Gravity and inertia

[Molly Quincannon] Molly hasn't been back to the House since this whole mess began. Part of it is to do with the fact that she was quite comprehensively asked to avoid the place while said mess was going on. Now, though, she's been reliably informed that it's over - her part was small, but apparently helpful on some level - and now it's time to see what's become of the place. It's been some while since the attack on the House, but given how busy people might have been, it's good to check and see if help is needed in any arena she can give it. Mostly those arenas encompass home security, wiring fixes and general clean-up, but the willingness is there.

Besides, she may as well give the residents here the opportunity to tell her she's not welcome, if they're going to. Though surely they'd have done so by now if that were the case.

[Solomon Ward] The place has had a hollow feel lately. A sort of empty feel. It's always been some what jumbled here, the meeting place of a half dozen disparate personalities all striving to make the building what they thought it should be, but it least it had a purpose. People stocked it with food, lounged in its chairs, met and discussed things. Of late it just seems... hollower... .

He'd been there the better part of the morning. Cleaning out some of the upper rooms, disinfecting them for the umpteenth time. Then the lesser chores, the common and mundane ones. Cleaning bathrooms. Cleaning refrigerators. Changing linen. Little things that made the place tick, things some one else may or may not have already done, but it kept him busy.

Scholarship and work... discipline makes the world go around, or so Solomon Ward's life style seems to hold.

It's an odd sight, should some one enter. Sounds from the kitchen as a man in dress slacks and polished shoes kneels near an oven, shirtless. Torso wrapped in white bandage from collar to belt line, and a soft pink shows through around the sternum area. His starched white shirt is hung over a table chair. The revolver worn on one hip is almost ...casual.

"Hello?" to the sound of entry, the sound of brillo pad on metal pausing as he awaits a response.

[Molly Quincannon] Molly turns towards the kitchen - she knows that voice, sort of. (Its owner calls her 'Ms Quincannon', that voice. But frankly, that voice's owner has a lot of leeway with what he calls her.) "Hello," she replies as she steps into the kitchen doorway. "I thought I'd drop by and see -- whoa." This as she spies the bandages and such. "Are you okay? And everybody else? I mean, I know it got done, but ... damn!"

That's the first thing. Other questions and considerations can wait. For her part, Molly looks ... reasonable. It's hard to say 'fine', though she's standing and unbandaged, at least. Physically, all that's wrong is a bit of dropped weight and a suggestion that she maybe hasn't slept well or often in the last month. There's also the slightly shell-shocked, 'thousand-yard stare' sort of look. Though to be fair, she looks better than she did at the last meeting.

[Solomon Ward] "Good morning, Ms. Quincannon", he says. There's little surprise to her response, but that seems to be the mans personality, from what she has experienced of him. Not so much a sense of jadedness than well schooled discipline, experience in things other people often over look or never have to deal with.

He moves to stand, half because she has entered the room and half because he is shirtless, even bandaged. Much in the way he addresses her the man has a deep seated sense of propriety. He starts the sink in order to wash the oven black from his hands, doing so is a fastidious manner before drying them and moving to his shirt. He speaks the entire time.

"Physically speaking, I'm the worst of it. Every one else came out whole. Physically" he doesn't need to elaborate. She suffered her own trials until he, and others, had come for her. Maybe its why he watches her so carefully, the sort of look that goes beyond physical appraisal. It's almost judging.

His left shoulder bears a long, thin, narrow scar that pushes over the limit of the bandages. It's perfectly diagonal, what little of it shows. Almost intentional. Both his wrists have minor burn scars, but these are old and faded with time. One bicep appears to have been bitten once upon the time, also old. It's an odd history of violence, writ in the flesh.

Then again this is a man that invades Labyrinths. It shouldn't be totally unexpected.

"I wanted to thank you for your help, with the security. It may not seem like much in comparison with.. other things, but it was vital. We'd never have accomplished it were there mundane security to contend with."

