi-purpose answer. The comfortable composure she wore was slipping, a little, around the edges. In direct response to how seriously Chuck was taking this whole thing. She was grateful for that, too. It was nice to be part of the solution, for once, rather than an extenuating circumstance of the problem.

"She called me from O'Hare, but I took her to Ashley's. Her boyfriend came back with her, too, but he took off pretty soon." She was reporting, now, not emoting these things. Chuck could tell the difference. Something in Emily was kept very tightly in check so she could be professional about this. "Ashley said that the girl," better not to use her name too often, "Would be staying with a friend of hers soon."

There's a pause, here, and Emily tries to lighten the mood a little. "My housemates don't even give me kitchen privileges. I think they'd draw the line long before bringing a teenager home with me." A softer smile. She's watching him while he works, intently, but without crowding him.

[Carmichael] "Alright, then," he says, now reaching out for the phone she does have on her, while her friend's charges. "You're also going to let me at your car, because if you think the chips that run it aren't capable of recording and tracking, you're wrong. Jesus."

The phone's looked over - newer than his, no doubt - to get a feeling for it, and then he goes to town with all the confidence of someone who's done this many, many times. Which he is. It's a complicated thing, hacking the hell out of a phone and making it do what he wants it to do, but Chuck? He can do it.

[intel + computers, +specialty]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 7 (Failure at target 6)

[Carmichael] [And, trying again @ +1]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 3, 6, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 7) [WP]

[Carmichael] [+rerolled 10, cos idiot.]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8 (Success x 1 at target 7)

[Littleton] There's a lightly amused look on Emily's features when Chuck mentions her car, but she doesn't follow up on it. She doesn't explain that hacking her car wouldn't be worth it, to anyone. Instead she nods, and lets her expression trend back toward solemnity.

"I'll gather everything up, including the car -- if it feels like running -- and we can work through them together, maybe?" She asks, offering to lend a hand. She doesn't have Chuck's background or skills, but Emily is imminently teachable. "Or if you don't want me in your workspace, I can at least make you dinner for your troubles."

At least, these are leading words. Because she knows the sort of fees people like Chuck secure, when it comes to using their skillsets publically. So if he looks up at her, it's a seeking expression she's wearing. Curious.

[Carmichael] "Are you asking what I'm charging you?" That's amused, wry. "I'll need to have that back at home, but for now, it'll serve. Nobody's finding it by any conventional means, anyway, and you don't have to worry about viruses. Anyway, dinner would be great - bound to be better than carryout or hot dogs. But other than that, I already told Ashley I'd do this for anyone who wanted me to, anyway. Your phone will get some extra special attention, as will your friends. Ashley's should too, if she's been hanging out with the kid. And probably the boyfriend's. How far out do the ripples go? Ashley talks to everyone."

And now after handing Emily back her phone, with the new phone still plugged in, he's turning his attention to the one tethered.

[intel + comp + spec]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 6, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Carmichael] [and, extending]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1

[Littleton] "Do you want a cascading map of the whole community?" Emily asked, taking her phone and looking at it for a long moment before slipping it back into one of her coat's pockets. "To which degree of freedom? Because between who I know, and who Ashley's bound to know, and everyone they know... This could get very big, very fast. Unless the network closes in on itself quickly; that's the best we can hope for, I think."

Emily wasn't saying she was well connected, just acknowledging the preternatural way that Awakened folks clustered and clumped in Chicago. At times like these, it was damned inconvenient.

"Speaking of paying work, though," she adds, while he works on Enid's phone. "I've got more projects in my consulting queue than I can handle on my own. A couple of them are even leaning towards security work, once the underlying network gets established. If you'd be willing to travel, and have the time, I can justify a second headcount and fee." Ho-hum. Just a professional courtesy, this. Emily doesn't seem to think she's extending anything terribly interesting, or she's doing well at hiding it if she does.

[Carmichael] "Right then - you're going to have to send me everyone you've talked to - who's had an electronic device on them - over the next few days. With their electronics. Or have them call me, I suppose, if it's all desktops and things. We're gonna nip this in the bud as quickly as we can. Same thing with this phone, by the way - I'll need it again when we're at my place, unless you know someone else who can pull it off the grid. Because help on that front would be useful."

It's one thing, putting the mundane skills he's taken years to hone to use, and another thing entirely to do the sort of rote-work required to make a device (or any sort of information) disappear. Then there's the rest, and it gets raised brows.

"Travel would have to work into my schedule here - I'm too new to ask for a lot of time off, regardless of my numbers at another store. But other than that, yeah, it sounds awesome."

[Littleton] ((Say what? I mean, no no, that's cool.))
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Carmichael] [Per + Sub!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 6, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Littleton] "Send you?" she asks, canting her head a little to the side. "Like a roster?" Oh no, he continues with their electronics, which would be more like referals. "Ah, I see..."

And here again is the smoothing over of things said and unsaid, a polite redirection. It's almost seamless, if he doesn't know where to look.

"I... don't have the sort of standing, Chuck," she says, evenly. This much is true. She can't make them go to him, not really. "But Ashley might. I can ask her to spread the word and I can offer," a pause here, the word is lifted for emphasis, "To the others I know. But most are thick-headed enough to be disinclined to acquiesce."

A movie quote, thrown in with a little smile. He'd catch it, no doubt.

"As for help with the simpler parts... if you think I could learn quickly enough, I would be happy to help you." And if he said no, she would understand. No hurt feelings. "Perhaps a better approach might be to have a walk in type day. I know there was a meeting house, at one time, so you wouldn't have to have people in or near your home?"

Just an idea. Emily's hands are in her pockets, and her head dips down just a little to hide her eyes from him. There's a small shrug, and she looks up again.

[Carmichael] "I have no doubt that you could make just about anyone do just about anything if you put your mind to it, sweetheart," he says, with a hint of a smile. "And yeah, I heard about the clubhouse. If everything's all squared away there - it wasn't, last time I talked to Ashley - that would work well. We should square this away sooner rather than later, though."

By now, he's run through all the necessary information in the computer - one new phone on Ms Emily Littleton's plan, there we go. And . . . he probably would catch the movie quote, if he weren't at the most serious she's ever seen him.

