...one arm dangles over the open side of the couch, a finger tip trailing over the hardwood floors [that's funny... she remembers it being carpeted two years ago.] as she sings, her head supported on one arm of the couch, loose dark hair nearly spilling over the floor over its back. Her eyes are shut - not that it matters - and she is wearing make up which is a rarity. Pearl white slacks with a trim high waist tailored to her small but curved form. A lilac cowl-necked blouse that bathes her in hues that become more Winter than Spring against her light olive complexion.
There's a tumbler balanced on her abdomen, and a bottle of Bacardi's snug between her left hip and the sofa back. "...I had'a lotta drink 'bout an hour ago... 'n'it went right to my head..."
[Israel Cohen] ooc: Alright guys, given how many people are here I'ma make a suggestion: Can we try to keep it to no more than 10 min between posts? If it goes longer people may be skipped just to keep things flowing. Is that alright with people?
to Basil Gillingson, Emily Littleton, Jonathan Kincade, Nathan Spriggs, Solomon Ward
[Nathan Spriggs] It was a fairly pleasant day in Chicago, no natural disasters, no murders, nothing bad at all. And for once in a few months, Nathan was enjoying some free time. He was off the Awakened detective job for now, his only reason for visiting the chantry was to drop by on Wharil or someone else and have a conversation.
Instead, what he found upon opening the door and stepping inside was a semi-drunk blind Orphan resting on a couch. Some off day this was, eh? For a moment, he even considered doing her a favor and finishing that alcohol for her, but no. He was off the juice, for
[Basil Gillingson] Footsteps echoed and creaked across the floorboards. Basil paused, looking down at the board and stomping his heel slightly as if that would make the wood suddenly behave. He glanced down, regarding his reflection off the tip of his shoe for a moment before continuing on his way. He likely would have left altogether but a voice drew his attention. A slurred, slightly inebriated tinge to the song. His direction now found a new path as he tread towards the sound.
He stands and stares down at Israel...his lips pursed slightly as he looked first at her face, her posture, and lastly to the bottle of Bacardi. The lips stay pursed before he finally clears his throat.
"I wasn't aware that this dwelling had become a place of festivities. I think I might just need to go and break out my clown suit. Maybe do some juggling for the kids."
[Nathan Spriggs] (I'm fine with that.)
to Basil Gillingson, Emily Littleton, Israel Cohen, Jonathan Kincade, Solomon Ward
[Israel Cohen] [Passive Awareness]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 5, 5, 6, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Emily Littleton] It is not raining yet, but the forecast calls for thunderstorms to roll through in the small hours of the morning. The sky is thick with clouds, roiling with another storm and the winds that ride in with it. Emily pulls her coat around her a little tighter as she walks toward the Chantry. She has parked a little ways away, and is surprised when she comes up to the picket fence and finds the lights on inside.
The Orphan waits, looking across the depth the yard with a distant expression. The wind, already stirring, fingers the curls that frame her face. It touches the curl of her ear. It pinks her cheeks and nose. There is a solemnity to her that rarely settles so gravely on her shoulders. (Remember? It asks. [I do, she answers.])
She is standing there, still, when Nathan passes by and enters. Taking this as some sort of cue, Emily closes the last bit of distance between herself and the doorway, knocks politely (once) and then enters. She is still unsure of the etiquette here.
If she is not stopped, interrogated or inquisited on her way through the room, she makes for the bulliten board to check on the recent postings. She's studying up for the meeting. It's a very good thing for an Apprentice to do.
[Solomon Ward] Solomon is some what dumb struck. Israel had had some sort of plans for the evening, which meant he had some free time to burn given his regular and irregular duties at the basilica. Solomon cleaned his house. Cataloged his library in l alphabetical order by subject. He baked two loaves of bread. He cleaned the house again. He cleaned his guns. All of them. He prayed. He worked on the lawn. He cleaned his house.... wait... yes, a third time. Most of this was accomplished by noon no less.
So he'd gone to the chantry to rummage through library, until it had become time to get some thing to drink. Which lead down stairs. To a drunken Israel, and other equally stupefied people. Basil he doesn't know and so watches with a protective interest over Israel. Nathan just gets shrug. It doesnt need words Fucked if I know...
[Basil Gillingson] kk
to Emily Littleton, Israel Cohen, Jonathan Kincade, Nathan Spriggs, Solomon Ward
[Emily Littleton] ((I'll try! :) It's a lot to keep up with. ))
to Basil Gillingson, Israel Cohen, Jonathan Kincade, Nathan Spriggs, Solomon Ward
[Israel Cohen] [Trying that again. Fuck you Kahseeno. +1 Diff]]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 6, 8 (Success x 1 at target 7) [WP]
[Jonathan Kincade] (( I'll probably be slow anyway.. so count me as half a person :P ))
to Basil Gillingson, Emily Littleton, Israel Cohen, Kaya Talayesva, Nathan Spriggs, Solomon Ward
[Israel Cohen] Basil speaks up - looms - and so it is to Basil that she responds: "Mmmm... you're new. To me. Do you really juggle? Or.. can you make balloon animals?" The words are mild spoken, though she is rising to sit up on the sofa, now, juggling tumbler and bottle along the way. Her eyes don't open. Her tone is.. quietly sardonic. "But first let's start with your telling me who the you are and what business you have here?"
Setting the tumbler on the sofa seat beside her she straightens more so, blind eyes opening. Hearing more people milling about but unable to quite ascertain their Resonance to mark them. "Who else is here?" A furrowed brow.. a look of consternation.
All she'd wanted was a damned drink. Or five.
[Nathan Spriggs] Nathan's gaze went from Israel to Basil on his comment then to Solomon as he came down the stairs. A blink in response to Solomon's shrug. Instead of saying anything, he moved carefully to avoid bothering the woman... then she spoke and his attention went to her again.
He stifled a laugh at her response to Basil's words before approaching the couch. "Present."
[Basil Gillingson] "Oh no...I have other tricks."
The wit in his voice was sullen and lacked any amusement as he regarded the woman, staring at her with the hawk-like expression common of his lineage. As if by staring at her, he could burn away what inadequacies he saw in her. Then the eyes turned to regard Solomon as well as the man had taken a posture close to Israel. The eyes lifted to the man...then back down to her.
"I am Initiate Exemptus Basil Gillingson bani Quaesitor of the Order of Hermes. My business is the well-being and integrity of the magi within this city. Also quashing any corruption, taint, and foolish tendencies to those who have let their Will become weak and lead them to unhealthy pursuits...for themselves and others. Are you satisfied with the answer to now properly address me with your own introduction since you have demanded mine?"
[Jonathan Kincade] Jonathan hadn't heard from Nathan in several days. They both had their tasks lists though, so the Virtual Adept had been keeping himself busy. There was also one Henrietta Bean that he was trying to meet with again but that had so far proved fruitless.
He had been avoiding the Chantry after that attacked, and seeing the mutilated bodies. But tonight he had decided to return, on one hand to become more well known by the other magi in the city but on the other he had a project to secure the chantry's wiring.
So he approached the front door of the Chantry, knocked several times and then pushed the door open and entered. Hearing voices, he headed towards the living room to find out who else was present.