[Molly Quincannon] "Oh, sorry; good morning." She's not really sure how to address him; she has a hard time calling anyone 'mister' anything, and calling him 'Solomon' just seems wrong somehow. So she dodges the issue.

The emphasis on 'physically' ... no, he does not need to elaborate. That's clear from the way she looks away, thoughtful in unpleasant ways. She leaves it at, "Well, it could have been worse, and I'm glad it wasn't. And ... 'you're welcome' seems wrong, somehow. Except in that I figure that the community at large is welcome to whatever help I can offer in this kind of thing. Which I guess is the etymology of that one so never mind." Off that particular tangent, she blushes as she adds, "I'm glad I ran into you, actually. Of the three that came after me, you're the only one I didn't get a chance to thank. I..." That's when she runs out of words; that's apparently fairly hard to talk about. Big surprise. "Just ... I owe you, Israel and Nathan a great deal. And if any of what I was trying to say when I thought you were a hallucination was actually coherent? Sorry about that."

The scars don't faze Molly. Under her jacket and T-shirt, she's got a few of her own. Mostly burns, some recent. And the tiny scars left from the gunshot wounds, that had worked into her Pattern by the time Israel healed her. She looks at them, curious, but she doesn't ask. That'd be rude.

[Solomon Ward] He watches her for a long moment, not quit quizzically. At a point he seems though he may have said some thing, but it waits. Letting her express herself as best she can. It isn't quite a stare, but the man does have a some what unemphatic look to him. Nothing personal, again... personality. Less the people person, more the scholar.

"There's no need to apologize, Ms. Quincannon and you owe me nothing. It would have been indecent and unconscionable to have left any one in there. Under the circumstances your response was relatively mild. I myself should apologize... I more or less dodged you, actively, during it.. but Nathan and Israel are friendlier faces and I realize I often stress what I perceive to be immediate needs over the comfort of others. I didn't want to interrogate you so early. Its myself whom should apologize."

[Molly Quincannon] "...What do you have to apologise for?" Molly seems genuinely perplexed by this. "From what you're saying, you'd have interrogated me - which would have been fair enough, thinking about it - but made yourself scarce to avoid doing it because you thought I might have wigged out or something, so that sounds like less a thing to apologise to me for and more a thing for me to be grateful about. Not that I think I'd have been adverse to answering questions, but ... well, yeah, I guess it was easier waking up and not having someone I didn't know in the room." There's a pause, then a sheepish addition of, "Especially when I wigged out a bit anyway."

Then, after a moment's thought, she asks, "Um ... the Nephandi. As a whole. Does anyone get why they're so cataclysmically fucked up?"

[Solomon Ward] "It was rude", he said almost confused but as matter of fact as one could. The dodging her bit, he means.

He buttons up the white shirt, starched and crisp. Like the trousers, the shoes, the belt... the mans clothes are plain, stern. Quality, custom tailored for his frame. Anachronistic even, there's a lack of contemporary colors or designs. It's about quality. He leaves the top three unbuttoned, so as to not make the shirt too tight over the pinkish tinged bandage on his chest.

"Theories, treatises, a millennium of history and debate. It depends on the nature of the things they serve and whom or what they are sworn to, but ultimately its all the same. The death of Creation." he shrugs mildly. There simply isn't much in the way of physical gesture or expression to emphasis the madness beyond that statement.

[Molly Quincannon] There's no 'almost' about Molly - she is confused by his apparent belief that his actions were rude. Still, they could go around in circles forever on a point of etiquette and she leaves it at, "...Well, I didn't think it was rude. It was good use of resources, and thoughtful, which by its nature can't be rude."

Then there's the rest, which gets ... well, frankly, flailing. "But that's the thing I don't get! I mean, why are these disparate groups of tainted grotesqueries hell-bent ... no pun intended ... on destroying the creation they're in? It just seems really counter-productive and I can't figure out whether it's just being locked up in some dark pocket of the nether realms for too long driving these things bugnuts so they think they're doing reality a favour or if they want to rebuild creation in their own image - which, by the way, ew - or they're just thinking on a level I could never hope to comprehend. And it's frustrating because if I'm going to loathe a thing and work towards its ultimate annihiliation whenever I come across it, I want a more comprehensive reason than 'its minions tortured me'."

