Semiotics and symbols

[Molly Quincannon] Molly is ... not in a great mood. Given that she's usually hyper and cheerful, this is probably news. The fact that she's out an about at all is a testament to a great many things about her, albeit many of them that edge towards 'you're not quite sane, are you?', and the fact that she knows that? Is just irritating.

Still, she's not going to stay in the house all day. She has a project, and it's required a few bits of specialist kit, so she's been out shopping and now is sitting at a table outside in the warm sunny afternoon ingesting far too much caffeine and doing some research using the coffee shop's wifi. There are bags from electronics shops and a couple from local clothing stores - places one wouldn't expect her to shop. It's been a day, apparently.

[Ashley McGowen] It's been repeated time and again: most of Ashley McGowen's colleagues don't imagine her to be a dog person. She is. He's a constant companion when she is out around town; in fact, it's a little odd that Zane was not with her when Molly ran into her in Chinatown that morning last month.

She has the shepherd trailing off of the leash that is looped around her left wrist: a young, slim dog with ears that are rather oversized and immediately bring to mind satellite dishes. He trots along next to her (well-trained enough not to pull, apparently - which is fortunate, given how small Ashley is) and in her other hand, a notebook. It's open and held across one arm while she writes with the other, her brows furrowed with concentration. Struck by an idea, perhaps.

Molly is on her good side, and so she catches sight of the Cultist as she's looking up, gaze drifting briefly toward the clouds as though seeking some inspiration there. Chicago's rainy streak has lifted, at least temporarily; it's hot today, and the sky is as clear and blue as Ashley's eyes. When she sees Molly, Ashley lowers the book, still keeping her pen held between two of the fingers of her right hand. Zane drifts toward Molly when she pauses, and after a few seconds, the Hermetic follows. "Hey, Molly."

[Molly Quincannon] When working on something, Molly is fairly oblivious to distractions. It takes the snuffling of a dog at her ankle to get her attention, at which point she tenses and turns to look at the source of the sudden cold-wet feeling that has suddenly nudged against her ankles, so fast that she nearly falls out of her chair. Then she shakes her head, chuckles, offers a hand for the dog to sniff ... and then looks up to spot Ashley. She relaxes a bit. "Hey, Ashley. How's things? Cute pooch; what do I call the ankle-sniffing sweetie?"

[Ashley McGowen] "This is Zane," Ashley says, flipping the notebook closed and sliding the pen into the spiral binding. It's tucked in against her hip, held there while she looks at Molly, a bit more aloof than her canine companion. "You can pet him. He's an attention whore."

Which he indeed seems to be, and quite friendly besides. Ashley doesn't take a seat yet: she glances first toward Molly's bags, then toward the computer, though she doesn't glance overlong at the screen. Curious, but she has some sense of propriety. "How've you been?"

[Molly Quincannon] The screen, as Ashley will note as Molly scritches Zane behind the ears, is schematics on surveillance equipment, namely tiny concealable cameras and microphones. Her comment is, "Zane, hmm? Eureka fan, or did you get the name from someplace else?"

How she's been? Oh, she doesn't want to answer that - one requires no empathy at all to see it. She does, however, give an answer, unsatisfactory as it is: "I've been better. You know the world. How about you? How was Boston? And the whole tutorial/apprenticeship thing?" Yes. Conversation should move off her and her uncharacteristic jumpiness right now, thank you.

[Emily Littleton] It's almost back to school time, which explains why Emily is anywhere near the vicinity of campus on a weekend. She's also just divested herself of a houseguest and the flat is feeling overtly empty. Too empty. Divested herself of a houseguest and a whatever-the-other-was. It was a lonely Sunday, all the better for errand running, project inventorying, and general busy work. Subsequently, the Orphan Apprentice has been neck-deep in lists of all varieties, spreadsheets, goal-setting-forms and financial aid applications. It's enough to turn even a highly analytical mind somewhat inward. The world, after all, was not a series of neatly ordered cels on a great cross-indexed spreadsheet, being downloaded and uploaded to across a series of tubes.

Yet.

And if people like Emily had their way, reality would never be that neatly and predictably ordered. (What we lose in mystery we gain in awe. [Where's the reverence in that?])

Code-besieged days beg caffeine-laced drinks. It's a nigh-universal truth of the tech friendly world. It's all but a law of college all-nighters. Almost as infallible as grad student : free food :: moth : flame. And at this particular coffee shop, there's a familiar canine and his occasionally-friendly master. Emily wanders up to the gathering, and Zane (of all the gathered personages) gets the first hello.

