Football and friends

[Riley Poole] It's hot in Chicago. This Memorial Weekend, the heat keeps most out of Lincoln park today, keeps them to their homes and their air conditioning.

Not Riley Poole. And not a number of the cities Awakened. The Virtual Adept is there already, awnings set up to create shade, a number of coolers set around a few of the park's outdoor grills. The smell of cooking meat hangs in the air, and there are picnic tables nearby with plates and plasticware and whatnot on them, just waiting for people to come and get food. Sit around and chat a bit.

As the first of the mages arrive, Riley, her hair pulled up in a ponytail, dressed in shorts and a tank top and her Converse high tops, is flipping burgers.

[Ashley] Ashley shows up not too long after Riley. Given the Hermetic's general social awkwardness and dislike of parties, it may be something of a surprise to see her here. Or perhaps not. It's necessary to be comfortable with such things for the sake of politics, after all.

She has the look of someone who is very tired, not necessarily physically but certainly emotionally, like she recently poured as much of herself as she could into some task. So she's a little wan, probably could have used a bit more sleep, but seems as cheery as she generally gets. She's dressed in a red T-shirt (an icon of a piece of paper thrown away into a wastebasket, ala a Mac recycle bin, only the file looks distinctly sad-faced about this) and a pair of longer brown plaid shorts of the variety the collegiate currently seem to favor.

Zane is trotting alongside her, leashed, bouncing and happy. Ashley raises a hand in greeting as she draws near the awnings. "Hey, Riley."

[Atlas Mason] One of the great things about a motorcycle with a sidecar is that it can carry so much more then a normal one. Today is no exception of course, as the size of the sidecar did not shrink overnight, or somehow become unusable in recent days.

And so the Son of Ether arrives on this hot, carrying his own cooler along from the parking lot. Unlike Riley, Atlas is not properly dressed for the weather as it would seem the man has only one style of clothing corduroy pants, a button up shirt, and suspenders. He either had no other sort of clothing...or he just didnt care.

As he approached the proposed gathering site he took in the view, of two women beneath the awning and the various grills and picnic tables scattered about the area. He also took time to take in the sights, the sky about him, the way the light played off the tree and the grass, all of these things slowed him down and brought his walk to almost a leisurely amble, if one could do such a thing in this heat.

"Ashley, Riley, appreciable social acquaintences!" He calls as he too comes into the speaking distance. "I have acquired several specimens of variety and size catagorically represented by the family Salmonidae." He says amiably as he steps into the shade, a thin layer of sweat already upon his brow

[Riley Poole] Riley turns her head when she hears her name. Smiling, she lifts the spatula in salute to the Hermetic.

"Hey, Ashley. Atlas. Glad you guys could make it! Uh." She stares blankly at Atlas as she tries to decide if Salmonidae is a word that she should have stored in her vocabulary somewhere. "You can just, uh, set it down over here? And I'll add it to the, uh," her smile broadens a little, "just set your cooler here, okay?"

There are other little things here and there. A folded blanket setting on one of the benches, a football, a frisbee. The spot Riley's chosen is near the baseball fields and the basketball courts, but either she doesn't own any equipment for those sports, or she decided not to bring them.

[Ashley] Ashley secures the dog's leash around one of the poles under the awning. The bowl she'd had under her other arm is set down, a water bottle from her pocket emptied into it, and she leaves the dog there for now.

Ashley perches on one of the picnic tables near the grill Riley is cooking at, seated on the edge of the table with her feet on the seat. "I probably should've brought something, huh," she says, a touch rueful, as she eyes Atlas' approach and then the clothes he is wearing with suppressed amusement.

"Are you a townie?" she asks Riley. "I figured most people would be traveling this weekend."

[Atlas Mason] Atlas steps over to Riley with a smile, and then sets the cooler down with a rather heavy thunk as if its was quite full and not half empty like most. In another moment the man pulls open the lid and within, are a variety of fish steaks, most of them look like salmon, but there is also trout and a few others, for those who know their fish.

Atlas then looks about at the two women as he wipes his brow with his forearm, clearing the sweat from his face in an attempt not to become drenched in his own bodily fluids.

"Would the percentiles of a relativistically algid liquid or semi liquid within this viscinity be favorable or otherwise?" He asks as he looks around.

[Riley Poole] [wazzat?: wits + enigmas]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 5, 6, 6, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] The Orphan is running a little late, which is unusual but not unheard of. Emily doesn't remember how long it takes to find parking at the parks on holiday weekends, because she rarely drives anywhere in any city at any time of year. She has patently impolite things to say about the young man driving a pickup who nearly ran over her mid-nineties compact "beater" to take the space she had been waiting on with her indicator flashing, like a sane and reasonable human being. She might have shouted something akin to Wanker! at him, from behind her rolled up driver side window.

Maybe.

Most likely it was an overtly sarcastic Thank you!, though, because Emily Littleton did not use such foul language. In English. In an English-speaking nation.

Once she's settled the car somewhere remotely safe, she makes her way to the gathering with her messenger bag slung across her body, and two large bowls stacked and balanced in her arms. She kicks along a black and white ball as she goes, sometimes relying on the kindness and aim of nearby youngsters to help get it where she's going.

The Orphan's wearing a navy halter top and khaki shorts. She's got on sneakers, and her right ankle is shrouded by one of those neoprene braces that barely shows above her sock. She's brought a fruit salad, and a german potato salad -- because those are good sides for a cookout, and don't require much fussing with once the festivities have begun. She's also got four markers in her bag for marking off goals, and the football she's been kicking along.

Someone likes their sport. Someone is also tired of shooting hoops.

"Hey, lovelies," she calls, as she nears the gathering. It's a surprisingly pleasant thing to hear, the little endearment on the British girl's voice sounds effortless and easy. "Can I get a pair of hands?" And if someone offers, she'll pass one of the salads off to them, or kick them the ball if they're less willing to get up and carry anything over.

It is hot.

[Riley Poole] "Pff," she says, waving her free hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure there'll be more than enough to go around. Oh, fish," she exclaims when she sees what the good doctor has brought to the party. Like the tumblers of a lock sliding into place, Riley understands what he means. Just like she usually does if she actually focuses her attention.

"There's beer and stuff in that cooler, and water and sodas in that one. And I hope you brought a change of clothes, man, because you are gonna die dressed like that."

It's about time for another turn of meat, this time brats (no hot dogs here). A pair of tongs, previously hanging from the handle of the grill, is retrieved for this. Only when she's satisfied that everything is cooking nicely does she turn back to Ashley.

"You could say that. Every couple years or so I visit my dad's family in Ohio. This is not one of those years."

[Ashley] Ashley remembers driving -through- Ohio and the vast emptiness that blurred into Indiana's vast emptiness, and the mention of the state earns Riley a wrinkle of the Hermetic's nose. "I don't blame you."

"Yeah, Atlas, I don't know what made you think corduroy pants were a good idea," she says, with a look toward the Etherite as she rises, hops off the seat of the table so that she can go and help Emily and take one of the salads from her. It's set to the side on one of the tables. One of the ones that isn't near Zane.

[Atlas Mason] Atlas nods his thanks to Riley as she indicates the coolers, and he moves swiftly over to them pulling open the lid to the water, a bottle is quickly plucked from the icey depths and the lib mercilessly cracked open. It might be quite the sight seeing Atlas down the bottle in one fell swoop, the plastic container held verticle to his mouth as the water is quickly chugged, and then the bottle placed in the waste bin.

He then claims a beer for himself as well, feeling the cool glass against his skin makes him smile before looking up at the three women around him. "My external environmentally protective layers of woven fabric was intended for use in an atmospheric climate based several degree's centigrade lower then the current atmospheric situation. I have no other situationally appropriate fabric available to me at this juncture."

He says with a sigh as he looks over to Emily and smiles in welcome. He notes the football she's brought with her, and seems delighted by its presence.

[Emily Littleton] "Cheers," she says to Ashley, when the Hermetic takes one of the over-sized salads off her hands. They're covered with cellophane, so nothing will bounce out unexpectedly. Emily sets the second salad down next to the one Ashley's just dropped off.

Digging her toe under the ball, she hefts it up a bit to where she can catch it in her hands. Then it gets tucked under one arm as she uses the other to pull her messenger bag over her head and free of her frame.

"That smells great, Ri'," she says to the Adept, and Atlas gets a smile and a little wave of her hand after she's set the bag and the ball aside. Even Zane gets a hello, in the form of some pets and head-scritches. It's a well-needed counterpoint to the night before, to possessions and the unrecanting presence of Umbrood at the Chantry.

Atlas says something, and Emily looks over as she's straightening up from saying hi to Zane. "The Midwest summers got to me too, when I first moved here," she says to Atlas, in a commiserating tone. "I'm still learning to acclimate." A brighter smile; as if he mode of speech was not at all disruptive or disorienting.

[Riley Poole] "Thanks," she says, beaming at Emily. "Oh, awesome!" she says when she notices the soccer (foot) ball, and she nods her head in the direction of the other sports related thing. "You can set that over there for now, Em, and maybe we can get something started when more people show." Though this might be it, just these four of them. Still, even that would make for a fun game of whatever they tried their hands at.

"Atlas, you and me, we're going shopping this week, and see if we can't get you dressing in this decade." She's teasing gently. There's nothing wrong with the way Atlas dresses himself, if one put aside the fact that it's almost ninety degrees out and he's dressed for temperatures under fifty. "If you get too hot, though, I'm pretty sure you won't offend anyone's delicate sensibilities if you want to take your shirt off."

Closing the lid over the grill, Riley sets her cooking utensils aside and heads over to the table to look at the salads. She looks delighted by the salads. "This is going to be so great, you guys. If anyone's hungry, by all means, dig in. The burgers should be done in a couple minutes, then the sausages. Then I'll get started on the fish."

[Ashley] Ashley looks toward the soccer ball, resigned to being stuck sitting at the tables should people play later. Then again, among mages, she can compensate without much worry about it drawing the wrong sort of notice, and the thought makes her brighten ever so slightly.