There are more questions, from the look of her. Lots and lots of questions. But this one seems to be the biggest deal, the 'I don't get it'. She also, for some reason, seems tense, as if she expects a bad reaction to this whole conversational line.

[Solomon Ward] "Some thing to drink?" he asks, moving towards the counter and the refrigerator as he does so. One glass he fills with milk, the other awaits her response. Again, he talks while he does these things.

"The thing about it Ms. Quincannon, is that you can't understand them. Many a scholar, a zealot, and a righteous man has attempted to under stand it... and fallen because of it. We can learn the nature of their masters or the motives behind some of their plans, but ultimately its such an alien and unhuman way of thought that to truly understand is to become it."

He turns about, leaning against the counter top casual as he watches her. "What were you taught, and what do you believe, about Ascension, Ms. Quincannon?"

[Molly Quincannon] "I'm good, thanks." That's in response to the drink; she has her bottle of Mountain Dew. Though in deference to the man's potential proprieties, she adds, "But a glass'd be great, thanks."

The bit in the middle gets a grumble of, "That's what everybody says. Though usually a lot more loudly. Occasionally with a lot of swear words. I know the Nietzsche quote. I just..." There's a frustrated sigh as she retrieves her bottle of oddly-coloured caffeine-and-sugar. "...I have this issue with not understanding things. It doesn't sit well with me. Which brings me to your question about what I believe about Ascension."

Swig of Dew, sigh. "I honestly believe that the entire point of Ascension is understanding things. I don't know how you are with computer metaphors so I'll leave out the root code references for the time being, but the very first thing we learn how to do is to understand things. Knowing isn't enough; understanding is what makes things ... better, I guess. Not so much 'know your enemy' as 'learn from mistakes, both those you make and those others do and have'. Knowledge may be power, but mostly it's understanding and kind of ... I guess empathy that makes things get done right. I don't know if I have it wrong or what, but that's how I see it. It's the Cultist in me." She shrugs. "Reaching Ananda means the understanding of all."

[Solomon Ward] "They work in opposite" he says, moving to take a seat at the table, placing a glass next to a seat for her. He stands until she sits, at which point he'd take a seat as well.

"We all have different views of Ascension, but the roads often lead to the same place. Understanding, knowing, enlightenment... and lets be honest with our selves, through all of that; Power . Over Creation, reality, our selves. Fates or destiny. Many of us believe Ascension to be control."

"There are..metaphysics.. behind it, but their twisting is literal. Some thing inside them snaps, when they give themselves over. They are remade. The Descend , Ms. Quincannon. We attempt to know and understand with human boundaries, human limits. With such stripped away they attempt to know and understand and comprehend things that ruin the mind and choke the soul. I've honestly met barabbi that thought they were doing mankind a favor, compared to what they had supposedly learned about Creation."

"The tenets of Ananda, for example. I understand they have to do with the treatment of others, to not cause pain, or may be its harm...anyway. Then you get a man, or woman, that finds enlightenment in pain. The act of receiving, of giving. A wild hair grows in their ass that maybe others are missing the grand scheme of it, and they try to share. It's a down hill spiral. It's also a weak metaphor, but you get the idea".

[Molly Quincannon] "Um ... some of us on this side of the Ascend/Descend line find enlightenment in pain," Molly explains. "Don't get me started on the Hagalaz; they're crazy mofos. But for them, it's consensual. I think that's the difference. Some people get off on causing pain, or on receiving it, or both, but it's got to be consensual or else they're rending another's Passion, and we don't do that. The ones I met ... well, they didn't believe in safewords." She shakes her head. "Which in a way doesn't make a lot of sense. Sure, Riveira only came alive when he was riddling me with holes, and was really ... um, enthused? About the whole torture deal? They were really keen on getting me to agree to something that ... well, I don't get how the Cauls work, but couldn't they have just ... thrown me in anyway? Instead of trying to make me agree to it?"