"And yeah, we'll get you started on some of the basics. I'll try to teach you enough that it's not a little bit of knowledge is a dangerous thing sort of situation."

[Littleton] Emily hands over her HSBC card to bill the new charges to, for the phone, for the extension to her plan. The logo is likely unfamiliar, and may take a second look, despite being a fairly well known British bank.

"I haven't been back since..." she trails off here, and if he's busy putting her credit card information into the system (or confirming it), there's a chance that it will seem merely like a thoughtful pause (remembering) to Chuck of Best Buy. "Early January."

She's saying (Cheers) thank you, and tucking away the receipts and Enid's new phone, while they're talking, now. It is getting close to time to go. She's been there long enough to raise eyebrows, and this chat was one they both intended to keep off record as long as possible.

"I'll ask Ashley about the house, and see what I can do to get people to come to you. Ring me with a good night to bring the tech toys over?" she asked. "We can swing by the grocery and my post box together, then get to work." A warmer smile. Hidden in the corners of her eyes (just barely there around the solemnity and surety) was a smile, fonder, grateful. And that, that was all Chuck's today.

"Hey..." she fought to catch his eyes for a moment. "Thank you." Emily waited until she was certain he'd caught her meeting, and then nodded a little. "I mean, for the help with my phone," she added with a little wave as she started away, in case any of the Blues were trying to overhear.

How are things?

[Ashley McGowen] Ashley called Susannah earlier this evening to ask if she'd like to come out and meet to talk. They don't know each other, and thus an invitation to her apartment was not extended - besides, she has a distressed apprentice there, and God knows the girl could use some rest.

So here Ashley is on the street, waiting out in the cold, watching a man who is out on the street painting. It's an ink rendition of the Chicago skyline, and the Tytalan is waiting with folded arms, leaned against a wooden post. Watching the brush mix the ink and sweep across the parchment, her expression oddly...pensive, perhaps, as her gaze traces the brush. Something nostalgic there.

She's dressed much as she was the other night: a black peacoat, blue jeans and red Chuck Taylors, wind ruffling her dark hair in all directions. She doesn't wear gloves, and both her hands and cheeks and nose are a bit red from the cold. She's been outside in it a while, apparently.

[Emily Littleton] It is another cold night in an endless string of cold nights that are all beginning to feel the same to Emily. Those that are not the same stand out due to some exaggerated sense of wonder or horror, and perhaps it is a blessing that this night is steeped in sameness. Unremarkable in so many ways.

The young Orphan wanders, but not aimlessly. She carries a shopping bag filled with odds and ends (mostly groceries) that could not be picked up closer to the University. She seems at home here, in a different way that she is comfortable or at home in the brighter shops along the Mile.

Emily is at a corner, preparing to cross, looking both ways before -- when she spies Ashley. There is a moment, a pause : consideration. Then she changes course and wanders over toward the Hermetic.

"Evening..." Emily offers, but it is a tenuous hello. Seeking. If Ashely doesn't want company, she's happy to move along.

[Ashley McGowen] It's always difficult to gauge whether or not Ashley wants company. While she isn't indifferent to the presence of others, they're more often than not met with a hungry stare; curiosity is usually the best a person can hope for, when interacting with her. It's curiosity with which she fixes Emily now, glancing toward the bag the younger woman is carrying.

"Evening, Emily," she says, straightening up against the post. She wasn't using it for support out of relaxation: she seems to genuinely be exhausted. Tense, the air of someone who is keeping herself going from sheer Will.

"How are you?" And then, a short beat, staccato, before she adds, "Thanks for dropping Enid and Austin off the other night."

[Emily Littleton] Emily recognizes the exhaustion in the other woman, mirrors it in some subtler ways (but only [subtle] because her own mentor had found her the night before).

"I'm.... alright," she says, taking a moment to select an appropriate adjective. "I've been better, but I imagine you could say the same." Her tone is less clipped, more open. Warm, but not overly-friendly.

She noticed Ashley's attention to her carrier bag and lifted it a little more into view. "A friend is loning me their kitchen so I can cook. I find it calming, during midterms," and with everything else going on... "And they get a meal out of it." A little smile.

"How are you all doing?" she asks, when Ashley brings up Enid and Austin. And Emily asks about more than Enid and Austin. "I haven't wanted to pry, but if there's anything I can do to help...even running errands or making meals, or just being around so you can focus on some studying of your own -- please, let me know."

The undergrad does not offer to slay dragons, or solve problems. Just to handle some of the mundanity that gets lost when. Well. The seriousness in Emily's expression belies a stronger understanding than mere sympathy. She has some (visceral) understanding of what happens, once someone has come home unwell and altered.

[Emily Littleton] ((edit: ...a friend is *loaning me their kitchen...))

[Susannah Sutherland] ooc: Sorry, ladies. The baby is teething and downright miserable right now. I need to go into full mommy mode for a while. *sad* Hopefully I can try again tomorrow night if either of you are free!
to Ashley McGowen, Emily Littleton

[Emily Littleton] ((I will not be around tomorrow night, but hopefully we can try again soon! Good luck with the babe, lovey.))
to Ashley McGowen, Susannah Sutherland

[Ashley McGowen] Ash nods, with one last curious look at the bag. Cooking is one of those things that she doesn't do -badly,- but often tells herself that she should learn to do well. It just tends to fall to the wayside, in among other things.

Emily asks about Enid and Austin, though, and this prompts a shrug from the Hermetic. "Austin left the night after you dropped him off, and Enid...well, she's making progress." And here, a glint of almost parental pride, something she wouldn't really display in front of the girl herself: that Enid is pulling herself together, that she's making small steps, that she's strong. "Enid's moving in with a Tradition-mate of mine soon."

She does not respond to Emily's offer of help. Well, more accurately, she does respond, it just isn't verbal: it's a long, level look. A lifted chin. An expression that isn't quite offended, but one that certainly implies that Ashley does not believe that she needs help. Or is, at the very least, too proud to accept.

[Emily Littleton] She nods a little, at the long level stare. It says: I thought as much. It is accepting, without being judgmental. The topic of help is left, then, and not returned to.