[Emily Littleton] Of all the assembled, only Nathan and Jon are familiar to Emily and the tall co-ed seems uncomfortable in the building and with the building convokation. Her head is ducked, masking her height just slightly, and her hands are tucked into the pockets of her coat. She does not stop to slip her shoes off at the doorway, possibly because she can still remember when the room was carpetted and soaked through with gore and riddled with body parts.
"I'm just checking the message board," she says, when Israel queries the room. Her voice is foreign, riddled through with many accents. Tentative. (Reticent.) "I won't be long..." she ammends, a little nervous in the collection of strange people.
And then there's Basil, whose oration earns him a long and somewhat incredulous look from the blue-eyed Orphan. He was most definitely one to avoid. Onward then, Emily moves on through the room, hopefully not to get caught out by any of the others and required to announce herself so formally.
[Solomon Ward] A pulse, a small thing. A touch of antiquity, righteous and unyielding. It streams along the bond they share of mutual concentration. Solomon doesn't have to speak up for Israel to know he's there.
The priest notes Nathan, he watches the unknown female slip in and go off in search of ...whatever. Attention shifts back to Israel and the new face. For the most part Solomon remains just to the side of the door way leading to the kitchen from the main room, absently noting the comers and goers and what takes place. He stands with his hands clasped in front of him, as if he's waiting for some thing specific yet to occur.
[Israel Cohen] Her night has not been a good one. It had involved a date. A blind date - no pun intended. Pushed and prodded by her relations she'd given in and agreed to go out with the cousin of a friend whose uncle... Basically she'd agreed to meet with a nice Jewish man because her family was nervous that she keeps reappearing in Chicago with only one constant in her life: A 40-something-year-old Catholic priest.
The date had not gone well.
After wards she'd gone to a bar. Just a place she remembered from her University days. She'd found it. Settled down. Ordered a simple G&T. The bartender was a woman. Friendly. Sympathy in her voice. Poor blind girl. The woman sitting next to her at the bar had seemed friendly, too. They'd struck up conversation. And then Israel had felt a hand on her thigh, fingers curving inward; a squeeze that was far too familiar. Suggestive. It's about then she realized what she found odd about the place: Female voices. Only female voices.
The trip the the now-Lesbian bar had not gone well.
And so she'd ended up here. Because Sol's was out of the question and she didn't feel like going home. A nice quiet bit of drinking at the Chantry. No one to bother her. Such was apparently not to be the case. Oddly it didn't annoy her as much as she thought it might. If anything in this state some part of her relished the idea of dealing with Mr. Sullen, over-bearing Blah-blah-blah-Lots-Of-Titles over here.
First, "Hi, Nathan." A suggestion of familiarity. Subdued warmth.
To Basil, she arches an eyebrow. Not that her gaze is settled on him, of course. It's off somewhere on the opposite wall, never focusing. "Seriously? I wonder sometimes, do Hermetics have a class on just how to come up with the Longest title possible? Is it taught as a ploy? 'The Many And Sundry Uses of The Pompous As Psychological Warfare'? " She's smiling now, in a feline manner that is not the norm, though Basil wouldn't know that. Then she waves a hand, "Well that all sounds fine and dandy. Your goals, I mean. Lovely. You should carry about a recording of trumpet flare to to go along with that Speach."
A break, "Hi, Sol," Then, turning her blind gaze towards Basil's direction. "Israel Cohen. Disciple. Orphan. I dont' have anything fancy to add after that, but all the same: Doo Doo Doo Doooo!" Yes. She just mimiced a trumpet in her airy mezzo-soprano.
Toward's Emily's voice - with a softer tone now, more like her usual self. "No worries. Take your time. You got a name? Titles and Reasons For Living are not required."
[Basil Gillingson] Short Fuse Check, Willpower 6, Diff 6
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 4, 5, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Nathan Spriggs] Nathan's lips curled into a smile at Israel's greetings, "Hey." Short and to the point, then his eyes widened a bit as she went on to answer Basil, his gaze coming upon the man as well. For a moment, he stifled laughter for the second time, this time slightly less successfully. She had addressed a few of his issues with Hermetics as well, with the added flare of how it'd all come out.
Lastly, his attention fell on Solomon once more, Emily getting a nod first. He stepped carefully across the room, making sure to avoid Basil or get in the way of his probably glare to Israel. What he did when he reached the man was fairly simple, something he'd been planning but hadn't gotten the chance. "I apologize for last time." It was a new concept to him, apologizing to people.
[Emily Littleton] It's Israel's voice that stills her feet this time. Draws her back a bit into the room, into the budding conversation.
"Emily," she offers, with that same delicately British (but not entirely faithful) accent, and with more warmth, now, that the other woman has given the Hermetic such a very hard time of it. It's just three syllables, that name, but it's tinged with amusement and approval.
And they shared something in common, for now. She glanced around the room, but her eyes went back to the petite thing on the couch before she added. "I'm newly Awakened," honest, bluntly so. "And, as of yet, still an Orphan."
There's a small smile, not that Israel can see it. Perhaps she can hear it, though. Or maybe, now that Emily has lingered a little longer in the room, the feeling of Reverence around her has reached the inebriated Jew. She is Orphaned, for now, but leaning toward another Calling.
[Solomon Ward] He chuckles slightly. It's usually never wise to prod a Hermetic, and highly unpolitical, but given her state of inebriation it was mildly comical. Well, more than mildly, but he's a reserved man and laughing aloud would have done little good. He shifts his body just slightly, one foot a touch in front of the other, spread a part just so. Comfortable priest is comfortable.
"Accepted" he says to Nathan, though his eyes never quite shift to the man. His voice is honest and sincere, but his attention is just else where at the moment. A quick shift of his eyes to the man, then back to the couch, in a rapid effort not to come off as curt. "These things happen"
[Basil Gillingson] Basil stares...the man's lips pressing together, the points of his jaws showing as his teeth clenched. The dark eyes only widened slightly...not in surprise but more as the hellfire anger of his family rumbles beneath his face. His hands, which he had been resting in an 'at ease' position behind his back, flexed slightly...his left clenching his right as the fingers curled into a claw. The air had the sharp crackle of charged ions around the Hermetic as he eyed her...he could taste the sensation of licking a battery on the roof of his mouth.
"A Disciple...with no ties. How wonderful. Well you are certainly a credit to the vagrants in their etiquette and manners, Ms. Cohen. I'm afraid I don't need trumpets to introduce me though nor my titles. Nor does my Tradition simply invent names for the sake of names. Names have power after all..words have power. And the wrong words...can very much get you killed."
Basil gave a simple smile, though there was no warmth in it. Not that she could see it....though she could likely feel the dislike roiling off him. It didn't take Ray Charles to realize it was time for the music to quit playing and likely Israel was not oblivious to the tone in Basil's voice.
[Jonathan Kincade] Jonathan gives Emily a polite nod and smile, they had discovered the bodies together. Yet the two hadn't spent time together since, he hoped she hadn't taken it too hard and had been able to move past it. He shakes his head , ahh well not really the time to bring that up. So he continues on.
Eyes scanning the living room , the only faces he recognises is that of Nathan and Israel, the later only having spoken to for the briefest moments. He speaks tentatively "Evening All."
[Solomon Ward] "Initiate Exemptus" he said, the Hermetic by his titled rank. Not loudly, not by weight of volume, but in sheer presence. A half step forward, hand still clasped loosely in front of himself. He still hasn't taken his eyes off the man, and that thing that lives under his skin, the antique monster who could as easily shed morals as uplift them, is hovering under the surface.