The Hermetic has a sense that this is the sort of gathering in which she should not be ambushing people or trying to teach them, and as a result is a little quiet, though it's not the brooding sort of quiet of someone who is unhappy. A little tired - she, like Emily, was affected by what she saw last night (moreover what she felt at the end, it's shaken her up again) - but making the effort to be friendly and cheerful. She retrieves a beer after Atlas does, cracking it open.

"Thanks for setting up something like this, Riley. I wouldn't have thought of it."

[Emily Littleton] It's shaken them all up, what they saw the night before. Emily's tucked that down deep, nestled it in beside all of the other things she will not let affect Riley's party today. It's the best she can offer, after letting her own issues ruin at least two gatherings in the last month. So it doesn't show around the edges of her smile, the worry and the weariness. And it won't touch her eyes, which are laughingly bright and an unencumbered blue.

Emily finds a water bottle in one of the coolers. She uses and extra piece of ice to wipe down her hands, then tosses it on to Zane who probably appreciates the cooldown.

Sausages, Riley says. Not Hot Dogs. This piques the foreign girl's interest and she sidles over to the grill to verify her hopes -- vindicated. Riley knows the difference between acceptable grilling meats and sad little American sausages.

"I haven't had Brats in forever," Emily says, coupling the hyperbole with a decidedly German-canted accented (for a moment). She can't help but wend and wind her way through accents; it's something most of them have gotten accustomed to by now. "And yes, thank you. And thank the Americans for their ineffable and understandable affection for all things grilled and outdoors!" She raises her uncapped water in a mock toast, but really, it was one of the few things she actively appreciated about American culture.

The Grill Parties. Cook-outs. Bar-be-ques. It was decidedly Continental and definitely summery.

[Atlas Mason] Atlas cracks his beer at almost the same time as Ashley and raises his bottle to the woman in silent toast. If the ageless doctor had been affected at all by last nights events, it did not show, his demeanor pleasant and happy, as if last night was nothing but the slightest hiccup in his long, long life.

Atlas listens as the woman chat amongst themselves, and gives Riley a grin as she speaks of Atlas removing his shirt, however he shakes his head to that. "It would be socially awkward and impolite for my physical structure to be so exposed." He waves a hand as if to dismiss the idea, even as his the sweat begins to bead upon his brow once more.

The man moves over to where the sausages were located, and gingerly snapped one up into a bun, before picking it up. "My internalized synaptic processes relating to curiosity and inquisitive inflection direct me to inquire as to the internal and originating origin of these meat tubes."

[Ashley] "It's not really inappropriate or impolite these days," Ashley tells Atlas, serious and apparently with the desire to be helpful. "A lot of guys do it."

Meat tubes, says Atlas, and the phrase provokes an amused snort before she suppresses it, lowering the bottle she'd been sipping from. "Sausages have been around forever," she tells Atlas. "I'm sure you've seen them before."

She hasn't yet moved to get any of the food. Trying to hold off, perhaps; it takes quite a bit of restraint for her to get herself to eat slowly to begin with.

[Riley Poole] Riley is oblivious to the trials and tribulations of last night. She doesn't know what shared secret lies between these three, kept on some unspoken agreement so that the general mood (of the cookout or its hostess) is not brought down. If Riley knew, her smile would be dimmer, and she'd want information, and whatever happened last night has no place at a festive social gathering.

Ashley, Atlas, and Emily are doing a fantastic job keeping what they've been through to themselves. Riley has no idea, and it doesn't occur to her to think Emily or Atlas are acting any differently than normal, or that Ashley's fatigue isn't school-related.

Riley grins at Emily's toast, her eyes darting to Atlas, no doubt finding a similarity in their speech patterns for a moment. "Oh, Atlas," she says, heaving a breathy sigh. She even manages to shake her head in something like disapproval or disappointment. Ashley tells him a lot of guys do it, and Riley says, "Yeah. 'sides, it'll be more socially awkward watching you pass out from heat exhaustion. Which reminds me, did anyone bring sunblock?"

[Emily Littleton] And that's the reason they keep mum: Riley's smile would be dimmer, and she'd demand information. There was time for that, later, when the focus wasn't supposed to be on Reverence (for the departed) and Revelry (for those left behind). Another day, and one fairly soon, they could sit down and discuss the visitation. Today there were hamburgers, brats, beers and salads, friends and football.

Today is a good day.

"I've got sublock in my bag, if anyone needs to share," she says, adding her helpful voice to the choir. And the girl was pale enough that it would likely be an SPF high enough to protect Atlas's virgin skin. "Besides, if you're roasting just sitting around here, how will I ever get you on the field to play football?"

Batted eyelashes, that sweetly cajoling smile. Emily wasn't trying to be manipulative -- yet -- but it was easy to see why it came so easily to her. There was a natural coquettishness to her light-hearted demeanor today.

But teasing only goes so far before she's making herself a plate, which should give Ashley the go ahead to dig in as well. For all her thinness, Emily can eat and she's curious enough to try one (or some) of everything offered ... over the course of the afternoon. It starts with a Brat, dressed with mustard and onions (no ketchup [Blasphemy!] or relish) and some of the side salads.

[Atlas Mason] Atlas shakes his head, his meaning obviously misinterpreted by Ashley and he gestures to the meat that sat upon the bun and tried to make himself clearer as the sweat began to run down his face.

"The particulars Ashley, my inquiry is about the particulars of this source of protein based edible. Is it a derivative of Bos primigenius, Gallus gallus domesticus or perhaps in some percentage from Sus domestica?"

His question restated, Atlas can't help but put down his beer and hot dog as he tries to fan himself from within the shirt, beating it against himself before realizing the futility of the matter.

He takes a moment to think about it, a long moment as he looks about at those gathered around him before he shrugs. "I will adjust my external fabrics to relegate my own epidermus exposed to the environment. My social renumerations are given preemptively to abate any undue social dynamic mis alignment." They are all joking, about it Atlas on the other hand seems slightly worried, or perhaps, even shy.

He starts to undo his shirt, one button at a time, careful not to pull at the fabric or damage one of the few clean shirts the man owns. The fabric loosens and once it reaches the line of his belt the man pulls his shirt from his pants, and removes the suspenders from his shoulders, letting the straps fall down around his waist. He takes one more apprehensive look around at the woman gathered there before at last removing the shirt in its entirety.

The why, as to Atlas' desire to not remove his shirt becomes painfully obvious at that point, the man's face and hands may not reveal much as to his life age, with the exception of his calloused hand, but his upper arms and torso tell a long tale. Scars, many of them adorn his body, for those who know what to look for, their are a minimum of five bullet wound scars, several burn scars on his shoulders and back, as well as what would appear to be claw, and bite scars across his torso and upper arms.

[Riley Poole] [manip + subt (don't laugh at the dice pool)]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 1, 6 (Success x 1 at target 6) [WP]

[Ashley] "It's -probably- Sus domestica, but you never really know with sausage," Ashley says, with a dubious glance toward the meat. The look apparently doesn't suggest any hesitance to -eat- it, though, since as soon as the three of them have helped themselves she does too.

A look toward Emily's sunblock while she takes a bite from it - Irish and Czech heritage is unfriendly to the sun, but she appears to be intent on trying to weather it, sun poisoning and all - before Atlas' scars catch her attention. A moment later she understands the man's hesitance; the mapping of her own skin is similar, though not quite as severe, and it's embarrassed her for some time.

She doesn't know what to say to reassure him, though, if anything would, so Ashley ignores it, doesn't look in his direction- which probably makes the man even more self-conscious, but at least it's well-intended.

[Emily Littleton] Atlas is unbuttoning his shirt while Emily is settling down at the table and getting ready to eat. They're discussing the finer points of sausage composition, and he's baring a lifetime of scars.

The youngest woman at the gathering sees them. They capture her attention for a moment, but she does not look away ashamed. Instead, she looks up to catch his eyes for a moment, to offer the steadiness in hers and a small smile. We all have our scars, it says, that look. There's a depth and compassion to it beyond her years.

And then she looks right back to what she's been doing all along. Fixing her plate. She says, as if there was nothing unusual with the way he looks, "Most Brats are usually veal or pork. Veal is less common here, so I assume they'll be mostly pork."

[Riley Poole] "Whichever of those means 'pork,'" Riley says with a laugh, his words but not his meaning lost on her. The tech geek is not used to calling things by their scientific names. "Or should be. There's a butcher's shop about a block away from my, uh," she stops mid-sentence. She had been pointedly ignoring Atlas as he unbuttoned his shirt, trying to be polite when everything in her practically screamed at her to tease jokingly. When he finally removed his shirt, Riley's head gave a shake. She frowns, and then forcibly drags her gaze away. She's lost her train of thought, doesn't even try to find it again. Instead she just grabs a plate and holds it out to the Etherite. She keeps her gaze firmly fixed on his face, and her smile is back to being just as charming as usual.

"So yeah. Pork. And totally safe for human consumption."

[Travis Grace] Some how, some way, Travis found out about the party in the park. It's to be a cook out, and while he wasn't a cook of any real repute - he does bring something to the swaray. It's a rather large Tupperware container of something - oblong like what a cake might be carried in.

He approaches from a side street, his car alarm chirping in his wake. There are sunglasses covering his eyes, his dark t shirt and tan cargo shorts very simple.

When he approaches the gathering it's on sneaker clad feet that tread quietly until he hits the grassy area, where twigs and rocks and other discarded items are crunched beneath his feet.

[Atlas Mason] Atlas watches the women around him and he frowns only for a moment, until relief cross his face as he feels a light breeze drawn across his back, the heat wasn't anywhere near so bad now that he was free of that shirt.

He cants his head to the left as Riley attempted to not stare, and he played along, accepting the plate, and her endorsement of the food. "I will verify your postulated hypothesis in mere cycles." He says with a smile and a nod, before he goes to take a bite of the hot dog chewing carefully, thoroughly before nodding once again, his mind made up.