Then, a frown. "Power and control without understanding is a sledgehammer where a multi-tool would be way better. I don't think any of us can or should have that much power without a complete understanding of the universe, or else how are we going to wield it wisely?"

[Emily Littleton] She is no longer an Apprentice, no longer an Initiate, but Emily still struggles inwardly as she approaches this house that is immediately both a place of wonder and sacredness and a profane house of death and ill portents. She comes to seek the node, to study in the library, to push herself further without direct tutelage so that she can better combat the things she has weathered when they come to call again.

Because they would come to call again. Emily had to know safety and surety before she could follow up on the latter half of her vows. Nevertheless, she approaches carrying two carrier bags for the kitchen -- to restock some of the shelves of the pantry and the freezer.

There comes a knock on the house door, then another, and then the door swings open, allowing the brisk autumn air to swirl in around her feet. It closes not long after that, and the sound of footsteps progress toward the kitchen.

The night's activities have left their mark on her and Emily seems, to Solomon, warmer than she had the last time they met. To Molly, though, she is somewhat diminished yet. There is a carefulness to her movements, nothing as overt as Solomon's bandages and bloodiness, that speaks to a gingerness in her torso. Deep wounds that do not show, perhaps. She cannot carry her messenger bag, still, so there is a small purse tucked under one arm. She's wearing jeans and an aubergine sweater that obscures the bruising on her slight arms.

When there is a break in their conversation she offers them each a "good morning." Solomon's is addressed to "Mr. Ward." Molly's to simply "Molly."

[Solomon Ward] He nods to her words, listening for a moment. Letting her explain. It makes sense...which leads to his next point, "Now take it further... the metaphysics. The very concept of pain. Not as a physical experience or some thing that can be measured or relied on, used to push yourself on others. What if it goes deeper? That pain can be such a concept, espoused by so many people, that it becomes a living, breathing, thing? An entity, a purpose with an end goal.. and again, words a poor reflection of the concept, but it exists... Its madness"

Another shrug, a drink of the glass a milk. His focus changes when he hears the door. A quiet moment of tension where he waits, right hand grasping the glass and left sitting calmly at the edge of the table as he waits... .

"Good day, Ms. Littleton" he greets her, standing for a moment as she enters the room. He's already moving, more visibly injured and yet not as ginger in his actions as Emily, to take the bags from her.

The words are for Molly however "We were lucky. This place didn't have a Caul. If it had, yes, they could have thrown you in. Its my understanding that the fall requires choice. Getting eaten by other world demons does not".

[Emily Littleton] (( Aha. Need more coffee. Edit: No longer an Apprentice, no longer an *Orphan...))

[Molly Quincannon] Emily gets a quick, quiet and above all concerned study - she knew that everyone was whole, from Solomon's commentary, but ... well, physically alright did not mean 'unharmed'. "Hey, Emily," she says, first of all. "You okay?"

Then it's back to considering what Solomon says. "Well ... that kind of sounds like what a friend of mine used to burble about in terms of animism. Everything's got a soul, more or less. Don't see why it can't apply to mish-mashes of emotions too. So ... wait, maybe I'm not entirely getting this but it sounds like you're leading up to a very bad place. That whole abandonment of self to pain, 'dark night of the mind' stuff ... incarnate, somewhere out there?" She shudders. 'Eugh' doesn't begin to cover it. "And people worship that? Give themselves to it freely?" More shuddering. "Man, I'd rather get eaten."

[Emily Littleton] Solomon stands, this is to be expected, but when he starts to move her way to help with the bags, she shakes her head.

"I have these," she tells him, with a small smile and an easy dismissal that remains polite. "You two are having ... a worthwhile conversation. I can restock shelves," she says, that small smile turning faintinly wry. I am a good mook, it seems to say.