"Calm yourself. You speak of words causing undue harm ? Don't test that theory too hard", there isn't a threatening bone in the priest's body. He isn't intimidating, at least in the literal sense of the word. Just the soft promise that as easily as Basil might uphold his words, so will the priest. It sits there like a proverbial elephant.
He's damn near asking for the man to act on it.
[Israel Cohen] "Emily. Nice to meet you." Her warmth continues here, though she is not so foolish as to completely disregard the Hermetic she just mocked. Yes. Mocked. Impolitic? Very much so. Tonight Israel doesn't much care. This is not a Hermetic Chantry. So far as she knows Basil is not a bona fide member. Tonight she does not care. Tomorrow may come regret, but for now there is an Apprentice Orphan in the room and that touches some part of the blind woman [caregiver] which cuts through tipsiness to that earnest, gentle, smiling warmth.
Sorrow is always there, though. And when Basil speaks - electric crackles and displeased tone. Insults for insults. Sadness deepends, but now it is a primordial thing, a dangerous thing, the piercing quality beneath it cutting closer to the surface.
She snorts when Basil speaks again, but Solomon beats her in speaking. Her lips press into a line, then - but the hand that rises to find Solomon's unfailingly is light. Soft. Brief, but clear language between them. "It's alright, Sol. Initiate Exemptus Gillingson." Yeah. She went there, too. "Has a temper, yes? But he is also a guest here. His temper got the better of him in his threat, didn't it? Words have power, indeed. But words like these can be recanted. Because guests make mistakes, sometimes. And to a degree they need to be forgiven."
Solomon almost asks him to ask on it. Israel is giving him a chance - one - to back the hell off.
[Nathan Spriggs] As the priest accepted his apology, Nathan simply stood there and watched. His eyes following the priest as he stepped forward to confront Basil, while his mind tried to make out if he'd just heard right. Then Israel responses and he grinned slightly at her words, turning to see Jonathan arrive and greeting him with a nod before heading over.
"Anything new or interesting, Jon?" A short greeting, but they didn't talk all that much outside of planning or plotting, neither of which he planned to do today.
[Basil Gillingson] "Threat? I am sorry you misconstrued it to be such, Disciple Cohen. But you are correct in mistakes...and forgiveness. So in this...I forgive you. Alcohol has a way of making one's judgment..impaired. So...I forgive your earlier address to me, Disciple Cohen. I am sure you are a much more upstanding member of this chantry to others...guests or not."
Basil says, his voice still having that tone though that just screams lack of sincerity. But, he was polite...or at least the veneer of politeness in this instance.
"Perhaps our later conversations will be more...poignant."
He looks away from her, eyes then going to the other faces he does not directly recognize at the moment.
[Emily Littleton] As the tension in the room ratcheted up, Emily's shoulders pulled back reflexively. Her fingers strayed up to the thin silver chain around her neck, pulled a little locket free of her sweater, and then wrapped around it, concealing it neatly.
The flicker of static discharge is not the only resonance to flare, quickly or quietly in the room. Something calmer, more centered and comfortable, built around the Orphan. It pulsed with a thin, thready heartbeat all its own (Home) and combatted the rising anxiety she felt to be caught near the political crossfire.
It left a faint puddle of Belonging behind, where she had stood at the perimeter of the room, and followed her as she made her way to the message board at last. Once she'd gotten away from the trial of wills, she was calmer. She let the locket fall out of her fingers, and took in Henri's additions to the note about Goopy with quiet interest.
[Israel Cohen] "Mmm, some peoples impairments are temporary. Tomorrow I'll be sober. You, alas, will probably still be an arrogant, disparaging, insincere little man. Pity. You know the rules governing this Chantry, yes? Assuming you do and haven't already, go find yourself a Cabal - god help the poor fools - join this Chantry properly and then seek me out again. I'll be more than happy to discuss those little rules and ideas the worst of your Tradition stole from greater Faiths and skewed to their own blind purposes."
She pours out more rum then, one finger hooked over the edge of the glass to ensure she doesn't spill. A tingle of something in the air that makes her shoulders tense slightly, the the faint resonance is not threatening -- still she marks it and remains aware of it. Taking up the tumbler she moves off towards the Buillitan board where she feels Emily's Resonance more strongly. "I'm sorry about that... is there anything you need help with, Emily?" It takes a moment, but she manages to soothe her nerves enough to speak softly again.
[Solomon Ward] [Past Lives]
"I didn't hear your own apology... to Ms. Cohen" another half step forward, the man's eyes going slightly out of focus for a moment. He's trying to remember some thing, some thing from very long ago. It's only a moment before his vision comes back fully and his focus is still fully on Basil.
This is not how Solomon wanted to meet others in this city. One or two... such was inevitable, destined perhaps. A room half crowded with strangers ? It was going to be a poor impression for all of them, yet.. ce la vie. His eyes flicker again, to Emily just before she makes her way to the message board. To the sensations she exudes, carries around her. A slight nod to the girl before she departs.
Back to Basil. "Add some sincerity to your tone, or at least fake it. Other wise the door is that way"
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 6, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 8) [WP]
[Basil Gillingson] Short Fuse Check (again!)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 3, 3, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Israel Cohen]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 8, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6) [WP]
to Emily Littleton
[Nathan Spriggs] Nathan turned to the scene of the conflict once more as he heard the words being exchanged. For a moment, he stares as Solomon as he gets... hostile. Then to Basil to see his response. Still, he didn't act, he wanted to but it would add fuel to an already massive fire. Basil had even him on edge, hands curled into fists as he watched for what happened next. Oddly enough, his impressions of Solomon went up rather than down.
[Jonathan Kincade] Jonathan shakes his head at Nathan "Nah nothing new, still waiting to cross paths with Henri again. will give you a call when something comes up. Other than that just dropping by here to look at doing some security work on the Chanty and to see who was around."
"What about youself Nathan..anything new with you?"
[Basil Gillingson] ...the side of Basil's eye twitches. Visibly twitches. Anyone close to the man could hear him inhale through his nose as his teeth remained clenched together. His hands have left that 'at ease' position, the right in a clawed pose. The lips part....the white of his teeth showing. Then there's a brief roll of a spark from his left forefinger to crooked thumb. Like a visible current arcing down the fingers.
"While I may be many things, Ms. Cohen...there is still a level of wordplay that you fail to appreciate. And regardless of the rules...I will say this. Say one more disparaging comment of the Order of Hermes...and words will become much more. Regardless of your knight so near you."
The eyes flash over at Solomon and then stared down at Israel once more.
"Are....we....clear?"
(Intimidation Roll: Man 2 + Intimidation 3)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 4, 5, 6, 7, 7 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Basil Gillingson] Inits: Dex 2 + Wits 3
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8
[Solomon Ward] Init Dex 3, Wits 4
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 2 (Failure at target 10)
[Israel Cohen] WP:
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 4, 5, 7, 8, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Israel Cohen] Inits: Dex 2 + Wits 3
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 9
[Emily Littleton] Israel can follow it Home, the feeling that's wrapped around Emily. She can follow it like a lifeline, or a lightpost in the dark. It's a brightness, not unlike the quintessence that swims in her pattern. She is brilliant to their Awakened eyes, if a little plain and humble to mundane senses.