"This cylindrical protein commestable is indeed one hundred percent homo sapien compatible." And then he returns to eating, one last look caste in Riley's direction.

[What are you synapses saying Riley? Per+Emp]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] She does look away, though, when Riley and Atlas have their somewhat awkward exchange. Emily turns her head and scans the park for any approaching familiar faces -- Awakened or not -- and lo, and behold, who does she see headed their way but Mr. Jet-set Lifestyle himself.

Emily cast a covert glance across the table to see if anyone else recognized the trim and rather good-looking young man. You see, it would just figure that her late night Horse instructor would be Awakened, and heading this way.

Now all they needed was Declan and Nico to complete the set of people she'd embarrassed herself in front of, this week. Either way, Emily waved across the park to the approaching Orphan. She's smiling, too, as if that spill never happened. Her hairs bound up in a ponytail that swings as she moves or looks about, and her shoulders and upper back are bare to the welcoming warm weather.

The magi are gathered at a picnic bench, the smell of cooking meats is heavy in the area, and there are various coolers and sports-related things scattered around them. And Zane.

[Ashley] "Sus domestica is pork," Ashley says, with a half-smile in Riley's direction. It's probably not much of a surprise that the Hermetic knows Latin; many older texts, after all, are written in it, and many members of the Order don't feel that they should have to translate such works for the benefit of young apprentices. Learn it or pay someone, is the attitude amongst many.

Her dog, a rather gangly, awkward young shepherd, is leashed to one of the poles holding up the pavilions with a water dish sitting in front of him. He's taken interest in the new figure, though it seems to be of the friendly variety, and is watching Travis' approach bright-eyed. The dog's excitement draws Ashley's notice, in turn, toward Travis. She raises a hand to the young man in a wave.

The look on Riley's face, and that Atlas noticed it, didn't go unnoticed by Ashley, so she says, "I think most of us who have been around a while have been shot a few times." Which is probably meant to reassure. And probably fails.

[Riley Poole] It's too nice or too hot, or the sun is angling down at them at just the right angle to keep Atlas from reading too much into Riley's reaction. Whatever she may have thought or felt when she saw those scars, it's been suppressed as 'rude' and pushed aside. He'll find out for himself if the brats are edible or not in just a bit. Riley just grins and issues a teasing challenge. "You do that."

When Emily glances at the gathered to see if anyone else recognizes Travis, she'll see that Riley very obviously does. She smiles when she sees him, lifts her hand in a wave. As one of the few mages in the city Riley has contact info for, she had called him up herself to invite the Orphan to the shindig. She's wearing a simple tank top and shorts against the heat, and her darker complexion makes her slightly less prone to sunburn than the people around her.

"Travis, hey, glad you could make it!" She spies the container, but rather than asking, she simply points out where Emily's German potato salad and fruit salad, the packages of buns, and the platters of hamburgers and brats.

"Oh god," she says, with a noticeable shudder, "I hope I don't get shot. Zombie hugs are enough, thanks."

[Travis Grace] Emily's wave is duly noted and the wealthy Orphan continues on his path toward their picnic area. When he approaches there's a nod for each person present, his gaze and how long it just so happens to linger on any one person is hidden behind his dark sunglasses.

"Here you go." It's said as he's settling his dish next to the Potato Salad. "I can't stay long but I thought I'd stop by ....those are fruit kabobs." He says, nodding toward the container. A hand is outstretched toward Zane, allowing the animal to sniff his fingers before he reaches in to pet him.

"Nice day to be outside." He says, offering the group a 1,000 watt smile. "...for once." He adds.

[Atlas Mason] Atlas chews away, apparently enjoying the sausage for all the mystery meat it may contain, and after every few mouthfuls he takes a drink from the beer he had opened. When Travis at last drew closer Atlas raised a hand in welcome as well, a friendly smile on his face, distracting somewhat from his shirtless, and scarred torso.

"The atmospheric conditions are favorable, however they are more realistically suited to a geographical locality some thousand miles south."

He looks about at the small group of awakened individuals who surrounded him, and for a brief moment, Atlas smiled to himself, as if something was just right.

[Emily Littleton] I can't stay long, he says, and Emily casts him a playfully mournful look. "Can't stay long?" she asks, mock-wounded. "Does that mean you're not up for a friendly game of football?"

By which, she does not mean American football. Travis has already helped her to the sidelines of the basketball court. He knows she wouldn't hold up well to tackle or even touch games. It's undoubtedly soccer she means, though good luck getting her to stammer through that silly Americanism more than once.

He's got the 1,000 watt smile. She's batting her eyelashes playfully. Given their histories, and what they already know of one another, the Orphans should be immune to one anothers' native charms. She looks away, though, before the pull of that personality can start to get to her. Besides, she has lunch to finish before they could all play.

They were all playing, right?

[Ashley] "Where are you rushing off to?" Ashley asks Travis, before popping the last of sausage and bun into her mouth. There's a sidelong glance toward the dog, who has given up begging long enough to happily sniff at the new orphan's hands. He's a friendly creature; it might be hard to believe he's hers, if he weren't sitting next to her feet.

The Hermetic is by far the smallest person here - the smallest by nearly a foot, in fact, even compared to the other women. Decidedly unathletic: what muscle is visible on her arms and lower legs is sinewy and stringy, clinging to the bone. It might be safe to assume she's sitting out.

She lifts the bottle once more, sipping from it and watching the apprentices (plus initiate) interact.

[Travis Grace] Travis is so fresh - so new even at his age - that he does not bear any of the war wounds so apparent on Atlas' body. Were he to remove his shirt it would be flawless, marked only by the purposeful ink from a tattoo gun and the scars of Mother Nature's wrath on one arm. When the Terminator like man speaks, lifts a hand in a wave, Travis does the same.

"Yeah...I wouldn't mind being booked at the Riviera Maya right now..." And for a moment there's a thoughtful air about him....as if he were considering getting out his cell phone, booking a flight and a room right then.

Hidden eyes shift to Emily and he smiles nicely, shrugging helplessly. "I know...I'm such a bastard." And something about the way he says hints that that might just be laced with a shred of the truth. "I have to meet someone about a piece of property or I'd love nothing more but to stay and get in on that game..." His tone carries nothing in it but honesty as he speaks to Ashley.

[Riley Poole] "It is pretty hot for this early in June," she agrees. "But, I think we're doomed to a year of extreme temperatures, my friend. All the more reason to get you some shorts, right?" She'd meant what she said earlier. Sometime soon, willingly or (more than likely) not, Atlas is going to find he has a personal shopper in Riley Poole.

Focus shifts from the shirtless older male to the younger one with the thousand watt smile. "So it's a hit and run fruit kabobbing, eh? Ah, such is life," she sighs dramatically. "Maybe some other time, then." She grins at that. It's no secret she finds Travis attractive. It's in her eyes when she looks him over, and the shift of her posture. It only lasts a moment before her attention shifts to Emily. "D'you mean football or football?" she asks, indicating the small collection of sporting equipment, Emily's soccer ball alongside Riley's American football, a frisbee beside them.

"I'm a little out of practice with both, unfortunately."

[Emily Littleton] "I mean football," she says plainly, as if there can be no confusion about it. It's a bit like when Atlas spoke plainly, in a sentence comprised entirely of scientific SAT words. She hazards a glance to her football, and then back at Riley.

She'd never really understood why the Yanks were so obstinate about this. Foot + ball = football. Hands + ball != football. There's a tiny culture clash at the table, then, but ultimately Emily recants with a shrug.

"Though really, whatever people want to play is fine by me." A smile. A look of mock-disappointment for Travis. "Even if it's basketball, again."

This? Is lighthearted teasing, and it elevates the Orphan above whatever troubles came home to roost last night. It pulls her away from the worries and the fear. It's good, even if no one will want to play later. Even if they'll have so many leftovers they could feed a small shelter. Her smile is warmer today than it's been in a long time.

[Atlas Mason] Atlas looks at his pants and squints, as if he were attempting to imagine himself wearing shorts, and from the perplexed look on his face, it was a safe bet to believe he just couldn't see it. He looked back up at Riley and grinned.

"If it is your desire to attempt a radical restructuring of my environmental layering system, you are willingly engaged to do so. So long as your personage is appropriately prepared to ineffect, argue against the gravitational forces of a singularity horizon disk."

He says it with that grin, and she could swear the man was joking around. Before he put down his beer and moved over towards the football, the english football and picked it up examining its surface, running his hands along the stitching, feeling the leather. "Ahhh it has been a considerable lapse in solar traversal cycles since I have last utilized and allocated superfluous time units towards this social physical activity."

[Ashley] They're debating over what to play. Ashley is finally tilting a sympathetic look toward the begging dog, and gives him one of the sausages. Zane retreats below the table, not to be seen again for a while.

Travis gets a quizzical look as he mentions both the Riviera Maya and seeing someone about a piece of property. It's hard to interpret the Hermetic's expression just then: maybe she's recalling when she first ran into him, when he'd passed out on the grass from, she assumes, drinking too much to get himself home. Maybe he has just found himself a place in her mind as Spoiled Trust Fund Baby.

'Maybe,' in this case, is just another word for 'certainly.'

She drains the rest of the bottle of beer, looking first for a recycling can - and if she doesn't find one, throws it away.

[Riley Poole] "The majority has it." Riley snatches the ball right out of Atlas' hands and jogs away a few steps before turning back. She's grinning ear to ear in that way that has earned her the trust of a number of different mages and broken a few hearts in her day. "Soccer it is."

She looks at Ashley and Travis then. "We'll need a fourth to make it even. Do you either of you want to join in?" Tossing the ball from hand to hand, she waits for an answer.

[Travis Grace] Travis pushes his glasses to the top of his head and smiles at Riley and then Emily. "Hey ...it doesn't have to always be basketball. Believe it or not - despite everything - I'm really a team player." Grey eyes shift toward Atlas and the discussion of his pants and the Orphan laughs and shakes his head.

"Whatever, Atlas. Don't let these ladies try to change how you roll. If pants are your thing then right on." A solid, firm nod is given to the man with the odd manner of speech.