Followed by a, "Hey Ashley, hello Molly."

[Ashley McGowen] "It just popped into my head and I liked it," Ashley says, reaching down to rub the base of one of the dog's ears. "I don't really do much TV watching." Or movie watching, or...well. There are a lot of elements of pop culture that are difficult for her to participate in. "It's infrequently used enough for people to be petlike, I thought."

Her eyes turn back to Molly once she catches a hint of the Cultist's reluctance to answer the question, and there's a flicker of the Hermetic's ever-present curiosity - though it's more a desire for information (knowledge) than motivated by a concern for Molly's emotional state, at least at present. So it goes, until people become hers. Then they matter.

Zane perks when he sees Emily, and that's what draws Ashley's attention to the Chorister-to-be's arrival before Emily speaks. "Hi, Emily," she says, and if she's still irritated by the manner of their parting last time, it isn't showing in the slightest. Then she's looking back at Molly to answer her questions. "Boston went well. I think. The man I chose to mentor me is a pretty harsh guy, but I think it helped it click." Meaning: the lesson was not enjoyable. But she learned it. "He gave me a lot of essays and reading. Kind of weird being on the learning end of things again." A rueful smile, at that. For the past year, she's been the one teaching.

[Molly Quincannon] [[Wits + Subterfuge: "aw, crap! Uh. I mean. Fellow geek yay?"]]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 6, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Ashley McGowen] [Perception + Awareness, +2 durr emotions what?]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 3, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 8)

[Emily Littleton] [While we're at it... Manip + Subter: I'm entirely over whatever it was I was perturbed with you about... ]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Molly Quincannon] Enter Emily, and while the warmth of Molly's greeting to the still-an-Orphan-right-now will probably not surprise Ashley overmuch, it likely will Emily. Somehow, some way, Molly learned how to put on a smile and hide discomfiture like a pro. "Hey, Emily. How's all things thought-provoking? I ask mainly 'cos you look a bit like you're mulling."

Then, to Ashley, "Hey, so long as it was good-weird, it's all good, and learning always is. Harsh is sometimes a good teacher, too." (Rue there? A little jab at herself? Noooooo.) "Does it help, essays and reading for learning that kind of stuff? I've always been more a learn-by-doing sort of person, so maybe I can't see it, but ... isn't the subject matter a bit esoteric for that kind of thing? Or is it just the nature of the teacher-student thing?" She's not getting at Ashley, that much is clear. She just genuinely doesn't understand, and would like to.

[Emily Littleton] Emily is, indeed, mulling, but it is not unusual. When Emily does not have a to-do list that stretches around the block, something is wrong. Or she is infirm. Or both. Today is simply another day in the busy life of Emily Littleton, and any ill will she might have held toward either woman -- believe you me, she has her reasons for both or either -- is regulated to a secondary concern for now.

The warmth, albeit a cooler simmer that recently but still polite and welcoming, reads genuinely. "How are you both?" she asks, and it's more than passing (polite) curiosity.

Ashley mentions her studies in Boston, and Emily interjects: "I should like to talk with you about that some more, possibly read a bit myself if you have suggestions. Whenever you've time. I imagine you're busy with things for the House now that you're back."

It's a nod to the conversation that had once, ironically when she was newly conflicted over her mentor/relationship. Now that conflict had resolved itself, somewhat, and it seemed a fitting time to resume their studies.

Emily eyes Molly's laptop, but doesn't pry into whatever's on the screen. Instead, she positions herself so she cannot read it. It's a politeness thing, or it preserves her plausible deniability later. Who knows?

[Ashley McGowen] The Hermetic steps back a bit to include Emily, utterly missing the subtext that passes between the two younger women. For all she knows, Emily and Molly are good friends and happy to see each other. Zane seems equally oblivious: the dog is rolling over on his back so that Emily can rub his stomach.

As to harsh being a good teacher, Ashley only nods. She's from House Tytalus; mentor and student relationships are typically adversarial at best. It's rare for them to be otherwise, with the sort of philosophy the house espouses. Her expression is that of someone quite used to it, who probably hasn't had a mentor other than a harsh one. It's all she knows. "That's why I sought him out," she says. "And the theory is very important. It's good to learn by doing, but you should have a firm grounding in how it works before that. It's like...well, writing poetry. You write to become a better poet, but the study of other poetry and the format of poems is going to help you along much better than if you just went at it on your own."