"I'm glad to hear she's doing well," Emily says, and it sounds a little stilted in the wake of the Tytalan Glare(tm). She is awkward in this conversation, because there is nothing to say that is both honest and comforting. Nothing beyond, "She's lucky to have you. To have someone to turn to right now."

That was a sentiment Ashley likely wasn't hearing from Enid. Emily looked away from the Hermetic, before Ashley could ask for her to expound on that insight. She fidgets a little, shifts the bag from one hand to another.

[Ashley McGowen] "I'm trying," Ashley says, and she too looks away for a few seconds. She has been, but she knows that she can't make it better for Enid, and in fact probably made the girl feel a bit worse after she had to break into her head. "She's just...young, and it's the first time she's ever really suffered."

Nevermind that Emily can't be that much older: Ashley is well aware of how much of a difference a few years can make, especially in those few years that create that gulf from childhood to adulthood. "There's not even really that much I can do for her. It's just...one of those things you push through on your own, with some time. It'll be good for her in the end."

[Emily Littleton] Emily had actually been a few years younger than Enid when she had learned that particular lesson, suffering. She had not handled it as well as Enid seemed to be handling it, though, and so it resurfaced from time to time, haunted her. It had been haunting her lately, since she had Awakened, but that was not something Emily had talked much about. Still, the solemnity of that experience bled into the softness and surety of her tone.

"It's harder, in the moment, to see the people around you as helpful and caring. But I'm sure she'll appreciate it later, when she looks back." Emily shifted her weight, slightly, and looked back up to Ashley. She was older than Enid, but not stronger than the Tytalan's apprentice.

"She didn't tell me what had happened, and I don't," Emily meant this, "Want to pry. But please let her know that I hope she's well. And if she wants, and it's alright with you, I'm happy to visit her."

The little bit at the end is offered in deference to Ashley's protectorate of the teenager. It is quite possible, given the level stare and polite (?) refusal of help offered, that Ashley had intended routes for Enid's recovery... and that Emily might be trodding all over them, unaware, yet again.

[Ashley McGowen] "I think she'd like that," Ashley says, and this is said sincerely. "It's...it's good for her to have some support from people around her." A lesson recently learned by Ashley herself, who has been struggling so hard to keep herself together on her own.

She looks back at Emily for a few seconds, and finally offers a quiet sigh. "Enid's mother is a Technocrat," Ashley tells her, voice lowered into something private, something for the two of them. "And she and her...cabal, I guess, I don't know what word -they- use...attempted a conversion on Enid when she was in China. They do it by breaking your Will and bending it so that you can be reconditioned until you're one of them and believe what they believe. Until your Mind and Will aren't yours anymore."

It's clear by how she speaks how much distaste she has for the process: the words roll off her tongue like she's trying to speak around them, tempted to spit them out. Her expression is bitter, angry. The way someone speaks of the profane.

[Emily Littleton] An uneasy quiet stretches out between them. There is nothing to say to this that won't sound trite or placating. Nothing to do besides observe, pointedly, the unease that ripples off Ashley's word, the chill that settles along the back of Emily's neck and how it makes her shivver at some imagined gradient of cold to colder yet.

"Austin, too?" Emily asked, and here her tone faultered a little. Because Austin had been decidedly the worse of the two, physically, when she picked them up from the airport. And he had gone off on his own, Ashley had said. Emily closed her eyes, shook her head softly. She was slightly ashen, sick from thinking about these things, but otherwise outwardly calm.

Ashley had just told the Orphan that her friend had likely been tortured, and Emily managed nothing more than deep concern and obvious unease. No exclamations. No... surprise. A pragmatic need to push on, though, to more straightforward matters. (It was Ashley's guess what this response meant. [It might not mean anything at all.])

"I..." A pause. "She called me collect from a pay phone. I don't know how to get in touch with either of them. Could I bother you for their new numbers?" she asked, setting the grocery bag down on the sidewalk and digging in her pocket for something (cell phone ['berry]).

[Ashley McGowen] "Austin too," Ashley says. "But I...looked into the Minds of both of them to make sure the conditioning hadn't taken hold, and they're both okay in that regard. Austin's an Initiate, and an Akashic Brother besides. I think he just needs some time to himself." As though she'd read Emily's thoughts. For someone who is so often insensitive, sometimes socially awkward, Ashley seems to have an eerie habit of picking up on a train of thought and answering questions unasked.

Perhaps she's more perceptive than most people (including herself) give her credit for.

"I don't know Austin's number. Or if he has one. And Enid lost her phone. But if you want to see her, you can come by my apartment...I don't mind if you're there when I'm not. Just stay out of my study." This, said more so that Emily is aware of which place to avoid than because she genuinely believes Em would go poking around. (If she thought so, the Orphan would not have received the invitation in the first place.)

"I just...want her to be all right. It might be good for her to have someone to talk to."

[Emily Littleton] They were different skillsets, showing compassion and possessing insights. Ashley was sharply intelligent, and it didn't seem to surprise Emily that the Hermetic picked up on things. If anything, she was grateful for the need to not spell out every last inquiry.

"I'll drop by," Emily said, and it rang like a promise. "I can't promise we'll talk, that's up to Enid, but if she wants to I'll listen." Emily shrugs a little bit, and tucks her hands into the warm pockets of her wool coat. "I'll ask around to see if anyone's seen Austin recently, too. I'm sure he can take care of himself, and I'm not sure I'd be any help to him, but being alone after something like that... should be a choice."

Not a decision by default. Emily chewed on her lower lip a little and her overall expression was pensive. Just this side of troubled.

"Do you want me to look for a new phone for Enid? It might help to have a bit of normalcy back. And I can find her something fairly secure, and tie it to my account, so she wouldn't have to worry about her parents tracing the expenses or anything like that." Because Enid was still on the edge of adulthood, and Emily didn't know what financial repercussions might come from her mother's connections.

"Again, though, if I'm overstepping... " She pulled her hands out of her pockets and held them up in an innocent gesture to ward off the Tytalan Glare (if it was coming).

[Ashley McGowen] "I...yeah. I'd appreciate it if you could do that," Ashley says, after a moment. "I can't really take up the expense right now until I can find a new job." Emily might not even be aware that she'd lost hers - though, observing the Hermetic, it isn't hard to guess at why. The pervasive sense of taint that she's had since the new year, her sleeplessness, that she's lost so much weight: it would be easy for many Sleepers to draw the conclusion that she's either very sick or fallen into drug use.