The idea of Travis that Ashley has formed is solid. It isn't hard to to figure out that Travis is a child of wealth. He wears watches that cost upward of six figures. His clothes are quality and very costly, his glasses are a pair of Ray Ban Wayfarers and as white as his shoes it's possible he has a pair for everyday of the month. He does not carry with him the burden of responsibility most men his age bear. There's no worry lines or wrinkles ...nothing that says he's ever had a concern bigger than where do I want to spend my next thousand dollars.

"Can't..." he says, frowning. "Hey....when I 'm done I'll drive by and see if you guys are still here..." A hand lifts in a wave then, "I gotta run guys...have fun!" And with that he's turning to go unless stopped.

[Emily Littleton] She's clearing her plate to the rubbish bin, while Riley's rustling up a game. It brings her past Travis who gets a bit of a playful nudge-shove before he leaves. It's a continuation of a theme from their game at the courts the other night, and might be noticeable to some of the other mages -- if only that Emily often seems quite reserved, and that familiarity had been reserved for the Geek Squadders so far, to date.

"Team player?" Her eyebrows lift a bit in surprise. They say, we'll see about that. "Well, good luck with your acquisition," she says, as if the word were a more comfortable way to describe a potential property deal than anything else.

Then it's back to the four of them.

"If we want a smaller game, we could play three on a keeper. It'd be more friendly, I guess. I don't mind starting in the goalbox, either," she offers. Maybe that would take the edge off of it for Ashley.

[Ashley] Riley is tossing the ball back and forth, and the Hermetic looks toward her for a few seconds. Considering. She doesn't mention her eye or her ear; some people here already know, and she doesn't want to be encouraged to play just to have them take things easy with her. That would be patronizing, unbearable.

"Sure," she says, after a moment. "Just give me a second."

She apparently wears her chain out even to a casual party in the park (experience has taught her that this is a good idea). Her hand finds it, fingers find two of the links. She can't Will herself to see, but she can get a sense for what's around her that she would otherwise be painfully lacking.

[Corr 1, Forces 1. -1 for using a focus, -1 for applicable resonance Static: Determined.]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 6, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 3)

[Ashley] And, once done, she hops off the bench.

[Atlas Mason] Atlas smiles as everyone seems ready to play, and he blinks as the ball disappears from his hand he gazes at them more a moment before looking over at Riley with a raised brow. "Your direct, social confrontation initiation has been noted and logged." He says with a smile. "Prepare your personage."

And he moves after her, he's not particularly sprightly, any athletic merit he might have had before is gone, but thats not going to stop Atlas from playing.

[Riley Poole] Riley laughs. She tucks the ball under an arm, quirks a brow, and waggles a finger at the Etherite. And she quotes, "'Oh, it's already been broughten.'"

[Jonathan Kincade] There had been noise on the wire about a picnic held this weekend. It seemed with the weather dramatically warming in recent weeks, that it was inspiring people to get out out and about and become less housebound. So he thrown some food together, filled a chest with ice and beer and loaded it into the car.

It hadn't taken him long to drive to the location , the voice from his GPS warbling as it read out instructions too him. Weaving through sunday traffic and trying to avoid Grandpa Joe out for his sunday jaunt. Eventually pulling into a car park as he unpacks his belongings and begins heading in the direction of the park bench.

Arriving just in time to see them move from the benches and heading towards a grass area, apparently some activity was underway. Being a late arrival however , he just heads towards the table for now. Putting down his belongings as he retrieves a beer from the chest and pops the cap. Taking a swig from the beer as he watches the Magi. most of which he knew.

[Emily Littleton] Emily laughs, just a little, as if she couldn't help herself in the moment. She doesn't have any magical preparations to do, but she does pull the stack of brightly colored disks out of her messenger bag. They're familiar to anyone who had sports practice in their youth, used to mark off boundaries and goals -- it's safer than putting extra balls there, because you can't trip over them, yet they stand out brightly against the green, green grass.

"Two on two?" she asks, and if confirmed she adds: "I'll mark out goals." The Apprentice jogs out to the field to pace off dimensions and drop the bright disks where appropriate. She's thin, and doesn't have the tone muscle that Riley carries, but she's active enough to be considered Athletic. And this? This task lets her test her ankle a bit more thoroughly; it's deemed game worthy.

When she's jogged back to the group, she looks around to see if anyone's divvied up teams. If not, she'll suggest some suitably arbitrary system.

[Ashley] Ashley was athletic, once - or, at the very least, the soccer ball isn't foreign to her. Her movements are those of someone who is trying to jog muscle memory, to remember how to play a game she'd been good at, at one time.

She looks between the other three mages, settles on Riley, who looks the most athletic of the lot. "Riley's with me," she says, almost chipper.

[Atlas Mason] "Excellent application of logical reasoning Ashley. Emily shall side with my personage, and functioning in parallel tandem dynamic, we shall suitably enforce and effect your concrete rebuttal from the plane of operation." He says it with a smile on his face and looks specifically at Riley at that, competition something he hadn't taken part in in a long, long time.

He then looked to Emily and inclined his head in question. "Will your chosen participation infleunce and role be to keep, or deliver?" He asks her. "I would postulate that your skills and capabilities would incline your personage towards the offensive delivery of our payload."

[Emily Littleton] With a mostly straight face, and nothing more malicious than merriment dancing in her eyes, she replies to Atlas in kind: "Affirmative, my arbitrarially assigned teammate. I find it preferable to mount the offensive."

She offered him a fist bump, but expected it to be a little lost on the walking anachronism. Who made football sound a bit like thermonuclear war. Which wasn't that off, considering how seriously many nations took the sport.

"Shall we commence kicking butts and taking names?" she asked him, dropping mostly back to her own generation's vernacular. This was as close as Emily got to trash talk, and it was followed by a broad grin tossed across the team-divide to Ashley & Riley.

[Riley Poole] Riley apparently has no problem with the team-ups forming, just so long as Atlas is her opponent. She looks at Ashley. "Do you mind being keeper?" She'd said it's been a while since she played, but she's obviously athletic. There's tone to the muscle of her arms and legs, lean and almost wiry. It shouldn't take long for her body to remember the rules of this game. Or so she thinks.

Listening to Atlas and Emily assign their positions, she laughs. "Nerds," she says affectionately. "Ready?"

[Ashley] "I don't mind," says Ashley, stepping over so she's near the goal. She tries to keep the three of them in view of her right eye when she can, though it isn't likely to be possible; still, she has a sense of where bodies are, where heat is, has a sense of space and how far away they are.

In fact, all told, she might be slightly better equipped than the others.

[Dex + Athletics! -1 to diff from magic.]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 5, 8 (Success x 2 at target 5)

[Atlas Mason] Atlas does indeed look somewhat confused by the offer of a fist bump, but he mirrors her action, and brings his fist up, and moves to put it against hers, looking up at her as he does so. "What is the practicality of this functional physical contact?"

He asks curiously before looking over at Riley as she calls them nerds, he smiles at that, and nods, like he agree's before speaking. "Affirmative." He calls before moving to the goal.

[Emily Littleton] "It's a functional show of solidarity with no other pragmatic motivation," she says, to her teammate, who seems confused by the social gesture. "It can also be used in lieu of a 'high-five' as a sign of congratulations."

Emily Littleton, urban dictionary.

[Riley Poole] [dex + ath!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 6, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] ((Dex + Ath))
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 5, 9 (Failure at target 6)

[Atlas Mason] [Dex+Ath]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 5, 5, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Riley Poole] [dex + ath]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 5, 9 (Failure at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] Riley gets the ball at the beginning of the game, and while the girls are more or less evenly matched out there, she also gets the first shot on goal. However, the Etherite Keeper denies it, and the score remains zero all in the first minutes of the game...

[Emily Littleton] ((Dex+ Ath, round 2))
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 6, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Riley Poole] [dex + ath: Round 2!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 6, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Riley Poole] [dex + ath: I'm comin' fer yew, Mason!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 5, 8 (Failure at target 6)

[Atlas Mason] [Dex+Ath, bring it Poole!]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 6, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Riley Poole] [Short fuse]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 5, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Riley Poole] Riley Poole is such a liar. This is what the others might think when she swoops in to snatch the ball away from Emily's feet. Or they might, if most of them didn't know by now that the VA can't lie her way out of a paper bag. However good she may be, however naturally athletic, she's not quite up to par with Atlas, who keeps blocking her goals.

If she knew how old he really was, she'd really be pissed. As it is, she's still relatively level headed. For now.

[Riley Poole] [dex + ath!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 5, 7, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] ((Dex + Ath, round 3: Any time now, Little...))
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 5, 6, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Riley Poole] [again!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 6, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] ((Ack! Again!))
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 5, 5, 7, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Atlas Mason] [Alert alert, incoming ballistic football]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 7, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Riley Poole] [So we meet again, Dr. Atlas]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 5, 6, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] "Come on, Atlas!" Emily cheers from midfield, as the Adept breaks away yet again and makes for the goal.

[Atlas Mason] Atlas actually dives as the ball is sent hurtling at his goal, his body flung into the air as he attempts to stop Riley's offensive yet again....but there was no catching that football, and it zinged by him into the net.

[Ashley] There aren't any fist bumps from the direction of her team mate, who thus far has not had much to do, but Riley gets a huge, congratulatory grin flashed in her direction.

[Emily Littleton] "Nice play," she says, when she meets Riley mid-field again. Good sportsmanship, it's crucial to a friendship between vaguely competitive people.