She still hasn't gone to sit yet, but turns an amused look down at the dog before her eyes find Emily's once more. "I'm not very busy yet," she tells Emily. "Things have been quiet lately, as far as I've heard. And if you're still interested in studying we can certainly talk more, though I think the material Temple's given me is a bit advanced for you. But there are books in the chantry library I can point you at."

[Molly Quincannon] Molly's been very, very good about not letting subtext become text. So of course Ashley had to make a comment like that. Things have been quiet, lately, as far as I've heard. It's all Molly can do not to laugh in that semi-hysterical, "It's not really funny but I have to laugh because if not I'll scream or cry" kind of way. The effort to keep that in, however, involves her biting her lip hard enough to draw blood. One of those reactions one has, if occasionally belatedly, to having a gun shoved in your face. But she composes herself and focuses on the rest. [i]Not here. Not now. There may be people watching.

Molly's felt watched a lot, lately. She's sure that at least sometimes, it's just paranoia. Today's one of those times, but better safe than sorry. At least for Emily and Ashley.

So the rest, then - leaving aside mentions of how it's been quiet lately: "Not much of a poet. And I knew someone at college who was really into free verse. Which ... is kind of like free jazz, from what I've been told. I guess it works better for some than for others, though. I've been finding that learning by tinkering works best for me on the subject you're talking about, though you're way beyond me in that area already. I'm just starting. Poking around at it and seeing what's what. But I guess it works in different ways for different people," she admits. Then, because she is Curious, she asks, "How does it work for you? Approximately - I mean, can you explain it? With me, it's all code."

[Emily Littleton] Ashley says it's been quiet, and Emily reflexively glances to Molly. Her dark blue gaze settles on the nervous woman, even as her fingers scritch at Zane's tummy. Soon they'll still, and he'll look plaintively at his sometimes-friend. Emily is not entirely a pet person, but she makes an exception for Zane who has stymied many an awkward moment with the force of his endearing personality. His presence.

"I think it's only been quiet because we have been otherwise occupied," she tells Ashley in an even, thoughtful tone. It is not menacing or omninous; instead Emily seems a little resigned, somewhat remorseful. These tones are fleeting, though, as she rubs her hands on the knees of her jeans and stands.

If she is worried about being watched, it does not show. If she is still frustrated with Ashley or Molly, it seems to have been forgotten. If the loneliness she feels is pulling her toward sadness, it has been lost in the moment she takes to rub Zane's belly.

"And I can see that. Comparative study, stylistic study, they could inform one's art. Is this why you refer to them as Ars, Ashley? That they are Arts more than definite, quantifiable things?" Is magic subjective more than objective, she asks. The Orphan is always good for contemplative questions. She is thoughtful. She is willing to let the conversation be pulled away, again, from the imminent doom and altercations with local leos.

[Ashley McGowen] Ashley does not know what free jazz is. She lifts her eyebrows when Molly draws the analogy, but does not ask for clarification (she wouldn't understand.) Besides, she can imagine. She says, "I am," when Molly says she isn't much of a poet, and then pauses. Molly's just asked for a brief explanation of how her magic works, and Emily too has her questions.

And she, too, has been otherwise occupied. Pleasantly so, in most cases, evidenced by the slightly sheepish half-smile that perhaps indicates agreement. Given what Ashley's life has been the past year (given what Ashley's Awakened life has been) the quiet is entirely welcome.

"I definitely see them as something unquantifiable," she says, "though there are branches of my Tradition that disagree. Some members of the Order of Hermes understand magic to operate through formulae and a set of codified laws. Bran, one of my former cabal mates, did. It's a lot more intuitive for me...though more like an art the way philosophy or languages are arts. They're a bit more subjective than, say, number crunching and code, but they still have rules."

A glance to Molly, then. "Reality is Thought, and exists entirely in the Mind and Will, and the physical is a construct. Of a Will greater than ours, most likely, but who can say." A shrug, there; Ashley is not religious, nor spiritual, and whatever Will the world has its origins in is not a concern of hers. "Because it's an extension of thought and the ideals that exist elsewhere, in a place of pure thought, they can be manipulated. Wills and ideas vie against each other, so if your Will is stronger than the illusion around you that is being commanded by other Wills, and if you can command those other Wills and minds in turn, you can manipulate the reality you're shown. That's...about as much as I can condense it without giving you a lecture. There's a lot more theory than that."