"As for Austin...if we go too long without seeing him, I can scry him out. And...I need to find a way to get Enid's stuff from her father's house. Her mother knows me, so I can't just show up and ask her father, but it's dangerous for anyone else to go too."

Ashley shuffles from foot to foot, finally leaning back into the wooden post. Another sidelong glance toward the painter, whose painting is slowly forming into a detailed silhouette of the skyline: something shadowy and blurred. For a single, poignant moment she can thoroughly empathize with Enid's need to hug her father, and then she looks back at Emily again and raises a brow.

"It'll get done, though. And let me know if you'd like me to repay the favor with the phone." Something in her tone indicates that she'd feel better if Emily -did- want some sort of reciprocation.

[Emily Littleton] "I'll keep it in mind," she said, about the favor. No doubt, Emily would be calling that in before she knew it. The New Year had been mildly insane, from the Orphan's point of view, and they weren't even into March yet.

"I spent an afternoon at her dad's place, baking cookies, but I didn't meet her mom. If you want me to go," Emily offered, a little blindly. She didn't quite know the risks, but she was sure she was less on anyone's radar than Ashley might be. Or the others. "I don't mind. I'm just another friend in their eyes, after all."

Emily gave a little shrug. When she'd been at the Geraint's, she had barely Awakened. There had been no talk of magic, no lingering sense of Reverence about her yet, just another girl a little older than Enid and a bunch of holiday cookies to bake.

"As for favors... you didn't let me die at the Chantry in all of that mess. I think I owe you a few more errand-runnings before we're even from that." She smiled, but couldn't keep it warm or light. These had been grave times, indeed.

[Ashley McGowen] "Better that you don't risk going there," Ashley tells her. "If they have anything there to alert her mother, there's a good chance you could wind up being monitored by them too." And Emily, she's sure, doesn't have half the number of wards surrounding her place that Ashley has around hers.

Emily says that she owes Ashley for not letting her die at the chantry, and both of the Hermetic's eyebrows raise, at that. She seems to be considering her answer - because really, keeping Emily out of danger had not been a priority of hers that night. She hadn't even really been looking out for her at all.

"That's not something you should thank me for," is what she at last settles on saying. "We'll work something out." She reaches up and brushes a bit of dark hair out of her eyes, sweeping it to the side; it's in need of cutting and the hair in front is getting nearly to the point where it can be tucked behind an ear. "How is your training going?"

[Emily Littleton] Emily doesn't have any wards. Yet. So Ashley is quite correct. And the subject shifts again, away from Enid and Austin entirely now.

"Well," the Orphan says, and it is a decidedly better response than Ashley might have expected. Emily brightens a little, almost seems proud. There is a quiet smile that touches her eyes, now, and pulls her away from the worry and sadness.

"Jarod has been teaching me to read life patterns," she adds, because the details seemed important to Ashley. She seemed like a detail-oriented person. "And -- just last night, actually -- I think I may have figured it out. It's still a little shaky, but that's progress, right?"

[Ashley McGowen] Ashley smiles a little, at that. "It's a good feeling when things finally start to come together," she says, observing the way Emily brightens when she brings up the subject of magic. "Do you agree with Jarod's outlook on how it works?"

A pause while her gaze rakes over the Orphan for a few seconds, up and down and then back to Emily's eyes. Thoughtful in an intense sort of way, as though she's digging through memory and thought. "You probably haven't had a chance to talk with anyone in the Celestial Chorus, have you."

[Emily Littleton] "I'm not really sure," she answers, and it is an unveiled and honest thing. "I don't know that I wholly agree with him, or even really understand his perspective, but I can work within it. That's a start."

Emily pauses here and thinks. "It's easier for me than, say, talking with Charlie -- and I'm trying that, too, but it's harder to make headway. I always feel like he's talking sideways of the point he wants to make."

She thinks again, but only briefly. "I have not met anyone from the Celestial Chorus," she confirms. "Though I've recently met a Virtual Adept; I surmise they are not at all the same thing." A little smile here, because it is hard for Emily to imagine a heavenly adjective and hackers in the same paradigmatic bundle.

[Ashley McGowen] "They're not," Ashley says. "I'm...not sure I can give you a good summary of the Adepts, really, because I have a difficult time wrapping my head around them. But the Chorus believes that magic comes from a divine source, from faith and belief. Not necessarily God, but...something higher."

She looks thoughtfully at Emily for a few moments. "I wish I knew someone here I could send you to. I just...get a certain feel from you that makes me think you'd be interested in talking to them. Your resonance, maybe."

Another long pause as Ashley thinks through her words, through the impressions she's gotten of Emily over the times they've met. Things she's heard from Enid. "Which, I suppose, begs the question. With what you've learned so far, have you come to any conclusions about how your magic works?"

[K. R. Jakes] [a'ight you fools, where are you?]

[K. R. Jakes] [flaw roll!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 8 (Failure at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] There is a reason that Emily's resonance trends toward Reverence, even now when there is no one from the Chorus to talk to or to guide her. Perhaps it is evident (in small ways) in the way she bows her head to consider the question, in the fleeting look of longing that she hurries from her features.

"I think that I could very easily adopt that point of view," Emily said, but there was an uneasiness there. As if she were hedging her reply around something, something significant and (lost) nearly forgotten. "I'm not sure that's the whole of it, how magic works, but... can I understand it."

She reached up with one hand to lightly touch the place on her chest where the oval locket was hidden beneath her coat, beneath her sweater. Emily is not looking at Ashley, now, but she is thoughtful (and calm).

"I have thoughts, but they are more hypotheses than conclusions at present," she continued, trying to answer Ashley's question honestly and accurately. "I like, but cannot prove, the idea that we Awaken unto some greater purpose or end. Otherwise, I cannot see a point to it, truly. I am not sure I am poised to tell you why or how these things work, because all I can do is reach out to see or feel layers of the world that I could not sense before. It is like reversing a deficit, but I'm still trying to understand all the new information. From what I understand, we learn to see these things so that we might change these things -- is this what you're asking?"