The petite Orphan wanders over, tumbler in hand, and Emily scrutinizes her carefully, but not unkindly. This place has not been kind to the Apprentice, see. This place has not been Home, has not been Safe, has not been welcoming. It has pushed itself into her head, piercing pain behind her eye, it has Called her from her other studies, it has forced her to the edge of her understanding of mortality.
But Israel is gentler, warmer with a sense of levity and lightness than she had not expected.
"Thank you," the girl says, softly, and it is not a direct answer but it is an open door. "I really didn't mean to intrude," she explains, glancing past Israel and back toward the living quarters.
There was more she wanted to say, but the Hermetic Whoever He Was, was twitching. His enmity had followed Israel already to where Emily was, and there was no thin threading of Home that could calm the younger Orphan now. Her breath catches between her teeth, and she tears her attention away from Israel and turns it toward Basil. Casts it onward to Solomon.
There is anxiety, there. Wide-eyed and piercing. There is very little space to move away from the smaller woman, in this corner by the message board. There is also a budding protectiveness that would not have her walk away.
Emily swallows, hard, and bites her tongue. Sometimes she is smart enough to shut her mouth before being told.
[Basil Gillingson] Basil action: Block Sol's swing.
[Israel Cohen] Israel: Knock Out, effect.
[Solomon Ward] [Since i did it chilltank, I'll put it here for integrity. Sol's Action: Punch Basil]
[Israel Cohen] Rolling!
[Israel Cohen] Rote: Knock Out. [[Mind 3, Prime 2. Base Diff. 6. - 1 [Foci], -1 [Practiced], -1 [Quint]. 2 sux needed to affect Basil. Rest suxx for duration. [WP]]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 3, 6, 10 (Success x 4 at target 3) [WP]
[Basil Gillingson] Willpower 6; diff 8
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 5, 5, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 8)
[Solomon Ward] Schaaawwiinnnggg.... Punching Basil, Dex 3, Brawl 5 (Earlier past Lives moved raised it 2+3)
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 5, 5, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Basil Gillingson] Dex 2 + Brawl 1, Blocking
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 5, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6) [WP]
[Solomon Ward] Damage 3 (Str 2 +1 extra sux)
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 8, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Basil Gillingson] Soak: Stamina 3
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 4, 5, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Israel Cohen] [[ooc: Gonna recap. After I recap if anyone else wants to try to jump in they can roll Initiative. As it stands the order is as follows:
Israel: 14
Basil: 13
Solomon: 9]]
[Emily Littleton] ((Init, just in case Dex3+Wits3))
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 9
[Israel Cohen] Things go from bad to worse. It seems to be a trend of the evening.
The Hermetic is unsuccessful in intimidating the Orphan, though he has certainly re-claimed her attention. And suffice to say his words were not the apology the Knight was looking for. A piercing sorrow, bittersweet and ancient, slices through the air as Israel doesn't waste a breath on a response but senses what is coming and acts. She stuns the Hermetic [stoking his ire] while the Chorister swings. As Basil staggers slightly - not falling [stronger than that], it throws off Solomon's strike just enough to be little more than glancing.
[Nathan Spriggs] [Init: Dex 3 + Wits 3]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1
[Israel Cohen] New Order:
Emily
Israel
Basil
Sol
Nathan
DECLARE!
[Emily Littleton] Declare: Get out of the way!
[Nathan Spriggs] [Stopping zee fight (grabbing Sol)]
[Basil Gillingson] Basli: Casting Forces electricity rote
[Nathan Spriggs] (Change to Basil*)
[Solomon Ward] Another punch to basil
[Basil Gillingson] Rote: Casting Forces rote, conducting electricity through my body
[Israel Cohen] Israel: Knock Out Again - on Basil.
[Emily Littleton] Declare (in the right place): Get out of the way!
[Israel Cohen] OOC: Rolls! Syll - I'll give you the get out of the way unless you really want to roll Dex + Ath?
[Emily Littleton] ((I do not really wish to roll! Thanks! *moves em out of the line of fire!*))
[Israel Cohen] Rote: Knock Out. [[same as before.]]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 7, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 3) [WP]
[Basil Gillingson] Willpower 6 (Resist!)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 6, 6, 9 (Success x 1 at target 8)
[Nathan Spriggs] (Changing to stopping Sol)
[Solomon Ward] Eh, Sol's not going to hit him if he's knocked out.
[Israel Cohen] ooc: Recapping. Then we can resume posts for two rounds while Basil is out.
[Israel Cohen] It continues:
Emily is fast. Damned fast. She might only be an Apprentice in Magic but she is no fool in life. Seeing what is going down the Orphan moves the hell out of the way. Israel, hand firmly dug into her pocket, fondling a coin within and murmuring guttural, throaty words in an Ancient language few people alive speak on a regular basis. This time the Hermetic counters her assault [a testament to his Will] but is unable to thwart the full brunt this time. Without grace he falls down, his mind overloaded on a Prime reinforced shock-wave.
Israel is calm and hawkishly focused during the castings; now as she hears him fall and feels the fruition of her effect she is near shaking. Not in fear, but the aftershocks of uncommon rage. "Of all the idiotic... Well now what, Sol? He's going to be all the more irate when he awakens. And it won't be too long."
[Nathan Spriggs] Nathan had been about to act when it all ended as quickly as it started, instead he simply stood there watching them. His eyes went down to the unconscious Hermetic on the floor as he waited for someone to do something about him. Instead, he walked over to the man, eyes going up to Israel as he did, "Well, can't leave him on the floor, gets in the way. I'll throw him on the couch unless you prefer the porch or sidewalk?" It was all he had to say about the guy, who'd earned every moment of this.
[Solomon Ward] Solomon's shoulder's heave. Not with exertion, he only swung one punch and it was glancing at that. The man was furious. His left temple had a vein that looked about ready to explode. His face was flush red. A quick glance over his shoulder, seeing what the others were up to. He knew he may have stepped over yet another line this time. Again, not the first impression he wanted to make.
The priest looks like his head might explode in a moment, and his breathing is only just barely calming itself down. He reaches up to the large priests coat he wears for the winter cold, persistent that is of late, and unbuttons the top three clasps that keep it closed. A precaution.
"I'm going home... though I'd rather we figured out what to do with him before I leave" A shrug.
[Emily Littleton] Emily had learned one thing early on in her Awakened career: when in doubt over what was about to go down, get the hell out of the way. It had served her well at the Chantry before, it had worked with the Marauder, and now it had worked with the introduction to intra-Tradition politics she'd just witnessed.
The younger Orphan is, wide-eyed, nearly pressed into the opposite corner of the room and regarding the remaining with open skepticism. Perhaps, after a few more years of this, it would be disdain or hostility. Right now, though, it read a little more like You have to be fucking kidding me!
She took a little step forward, peered over and down at Basil. He wasn't dead, right? Her brow furrowed a bit. He could be dead. She didn't rightly know what the others had done. Emily could Life scan him and find out, but the prospect of using magic in that room just now left her cold.
Instead she looked over that the Priest (who'd just taken a swing at someone) and the tiny Orphan and asked... "Is he... going to be alright?"
Apprentices ask the silliest questions.