A beat. "Plato's Allegory of the Cave is usually what I point people at if they have a hard time grasping what I'm talking about. It's the closest allusion I can manage."

[Molly Quincannon] Molly thinks about that, then says, "I can see that. Though I think our view of it is slightly different in that ... you seem to be talking about it like a really metaphysical and esoteric arm-wrestling competition, where you're bending the ... Wills of others over to where you want them to be, maybe to give you space to do what it is you're trying to do? I guess I always looked at it more like ... all those Wills - mine, yours, Emily's, Chuck's, Israel's ... everybody's combines to make the universe as we see it. Yeah, most of the time, it conspires to work against us. But it's ... like a firewall, that non-belief, and all you need to do is sneak past it. Which ... you're right, it needs the grounding, but it seems to me less force than subterfuge; find that bit of quote-unquote 'real' that's giving you hassle and fool it for awhile. Sure, you might get a hack-back, but it's a minimal risk. Which is where the intuition combined with a grounding in the basic theory comes in, I guess; I may not understand it in poetry, but I understand it in other ways. I can hack a firewall flying by the seat of my pants, but I wouldn't do it if I couldn't speak code worth a damn. There's the art, right? But without the bare-bones craft backing it up, you're just flinging paint."

All that said, she grins a bit. "I ... think we're on the same wavelength with different life experience backing it up, though. Am I right? Or at least close?"

[Emily Littleton] "And yet Mr. Pollock has made a deceptively lucrative career of enlightened paint-flinging," Emily says, and there's a general nose-wrinkle toward abstract modern art in its least structure sense. Is anyone surprised? Emily builds things, thoughtful things, random and chaotic noise does not please her. Disorder for the sake of disorder is hardly art in the Apprentice's mind. God help them all if she were ever to meet a true Discordian.

Eris was most certainly not invited to her dinner parties.

"And I'm rather fond of the idea that the mere act of observation changes an event. If you can shift your frame of reference, you can shift your perception and in subtle ways, at least, shift the event as it transpires or as it is later remembered. But that's not Awakened philosophy as much as it is a by-product of too many years abroad and too many political dinners."

Emily offers an other viewpoint, but she puts it forth almost idly. It's not competitive or combative today. Ashley's already impressed upon the Apprentice the ends to which she is prepared to take her conflict-theory Will-over-Will mindset. Emily doesn't want to play, today.

[Ashley McGowen] "Well, in a sense, it is formed by everyone," Ashley concedes. "I mean, the physical is constructed by ideas, and so in order for those ideas to be reality they have to be thought up by someone. Some ideas just aren't strong enough to be Willed into physical existence. They just exist as thought."

Molly's talk of firewalls draws a long look from the Hermetic: something contemplative as she tries to process what Molly is telling her, tries to draw connections and piece together what makes sense. She's hardly a luddite or a technophobe, but her knowledge of computers ends at being able to turn hers on and use the internet and word processor. "A similar wavelength," she agrees, after a second. "But the idea of everything broken down to code and firewalls seems really...cold, to me."

Which are words one might be surprised to hear out of Ashley's mouth, given how rigid and aloof the Hermetic seems to many people upon their first few meetings, particularly if they are inclined to stereotype her. The truth is this: what structure she has has been lent to her entirely by her Tradition, impressed upon her. Ashley herself is a far more primal creature by nature; it evidences itself in her resonance, in her Word. She glances sidelong at Emily, once. "You can do small things by observation, sure," she says, "but it's a really passive way to affect the world. Sleepers do it. A strong Will takes action."

[Molly Quincannon] Molly wrinkles her nose at that - thoughtful, not snobby. Molly doesn't seem to do snobby. "Depends on how you view numbers and code, I guess," she says. "Look at it this way; poetry, from what little I get of it, is just as much code as anything running an operating system. It can all be broken down to individual, cold bits of code - syntax, rhyme scheme, syllables, vocabulary, right the way down to alphabet - but when you put those individual pieces together right, you make something very special. That's how I see code, but I get how a lot of people would just see it as cold code. Though ... how do you see code as cold? Take away the numbers for a minute; look at it as just cryptography. That's an art in and of itself."

Then, with a grin to Emily, "I never got Pollack. I sort of get that he was trying to evoke an emotion or something with his stuff, but it's all just spatter-art to me."