((Dex + Ath: This is getting embarrassing.))
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 9, 9 (Failure at target 6)

[Riley Poole] Vaguely competitive people. She offers Emily a high five, still in good spirits and feeling the high of a well-earned goal. But, Emily knows how competitive Riley can be. She's seen the dance. "Thanks!" Then it's on.
[dex + ath]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 5, 7, 10 (Failure at target 6)

[Riley Poole] [oh come on!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 3, 5, 6, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] ((Dex + Ath: Again! An opening!))
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 5, 5 (Failure at target 6)

[Riley Poole] [I am the soccer queen!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 4, 4, 5, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Atlas Mason] [I've got you now Ms. Poole.]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 5, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Riley Poole] [Nuh uh!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 7, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Atlas Mason] [Uh huh!...err...or not]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 3, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Jonathan Kincade] Placing the empty beer bottle on the picnic table , Jon decides to get a better view of the soccer match. Standing from the table as he heads towards the sidelines. Eyes following the movement of the ball, in this 2v2 match.

[Ashley] It's not so much two versus two as one versus two; Ashley, who is milling around Atlas like a tiny satellite, has thus far not had much to guard. Riley and Emily attempt to get the ball from each other, only to have one errant foot kick it off to the side. Riley recovers it, though, and manages to get the ball around Atlas' second attempt to block, sending it sailing through the goal.

[Emily Littleton] Emily jogged back to closer to where Atlas was. "Okay, it's time to stop being generous, yeah?" she says, with a wink. She's not doing swimmingly either, but she seems to be having a great time. All smiles and the light flush of sun and exercise on her face and bare shoulders. "You're doing great!" she calls to him as she jogs back to midfield.

Again, a five for Riley, and another nice shot.

[Emily Littleton] ((Dex + Ath: Round I've Lost Count.))
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 6, 7, 7, 8, 8 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Riley Poole] She's starting to look smug. That charming smile of hers is starting to twist up at the corners, gleefully. This is supposed to just be for fun, but Riley is too competitive for it to stay that way for long. She returns the five, then turns to Ashley, fist thrusting into the sky. Woo hoo we're winning! That sort of gesture.
[dex + ath: Gettin' cocky, Poole]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 7, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] ((Dex + Ath: To score?))
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Ashley] Ashley, too, is competitive - but even if she weren't, she's getting a chance to do something she hasn't done in a very. long. time. She'd be beaming anyway. Riley gets a return fist pump.

[Ashley] [Dex + Ath, blocking!]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 2, 4 (Botch x 1 at target 5)

[Emily Littleton] Poole's getting cocky, Little's starting to get frustrated, and finally team Nerd breaks away with the ball. While the shot on goal clears, something doesn't look quite right with the Keeper's defense. Rather than cheering, Emily picks up the pace and heads over to see if the Hermetic's alright.

[Ashley] [Don't hurt yourself!]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 5, 5 (Failure at target 6)

[Ashley] Ashley manages to land on her wrist, and it's pretty hard. Enough to bruise, possibly to sprain, so for a second the Hermetic lies face down in the grass. By the time Emily approaches, there's a noise that sounds suspiciously like a giggle before she pushes herself back up, winces, and brushes grass off of her shirt with the uninjured hand.

"I'm good. Let's keep going."

[Emily Littleton] She offers Ashley a hand up -- it's not help, it's sportsmanship. "I've got my ankle wrapped right now, but I don't really need to. If it hurts, let me know and you can use the Ace wrap."

And that's that. She already knows the Hermetic doesn't want handouts.

"Down-side, it will smell like feet."

So you had to make them sound unpalatable.

[Ashley] She accepts the hand up when it's offered, pulling out the front of her shirt and looking down at it and her shorts to make sure there aren't any grass stains. Ashley wrinkles her nose at the mention of a wrap that smells like feet, and gives a shake of her head. "...I'm good, but thanks."

And, giving her wrist a shake, she heads back to where she'd been standing slightly apart from Atlas.

[Emily Littleton] [Score so far...]
Riley + Ashley = 2
Emily + Atlas = 1

[Riley Poole] Ashley goes down, and Riley at least is not a total asshole. She starts in that direction, long legs taking her well into their 'side' of the field, but she stops when she hears, I'm good. Let's keep going. Well, at least she'd made the show of being helpful.

That's all she needs to know to get back to the start, so they can continue the game. That they're winning. That they could win. That they're so close to winning. She grins at Ashley, lifts her brows questioningly and gives a thumbs up. When they're good to continue, she readies for that kick.
[It's the final countdown!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 5, 5 (Botch x 1 at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] ((Dex + Ath: Let's do this!))
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 4, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Riley Poole] [ouch?]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 9, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Ashley] [Nooo! Defend!]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 5, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 5)

[Atlas Mason] Atlas is working up a sweat diving for all these shots Riley has been taking, and it has put a light sheen of sweat over his body. But he's not giving up, he's not ready to quit. He seems all the more energized by it all.

So much so he calls out encouragement to Emily. "Utilize your maximum capability, show them what you are compositely constructed from!"

[Emily Littleton] ((Shoot! Score?))
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 6, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] She shoots... but the Hermetic defends. There's simultaneous disappointment in Emily's face, and congratulations for Ashley there too. "Nice save," she calls toward the goal.

Then it's back to midfield to check on Riley.

[Riley Poole] Riley goes for the kick, but she misses. Her feet slide out from under her, and she lands with a squeak in the grass. She's laughing as she gets to her feet, looking back to see that Ashley, despite injury, has successfully defended their goal. Riley lifts her arms over her head. "Woo! Go Ashley!"

[Ashley] Two very competitive people. Ashley glances in Riley's direction to make sure she hasn't been taken out of the game, sees her laughing and is reassured. There's a laugh and a brief victory raise of arms in return.

[Riley Poole] [I'll give her a hah! And a hai-yah! And I'll kick her, sir]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 6 (Failure at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] ((Dex + Ath: Go, team, go!))
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 8, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Ashley] [Huh-uh!]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 4, 8 (Failure at target 5)

[Emily Littleton] ((Dex+Ath: Ready for a rematch, McGowen?))
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 5, 6 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] Alright. Truth be told? Ashley & Riley are not the only competitive people on the field. The Orphans arms go up in a victorious gesture and she runs over to Atlas to fistbump -- remember this? we just talked about it -- in congratulations.

[Atlas Mason] Atlas does indeed remember the fist bump, and this time he wraps knuckles with her quickly, a wide grin upon his face. "Preparations for our victory have been successful, now, we must complete our task and deny them theirs!"

[Riley Poole] [My milkshakes bring all the boys to the yard!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] ((Dex + Ath: Tie breaker round!))
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 6, 6, 7, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] ((Dex + Ath: We meet again, Ashley!))
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 6, 7, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Ashley] [Blocking that anyway!]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 3, 4, 4 (Failure at target 5)

[Emily Littleton] And that's game. Coming from behind, Team Nerd managed a three-goal run and escaped without injury. Emily first congratulated her teammate -- more or less politely, and within the acceptable decibel ranges for cheering oneself -- and then exchanged Good Games with the early front-runners. Given that it's Ashley & Riley, she fully expects to hear the word "Rematch" come up in the next five to ten minutes...

[Atlas Mason] The final goal is made, and it is Atlas and Emily who emerge triumphant, Atlas raises his hands to the sky and yells happily in celebration, a wide, friendly smile upon his face as he stepped out of the goal and headed for center field at a trot

"Our strategically formulated hypothesis is correct!" He calls out, and when he reaches his team mate he repeats the fist bumping thing, and then shakes the hand of Ashley and Riley in turn, both of them enthusastic hand pumps, the man obviously had fun.

"Most memorable, my adrenal levels have not reached this peek in sometime." He says happily, and when he reaches Riley his smile turns a little sly. "Next time, your personage will be more appropriately aclimatized I am certain within a five percent deviational error." He says with a wink.

[Riley Poole] They didn't win, but that's alright. They had a good run of it, anyway. That's what Riley tells herself so she doesn't feel the sting of defeat too acutely. She has a friendly smile for both of her opponents, though, even Atlas. She's old school, offers Ashley, Emilya, and him all a high five rather than fist bump. "I demand--!"

Then her phone is chirping at her. That particular chirp makes her look over at her belongings sharply, frowning. Then she turns back to Atlas. "A rematch! But first let me get that."

She mutters something to herself about idiots and KNOW not to call. She has to fish her phone from the depths of her bag. By the time she finds it the call has gone to voicemail, and whatever she hears makes her frown all the more.

"Guys, I'm sorry but I have to run to the store real quick." The store. Emily at least should know she means the Best Buy. "I'll be back as soon as I can, but in case I can't make it, Em, do you mind cleaning up here?" There is an immense amount of apology in her dark eyes.

[Ashley] Normally, Ashley doesn't take losing very well. Normally Ashley doesn't have a lot of fun with other people either, so the losing is almost forgotten. They had a good run of it and she blocked a goal, in spite of injury and being totally insensate on one side of her head. The Hermetic grins, sensing that Riley is going to ask for a rematch and quite ready for it, before Riley's phone chirps.

There's vague disappointment, but a nod toward the V-Dept. "Sure. See you later," she tells Riley, before she tucks her hands in her pockets and starts back toward the tables. There are fruit skewers, after all.

[Riley Poole] [Exit Riley, stage left! Keep havin' fun, guys!]

[Emily Littleton] Emily brought the ball and the markers back in when they cleared the field. She's grinning, ear to ear, easily the happiest she's been in weeks. Or maybe even months. There's a light sheen of sweat on her back and shoulders, and her skin where it is exposed is pink from the sun exposure. Riley's calling for a rematch, and Emily's expression says: Bring it!

Then the Adept has to go, and Emily's doubly glad her car is sitting in the parking lot now. "Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it," she says, and the apology in Riley's eyes is waved off. She owes the Adept far more than a clean up by now.

The Orphan moves through the gathering to drop the ball back with the other sport equipment. She tucks the brightly colored discs into her bag. Then it's time to fish a water out of the cooler -- or three -- one gets offered to each of the sports participants.

[Atlas Mason] Atlas nods to Riley as she has to run off to work, and he does look disappointed that he won't get that chance for a rematch, at least not yet. Now that they've stopped however, he feels the heat wash over him again, suddenly realizing just how warm he was having been running around like that.

Where before their was a thin sheen of sweat, Atlas is now wiping himself down with his poor shirt, toweling off with a smile on his face. When Emily offers him the water, he upends it and downs the bottle in one go, before going back for another one.