She sets them down on the kitchen floor before he gets to them. See? All settled. Molly now gets a smile which is less tight and worrisome than usual, despite her cautious movements.

"I'm quite well, cheers," is the first answer, and a genuine one. But this is Molly, who does not recant, so Emily adds in explanation, "Still healing up from support staff duty."

There's a light chuckle at that, but it causes her to wince slightly. "Never let Mr. Ward here convince you that second string is safe. I seem to be repeatedly proving that it very much is not."

There's a glance to Molly that narrows, slightly, when the woman says she'd rather be eaten than Fall. Emily knows, now, that there is a whole Tradition of Singers sworn to protect humanity from those that chose the latter. It's on this understanding that she starts placing boxes, cans and jars, into the pantry -- staples and sauces and quick meals to throw together when people are huddled here by necessity or choice.

[Solomon Ward] He nods to Emily. He'll acquiesce to her preference, but it goes against the man's grain. Still, there's no insult or bitterness in it. It's simply how he is.

Another nod, for Molly this time "Exactly... and that's only part of the triangle. There are other things as well. The Infernal, for example. The Angels of creation that rebelled against Creation. Their followers are usually the easiest to understand. People that want power, money, influence, affluence, control. The classic reasons of infernal pacting. It isn't to say they are simple or not dangerous, but why man falls to their sway is the most understandable. What I described to you goes beyond animism and into spiritual poison. These things are called the Malfeans and make up one faction of the Fallen. The last are... utterly alien, worse than what we saw. Even their name lacks sanity. Things outside Creation... it makes me wonder what influenced Lovecraft's dreams... ."

The man is very confident that he knows what he speaks of. No second hand guesses, no 'i heard from a guy' sort of thing. He leaves off at any real detail, but the imagery is there. Not so cruel as to inflict memories upon the women, but enough to pass on the ideas, the concepts, of what is out there.

A small chuckle to Emily, a shake of the head before he finishes his milk. "I believe were some one taking minutes, I never said that. Tragically, Ms. Littleton has discovered in her association with me that I'm some what of a ... bullet magnet. As are my peers."

[Molly Quincannon] Molly has One Of Those Memories, so she turns to Emily with a small smile and says, "He's right, you know. He never said that. But so long as you're healing okay, I'm not going to do the mother hen thing." Then, to Solomon, "You may be a bullet magnet, but at least you're a bullet magnet in a good cause. You get things done while you're drawing fire, which is more than some of us can say." Guilt, sheepishness, but trying at least to not make a big deal of it. She knows what she bought, and how much worse it could have been.

Then, back to the explanation of Nephandi ... or at least as close to one as she figures she's ever going to get. Lacking any kind of religious background, she frowns a bit at the bit about the Infernal. "Um ... okay, only thing I really know about that kind of thing is Lucifer comics, but I get the general gist. At least enough to know that the whole thing, what with the Widderslainte and all, is starting to sound more and more like Rosemary's Baby on acid all the time. As to the third ... Atlas told me that Lovecraft was a crude comparison when I cited the Great Old Ones, but he didn't break it down like this, so grain-of-salt time. I just ... Faustian pacts, toxic waste for the soul and the Dweller in the Gulf and his misfit band of unpronouncable buddies?" She shudders again, deeper this time. "They don't work together, do they?"

[Emily Littleton] It goes against Solomon's grain, true, but it would go against Emily's to have her Elder halt his lesson to help her unload staples into the pantry, or to loft a gallon of milk into the fridge. These were the things that children, apprentices, and young people without other engagements busied themselves with. Solomon calls forth some of the stricter memories of her childhood, and the mannerisms that follow along with them.

Emily shifts from placing things in the pantry, to loading a few items into the fridge and freezer -- there are meats, now, to defrost and cook for meals. Spices to make whatever is cooking that much more palatable. There's milk, and butter, and some rudimentary vegetables in the fridge. Lastly, Emily places a loaf of pumpkin bread (still slightly warm from Emily's oven) on a cutting board. She gathers a bread-knife and three plates and balances these, somewhat deftly, as she brings it to where they are sitting.