Here a pause, and her hand slips back into her pocket. The night is cold and her fingers chill quickly. Her groceries are beginning to freeze in the carrier bag at her feet.

"I do not know that God, perse, has anything to do with it. I don't know that I'd be entirely comfortable with it, right now, if He did."

[K. R. Jakes] [do i notice two people i know? just percept+alertness -1]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 6, 6, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Ashley McGowen] Ashley listens to this explanation, nodding when Emily says that she believes they Awaken to some higher purpose, as though a suspicion has been confirmed. Listening to what she can do now, how she's trying to understand how the world is different.

"When I call fire down or warp a pattern or break into someone's Mind, it's because I Will it so. It's because I -want- it to happen and my Will is stronger than the reality around me. The same is true for you...but chances are you're going to interpret it differently. What I'm telling you to do is figure out what works for you so that instead of just sensing things around you, you push to affect them. Take the rules that have been set down for you about how things -should- work and break them. Defy gravity, mend wounds."

She reaches an arm behind her and taps the wooden pole she's leaning against with her knuckles. "None of this exists. Your Will does. Other Wills do. Try to start calling on that sense of purpose you feel when you're at your most inspired, and see if it can lead you to do something you couldn't do before."

[Emily Littleton] Defy gravity. Mend wounds. Emily had tried a least one of these already, and not with stellar results. But she had learned much in the intervening weeks, and perhaps Ashley had a point. Perhaps it was time to give it another go.

She nods appreciatively, and it is clear to see that the Orphan is motivated (in no small way) and intrigued by this challenge. She is already thinking through things to try, or to try anew.

"That's the next step, then?" she asked. "To push through from sensing a thing to changing it?" Rather than to continue expanding her sensory awareness to new spheres, or continue down the path of seeking out the right Tradition to join. "I can work on that," she says, nodding a bit more clearly.

Emily smiles, now, and it is a far happier thing. She has a new challenge in hand, and a starting idea of how to tackle it.

[K. R. Jakes] K. R. Jakes is half-a-block from Ashley and Emily, perhaps less, when she spies them: diminutive Ashley, short of hair; dark-tressed Emily, who wears Home around her throat, tucked safe under her shirt. Her hands are jammed into the pockets of her coat for warmth, which is unbuttoned, letting winter sneak fingers inside, lay His knuckles against her shirt, reach through, bruise her skin; occasionally, she flaps her coat, pulls it tighter. Her steps slow for a second; she pauses, and perhaps she is considering that she has never actually seen them together, although each has mentioned the other to her -- even before she knew that that's what they were doing. Perhaps she is considering something else; at any rate, her gaze wanders to the side, rests on the mouth of an alleyway, and then narrows. Kage's shoulders lift-and-fall, and then forward motion happens again, although her swagger is somewhat diminished, it is still present [lyric: I'll tell you one] while she approaches. When she's close enough, close enough to catch Emily's last sentence, she says, "Evening."

[Ashley McGowen] "That's the next step," Ashley says, with a nod. She's watching Emily, seeing that light of inspiration in her eyes. It stirs something in her, somewhere, some of the joy and passion for Willworking that she's been lacking of late. Some of the wonder she used to feel when she'd push boundaries, during those dark evenings in Europe running with her old cabal mates.

"You're going to fail sometimes. Let it teach you something and keep persisting until you get it - and then improve upon it once you've got it."

And then, this said, she turns her head to look at the Orphan who has come up to the two of them. "Evening, Kage," she says, and her tone is pleasantly surprised even if her expression is not.

[Emily Littleton] They have been standing there, talking, for some time. And Emily, who is enjoying the conversation, has places she needs to be and things she needs to attend to. A subtle reminder of this buzzes in her jacket pocket, jarring her side slightly (in the soft place below her ribs) and widening her eyes a bit. She didn't pull the phone out of her pocket, but did look down a little (distracted).

"Sadly, I must away," she finds herself saying, at the conclusion of her chat with Ashley. Which is also the moment when Kage arrives, with a diminished swagger (minor key?), as Emily is gathering her carrier bag off the floor of the sidewalk.

"Kage..." she says, and there's an inward struggle for a moment: to stay, to go. Emily comes down on the side of going, but only because she has too much to say to her Other, and a growing need for sleep. (Burning the candle at both ends.)

"I hope to catch up with you both again soon." There is regret in the words, as if she'd really like to stay. Apology, for Kage, who she has not spoken to in... too long. After helloes and goodbyes and such things, Emily makes her way back to the corner to cross, back towards her car and home (wherever that is for now).

Opened eyes

[Jarod Nightingale] The trouble with trying to teach someone to sense life patterns during the winter was that most of those patterns were asleep. During their earlier sessions, Jarod had been slightly at a loss as to how exactly he was meant to pass on this ability to another person, and more importantly... a person who did not necessarily understand or look at the world in the same way that he did. When he'd been newly awakened himself, the method by which he'd learned this had mostly involved an acute focus on other people. Even before he knew he was doing it, he'd been able to draw near someone and feel their physical reaction to him. It was an innate understanding. Instinctual. But simply providing Emily with his own pattern to read had not yet proved effective in her own case. This was all as much a learning experience for him as it was for her, and in the end, the Disciple had finally come to the conclusion that significantly increasing the level of surrounding input might make the initial sensing easier.

It was a leap of logic that he probably should have made weeks ago, but sometimes it could be difficult to remove oneself from their own point of view and look at the world through another's. To that end, he'd called her up and asked her to meet him at the Chicago Botanic Garden, where he was currently waiting in the parking lot, listening to music in his car. Bach's cello suites, because it fit his current mood.

[Emily Littleton] Speaking of life patterns that ought to be sleeping...

She had elected, for one reason or another, to travel via public transport this evening. Perhaps because she recognized a reasonable limitation in her own awareness, or perhaps because her usual mode of personal transport was being cantankerous and required more tinkering than she had time for, or perhaps because it gave her a chance to practice, practice, practice before she got to the Botanic Gardens in hopes of being a more successful student this time around.

So far, Emily had sensed great fatigue, mild annoyance, and the frustrating realization that being aware of one's own thoughts (and by logical extension their physical evidence) was not the same of being enlightened unto the underlying pattern of one's life.