"Quite enjoyable, we must attempt to recreate those environmental particulars, as well as the social dynamic in future time units." He says between gulps of water as he takes a seat on one of the benches in the shade.

[Ashley] Ashley takes the water from Emily when it's offered and retrieves one of the skewers that Travis brought as well. The Hermetic pulls a chunk of pineapple off the skewer with her teeth, eyes flicking toward Jon. She'd only vaguely been aware of his presence.

"Hey, Jon," she says to the older mage, tossing her head to flick some of her hair out of her eyes, since her hands are occupied. "Sorry, I didn't really see you get here."

"I think it would be a good idea, too," she says, with a look toward Atlas. She's a little ginger with her wrist, careful not to twist it or do much more than hold the bottle of water, but it's largely been forgotten in the wake of the fact that she was actually having fun.

[Nathan Spriggs] It was supposed to be a nice evening. No bloodbaths or monsters to fight off. He'd gotten a voice mail from Israel on it. A little gathering between magi, nothing like planning or plotting... just fun. And right about now, the Cultist is in major need of some fun. There was bags under his eyes, his skin a sickly pale tinge, and his general appearance reflects the personal hell he was in right now.

No sleep since the moment down in that basement, no relaxation. He was twitchy, jumping and looking around at the slightest provocation, slightest sound. When he arrives at the place, his footsteps come to a halt, he simply looks around. Waiting, watching. Hands in coat pocket, ready for the minions of hell to show up at their doorstep.

Then he feels it. A chill that runs down his spine like electricity, makes him shudder. A mixture of resonance in the air, some familiar, some even well known. Yet behind it all, a malice and evil presence he remembers full well. Spirits. Wraiths. Something. It was evil.

Nathan crouched behind a bush, watching still, hands finding the gun he carried now (Atlas had ruined his last), grasping it silently and watching. His entire body shook with fear and a cold sweat soaked his shirt, something had gone horribly wrong.

After a moment of hesitation, of gathering his nerves, the man slowly advanced crouching still. An attempt at some kind of silent approach, mostly to get some recon. See how many survivors were left. The gun itself wasn't drawn yet but it was at the ready if it had to be.

[Emily Littleton] ((Per + Alert: Whazzat?))
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 7, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Nathan Spriggs] [I'm Snake! Unless I botch again]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 3, 5, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
to Emily Littleton

[Jonathan Kincade] It seemed the game was over for now, the combatants heading back towards the table. Victors taking their spoils, but it seemed the losers weren't overly disappointed.

They had started back towards the tables, to which Jon turned now. Heading back with food on his mind, which he hears a familiar voice "Hey Ash, nah that's okay... You all seemed rather preoccupied with the match. Looks like you had fun, been out here long ?"

[Emily Littleton] She's riding high and not really openly worried about anything. The Orphan is, for the moment, keeping to the edge of the group and looking out for others who might have found their way to the park during the soccer game and somehow missed the nexus of resonances and athletic prowess.

Which does explain why she suddenly stops with whatever small movement she was making. The Apprentice is stock-still, now, and staring off in the direction of a bush line not far away.

She steals a small look back at the gathering, frowns a bit, and calls on the one person she knows will stand sentintel against all intruders -- even if it's just high school pranksters come to raid the grill goodies.

"Um, Ashley," she says, her voice suspiciously level and calm. "Can I borrow you for a moment?"

[Atlas Mason] Atlas rests his bones on the bench for a few moments, looking around at the others, and waving a welcome to Jonathan, but not speaking for the moment as he catches himself, he might have been fairly athletic on the field, but he's pretty tired now.

He stands and moves to acquire one of those delicious hamburgers, and begins to wolf it down, when he realizes there was no one left to tend the grill with Riley gone, so the man takes it upon himself to do so, stepping up to the hot grill and throwing some fish on the metal and starting to cook up that fresh salmon.

[Ashley] "A few hours now," she tells Jon, plucking another few pieces of fruit from the skewer. She's flushed, a few dry blades of grass still sticking to her shirt and one of her knees from when she fell, sweating a little. The residual grin hasn't left.

Well, until Emily becomes more serious, asks if she can take Ashley aside. Then it fades, and she steps off to the side with the orphan, brow furrowed. Zane busies himself with begging Atlas and Jon for a hamburger, going so far as to lay his muzzle on knees whenever they come close by.

Ashley frowns at Emily, taking a long drink from the bottle once they're out from underneath the awning. "Is something wrong?"

[S. Ashton Winters] True to form, she shows up late to these sorts of things.

It makes sense, because when she shows up she is some semblance of normally dressed and has a sleeping child draped over one shoulder. Marcelle has a grip on Ashton's hair. It's firm, and moreover it is unrelenting. She isn't going to let go of this any time soon.

But? She is there. She is there and has come to eat food. Real food. Barbecued food.

[Israel Cohen] Attention is turned elsewhere for now: On food. On others. On paranoia's of potential intruders caused by the paranoia's of a Cultist having a bad, bad weekend. She's approaching from roughly behind and to the side of Nathan, still a couple yards off, making her way with something of a burden: Two fair sized canvas grocery bags and a pack of Mike's Hard Lemonade. The petite woman has a surprising stamina for her size, but her capacity for brute strength is just as it would seem - negligible at best. So it is that she teeters slightly with the bulk of it, making her way in low-top canvas sneakers, khaki coloured capris and a turquoise blue tank top, the length and mass of her dark hair swept back with a fabric head band.

She doesn't have her guide cane - or, at least, she isn't using one at the moment - and that is an oddity, indeed.

Her perceptions are different from most people, that's a norm. Today they are 'tweaked', providing not sight - not the way the Seeing think of it - but an uncanny sense of things nonetheless. Coupled by her considerable awareness - more necessity than mere habit - she is quick not notice something rather amiss as she approaches. Enough so that she pauses, head canting in one of those bird-like motions of hers. A beat. She calls out.

"Nathan, what on earth are you doing?" Her voice is not built for volume in the best of times, but she is not so very far away and she manages, though the mezzo-soprano of it ends up more airy than usual. Her tone is... perplexed? Concerned? Curious.

[Emily Littleton] "Yeah," she says, and again that informality presages an uncomfortable moment. Emily points out the something in the bushes not far from here, describes what she saw to the Disciple in low tones. If she was just a little jumpy, it would be best to keep this between her and Ashley, but she was certain she'd seen something over there. Something large enough to be trouble.

And then there's Israel. Calling out Nathan, of all people. The Apprentice mutters something in Chinese that cannot be particularly charitable, and then an apology to the Hermetic, who she has called away from the party because of a wayward Cultist.

Emily reaches up and runs her fingers through her hair. "Sorry. I thought it was trouble. I guess it's just Nathan."

[Nathan Spriggs] People watching the bushes would see them shake suddenly, something had hit them. Israel on the other hand, positioned as she was, saw (or sensed rather) something different. Crouched as he was, the twitchy man jumped back at her call, losing his balanced and falling against the bush.

It was only by chance that he recognized the voice and stopped himself from unloading a magazine's worth of rounds down in the blind Orphan's direction. Instead, he just saw them, back against the bush, watching the woman. A hint of fear in his face as he watched her, wondering if she was possessed again.

A moment, deciding what to do. "Uh... oh, I'm fine." Whatever the man was, he was obviously not fine, even he couldn't fully hide the fear and panic in his tone, the weariness at some unknown threat stalking them.

[Ashley] "That's all right," Ashley tells Emily, her voice a little more understanding than it might be under normal circumstances. She's in a good mood, and they had a rough night last night besides. Ashley is, at least, well cognizant of how on edge Emily must be after what happened.

"Nathan, you want to get out of the fucking bushes? I might've hurt you if Israel hadn't noticed you," Ashley calls toward him as she starts back toward the pavilion. No understanding for him.

Ashton, though, gets a bright grin when she notices her and the baby on the way back in. "Hey, Ashton," she says, finishing the last of the fruit that's on the skewers. Marcelle gets a wave. "D'you know everyone here?"

[Atlas Mason] Ahhh grilling on a summers day after a victorious game of european football their were fewer things better when shared with friends, and for Atlas it had been decades since he had enjoyed such company.

He was in such high spirits that he secretly snuck Zane a sausage or two, sharing in the wealth and good times that were available to all that were present, he listened to the conversations about him, up until he hears Israel call out to Nathan, who apparently was hunkered down in the bushes watching the proceedings, the man raises a quizzical brow at that particular dynamic, but simply shook his head with a good humored smile and continued to grill, ceddar plank cooked salmon filling the air with its aroma.

The man seems to have even gotten over the fact that he was shirtless.

[Israel Cohen] "Mmph." The sound rather eloquently sums up just what she thinks of his [false. poorly executed] reassurances. She'd startled slightly when he'd jumped and fallen back, lips twitching between an inappropriate urge to laugh and general wariness of the situation as a whole. Of the gun he might have pulled she is unaware, though the fear and panic in his voice is obvious.

Turning her head towards the others gathered some small distance off - half an inclination of the ear, half seeming to 'look' in their direction - she then faces the prone man again and shakes her head, moving closer, speaking normally now. Gentle but firm. "We know those people, Nathan. They aren't going to hurt you. There's no danger at the moment. It's just a cook out." Shifting her assorted burdens with an unconscious discomfort of its weight as Ashley calls over their way. She snorts slightly at the Hermetic's bluntness, a bemused sound more than anything else. "C'mon, then. You're fine." As if willing it will make it so.

Among their sort such is often the case.

[Nathan Spriggs] "I felt something off, something evil." A conviction there, he was certain of it, no doubts present. He'd felt it and that was no lie. Placing his palms against the grass, Nathan slowly got back on his feet, shaky at first. A quick glance around then eyes back on the Orphan's own sightless ones. Watching, observing, cautious of her. How could he know she wasn't possessed again?