[Emily Littleton] "Fair enough," she tells the Adept. "This is why I seek to study."

There is a debate brewing here, about two types of representational language. Two codified bits of communication. Emily wraps her fingers around her messenger bag's strap and shifts her weight a bit to one side. She glances between them with a small smile, somewhat secretive but steady. Sure.

"Neither poetry, nor code, nor splatter-painting hold any higher merit than their physical selves without an observer," she says, and it should surprise neither of them. This near Reverence for the message behind the medium. After all, Emily is destined for a Traditional that holds tight to both the sacred and the profane. "Any medium can convey a worthy message, so long as its applicably tuned to its audience."

There's a little pause here, and then her smile widens. "But that might just be me rationalizing an appreciation for code and poetry; though one admittedly evokes a different response than the other, for me." Forced to choose, though, even Emily would take poetry over code; perhaps not for the reasons they might suspect.

[Ashley McGowen] "If you believe that art is entirely self-expression and not a matter of technique or skill, then Pollock's work makes a lot of sense," says Ashley, whose tone makes it quite clear that she does not believe that art is entirely self-expression - or, at least, good art isn't. "I mean, if you're angry then it's pretty gratifying to pick out a color scheme that's reflective of your mood and splatter and smear it all over a canvas. Except that art should be indicative of some higher brain function."

And, finally, the Hermetic takes a seat, drops into one of the chairs adjacent to Molly and crosses one leg over the other. The leash is still dangling from her wrist; after a few seconds that same arm drops off the armrest, drops down to wander over the smooth fur of Zane's skull and neck. She strokes the dog while they talk, almost absently, scratches occasionally at the base of his ears. He seems happy for the attention.

"I can appreciate symbols," she tells Molly, "but the symbols aren't the truth. I mean, a Word, an idea, is something completely vast and full of nuances. Just breaking it down to a set of code and symbols to represent it denies all those ambiguities. Code by its nature wants to condense everything to one meaning so that it can be easily understood."

[Molly Quincannon] "The symbols aren't the truth, no," Molly says, with a bit of a grin. "Any more than the paint is. If the paint were the truth, art would be meaningless. But it's like the building blocks of poetry's mechanics, or light and shade, or any number of other things. It's the difference between material, craft and artist, and how they combine to create art. You can't have art - real art, with meaning - without the building blocks - language and syntax and prose style for writing and poetry, paint or clay or marble or anything a more visual artist might use, machine code for a programmer. But you also can't have meaningful art without a basic understanding of the art medium you're using - even if it's in a 'learn the rules so you know how to break them' kind of way - and you have to have soul. The artist communicates emotion, ideology, imagery and I don't even know what else through the simple application of a mechanical understanding of what's going on, sufficient building blocks and an understanding of them ... and themselves; their own hearts and minds. I mean, isn't that what we do? Paradigm and Trad be damned, when we work our Wills, it's an art. But we need the craft and the materials and the heart-soul-brain combo to do it."

[Emily Littleton] Emily pulls up a seat of her own, but doesn't lift the strap of her messenger bag over her head. She tugs its bulk into her lap, rests her hands atop it. She feels a bit like a commentator at a tennis match. An idea goes this way (lob toward Ashley), and is countered back quickly (drive toward Molly), changing in form and intimation with each iteration. Now and again the youngest member of the gathering chimes in with an opinion.

Or a challenge. Challenging Ashley is rarely for the weak-of-heart, and yet Emily throws ideas into the mix with little eye toward caution... apparently. Conflict is hardly something that will erode their present friendship more than it already has in recent nights.

"One could argue, Ashley, that words are, at their semiotic roots, just a modality with greater accessibility and their relative nuance is therefore higher because of a longer tradition of use -- not any inherent worth or superlative structure."

Emily grins at the Adept, then continues.

"If you appreciate Truth, and that our lives and purpose are meant to find and illuminate those Truths through whatever communicative means we have, then the symbols -- Words being the most potent of these -- become resonant. Communication is ambiguous, at best, whatever the medium, which brings us back to the observer, and their importance in the whole ordeal. So, I suppose it's not enough to know Truth, and have a way to communicate it, you need someone to share it with as well."

[Ashley McGowen] Ashley listens to what Molly says, and then raises her eyebrows. "Right," she says, "which is why I was saying that you need to understand the theory behind magic instead of learning it by doing it. You need to understand your medium. But what I'm saying is that code is an instrument, not a truth...so it seems kind of cold and clinical to break reality down to it."