It smells sweet, spicy, and vaguely comforting against the topics they are discussing.

The Initiate slips away again, just for a moment longer, to run the restocking of medical supplies up to the bathroom where the med kit is kept. Between Solomon's injuries and recent events, she imagines that kit is running quite low on some staples, as well. When she's back from that, then Emily will put the kettle on, ready tea making things, and find her way back to the table. In no one objects, she'll join them there.

[Solomon Ward] "That's no ones fault, Ms. Quincannon. As I said, you performed a remarkable and vital role in the end operation. It would be a sad and tragic world if every one in it were forced to do the things I do. I wouldn't wish that burden on any one" quietly, honestly. There was no shame in that, no guilt he said.

He watches Emily work a moment before looking back to Molly. He knows she's listening, and that's fine. She needs to, though again the man isn't going into any dangerous secrets or threats to morality. Simple explanations, because it would take a life time to explain it deeper. Because people really don't need most of this information, and because, in a way, its his way of guarding others. Too much can be a bad thing. So he keeps it light, as much as one can when dealing with the concept of literal evil.

"They all exist. Mind you my beliefs are often viewed as slanted, because I am a religious man. Still, most Traditions have a general shared concept of belief. There was nothing, there was Creation, and from there we all have our slants and views. So going on that generally shared and accepted theme... "

"The One, Creator, God, name Him as you shall... He took Creation and separated the Light from the Dark. Made the Heavens and the Earth... metaphors for our world and the Others? There are entities refereed to as High Umbrood... the closest thing that matches the Biblical ideal of Angels. They are sentient embodied concepts. Life and death, heat, fire, growth, protection, age. All the higher mechanics of Creation, all the higher ideals of the human mind attempting to understand Creation. Some of these are said to have rebelled... The infernal. Some believe the war between Heaven and Earth lasted longer than many give credit for... but most spiritualist mages agree at some point and time there was a shattering. Reality separated into what it is today. Spiritual entities were cut off from direct action with our world. I equate it with the Fall of Eden, personally. When man lost his state of grace... .

"There was separation, impurity on Earth, and else where, for the first time. Malfean entities. And then, if one wants to get into the truly creepy, the truly unhuman and evil; The potentially blasphemies, but who knows.. its all theory. The Outsiders are said to have existed before God, before Creation. When He separated the Light from the Dark they were trapped outside our plane, of all planes. A place that doesn't exist and yet it does."

"There's holes in it, mind you. But after twenty eight years of study over such things, this is the conclusion myself and several others have reached. For all its flaws and holes it follows the idea of a God, a Creation, and yet three separate and distinct forms of evil that desire our world. They oppose each other, to the best we understand. Some times openly, some times not. The factions compete, and within the factions their masters compete and they compete for their masters in a sort of proxy fight for dominance..."

A small shrug, resigned and tired. Its obviously some thing he's put a lot of time and effort, years perhaps, into thinking over, "They don't work together, but they don't try to annihilate each other constantly. Like the Traditions they have goals. Some coincide, others don't. There's no way to be sure who's plotting whom and what and why. That's about as much as any of us know when it comes to their factions and how they relate to one another, and even then its only one theory amongst many. I believe they can work together, but its less out of unification and more that each other believes they can fuck their partner out of the prize instead of sharing it. It isn't common though, thank God".

[Molly Quincannon] None of this is anything Molly has heard before; that's fairly clear. Up until now, her views on matters spiritual have been ... phenomenally mundane, where they existed at all. Mostly she's been lucky to have not come into contact with many beings of this type, so no one she ever spoke to bothered to explain. She certainly doesn't take Solomon's statements as gospel (no pun intended), but she does try to parse them a little more into her own worldview. That may take time and sifting it through at home, but right now, Solomon looks tired and it's probably not the best idea to keep pushing. She's got more answers than she honestly thought to expect. So in the end, she leaves it at, "...I think I get it. Well, as much as I'm going to, anyway. I just ... leaving aside all the theology and things, I ... can't make the worldview of the people involved make sense. I get not trying to fathom why Umbrood or whatever do what they do, not least because it'd be like trying to wire a night-light to the output of a nuclear power station and expect it to do anything but blow up. But the people ... I mean, they can't possibly have the time or the motivation to torture all these people into submission, right? Some go willingly, or at least with the less ... um, deadly offers? That ... that I just don't get. What's worth pouring that much toxic waste into your soul?"