[Israel Cohen] "Mmmm." Shaking her head, obviously displeased with the entire turn of events. "He'll be fine, Emily. I stunned him; no lasting damage will take place. At most he will be a little bruised from the fall." She sighs then and shakes her head. "Well we can't just leave him here and leave. Nathan, do you have a car? I can keep him stunned for the time it takes to take him some place near enough but not right at the Chantry sidewalk. That would draw attention. Then I can watch from a distance to make sure no harm comes to him when he awakens. And that will, hopefully, be that."
[Israel Cohen] Rote: Knock Out. [as per before! [WP]]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 3) [WP]
[Owen] [Per + Aware, whatcha'll doooin'? Oh look, pretty colors. (-2 Diff Acute Senses)]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 4, 6, 7 (Success x 3 at target 4)
[Nathan Spriggs] Nathan shook his head, taking a look around the room for the other's reactions. After a few seconds, he once more remembered Israel couldn't see him shake his head and he responded to her question with words, "No car, don't even know how to drive... I think there are rooms upstairs, however. I can't go due to not having a Cabal, but Solomon could take him."
[Solomon Ward] "Just toss him in the back yard, and throw a beer bottle next to him." ... brilliant disguise there, 007.
The priest shrugged again before reaching into his pocket and digging up his keys. He was already heading for the door.
"Good evening every one, and my apologies for what took place"
[Emily Littleton] Against her better judgment, the younger Orphan found her voice again.
"You can borrow mine," she says, when Nathan says he doesn't have a car of his own. Then again, there's the possibility that none of them know how to drive. "It runs, most of the time, and if you bring it back here I can get it after the meeting."
She's not offering to drive, see. She's not offering to transport the body of another Mage, dead or otherwise, anywhere. Not from this place. But the car, they can borrow that.
[Israel Cohen] "No. Initiate Gillingson needs to cool down and he is not doing it here in this chantry." On this she is firm. Very, very firm.
Nathan has no car and Solomon... just leaves. On some level that leaves her looking briefly exasperated and stricken. She sighs then, "Emily, I hate to ask it of you, but do you have a car?"
[Jonathan Kincade] Jonathan just remained standing at the back of the room where he had been conversing with Nathan. He had been silent during the altercation between the two other mages. It wasn't his fight and he wasn't privy to how it had started.
They start talking about what do with the unconcious body and Jon just frowns. He then pipes up as people ask about cars and so forth "I have a car."
[Nathan Spriggs] Nathan sighs at those words, before turning to Solomon. Now was definitely not one of his top ten moments to do this, or even the proper place since others were listening, but what the hell. While he still remembered it. "By the way, Father Wards. My name's Nathan Spriggs, for future reference." See that? He'd learned a lesson... sort of. Maybe.
Then to Israel, "Guess I'm on drive duty. It can't be too hard and I've seen it so I have a rough idea..." He really needed to learn how to drive.
[Emily Littleton] "Yeeees...." she says, drawing the syllable out with her displeasure at the inevitable turn of events. Every time she came here, she either got stuck in a meeting or moving bodies. But she couldn't let the inebriated person drive. That was illegal in many ways. And a bad idea.
[Owen] A floorboard creaks.
A hooded figure is making his way up to the door of the Chantry when voices, and a certain predilection to workings of magics in the air still his progression. So, rather, instead of rapping on the door in an attempt to make good on a certain Hermatic's offer, Owen Page is stepping back up so that shadows mask his presence altogether -- watching as Solomon Ward exits the house. Then, pushing his hood back off his brow, he's pulling open the door in the older Chorister's wake and slipping inside, much as always, barely noticed until he is.
"Israel," the Initiate's attention is instantly on the Orphan Disciple whose resonance is still so strongly twined with the air. "What happened?"
[Israel Cohen] ooc: Okay folks! It's late for me. Gaki has graciously agreed to allow this plot [heh, which means Israel is SO dead in, like, a day so.. yeah. Ouch.]. So I'm gonna post again and then Israel and SOMEONE need to take a car and take Basil to a nearby park or lot, from which point Israel will watch on with Corro to make sure he wakes up fine and unharmed.
[Emily Littleton] "I can..."
Jon's offering his car, so Emily stops short of saying she can drive. And then Nathan, who just said he doesn't know how, offers to drive Emily's. Which brings her back to, "No, no, it's alright. I can drive. So long as he doesn't wake up."
A glance to Basil, nervously.
But then there's Owen, standing in the doorway, addressing Israel with a tone of voice that is oh-so-familiar. And Emily's gaze drops to the floorboards. Her voice stills.
[Israel Cohen] There is confusion over the issue of who is going to driving whom.
In the end, she holds up a hand. "Okay, simple way to solve this: Jonathan, what is your Rank within your Tradition?" When he gives her a response she nods. "Alright. We'll go in Jonathan's car. Emily, I'm very grateful for your offer, but on the off chance Gillingson does wake up, I would not endanger an Apprentice needlessly. And, like Solomon, I'm sorry for what happened here, today. If at some point you'd like I could explain it more thuroughly..." And, yes, she does take the brief time to give Emily a card.
When Owen enters, speaking her name she stiffens slightly at first - on guard. tense. - then recognizes the voice and the glimmer of resonance and sighs. "This man, Initiate Gillingson, a guest here at the Chantry, threatened me. And then attempted to intimidate me. Cooler heads - on all parties involved - did not prevail, I'm sorry to say. But as a member of this Chantry I would not allow the slight. So, in a word: Politics and bad manners." Her lips twist with distaste. She is not at all proud of what went down here, not her part, certainly. "I knocked him out. He is stunned, but otherwise unharmed."
Rubbing a hand over her face, the other hand holds the large gold coin, at the ready to continue an extended rote on the move, nodding in the direction of Jon and Nathan's voices. "You guys ready?"
From there they will go.
[Israel Cohen] ooc: Okay! They won't be taking him far, So DA and Drop, you guys can jump right back into the scene after a couple rounds or whatever, depending on what people want. This work for everyone?
[Nathan Spriggs] (Good night and thanks for the scene. Hope we didn't ruin things.)
[Jonathan Kincade] Jonathan turns as he hears his name being mentioned "I'm an Initiate, I believe that is the term is used by most of you." and then he nods several times "Okay my car it is"
He jingles the keys and then speaks again "I'll go get the car ready."
[Owen] The Initiate glances at Emily, noting her presence and then scans the collected; his jaw tenses. "Wait. Where are you taking him?" A beat, Israel tells him, no doubt. "Don't leave him out in plain sight, I wouldn't leave my worst enemy out right now. Take him to St James, tell the Priest I sent you, he'll know what to do. It's safe."
This said, Owen lets them pass by.
[Nathan Spriggs] Nathan watches Jon and nods, "Late but I'm fairly well." A momentary chuckle followed, he seemed not to be on as high an alert as the others. Maybe he was just too used to bad stuff. "I'll help you carry him out."
[Emily Littleton] Emily accepts the Orphan's card with a quiet Thank you. Holds it between her fingertips for a long moment, and then slips it into her pocket. She makes sure that she's out of the way when they (re)move the Hermetic from them room, busying herself instead with bringing Israel's tumbler (Bacardi scented) to the kitchen for cleaning.
It took her out of Owen's immediate attention as well, which might have been a good thing. But her footsteps brought her back to the living room after not too long, hands in pockets, head bowed and countenance troubled. The tension abates, slowly, now that there are no active magics or threats, but the Orphan is not used to this yet. May never be.