To the rest of what Molly says, she doesn't disagree, though perhaps the thought of voicing absolute agreement with a Cultist gives her pause. Or, at least, some reservations.

A look toward Emily, a frown as the girl says that Words hold no inherent worth, though that is not what she responds to. She needs to think about it further, perhaps: the idea is still half-formed. Brash the Hermetic may be, but she often takes whatever pause she needs before speaking her thoughts, before bringing them out into the open and making them true. "Not necessarily something to share it with," she says, "but ideas are going to compete against each other because they can't do anything but, and that's how they change. That's why ambiguities form. You don't need an observer, but a single idea and a single truth on its own without anything to challenge it and make it more is nothing." Quite literally.

[Molly Quincannon] "Well, everything can be broken down to its base elements. That's what's so cool about the world! Human bodies are broken down to specialised cells and that's a code-dance in and of itself, with everything transforming impulses and chemicals to create this oddly-balanced but workable system--"

Molly's phone bleeps. She checks the text message, grins a bit, then puts the phone away. "Sorry. As I was saying, just as you need to understand the theory of the practice - the craft - you need to understand your materials as well. So it might be a cold and clinical thing to do, but trying to put together a ... well, an anything without understanding its base components would be like trying to write a novel without understanding the alphabet. As to the other, I--"

Molly's phone bleeps. She raises an eyebrow at the message and starts to tuck it away. "I'm not sure what you mean by ideas not--" Molly's phone bleeps some more. She rolls her eyes and looks at it, and hasn't even managed to put it away before it bleeps again. And again. Finally, she chuckles and says, "Sorry. I ... need to go and talk a Popple down off the biggest paranoid trip since Kafka's The Trial. See you all later; shame to miss the philosophising. It was really thought-provoking." She gathers her bits, waves a good-bye, scritches Zane's ears again and is gone.

[Emily Littleton] Molly has to go. Molly has to go and that leaves Emily with an Ashley who is also in a teaching-thinking-mentoring mode. Emily, perhaps, should not have pushed thoughtful buttons and used expansive words.

She wishes Molly a good afternoon, waves a little as the Cultist disappears. There's a flicker of relief that crosses Emily's expression after Molly has rounded the corner and been swallowed up by the omnipresent Mile crowd. Then, and only then, she asks Ashley:

"What is a Popple?"

[Ashley McGowen] Molly articulates her thoughts, begins to refute what Ashley said and ask new questions, and the Hermetic tilts an ear toward the Cultist as she continues to speak. There's an intent look in her eyes; she's waiting, and she is certainly enjoying the debate with the two other women. To put it another way: she's having fun. Being challenged, and the discoveries that result from challenge, is how Ashley has fun.

She lifts a slender hand to Molly as the younger woman packs up her laptop and gets up to leave, doesn't move the fingers or wave.

And, after Molly has rounded the corner, she looks sidelong at Emily. She missed whatever relief was on Emily's face; the tension between Emily and Molly went by entirely without her picking up on it. Though, in Ashley's defense, they both hid it extraordinarily well. "I have no idea," she says. Then, beat. "Wait. I kind of remember. It was this kind of...puffy stuffed animal, back in the 80s." She remembers the 80s. Emily likely does not.

[Emily Littleton] Emily tries, very hard, to reconcile this definition of Popple with her exposure to Kafka. The non-sequitur that Molly dropped on her way out defies rationalization. She mulls on it for awhile, then shakes her head.

"Huh."

Emily shrugs a little, it's a very well, what can you do expression. It should be recognizable even to Ashley, who has not applied as much direct interest into the subtle art of emotional people reading as she has the study of Words.

"Some of the time, I haven't a clue what Molly's on about."

[Ashley McGowen] "Me either," Ashley says, her gaze flicking briefly to the corner that Molly disappeared around. "A nickname for somebody, maybe?" Ashley's exposure to Kafka is rather thorough, and Popple being someone's nickname is the only way she can possibly make sense out of what Molly said before her departure.

Now that Molly's left, she's left alone with Emily, who does not appear inclined to continue the debate they were having, and Ashley is suddenly reminded of what they spoke about last weekend before she left Emily's. She didn't dwell too much on it after leaving; Ashley lets go of arguments, and her anger in regard to them, quickly and easily. Conflict tests a friendship and strengthens it, to her, rather than weakening it. It affirms the bonds she has with others, if they remain her friends afterward. Some bonds, of course (Bran) just don't hold up to it over time.