[Emily Littleton] Emily has survived Catholic catechism, and found herself back in a Catechumenate as she prepared to join the Chorus Celestial. These ideas that Solomon is presenting are not entirely foreign, but their physical manifestation as more than Allegorical truths has been foundationally shaking to the young mage. Shaking, and then galvanizing.

"People are capable of some remarkable things," she adds to the conversation as she settles into a chair. "Even mundane people can be motivated to great heights, to seemingly surpass their base limitations. But people are also capable of deep depravity. The darkness of the human condition is boundless," Emily has experience with it, with darkness untouched by anything higher or lower than humanity's ills.

"Add to that a little metaphysical nudge, or the promise of power, or worse yet a taste of it? It does not surprise me at all that there are those who fall, and once they have fallen part way the gravity and inertia of it take them under into things they might not have chosen for themselves."

It doesn't surprise her, but it saddens her.

"How far people are willing to go for the things they believe in, or lust after, or crave will never cease to amaze me."

[Solomon Ward] "Ms. Littleton hit the nail on the head" he says, looking between the two of them for a moment. "It's actually comical to blame most of the world's evils on outside influence. 'The Devil made me do it' and 'another nefarious plot' scenarios. We found it in our hearts to kill to acquire what we want. Not what we need, but what we desire. From there... again, I defer to Ms. Littleton. Gravity and inertia."

"Also, the human mind has a tendency to rationalize. We all do it every day. 'I do not wish to associate with this person, and so I lie to him or her... why did I lie? Well, to be gentler with him or her, of course. It has nothing to do with the fact I'm too cowardly or hypocritical to say to some one that I dislike them for petty reasons, or cliches, or faults they have no control over. I lie to make myself seem as though I am being gentler.' Eventually, people believe themselves.

"In extremis, some people are able to take it further. 'I killed her for her own good', or 'she asked for me to take her, look how she acted'... and they honestly believe themselves. Throw in such thinking with the ideals of supernatural power, moral less affluence. Gravity and inertia".

[Molly Quincannon] Molly is twenty-seven years old, but in some ways, she is very, very young. That probably explains the look on her face while the harsh truths of how humans can be are laid out on the table between the three. It's horror and sorrow and betrayal, but more of a twinge than a sharp stab. She's a smart woman; she knows this already. Knowing the depths to which it goes, however, is a different thing. She schools it quickly, knowing how much an innocent this must make her look, and she shakes her head. "This isn't exactly new to me, that whole 'gravity and inertia' bit. Most of the people I used to hang with always said that apathy was the problem; people are looking for the easy out and that means anyone who can give them an easy answer can just ... come up and have them. I just ... always rebelled against that, I guess. It doesn't have to be that way. It ... how is that a fulfilling way to live? Don't people feel anything while their minds and souls atrophy, or worse?" She gives a derisive sort of snort. "I know how this makes me sound; no wonder people call me naive. But just because I know it doesn't mean I understand it. I'm ... not wired that way."

[Emily Littleton] Emily toys with the stack of plates with one fingertip. It's an idle thing, a motion that makes no sound. She is thoughtful for a moment, before she speaks candidly about a thing she oft obscures, mostly hides.

"I'm glad for you, in some ways, that you cannot understand it. That it makes no sense to you, when you try to internalize it. But some of these things aren't meant to be internalized, or empathized with. Look, Molly, what happened to you was terrible but at least it happened for a reason. In service to dark ideals, or because they had fallen beyond their means. You can rationalize it, you can give them some excuse or escape if you want."