Her approach got a half-step back before he steeled himself and let her, eyes darting to her hands to make sure no strange motions occurred. Reassurances from her that felt like lies, 'no danger' she said. Nathan's head turned just slightly towards the direction of the annoyed Hermetic's shout but no response before turning back to the Orphan, another unconscious step back in caution. "Anything happen?" What he meant with that question was obvious.

[Ashley] "Something evil?" Ashley asks the Cultist, with a skeptical glance in his direction. Now that he's come out of the bushes she can see that drawn appearance, that the man is frightened out of his mind. He was possessed last night, after all (he shouldn't have been.)

Atlas has been feeding Zane sausages, which the dog has been happy to have. Ashley glances down at him, amused, as he tries to dart back under the table before she can see him eating one, and then there's a look toward Atlas, the culprit. No reprimands, though. They might as well share.

Ashley seats herself on the picnic table once more, feet resting on the bench as she reaches for another of the fruit skewers. "Just...sit down and try to have fun, okay? The rest of us are," she tells Nathan. Which might be the closest he'll get to some compassion, from her at least.

[Israel Cohen] "Nathan." Giving it up as a bad job, she puts down the two canvas bags and flexes her aching hand, grimacing slightly before facing his direction [more accurately than she normally would and that's saying something] and continuing to speak softly, calmly, firmly. "You are in a panic. Given what I understand happened last night I can understand wariness and weariness, but jumping at shadows and acting like a rabbit simply will not do. Pull yourself together, man." Someone else might be saying this with disdain or derision: She says it with honesty and directness, but without ill-temper, disgust or anger. "Remember who and what you are. If and when you get to that point and need some help, let me know. Until then? I'm starving. The food smells good so.." Ashley speaks about him sitting down and trying to have fun. Israel nods. "What she said. C'mon." The second time she says that. She says it with kindness that softness the frank words previously spoken, without negating them. A beckoning gesture of her hand, a cant of her head... "Please."

And then she's moving to take up her bags again - a little grunt of effort - and move towards the others. "Hi, Ashley... Atlas, is that you grilling salmon? It smells devine..."

[Emily Littleton] Surprised, somewhat, that Nathan has chosen to join them all after last night's events, Emily offers him a small smile, guarded but concerned, as he finds his way into the gathering. Gone is the ineffable broad smile from post-soccer bliss, but the energy in her body was still riding higher than usual. The weather had held out and the cook-out was largely a success. She tucked her empty water bottle into the recyclables bag, and grabbed another out of the cooler.

"Hi, Israel," she said, once the other Orphan had settled herself into the gathering. Meanwhile, Emily was fixing herself a bit more of her picnic favorites, and wandering over to see what magic her teammate was working at the grill. A bit of that boundless grin came back when she saw the cedar planks and salmon. It was enough to make a foodie salivate.

[Jonathan Kincade] Jonathan had been busying himself with the attentions of Zane , watching as Atlas fed the dog sausages. It was going to be hard to beat that sort of bribery, so he isn't surprised when the dog starts paying the Etherite more attention.

It's then that Jonathan becomes more attuned to the commotion happening around him. Looking up as everyone seems to be talking about Nathan. Apparently the mage had been having a bad trot.. Jonathan to be honest wasn't that surprised. Both men although now in a Cabal had their own special projects that they didn't share. "Hey Nathan, been awhile... still alive it seems ?"

He notices Israel behind him, "Afternoon Israel, nice to see you again. Eat and have your fill... fancy a beer at all ?"

[Atlas Mason] The first batch of salmon was off the grill and onto a serving tray, still sitting on the cedar planks to keep it warm and ready, Atlas knew how to cook fish, if nothing else. He had begun piling up some more onto the grill, more cedar, more salmon, that aroma never abating as he works away.

When Ashley looked in Atlas' direction, catching him feeding her dog sausage, he simply shrugs and chuckles, before returning to his chosen work, apparently happy to cook.

Israel approached and Atlas smiled to the woman, even though it was effectively lost on the woman. "Israel, it most compatible with myself to visually recognize your personage once more, and I am gregariously filled with positively aligned neuro chemicals at witnessing your swift recovery from last night cycle's event."

He turned his gaze to Emily, and his eyes twinkled just a little bit more for his team mate, and held up a plate with salmon on it, fork included. "Satiate your personage Emily."

[Israel Cohen] Jon catches her before she moves away, so she turns slightly, trotting backwards a little awkwardly; less because of her burdens and more because she's not used to such actions anymore. Offering up a smile, she shakes her head. "I'm good with my Mike's, thanks. Good to see," ah, such small ironies in such common phrases, "you, too, Jonathan." Something flickers over her features, her ear inclining slightly towards Nathan again, a moments indecision... but then she decides better and merely says. "I'll let you catch up with Nathan."

Then she's again making her way to the grill, "Hullo, Emily. Doing well?" There is a touch of concern there as well, something of protectiveness for a fellow Orphan and an Apprentice at that, but she keeps her tone light, not wishing to impede on any festivities. At Atlas' greeting her smile becomes broader. "I'm well and recovered, thank you." Inhaling the scents of the cedar-planked Salmon her expression becomes somewhat wistful, something that has a habit of making her look younger than her years when coupled with the look of her. There are mature curves there, yes, but when they come in such a small, soft and almost fragile-seeming frame its hard for some to see her as pushing 30. "The cedar hasn't come in contact with any other meat or dairy has it?"

Oh please let it be so!

[Ashley] There's a hopeful glance from the Hermetic toward the salmon Atlas is bringing over for Emily. She's content to let the first plate go to Emily, though, and leans down to hug the dog and rumple his ears, with a gruff mutter or two about how he's going to get sick before she straightens back up.

"That's the first the cedar's been used, Israel," Ashley tells the orphan, twisting around so she can look at her before grabbing one of the plates and taking a serving (or two) of the salmon.

"No Solomon?"

[Nathan Spriggs] For a moment, just an instant, the Cultist is back to his usual self in the look he gives Ashley when she mentions people having fun. A doubtful look, maybe at the fact of what had happened the night before, maybe just the fact she even knew what that was. In any case, it was gone as fast as it came and he turned back to the group, seeing who was present.

Israel's motivational speech heard but not commented on, or immediately applied. Though some of the tension seemed to disappear from his body as he took a breath. "Thanks. I'll try."

Jonathan's greeting was received with some level of apprehension, something about everything happening made him ill at ease to respond or think on it. "Hey, everything okay...?" It was all he got in response, hands going back into their pockets as he got in another look around.

[Emily Littleton] She accepts the plate from Atlas with a warm Cheers. From the smell of things, the Etherite definitely knows fish. How to catch them, how to cook them. It's the perfect compliment to the brats and burgers from earlier in the day.

Israel asks how she's doing, and the Apprentice's voice is richer and happier that it has sounded in recent nights. That it has ever sounded to Israel, because Emily had to go back quite far in her memory (or travel far afield from Chicago in her memories) to remember when she was as now.

"Actually, yes. I'm doing quite well, thank you. You just missed our football match," she adds, sounding vaguely triumphant. At this point, it's happiness that they'd played at all, and gotten out of the moment and it's possessions and demons and angels long enough to laugh and cheer with one another. Winning hadn't hurt her spirits either.

She casts a look over at Nathan and Jon, and the lines at the corners of her mouth tighten momentarily. But that passes. "We have potato salad and fruit salad too, and Travis brought by some fruit skewers -- they've all been kept separately, so they should still be kosher."

[Jonathan Kincade] Jonathan winces a little as he realises what he says , but the worst thing he could do was draw attention to it. "Okay, let me know if you want something after your done with your Mike's. Yeah okay... talk to you later." as his attention turns towards Nathan, an eyebrow raised as he studies the man.

"Yeah everything's okay with me...keeping my nose out of trouble for the most part. Been doing some studying with Ashley.. that's about it really."

[Atlas Mason] Atlas nods to Israels question about the plank's and the salmon being kosher, even as Ashley answers the question, pulling up a plate with two nice portions on it and handing it to Israel. "These specimen's all adhere to the archaic ritual and scripture designated within the religious scripture dictated and labelled as the Tanakh."

He says it with a smile and hands over the plate before looking over at Nathan, who obviously looks much worse for wear then the rest of the cookout goers. "Nathan, would your digestive tract benefit from the nutrients provided within a specimen of family Salmonidae?"

He asks as he holds up another plate, offering to the man in a friendly gesture, obviously he doesn't think hes done anything bad to the man recently.

[Ashley McGowen] "We're rematching, the next time you and me and Riley are in the same place," Ashley tells the Chorister-to-be, transferring a large chunk of the salmon to her mouth. She, too, is still full of adrenaline and good spirits, it would seem.

One of the Mike's Israel brought is picked up and opened, though she's careful of her wrist, which doesn't seem to bend very well at the moment. She isn't complaining, though; it's one of those things that heals after a day or two. Ashley has certainly had worse.

[Israel Cohen] "I'm sorry I missed that. Perhaps there will be something else? I'd happily burn off some energy, though, mind you, for obvious reasons I haven't played in... well..." She shrugs by way of completion, though a calm half-smile remains. As for the mention of food - and the assurances from Atlas that the Salmon is Kosher - she brightens, her pleasure genuine but her mannerisms generally subdued. "Lovely. I've brought some deli stuff in case anyone's interested. And also some baklava," an Israel staple, "and brownies. Fudge and Blondies. One moment," to Atlas directly this time as he holds out a plate. She sets down her bags and finds a place for its items on the table [even with her senses tweaked beyond their normal capacity she still feels for the edges of plates and packages, what has now become a habit in her life] and crabs herself one of the Mikes before taking the offered plate. "Thanks."

[Nathan Spriggs] "Sounds... interesting," he says, a questioning look that asks what kind of studying. It has been a while since the two men met, and as worse for wear over everything that's happened as he is, the Cultist is curious about what he's been up to.

"Anything explode lately? Or have cat scratches on it?" The meaning behind the words would be obvious enough to the man as suddenly a familiar Etherite comes by, offering a plate of... salmon. Nathan hesitates for a split second, watching the food, gauging it for some kind of poison before he gave a barely visible nod. "Yes, thank you," a pause there, remembering something he'd forgotten, "By the way Atlas, you owe me a gun."