She's a little late, and arriving on foot, but the walk has done her well. Moving has left her feeling a little more certain, more grounded. She and Jarod had not seen much of each other of late, so it would be easier for him to see the fatigue (exhaustion) in her if she let her attention slip.

The messenger bag, slung from one shoulder to the opposite hip, is a constant fixture now that she is mid-term. And Winter has not thawed into Spring, so she wears the same overcoat as before. Emily stops under a streetlight in the parking lot and looks around for Jarod's car. Like him, it is terribly distinctive and not hard to pick out in a crowd. This late, the lot is thinly populated and he is even easier to find. So she makes her way over, with her hands in her pockets to keep them out of the cold.

[Jarod Nightingale] This late, the greenhouses were already closed, and only the information center and its attached event spaces were still open to the public. One of the conference rooms had booked a meeting for some local businesses, which accounted for the majority of the non-employee vehicles still in the parking lot. When Emily first approached the all-too-familiar black sheen of Jarod's M3, she'd be greeted with the muffled hum of cello music, and the sight of Jarod leaned back in the driver's seat with his eyes closed. He wasn't asleep. Unlike Emily, he wasn't even tired. This was merely a relaxed, meditative state. She'd probably have to rap lightly against the window to get his attention.

Once he realized she was there, he opened his eyes and looked at her, smiling in an understated way. (His smiles tended not to be broad things unless he was feeling unusually enthusiastic.) He had on a pair of jeans and dark purple buttoned shirt, and when he opened the door and stepped out into the cold, he didn't bother to grab his coat. The first thing he did, by way of greeting, was to lean over and place a soft kiss next to the corner of Emily's eye. Then he gestured into the open (now silent) car. "May as well put your coat and bag in here. You won't need them."

Whether or not Emily chose to take his advice, he locked up the car before leading them inside. Pulling the glass door open, they were greeted by a rush of warm air, and Jarod approached the woman behind the information desk with a smile that was all charm and courtesy. "I believe you have the subtropical greenhouse on reserve for me." And indeed, they did, though it was not the usual protocol to put any of the greenhouses on reserve, after hours or otherwise. Money and social skills could accomplish a great deal in this world.

A girl about Emily's age in a gardener's uniform came around to lead them to the greenhouse and unlock the door for them. She smiled at the two of them in a friendly way, then left so they could have their privacy. (And passing back by the information clerk, she might be heard to say, a little wistfully, "I wish my boyfriend would do stuff like this for me.")

Inside the greenhouse, the two awakened individuals would be enveloped in warm humidity and surrounded on all sides by the ever-constant bloom of green. Subtropical temperate plants of all varieties grew here, lush and thriving in the perfect, controlled environment. In the distance, the bubbling flow of a small waterfall could be detected, and if the two of them followed the brick path around to the back, they'd find a small koi pond underneath a bridge. That was the direction that Jarod began to walk, now. Away from the doors. Away from any chance of prying eyes.

"Better than my apartment, hmm?"

[Emily Littleton] She is changed, somehow. Emily has diverged in many small ways from the Emily she was when last they met. This Emily, the Emily of now, makes no hesitation in snaking an arm around him to hug him (hold him) for a moment when he kisses her temple. She does not ask permission, or think to pause demurely. It is thoughtless, but retains its sentiment and meaning.

This Emily does not argue, or try to read more into his meaning when he tells her to leave her coat and bag behind. And while she is still wearing jeans and a somewhat generic top, this one is at least flatteringly feminine.

Jarod's socio-economic strata had different options and problem-solving skills than the mere mortals in Emily's corner of life. When he asks at the desk after the greenhouse he has on hold, she barely blinks back her surprise. (It is harder, today, to hide things [harder than most days] even from mere mortals.) When the girl at the desk whispers, loudly, in envious shades of green... Emily is quiet. Quietly pleased, quietly humbled, quietly appreciative... but above all, quiet.

It is almost unfair to submerge someone in the warm, humid depths of a tropical summer when the snow still fell in the outside world. If they lingered here long enough, the warmth would sink down into her skin, unfurl carefully hidden (clenched [protected]) places, secrets, that Emily could not bear (bare) in colder climes.

She stretched a little, moving a bit less carefully as her body began to register the warmth as something more than fleeting. As the sounds, and smells, and sights of the simulated world lifted her eyes (her spirits) and tugged upward on the corners of her mouth: it elevates her.

"Different..." she says, but yes, she means better. The whisper-fine curls around her hair line have already begun to tighten, to stand out like a faint halo around her features.

This was not the frozen woods (reflection [counsel] Court) or the careful construct of his home (solace [refuge] serenity). The gardens were very much alive, overwhelmingly so, and she could borrow (beg [barter]) some of its ineffable energy to bolster her own mood.

"How have I lived her for two years and never visited?" she marveled, letting the appreciative and pleased note in her voice stand unmitigated, unocculted. (No lies [not yet]).

[Jarod Nightingale] "You weren't looking?" he offered by way of a logical explanation. It was surprising how much one could miss about their own home (or, rather, the place they lived) sometimes. That was easy to do when you were a student, though. Studies took up the majority of one's time and attention.

Jarod stepped up onto the small wooden bridge that arched over the koi pond, leaning back against the red-painted railing. Behind him, the miniature waterfall tossed an ever-constant flow of current downward, and it was close enough to toss the occasional tiny droplet in their direction. A few of them left pin-point dots of moisture on Jarod's shirt, but for once he didn't seem to care. He aura felt... very relaxed. Reaching down, he unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and rolled them up to his elbows (it was warm in here - summery), leaving the swirling tattoo on his right forearm visible.

"I stop by now and then, when I'm in the mood. There isn't much of this kind of life in the city. Kind of makes me want to get my own greenhouse. A smaller one, of course. Not that I'd really have time for it." Which was the reason he'd never bothered with that sort of project to begin with. No, for now he could be content with the large fish-tank he'd just set up in his office (one that Emily hadn't seen yet), and the elegant new creations that it housed - aquatic creatures brought to life by sheer imagination.