[Owen] The Chorister scrubs a hand over his face, then, and nods to those departing with polite indifference, he swings to observe his to-be-Apprentice and moves toward her then, then stops when its clear she's headed for the kitchen. He doesn't follow on her heels doggedly demanding explanation for her presence here, rather, he takes up residence leaning against the wall until she returns; and she finds his dark eyes steady on her, concern their dominant expression.
"You alright?"
Quiet, steady.
[Emily Littleton] It's loosely threaded around her now, the feeling she retreats into when she's unsettled, frightened or sad. That preternatural sense of Home, degraded by the anxiety that swallowed it up and the swell of stronger magics that was disappating, slowly.
His dark eyes find her, hold her, and Emily stills. She is not entirely calm, and she is not entirely peaceful, but she is capable of keeping still, just now. Of keeping quiet.
"Yeah," she says, and they both know she's at least partially lying. Emily rarely said yeah instead of yes, and the cant of her smile was all wrong. In her pockets, her hands ball to loose fists. Relax.
[Owen] He grimaces at her answer, and at the twisted version of a smile she casts his way.
He knows she's not being entirely truthful and he can't exactly blame her. He wasn't alright for months after the first time he witnessed magic in use. Ordinarily, with the manner they'd been growing closer over the past few weeks, he might have reached out to her, taken her into his arms briefly, offered comfort as more than verbal inquiry, but he can still feel the aftershocks of the other night hanging over both their heads, like speech bubbles yet to dissipate, so instead he remains where he is, though the fingers of one hand twitch spasmodically to curtail any such motion to reach out toward her.
"It gets easier," he offers instead, and a corner of his mouth plays with a haunted smile. "Never better, but easier."
[Emily Littleton] He could have pulled her in, and she would have gone willingly. But Owen doesn't. He stills his hand and keeps his distance. Emily crosses her arms low over her middle and shrugs one shoulder. As if it didn't bother her, this new space. The distance.
"It's still better than last time," she says, with a macabre little chuckle. It doesn't become her. This rigidity does not become them. It is a strain, and she knows it. He knows it. It's the elephant in the room, long after all the other stresses have faded away.
"About the other night," she says, unable to breach the physical distance but willing to breach the verbal one. For now. "I'm sorry," she says, and it's genuine. It aches. "I shouldn't have just showed up, and I shouldn't have pushed you like that. My head wasn't right, and I didn't mean to upset you."
There's a moment when she's able to find and hold his eyes, but it doesn't last. Emily is not ready to find rejection there again, or a clench in his jawline. She takes a deeper breath, looks away, and shifts on her feet. Ready to go. One foot already out the door. Emily is always so quick to leave; a glance to the doorway, then back to him. The familiar, formiddable silence between them.
[Owen] "Don't."
He says, when her eyes cut away, when she takes a step toward the door to leave [again]. There's a intensity fueling the dark eyes level on her, fueling the terseness in his voice. He moves smoothly, Owen. One moment he's all ease and casual lean grace against the wall and in another he's in front of her, blocking her exit, flooding her personal space with his own flavor, the lick and burn of his own resonance [intensity, can you feel that pressure?]. It's there and gone, much as it had been when he'd first turned up tonight, casting his own senses out to absorb the lingering after-shocks of another's workings in the air.
"I'm sorry about that," he continues stiffly, forcing his lips to move, throat to rumble words. "It's not your fault, it wasn't your doing." A beat, he extends a hand, half cautiously as though expecting the pull away, the refusal at any second, if it doesn't come, he cups it around her cheek, thumb stroking her jaw. "C'mere."
It's all he says, eventually, to finish, and invites her into his arms [safety].
[Emily Littleton] They are well-paired, these two lost-and-found souls. (Rent and mending) She was so practiced at pushing people away, he so uncertain at letting them near. There's the push of his resonance at the edge of her Awareness, calling up the new overtone in her own. Pushing, though Emily fights back the urge to yield, to step away. She is stronger than she thinks, than she knows.
His hand finds her cheek, and the Orphan's eyes close. Relief ([acceptance]) floods through her. Palpable. Clear. She is gathered against him, wrapping her arms around him, holding him for a moment in the living room of that hateful house. There is no hesitation, no flinching away.
He welcomes her in, she pulls him close: they are well paired, these two. Fragile. Uncertain. But mending.
[Owen] He holds her close for a few moments, lending her the strength contained in his own form, his arms wound around her, one palm soothing patterns over her back before he pulls back; away. Far enough to glimpse her face, and smile down at her, a touch resigned. "I think I'm doomed to find you in situations like this." He glances back at the front door where the others had departed, and then fully breaks away from Emily.
"I should wait, make sure they found the Church."
It's settling into the young Chorister's awareness that this is the first occasion he's really had to explore the Chantry, his prior visits always contained simply to the front living area. He lets his eyes take much of it in, and then nods toward the path Emily had taken earlier. "Kitchen through here?" He's exploring, then. Pushing open doors, and opening closets, discovering the makings of strong coffee for himself, and tea, no doubt, for Emily.
[Emily Littleton] "It's not like I seek them out," she insists, earnestly. There's a flicker of a rueful expression, fleeting on her features, mingling with mild frustration, fading just as quickly as it had appeared. Owen lets her go, starts to explore the Chantry, and Emily's hands go back into her pockets.
She hasn't look around much, either. Emily knows her way to the message board, to the meeting room, and right back out again. They are not proper members of the Chantry, having no cabal to call their own, so she follows him back toward the kitchen with a little wariness.
"Do you think we're allowed to wait here?" she asks, while he's looking in cabinets and finding the fixing for coffee. And tea. (Yes, she'd prefer tea, thank you.) She found an out of the way cupboard to lean against, adopting a stance that mirrored his earlier cant. She is not as interested in exploring the once-Nephandic-tainted building as he is. It shows in the way she watches the doorways and windows. The nervousness that does not fully abate while they're here.
[Owen] Do you think we're allowed to wait here, there's uncertainty in the Apprentice's voice that has the Initiate smiling despite himself as he pours steaming water into two cups, and hands her one, a dark brow rising. "I think as long as we mind our respective manners, and don't go around knocking people out, we should be alright."
A beat, he too takes in the windows, the doorways. But there doesn't appear to be as much uneasiness in the Chorister's frame, he seems, truth be told, quite untroubled. "Besides, we're just here to ensure things went smoothly, then we'll leave."
Owen sips his coffee, sets it down.
[Emily Littleton] Emily wraps her fingers around her mug, more for warmth (comfort) than with any intention of actually drinking it. There's a flutter against her knuckles, the tea bag's tag settling against them, that draws her attention for a long moment. She captures the string between two fingers; it's a simple thoughtless thing. (It controls one [little] chaotic element.)
She wants to chuckle at his choice of words, wants it to be funny, to be able to find the warmth within that would shape a wry smile. Instead, Owen gets a look that says it is too soon to laugh about this evening. It is a stern, deadpan expression. It, too, fades quickly. She's rounded her shoulders, held the mug against her chest--at her sternum, where her locket usually lies. The aroma, thin and tannic though it is, is calming.
"The Priest took a swing at him, too," she reports, watching Owen carefully for his reaction. Emily wouldn't be terribly surprised if he told her, now, that she would be required to learn some ancient art of God-fu upon joining the Chorus. For the defense of Chantries, and other Magi's honor. Or some such thing.