A weary smile spread across his face, no ill intentions or attempts to start a fight in his tone, though maybe some hints of anger at the fact he'd turned his Glock into scraps. It had been unavoidable but it still irked.

[Emily Littleton] There's a rematch coming, Ashley says, and that tugs Emily's smile just a bit wider. It stills her fork from bringing the salmon to her mouth just yet.

"I'll keep my football with me at all times, then," she responds, like a good Apprentice. Ever vigilant and ready for an unsuspected rematch. They've been like this since the game began, lighter-hearted and downright jovial. It's a sharp contrast to the night before, and to Nathan who is still feeling its aftereffects so sharply.

Not that Ashley & Emily are immune, just that they have found a way, for now, to repress or compartmentalize. It had started, for Emily, as deference to Riley's party. Now it was an ardent defense of the one truly good day she's had in quite some time.

"Maybe next time you can play too," she says, to Israel. It would be insensitive, but the perceptive Choristor-to-be has noticed how adept the Disciple is in moving through uncharted space. There is something more at play here than what immediately meets the (pardon the pun) eyes.

Nathan's telling Atlas that he owes the Cultist a gun. Emily turns to the recently possessed, and says, quite helpfully. "Hey, Nathan. We still have some leftover Brats and burgers if you'd rather. Would you like me to heat you up one?"

No, no, of course it has nothing to do with full mouths having a hard time dredging up bad memories. Emily's just downright friendly these days.

[Ashley McGowen] "Nathan, I'm not above using the Ars Mentis to make sure you have fun," Ashley says. It's probably supposed to be a joke; her tone implies such. She looks over her shoulder at the Cultist and smiles. It's not a sweet smile, though. There's an edge to it, of course, as though to remind him that she is indeed capable of doing so. Ashley almost can't help such things.

That air fades just as quickly, though (as much as such things can) - or, more, it's redirected as she cranes her neck to look toward the bags that Israel brought. "You really brought baklava?"

[Israel Cohen] "Mmmf," the muffled sound of affirmation as she finishes up a mouthful of salmon, nodding her head and turning towards Ashley, indicating the large Tupperware container of homemade baklava on the table with the hand holding the Mikes. Swallowing she licks her lips which then curve with appreciation, "Of course, I did. Everything is better with baklava."

Inclining her ear towards Emily she arches an eyebrow, the quietness of her smile now holding a bit of feigned surprise. "What, one game of soccer and all of you are all tuckered out? Bah." The tone remains light. Conversational. They are supposed to be having a good time... some of the others have the after affects of healthy adrenaline to help them out. She's waiting for some of the spiked lemonade to take effect, though it would take a lot more than one to get her to actually tipsy. Surprisingly for her size her tolerance is better than most.

[Jonathan Kincade] "Yeah it is interesting actually, just been learning some stuff from Ashley. " and then the Hermetic starts talking about how she could make the Cultist have fun "Hmm she's not wrong Nathan... I was lucky to hold out during our lessons."

"But other than that been experimenting with primal energy on my own. Think I've finally come to have a firmer grip on that sphere. Been exhaustive work, but I'm glad I'm seeing the results I've been getting."

Searching the table for some more food as he piles it up on a paper plate.

[Atlas Mason] Atlas raises a brow at Nathan's effective demand for a new gun, and he almost looks like he isn't going to oblige the man, but his good feelings from earlier in the cookout seem to swing his opinion back over and he smiles. "I will investigate an appropriate facsimile or replacement accelerator. I am certain I have appropriate diagrams and schematics archived within my vessel."

He says casually, like its nothing as he turns back to the grill, his face to those with brighter dispositions at the moment. He nods to Ashley at the mention of a rematch, obviously enticed by the suggestion as well.

[Emily Littleton] Israel besmirches her athletic stamina, and Emily quirks an eyebrow at the fiesty, smaller Orphan.

"I'm sure another match could be arranged, if you're that interested," she says, oh-so-accomodatingly. After all, Emily isn't nursing any injuries. Even her pride recovered after the first few rounds when Riley was trouncing them.

She stops just short of goading Israel on. She's not sure about the social etiquette there, but she's relatively certain that it's not acceptable to trash talk to a blind lady about sport. Another mouthful of salmon. Another wary glance at Jon & Nathan.

[Nathan Spriggs] A look over to Ashley at her comment (threat?), eyes narrowing for a moment. A few minutes ago, he'd already be half-way to drawing his gun by now. Instead, his hands simply close into fists inside the coat, the weary visage covering any outward signs of anger he might have at being threatened.

Jonathan's comment however, instead of being helpful and insightful, was the final stroke in acknowledging the threat. For a moment, the coat pulled back just slightly, might have been the wind that did it. But Ashley might catch a glimpse of the holstered gun, no directly threatening gestures involved in it.

"I'm sure you can, I'll keep it in mind," he responded with a strained smile, not from anger, simply that he didn't imagine how he could have fun right now. In any case, for now he'd trust in the presence of other magi (Israel) to keep Ashley from acting. Otherwise it would fall on him to self-defense, and it wouldn't be pretty. Question was, who was quicker.

He turned to Atlas, noticing his acknowledgment of the demand, it was only natural he repay the damage as far as the Cultist was concerned. "So, how about that salmon?"

[Ashley McGowen] [Did you just...almost pull a gun on me? Perception + Alertness.]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 5, 6, 6, 8 (Success x 1 at target 8)

[Emily Littleton] ((Per + Alert: Did you pack heat to a picnic? It's already 80+ outside today...))
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 4, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Israel Cohen] There are things she misses, of course. Rote or not, she does not 'see' now with fine clarity and detail. But she can hear the joking comment from Ashley, hear the strain in Nathan's response; she has a sense of his motion because it alters just so how he feels in her mind's eye, his positioning. She cane zone in on items on his person. So whatever banter she was about to respond to Emily with fades away as she frowns, "...it might be a good idea. Apparently we don't all do so well just standing around." The words are hushed, more a thought spoken aloud. She turns towards Nathan and Ashley, her small form not tense or rigid at all but with a sense of readiness there.

"Nathan. Ashley. We're out right smack in the open." The words low-spoken but each is patently stressed.

[Emily Littleton] It's a tense moment, one that only gets pulled more tightly between them all when Nathan snaps at the Hermetic. When his jacket flips back to reveal -- Emily's eyes widen, then narrow immediately. What good mood? What jovial attitude?

The threatening posture, coupled with the presence of a firearm at their gathering -- and not in a law & order service weapon setting either, no -- upset the younger Orphan. Her eyes tracked him relentlessly now, as she went to demand a plate of food from Atlas. As he took up whatever sitting place he might at the table. There's a press behind them, as Unrelenting as her resonance. Watchful. Alert.

He'd snuck up on them in the bushes, and now he made sure they knew he was armed. Her spine pulls perfectly erect in her frustration. It's impossible to miss the change in body posture. She's done nothing to hide it.

[Emily Littleton] ((edit: ...as *he went to demand a plate of food ...))

[Ashley McGowen] It's probably lucky for Nathan that the last thing Ashley wants right now is a fight. The Hermetic is weary from what happened last night in the chantry and from the months (many) that have marched along before it, and this is the first day where she's really had fun, really enjoyed herself among people, in a while.

So, when he pulls back his coat, enough to glimpse the holstered gun, Ashley's eyes narrow. Israel's warning doesn't go unheeded, though: who knows. If she hadn't spoken up Ashley might very well feel obliged to escalate this. The conflict she has is actually rather clear, to anyone who knows Ashley moderately well - Nathan might as well have challenged her directly, and backing down would indicate that she's been cowed.

The Hermetic's jaw works for a second before she leans down to unwrap her dog's leash. "Good night. Emily, thank Riley for the party, when you see her again."

Nathan gets a parting stare. She didn't even finish what was on the plate.

[Atlas Mason] Atlas slams the lid down on the BBQ and shakes his head at Nathan, finding his actions unacceptable now. He looks at the man like a reproachful father figure and his face seems older now, much older as he watches the man.

"What possible outcome could you be postulating with social activity directed along such a plan of action? Directing force and negatively charged actions towards your own allies? If your synaptic storage functions have failed you Nathan, you comprehend and assimilate the fact that we are involved in several junctures requiring our co-efficient functionality, not negative neuro chemical responses or directed aggression."

He then looks to Ashley as she goes to leave, and from the look of it, he considers leaving as well.

[Nathan Spriggs] For a second, time seemed to stop for the Cultist, hesitant or maybe just waiting for a response. Suddenly, Israel cut in, a sense of relief spreading across him. After the events of last night, he was twitchy, prone to rash and paranoid actions, even he realized he'd overreacted in a way. Still, his mind was his alone. No one else's.

As Ashley seems to back down, walk away from the place, a last stare to him. Then Atlas seems to join in, like Ashley was in the right all along, because apparently threats of mind-infiltration were not hostile actions in and of themselves. A last look to him, and a shrug. Then he turns to Israel, unhooking the holster and gun, understanding something.

"My. Mind. Is. Mine." Then he extended his hand, holstered gun and all, towards Israel. Not in any threatening gesture, he was literally handing it to her. Understanding it was a bad idea to carry it for now, "I don't trust myself right now."

[Emily Littleton] Something in Emily's bag starts to ring. Not a delicate digital ring, no, or a ringtone, but an echo of something older. Her cellphone actually sounds like a, wait for it, phone. How ungeekly. But opportune, as things often were for magi. She needed out of the conflict, if she planned on salvaging what's left of her good mood.

"Hey, loves," she said, distracted by the number on her phone once she'd reclaimed it. "Ring me when you're breaking up here and I'll come tear down. I need to take this, and it'll be awhile."

There's a smile, for mostly all of them, and it's polite enough. The tenor of her voice has shifted slightly. And it's an entirely foreign tongue that she answers the phone in, saying, in faultering but functional Chinese: Good morning. The Orphan left her prized football, but nabbed her messenger bag on the way out.