"Anyway, I thought... maybe it would help. If we came here. You seem more relaxed already." And this was a slightly teasing thing, but it was accompanied by a light brush of the backs of fingers down her arm, and that felt more like reassurance. "There's a bench over there, so we can sit down." And then he was moving again, across the bridge and around to where the path bordered the pond. A wooden bench did indeed rest there, positioned at an optimal angle so that lovers could sit and take in the view.

[Jarod Nightingale] [He=his - sheesh]

[Jarod Nightingale] [Per+Empathy]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 7, 10 (Success x 1 at target 5)

[Jarod Nightingale] [Trying again at +1 and tempting fate]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 6, 9 (Failure at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] "Of course..." she says, softly, when he presents her with a perfectly reasonable reason she'd never been to the gardens. Her tone isn't lightly wry or vaguely unamused. Like so many other things about Emily tonight, it is unveiled and simple.

She walks more slowly than he does, looking around her as she moves. Many of the plants here are new to her, or only partially remembered from far away places. Without her messenger bag or coat, she has no natural idle place for her hands to be. Intermittently, she hooks her thumbs into her back pockets, or slides her hands into her front pockets, or reaches out to touch something that has strayed near enough to the path to be examined, noticed, catalogued in more senses than one.

There is a quieter smile, tonight, when his fingers slide down her arm. It is a secretive thing, glimpsed sidelong and curiously: a half seen reflection, a thing implied but not outright said: warmth. And this is the difference, she knows, between his touching her and another's. There is warmth, and it comes from a place deep within her, untouched as of yet by the psuedo-summer. There is a word for this feeling, Emily knows, that is neither friendship nor familiarity (nor is it fearful).

These are the thoughts that come, unconjured and unrequested, to her too tired mind. They cannot be put away once they have been found, noticed, and named.

Then he was moving again, and Emily was following. Moving gave her a chance to step away from the unnamed thought, to focus on the lesson intended rather than the one that had found her unaware and unguarded (rather unsportsmanlike, that was). She is trying, and failing, to school the fondness in her features. Failing spectacularly enough to dispense with trying all together.

She settled on the bench, folded her restless hands into her lap. If this place existed apart from winter, then perhaps it was okay for her frame of mind to be likewise shifted. "I like it here..." she said, and it was clear that she'd meant it. Slowly, slowly, Emily reeled her focus back in. The openness faded, only because it was eroded in places by the keen attention she could pay to a subject when she put her mind to it.

[Jarod Nightingale] [Life 1 - diff 4, +2, -1, -1]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 8, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 4) [WP]

[Jarod Nightingale] He was not tired. And there was nothing so unguarded or warm in his features or in his countenance as there may have been in hers. That did not mean that it was a perfect reflection of what lay beneath, but this was not a mask. This was not cold and controlled (glassy like an ice sculpture.) The ever-shifting tide of his emotions was simply very calm, today. Reflective and almost zen-like. This was preferable to some of the less placid moments he'd been having of late, and was due in large part to their current surroundings.

But he wasn't focused in so keenly on Emily's emotional state. He was thinking about what they'd come here to do (responsible, for once - being useful to someone other than himself, for once.) And that meant that he missed things that might otherwise have been more obvious to him. (And it was possible that in some subconscious recess of his mind, he was intentionally not looking. Looking would mean over-complication of what needed to be a focused and uncomplicated evening.)

I like it here, she said, and Jarod smiled as he looked out ahead of them, at the water and the fish and the green. He liked it here too.

"There is life here. If you open up, you can feel it. Every single plant has a pattern and an energy. Organic material... it feels different from anything else. It speaks. Even a flower or a tree. Each one is unique. Each one has its own story to tell." He paused for a moment and closed his eyes, focusing. "There's a tree there..." and he gestured back in the direction of the doors, "that's been pruned. It hurts, and pieces of it are missing. And the orchids there, by the waterfall... they're going to bloom tomorrow."

He could have told her the story of every single life force in this room, but that was unnecessary to the lesson, and Emily needed not to think, but to feel.

"When you listen, and you let them speak as one, it's like... feeling the pulse, not just of these lives, but of all life: wild, adaptable, dynamic creation. That is what makes it different from every other kind of pattern. Life struggles. Life fights. Life wants to exist. It's so easy to tap into, because when you touch it, it responds. When you manipulate it, it re-routes itself to flow along new channels. And when you just... feel it, it touches you in return. This is not passive observance. This is a connection. You have to open yourself up to it, or it won't let you in."

[Emily Littleton] Exhaustion brought a certain simplicity (urgency [clarity]) to existence. Her thoughts were less cluttered, less capable of racing off in too many directions at once. Emily was less capable of sorting inputs, filtering out things by priority levels, constraining her awareness of the world around her. In a few circumstances, this could be a blessing. In this case, it was quite possibly paramount to enlightenment.

She let her eyes close as she listened to what Jarod was saying. He spoke clearly in the role of her mentor, now, and his voice rose and fell accordingly. The sound of falling water flowed in and out of focus, threading between the shape of his words. It was difficult to concentrate on the sounds, but somehow that didn't seem to matter.

At some point, the fingers of Emily's left hand reached over to find her pulse at her right wrist. She could feel the thrum of her heartbeat there, and how it threaded through the sounds and warmth and scents of the pseudo-summer.

At some point there was a shift. When the rhythmn of her pulse was no longer intertwined between the other sensory inputs, but became central to her understanding of all of them instead. Emily gasped, and her body tightened in surprise as the new awareness rushed over (through her), married with the sensation of a cool rush of air (rustle of something unseen). Jarod would not have felt the breeze.

Not just her heartbeat now, no. Emily could feel the patterns of his heartbeat, of the phloem and xylem of the plants that surrounded them. Unlike the patterns she was more used to working with, Life was chaotic. Seemingly so disorderly. Her eyes blinked open, but that did nothing to simplify matters.

She struggled to pull her awareness in to a single pattern, something she could observe without feeling lost in a rush of extraneous data. The easiest, her own, was riddled with markers she would come to know as signs of neglect, coming illness. Perhaps the slightest transgression to find there was the angry place at her right wrist where she had inadvertantly dug half-moons from her fingernails (so keen was her surprise).

Soon, too soon, this new sight began to dissipate. It left in its wake only the growing sense of awe, and a thin taste of her still-tremulous resonance (Reverence). Emily released her own wrist, rubbed at the little half-moons there.