[Nathan Spriggs] After a good while has passed, the two inside the chantry would hear the halt of a car and the headlights blaring out. Soon after, the sound of doors opening as the two returned from their successful mission. Nathan in particular was pleased he'd taken Basil there, just for fond memories. In the aftermath, he headed to the porch, walking as silently as he could as to not disturb any neighbors and took hold of the door knob, turning it and pushing the door open.
First thing he did when it was open was peek into the chantry, carefully and quietly, trying not to disturb anyone. If there was no one in the living room, he'd head inside just as quietly and take a seat on the couch after a night of work.
[Jonathan Kincade] Jonathan followed Nathan inside teh Chantry and then into the living room. Finding a seat , he slid down into it.... very much glad that it was so much quieter in this room that earlier in the evening.
[Owen] The Priest took a swing at him, too, she says and Owen pauses, cup mid way to his mouth for a sip.
"Huh." He says, deceivingly unaffected by the news. Perhaps Solomon was not quite as to be avoided as Owen had previously imagined if the Priest was willing enough to take a swing to bring a potential threat down. The door opens, then, and all prior mirth contained in Owen bleeds out, replaced with the more tell-tale markers of his watchful demeanor.
"C'mon," he says, and takes his coffee, pushing through into the living room where the Cultist sat, recovering after a long night.
"Well?" Hello Nathan, how are you, this apparently sufficed for. People skills, he did not have in abundance.
[Emily Littleton] She turned her head at the sound of the front door opening, and then followed Owen out into the living room. The Orphan carried her mug with both hands, blew carefully across the surface and then hazarded a sip. It was not entirely disappointing. Emily was calmer, now, than when Jon and Nathan had left. Better contained and less wide-eyed with worry.
"You two alright?" she asked, expounding on Owen's question somewhat. There's a note of genuine concern underlying the few short words, but Emily's drawn a little thin this evening. And Riley isn't there to bolster her friendliness quotient.
[Nathan Spriggs] The Cultist lay on the couch, minding his own business as the other two returned, his companion on the trip taking a seat near him. At their approach, he got up from his place, leaning over the top of the couch to see them. A careful glance at Jonathan first, eye contact as though secretly indicating him not to disclose certain... events, then back to Emily and Owen with a smile.
"Relatively. He didn't wake up, if that's what you mean." He spoke with relief, as though he'd feared the thought too, his eyes meanwhile studied them carefully, their clothes and features. "Huh." That was all he had to say to that.
[Jonathan Kincade] Jonathan offers an easy smile towards Emily "Yeah I'm fine, didn't run into any problems. Finding the Church was easy enough as well."
The Virtual Adept leaned back into the chair he had claimed, A hand reaching up as he ran fingers through his hair. The message from Nathan received and unstood, there was no idea for him to give him a reply.
"Any change of events here ?"
[Owen] [Iz you eyeballing my clothes, man? Per + Alert]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 5, 8 (Failure at target 4)
[Owen] If the Cultist is attempting to make some sort of unspoken comment on the fact of Owen and Emily being exactly as they'd left them with that look, and that huh, it is completely missed by the Chorister. Perhaps he's just too preoccupied listening to the re-cap on what had taken place to much care. The midnight blue eyes do flick toward Jonathan however, after a minute and he makes his silent study of the other man.
"Good." He comments, in his taciturn manner, and downs his coffee in remarkable speed, given how hot it still was. "No," is the answer to any change of events taking place while the pair had been gone. "If that's it, we should get going." Owen zips up the front of his hoodie, and buries one hand in a pocket, cutting a glance at Emily.
"You need anything?"
[Emily Littleton] Emily shook her head a little. "All quiet on the western front," she replied, with just the faintest echo of her wry smile coming through. She'd caught the little moment, unspoken, between them, but didn't make any mention of it or have any need to guess what passed between them. She didn't pry, that was.
Nathan's cursory inspection of their well-being met with a little half-raised eyebrow and querying look from Emily. Huh, he said. Her mouth quirked, then relaxed. She said nothing.
"Israel alright?" she asked, as they marched their way down the list of things to check in about. They two were fine, the Chantry was fine, hopefully Israel was fine... but Emily wasn't going to ask after Basil.
Then: "Oh," Owen is saying the should be going. It is a bit of a surprise, but not unexpected. Emily is eyeing him, curiously, then moving to take up his coffee cup. She's offering the other two warmer smiles (I'm sorry) to ease the abruptness of that segue.
"It seems we're leaving," she explains. Easily enough. "Let me just go wash these out first."
The apprentice headed back toward the kitchen to take care of their mugs. It means the Chorustor is alone to fend for himself with the other men in the living room for a few minutes.
[Nathan Spriggs] Nathan's mind was on the take, actively gathering little bits and pieces of information on the Chorister, for one he seemed to speak in one-liners. Or at least when his temper was under control. Another thing of note was he seemed... possessive? Well, that'd explain his original over-protectiveness.
A small smile curled on his lips at Emily's question on Israel, fading just slightly as she seemed to go along with what the guy said. It was then it struck him, a thought that had slipped his mind in all the happenings, Emily would recognize it though. "Oh, know who I ran into the other day? Our old friend Jack with the Wings of Liberty."
[Nathan Spriggs] (Scratch any mention of Jack)
[Nathan Spriggs] Addendum: "So, Owen... What do you do exactly?" Standardized conversation started here we go.
[Owen] Owen doesn't appear particularly phased [or perhaps he's just unaware] of how brusque he can be at times. With his height topping out at just over 6'1, he was an imposing figure to begin with, pairing it with his arms crossed over his chest as they were at present, and his ever-present intent gaze, well.
It was no wonder that words like possessive and over-protective crossed Nathan's mind.
There's a pause, a hesitation, then: "That Church you just came back from, I work there." A brief spasm of amusement at the obvious notion that reply would bring, but there's no sign of a collar around his neck. "Maintenance." An up and down scrutiny of Nathan ensues. "You?"
[Emily Littleton] There's the sound of washing up from the kitchen. Running water. The quiet tink of ceramics settling against the tile of the counter top. It takes a few moments, to wash both mugs, to dry them, to set them aside and wipe down the counter tops. For those few moments, Owen will just have to be social.
It takes longer than the give-and-take of one question. Especially because Owen's answers were painful concise and to the point. While she isn't dawdling, Emily does not come back to the room just yet. Maybe after the next question. The next answer.
[Nathan Spriggs] Nathan nodded slightly at the man's answer, worked at a church, of course. That was the nice (and annoying) thing about Choristers, they were so bland, so... predictable. But not really. Solomon definitely wasn't, to him at least.
"Stockbroker, also do some other connected legal work on the side." His tone was matter-of-factly, just exchanging facts, like saying 'nothing to see here folks, move along'. "Been one of us long?" The 'us' he referred could be taken two ways, Awakened or just a member of the chantry period. Both were more or less his question.
[Jonathan Kincade] Jonathan listens as he asks Owen a question, Jonathan hadn't met the silent and stoic man before. Or if he had, he couldn't remember when or where it was. Owen answers that he does maintenance for the church they just visited.
"I'm Jonathan by the way" and he extends his hand to Owen, "Jonathan Kincade.... I don't think we've met before"
Jonathan tilts his head as he hears Nathan mention he's a stockbrocker. An eyebrow raised but Jon says nothing further, then his attention drawing back to the topic at hand.