When Zane rests his muzzle on her leg, she rubs his head and leans down, briefly, to wrap an arm around the dog's neck and rest her cheek against the smooth fur of his skull, which seems to be what he wanted. The affection she extends to the dog, at least, can be far more unreserved than what she extends to people. "That was the first time I've had a chance to speak with her at length, really. Other than when I saw you guys for breakfast." And her thoughts that morning hadn't entirely been on the conversation.

[Emily Littleton] [mysterious die roll of decision]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 9

[Emily Littleton] Emily's eyes track to the path Molly has disappeared down, as well. There's a small quiet following Ashley's observation, and Emily nods to show she's listening. Other than that, the Apprentice is thoughtful and silent for a spell. She is distracted, somewhat.

"I've learned to be cautious with her," Emily says. It's easy, this. Light. She attaches no gravity to it that Ashley can hear. "Molly views information as currency. It flows readily through her hands. Once she holds fast it, you've no control over where it may go."

Emily's gaze draws back to Zane and Ashley, and it softens her expression to a smile to see the way Ashley interactions with her pet. It's a warm thing; Ashley is very much a dog person to Emily, she can't imagine why others think differently.

"I've asked Quentin to look into an encounter she had with local police. He might be able to get some information we can't, due to his work with the department."

[Ashley McGowen] That Molly exchanges information like currency, that makes Ashley raise her eyebrows again. It's so different from her own MO that it wouldn't have occurred to her to suspect someone else of spreading all information that comes into their hands. While she doesn't hold tightly to everything she has, she generally has to be directly asked, and even then: it comes layered. It challenges the questioner to figure out what all of the information means for themselves.

"I'll keep that in mind," she tells Emily. And quietly makes the note to never tell Molly something that she is not comfortable with the rest of the city knowing - which is most things of a personal nature, aside from what she thinks and how she practices magic.

Emily mentions Molly's encounter with the local police, and Ashley blinks. "What encounter? I haven't really heard anything since I got back from Boston."

[Emily Littleton] She spreads her hands in a helpless gesture and shrugs slightly. Emily shifts in her chair now, lifting the messenger bag's strap over her head and settling the carryall beside her chair. She tucks one foot under the opposite knee and leans a little into one of the metal armrests.

"I'm hearing everything second or third hand at this point, so don't search me for details, but what I gather is that there are two cabals that may or may not be tainted running around the city. I've heard something about active recruitment but again no specifics. And then Molly goes and convinces herself she's being followed and has to confront the guy, who happens to be CPD, and Chuck goes along with her because he's never going to let her go alone --"

Emily's fingertips press into her temple. Her eyes close momentarily, eyelashes just brush her cheeks before parting once more.

"And then the both of them are caught up in some mess with Chuck impersonating law enforcement. I have badge numbers and a name that Quentin might be able to run down. Chuck said he thinks that one of the policemen had their mind altered, somehow. I think the plan," she sounds dubious about this plan, heavy on the sarcasm here, "Is to hack the police database for more information."

Beat.

"Which sounds unbelievably reckless to me. So I asked Quentin about what he might have heard around the water cooler. Incidental information can be quite useful, and I doubt, given his position, that he'll raise many eyebrows chatting at the office."

[Ashley McGowen] She'd seen the note about the two opposing cabals, and the note advising people to stay out of the chantry; she hadn't quite realized that it had reached this point. Initially, Ashley's plans with such a matter had been to seek the cabals out and see whether they were interested in meeting other magi around the city; it's better to bring them in, after all (to impose her Will, to make them hers) than to have them running around as free agents.

"Wait," she says, and her expression is a bit confused as she looks over at Emily, "so one of the cabal members is involved in the police department, and for some reason she and Chuck think that the department will have more information about the cabals themselves? Why not just speak with the cabal members? Has no one tried that?"

Her tone suggests that she, too, finds the plan reckless, which isn't the problem. That she finds it reckless with little potential gain: that is.

[Emily Littleton] Emily rolls her eyes in apparent frustration.

"Damned if I know," she mutters, but it's clear enough to hear, and more surprisingly? It's in English this time.

"I have no idea who the stalking CPD officer is, beyond a name. I don't know if he is connected to the cabals, part of them, a separate matter entirely. To be honest, Molly dropped some cryptic one-liner about this in midst of berating me for failing to address a formal public notification system in the Emissary meeting. I rather stopped listening at that point."