And she was absolutely silent. No witty remark. No exuberance. Just that lingering sense of grace and respect, and her uncharacteristic and complete quiet.

[Jarod Nightingale] He was a contradiction, at times. All at once a creature of control, and yet so completely in tune with this force that was anything but. Maybe it seemed to make little sense on the outside, but reality seldom placed people so neatly into categories. And maybe that outward control was merely a coping mechanism evolved in order to maintain his sense of self.

Somewhere in the midst of his lesson... something happened. And Jarod opened his eyes and looked over to watch Emily as she felt, for a few seconds, the same explosion of input that he was currently caught up in. He felt the shock that her body registered before even that gasp had time to make its audible escape, and then, slowly... a smile spread across his face.

"Well that happened more quickly than I thought it would. Try again? Focus on something specific and see what you can pick up from it. Don't rush things, and don't drop your concentration until you feel like you've built a strong connection, otherwise it'll fade." His words were encouraging, pleased despite himself. They had something now that they could share. A perspective that previously only he had been able to achieve.

[Emily Littleton] Maybe it was because of this close connection he felt to the chaotic forces of life, growth, and change that Jarod had developed such a rigid system of self-control. Emily was not sure at all how to parse this new layer of information; it did not fit neatly into any of her usual categories. And while she could explain it, in some respects, in terms of patterns she'd learned and known through biology class or simple observation... it was not at all what she had expected.

Jarod seemed pleased and, when Emily recovered from her surprise, she was quietly pleased as well. He asked her to try again, gave her clear parameters, and Emily nodded. Her fingertips strayed back to find her pulse again; this time she was careful not to wrap her hand around her wrist, not to give herself leverage to dig her nails in again. She looked up to him for a moment (am I doing this right?) and then took a small, steadying breath and closed her eyes.

This time it was not as alarming to feel the cacaphony of patterns rush in. Emily held on to the feeling of her heartbeat beneath her fingertips. Focused in on it, like a lifeline. She used it to measure the passing of time, and this was not new. She used it as a metric to measure other patterns by, and this was new.

He'd told her to focus on something specific, and the most obvious something (to Emily) was Jarod himself. Later, it would occur to her that it might be rude (or even unethical) to read into someone's person (pattern) without permission. Now, though, she was merely trying to complete her given assignment. (Assuming, of course, that inspecting her own pattern would be cheating...)

The feeling of her resonance deepened, gathered around her in a sense of calm. It touched her features as she studied his pattern: this Reverence, lightened the weight of weariness and wariness on her features : painted her momentarily, fleetingly beatific.

[Jarod Nightingale] [Per+Awareness]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 4, 6, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Jarod Nightingale] Reverence. It was a different sort of resonance from his own. For Jarod, magic happened out of instinct. For Emily, it was a nigh-religious experience. He both saw and felt that awe as it reached out to slowly wrap around him, and for a moment, that reverence infected him. Jarod had never paid such close attention before to someone who was learning to work an effect for the first time, and it was an almost enraptured moment. This... this had been the point. To see this. To experience this with her.

Comparisons could be made to other firsts, in the best possible sense.

He knew she was reading him. And though this was in some ways disconcerting, it had also been the inevitable result from the beginning. Jarod was something familiar. Something human. Something close. And they had been wrapped up in each other before, in the more literal sense. He had felt her own pattern countless times now. Was, in fact, feeling it right now. So they were the same, in this, for these few moments. They felt each other. And it was not the same as being inside someone's mind and thoughts. Neither of them knew what the other one was thinking or feeling. But a body could tell many, many stories in its own right.

Jarod's body told this story:

Three of his ribs had been broken once, a long time ago. There was a healed fracture along his skull where it had been cracked. He was not flawless; not completely free of scars after all. But unlike Emily, today he was in perfect health. His immune system was not called upon to work in overdrive, and his muscles were not sore and weakened from lack of rest. (Yes Doctor, everything here is in very good working order.) His energy was calm, his pulse a slow, steady thing. Stable. Strong. Hypnotic.

"You look beautiful," he said quietly, and leaned across the small space to kiss her.

(The rhythm of his heart-beat changed then, in subtle degrees. It sped up just a fraction.)

[Emily Littleton] He had known, then, from the first time he had spent any extended time with her (I can feel your heartbeat from across the room), that her past had not been kind or gentle. Along with the stories that Jarod's pattern tells, this truth sweeps in with an absolution and anxiety that riddles her expression. Oh, but that expression is a complicated thing.

Without thinking, Emily's fingertips reach for the place on his ribs that have been fractured and mended. One hand to find his hurts, another to find hers that mirror them. (This we share [And, dear God, I hope we do not share the story behind them]). There is pain in her face, in the corners of her still closed eyes, but her touch is feather soft, intimate and gentle. She is not surprised, not dismayed, to find he is less than perfect. This is a secret to guard, safekeep, keep silent.

Soon, though, her hands must pull away, come together again so she can regain her grounding in her own heartbeat. Beyond the old hurts, which are faint in comparison to the vibrancy of the present, Jarod's pattern is stable, strong, and soothing. Compared to her own, which must seem quite disheveled.

He had seen her, like this, unable to hide the old scars and intimations of her earlier life (struggles [failures]), and Jarod had chosen to see the vibrancy there instead. He'd called her beautiful (not just now).

This was a curious thing, much like the effusive warmth she'd discovered earlier within an unguarded moment. And so her pattern was tangled up in the struggle of assimilating all of this when his lips found hers, and her heartbeat skipped a little. The swell in her pattern just then was not only a response to what he had said, to the heady intensity of being tangled up in him (tangled up in her) perceptively.

It is somehow more. And that pushes her past what she can juggle, what she can hold on to in the way of perceiving and experiencing and processing all at once. Emily's breathing faulters (as much because of the kiss as because of her fast receding awareness). Her eyelashes pull apart, baring unusually clear grey-blue eyes. (Unguarded [unclouded]).

In these places, these deeply personal and intimate moments, she is so often wordless. Wordlessness is insufficient now, somehow, and she struggles to find something (anything) appropriate to say. True to form, all Emily manages is a very soft (and quite endearing): Hey...