[Owen] Now, let's get one thing straight. Owen Page in no way, shape or form trusted Nathan Spriggs. The prior occasion he'd had to witness the other Mage in action had resulted in an argument, the discussion of a particular Apprentice now in the other room to them, and Nephandi, among other things.
To say that it had left a bad taste in the young Initiate's mouth was an understatement -- however, he was doing his level best not to allow the first impression to diminish the more practical knowledge that the more awakened he knew within the city limits, the better equipped he'd be when he had Emily under his full tutorship. So, when the Cultist oh-so-casually informs him that he's a Stockbroker, there's nothing, not a flicker of the eye or any other facial twitch to suggest that Owen in no way believes him.
It's hard to tell, honestly, if Owen was thinking much of anything at all, his face was closed off, impassive. Been one of us long, is asked. "Long enough," is the concise response, before the Virtual Adept is extending his hand to shake, and the lean Chorister is forced to loosen his arms, and lean down to shake it, which is does, his palm clasping the other man's, fingers grasping his forearm before releasing.
I'm Jonathan Kincade, I don't think we've met before.
"We have, here, actually." A beat, Owen's brow ridges upward. "Men bearing guns."
[Nathan Spriggs] If there was any displeasure at the Chorister's response, it didn't show on his face, though he did react to the mention of men bearing guns. It was something he hadn't heard of, in memory. The whole trading information schtick was over, no more fake pleasantries. Now there existed only one question in his mind. "Men with guns...?"
[Emily Littleton] The apprentice in question returns to the room, rubbing her hands together to ensure that they were now completely dry. Leaving and, now, returning has given her a good opportunity to look over the assemblage with her own carefully measured gaze. To take in the (begrudging) shift to Owen's posture as she shakes hands with Jon; to inspect the expression that Nathan wears; to get a glimpse of the Vdept to counterweight other impressions, reflections.
Let it be known, somewhere in the back of their minds, that Emily was every bit as shrewd and watchful as her soon-to-be mentor. She was just quieter about it, less overt and intense.
The Orphan let her footfalls sound out just enough to catch the edge of their attention. It was a polite thing, like knocking before entering a room. Her hands find her way into her pockets again. Her body language is plain, fairly open and somewhat expectant.
Emily looks to Owen, and there's a query there (You ready?) that goes unvoiced.
[Owen] Men with guns.
"Yes," Owen's expression softens a touch when the Orphan re-surfaces, his harder edge smooths just a little, and its evident he's more comfortable with her there while he's being forced to interact with others, a strange harmony then; the teacher leaning on the student in another form.
He glances at Emily, then Jonathan. "Cleaning up after the former tenants here, if I recall correctly." Then his hand is finding the shelter of a pocket once again. "We should head off," he takes a minute, then nods and begins to make his way toward the door, leaving Emily to make whatever goodbyes she so desired.
[Emily Littleton] "It was a bad night," Emily adds to Owen's explanation. It was her turn to be taciturn and understated. The expression she wore, however briefly, said more than enough to fill in the blanks.
As did the fingertips that strayed to her temple, pushed back some imagined (remembered) pain.
There's a smile for each of the others. "I'll see you at the meeting, then?" she asks. It sounds a lot like good bye. Emily is moving to join Owen by the doorway already.
[Jonathan Kincade] Jonathan nods at Owen "That's right... I guess I just didn't see you there... or other things on my mind about that night "
A smile to Emily "Yeah till the meeting. Have a good evening the both of you."
[Nathan Spriggs] "Good night." It was all the man said as the two made to leave, and even that was mostly to Emily rather than Owen.
[Owen] When they're out the door, and down the stairs, crunching grass and gravel underfoot, the Chorister finally seems to breathe again, it rushes from his chest and he shakes his head a little, casting only one backward glance toward the Chantry. "Have I mentioned that I don't trust that guy," he says in an undertone.
"Stockbroker, my ass." Then, hunching his shoulders against the chill, he glances at her. "What's this meeting?"
to Emily Littleton
[Emily Littleton] The outside air is heavy with the impending storm. There will be thunder and lightning once it finishes rolling in. For now there is the thick, muggy-cold anticipation, with its pungent scent and the damp that clings to everything.
"You may have," Emily allows, casting a side-long look at the boy (not much older than she is) beside her. "Once or twice." A softer smile, humoring.
Her car was a few blocks away. For some reason Emily still did not feel comfortable approaching the Chantry. She did not look over her shoulder to see it fall out of view as they walked, either. No lost love there.
"No one called you?" She sounded a bit surprised. Then again, Owen didn't have a cell phone and even Emily didn't call his house line often. "Ashley rang earlier today. They're getting everyone together to talk about the Blue Horizon mess."
She exhaled, pushing a string of unspoken emotions out of her lungs. Putting them into that too damp night in a way that he might not notice or name, just now, focused as he was on other irritations (namely Nathan).
to Owen
[Owen] Their experience wasn't simply quantifiable by age alone, it was measured by magical development, by their awakenings, by the manner they interacted and related to those around them -- in the latter's measurement, it was the Initiate who was far younger than the girl he walked beside.
Emily is surprised that nobody had called Owen about it, he, as it turns out, is not. He seems mildly amused at her surprise, as if it were something to be expected, for what had he really done to pursue trust with any of them beside Emily, and perhaps, at a stretch, Ashley. "Blue Horizon, that Goo mess?"
to Emily Littleton
[Nathan Spriggs] His smile grew wider for a moment. "I think we might just be friends some day." If he actually believed in friendship anyway.
[Nathan Spriggs] (That was meant as a PM, sorry)
[Emily Littleton] "Mmm," Emily agreed, nodding a little. She hunched her shoulders against the cold and frowned a little. "Chuck sent an email around a little while ago. It's pretty bad news -- stuff's potentially weapon's grade explosive, sentient, and according to Henri's note on the board it's also Anti-Magic."
This gets a low chuckle, not at all mirthful.
"Which explains a few things..." Emily's hands come out of her pockets long enough for her to run at the inside of her left wrist. It's a familiar gesture. Owen has seen her do just this before, at the park one day. but when he inspected her arm there was nothing amiss.
"I'm not really sure what new news could be worse than that and require a meeting," she hazards, not really wanting an answer to that thought just now.
Her car's just ahead now, so Emily pulls her keys out of her jacket pocket. She'll unlock the passenger side for Owen, first. Hopefully he won't hear her quiet prayer as she makes her way around the car and unlocks her own door. If she's lucky, and God smiles on them tonight, then the car will start. Luckier yet, and the heater will work.
to Owen
[Owen] Weapon grade explosive.
Sentient.
Anti-Magic.
Lovely. The Initiate's expression darkens to one of clear displeasure at the thought of both things: the meeting and the potentially deadly sentient goo. "Yeah," he concedes, as they open car doors and slip inside the relative comfort and warmth of her car. Owen's hands free themselves from his pockets, and he chafes them together to rekindle heat between his palms, then settles back against the seat, clipping into place his seat-belt.
"I just hope it doesn't go the same way as the other." There's a brief grimace, he looks askance at Emily. "Too many Magi, to close for comfort. Tempers fray, like tonight."
And with that, if the Apprentice's prayers have been truly answered, they're away.
to Emily Littleton
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