She exhaled, sharply. The meeting had been productive, in Emily's mind, but the thought that it would present some sort of Utopian governance as a panacae to all Chicago's ailments irritated her to no end. It wasn't pragmatic. Rome wasn't built in a day! Insert your indignant phrase of choice here!

"It didn't come up again until I walked in on their argument at Chuck's. I got the impression that Chuck finds her methods impulsive and reactive, and that is truly terrifying."

She takes a small breath, tucks her hands under her now-crossed arms.

"I have been considering hosting a meeting, just so that what is and isn't known can get clearly on the table. My place isn't warded, but it's also not much of a loss to anyone if it's compromised by a tail or a search. If someone else can bring extra chairs, it might even be comfortable."

[Ashley McGowen] "Useful as a formal public notification system would be, I don't think anyone would use it," Ashley says, and it's her turn to let a little frustration leak into her voice now. "Hardly anyone uses the damned board. They all just come find me, or go find Israel, it seems like." Though it isn't as bad as it used to be; there was a point where she could hardly have a conversation without others seeking her out for information.

She has friends now.

That all of this has been going on without her knowledge, though, she finds that a little troublesome. Ashley is used to being one of the most (if not the most) well informed people in the chantry, and to be left out of the loop now is clearly a bit disconcerting to her. She hasn't been directly involved in any of the goings-on, and much of what has happened has not happened to Daiyu, Wharil or Kage, and has therefore escaped her notice. Emily believed the meeting was useful: Ashley was left angry, and if the words must be said, she was left frightened by it (she was angry because she was frightened), by watching the power (the relevance) that she'd accumulated be taken away.

So for a couple of seconds when she glances at Emily, she looks a little lost. She says, "I guess the council should handle it."

[Emily Littleton] If Emily did not let herself believe the meeting had been useful, then she would be left believing it had been frustrating, manipulative and pointless. It was far better for her to hope that there had been some underlying progress than to accept it had been the wanton tearing down of all that the community had tried to build in recent months. That community, in Emily's mind, was even smaller than the council. The heart of that community was sitting here, sharing an afternoon sun-bathed table with her. If the politics were as pointless as they felt, then Emily had little cause to take up with them.

She had less cause yet to formal join into them. She'd step one step closer to staying as Kage was, an Orphan by choice and in permanence.

So she chose to believe it had been useful. Because it was easier than believing in the utter futility of it all. It was harder, in some ways, too to find hope in the face of human fallibility.

"To be honest? I don't know that it's what the council is for, but the council and executives seem the best people to gather -- because of their investiture and involvement, and because they include people like you and Wharil and Ashton, with cooler heads and more experience. And it's better, I guess, than just calling together my favorite people who get things sorted. At least outwardly. Somehow."

There was still a bad taste in Emily's mouth over the whole thing, but she was trying to get past it.

[Ashley McGowen] "What is the council for, if it isn't to govern?" Ashley asks, and the question is a little bitter. "There's nobody to take this shit to anymore. And I fucking refuse to be the strong arm while getting treated like a glorified paper pusher. If the council doesn't want a single person to address this, then the people who make up the council will have to be the people to do it, or we won't have a system."

There would seem to be a bad taste left in Ashley's mouth, too. She hasn't made quite the same peace with it that Emily has. Not yet. If Ashley seems more withdrawn now than she was before the council meeting, it's because she is; after what happened she was rather willing to take a step back. Perhaps this is surprising; perhaps there was more of a fight expected from her.

"Or bring it to Ashton, I guess. She's the sentinel, and if these guys count as a threat, I guess it would probably fall in her domain."

[Emily Littleton] Emily reaches down for her messenger bag, she slides the strap over her head once more and pats Zane on the head. It should come as no surprise, then, that their conversation trends toward her leaving.

"I wasn't telling you about it as Deacon, or asking you to strong arm anything. I was letting you know as a friend that there was something amiss, and Molly at the middle of it."

She's a little worn thin; she's got less warmth to ballast her in moments like these. Emily stands, wraps her fingers around the strap of her messenger bag and shrugs a bit.

"If I choose to call a meeting, I'll let you know," she says, but it's not a definite thing by any measure. The Apprentice does not want to be confined to a meeting she cannot leave, one in her own home with people she less trusts than likes. "For now, I'm going to grab a coffee and head back to campus."