Emily's brow furrows, and she draws her hands back into her lap.

"I was taken, too. When I was fifteen. By normal men, without any supernatural means or methodologies. Not because of who and what I am, but because I was there, at the wrong time, without the means to defend myself. There is nothing to excuse or explain that, or what happened then. That place," and here, she means the Labyrinth, "Made me relive it. Not just remember, but go back there and step into those moments again. I promise you that I will never understand why it happened, but I have to accept that it does happen. That some people are just like that -- be it because they are broken, or were wronged, or lack simple human consideration for others.

"Magic amplifies everything we are, and everything we wish we weren't. I hope you never have the means to internalize that sort of Evil and hatred."

[Solomon Ward] He blinks for a few moments. It was some thing he hadn't known about Emily, but then again.. he wasn't supposed to until now, was he? It adds its own sort of gravity to the conversation. She answers Molly better than he could have himself, and so he leaves it that. A small nod to affirm the girl was right, though he doubted she needed that either.

"Speaking of humanities goods and evils, of the mundane sort. I'd been meaning to ask you, Emily. In a short while, a month at most, I'm going to have several projects opening up. It's taken me some time to juggle my finances and make things work in a manner I found acceptable, but some of my plans are nearly ready to begin."

A moments pause, thinking, "I'm not sure how much time your studies give you, on top of what I intend to add to them. Or your source of income, of which I have no intent to pry. Anyway, one of them is going to be a sort of half way house. Things our Tradition is known for, out side of 'evil sorcerer killing' schtick. I'd intended to invoilve other Singers, but as we're what their is..." a shrug, he goes on.

"Anyway, I have several things in the works. Assistance in running some of them would be appreciated. It would also be Tradition work, and also paying work. I can, of course, manage it myself if need be but I feel that were others to help with the Ophelia House I could divert more energy to other mundane and non standard projects".

"Apathy is a problem. It deadens morals first, ideals second. The soul follows the mind in these things. Our world is slowly wearing down. We're losing our own momentum. People forget that quelling evil isn't a matter of simply killing evil things, its destroying the idea of it at the root. Drug addiction, violent crimes. A retarded and obsolete penal system. Spousal abuse, child abuse. All simple things that communities, once upon a time, involved themselves in. Most people can't be bothered from there. The modern world is, for all its medical and social benefits and enlightenment, a mass production of poison people. The ones that fall, not all of them but a strong majority, were already atrophied. There was nothing to feel until the end, when it snapped".

[Molly Quincannon] She looks at Emily, and there's empathy there as the new-fledged Chorister tells her tale. Molly knows a thing or two about reliving the bad, though not being forced to do so by anything but her own mind. It's understanding, her look, and something else - Molly has a reputation for spreading information, whether the source or subject wants it spread or not. This, however, is not something she's ever going to bring up; not to Emily, not to anyone else.

After that look, though, she says, "I'm not trying to give them an out by understanding it, Emily. What I'm trying to do is ... well, it goes back to what I was saying about power without understanding being nothing more than a sledgehammer. If I can ... understand the motivations even a little, then I can reassure myself that there's another way; a better way. With that ... well, you're saying that people are like this and I don't think they have to be. But just telling them that without understanding why they let themselves die inside? That isn't going to work, is it? The only way anyone can ever explain anything to anyone else and really hope to have it stick is to explain from a position of understanding, at least on an intellectual level, what they're going through. I just ... I just want to be able to understand what this sort of person wants so I can maybe offer a better option before it gets to their souls dying, if it comes to that. I can't explain the alternatives if I don't understand where they are."

[Emily Littleton] To Solomon, she explains:

"I'm a graduate student now, so I teach and with that come a small stipend. It's more generous than the grants I had as an undergraduate. I used to do some IT and database consulting on the side, but there hasn't been much time for that of late. Most of my jobs required some travel, and came through connections my father had here in the states."

This is all offered very matter of factly. She has no trouble disclosing it to him, or to Molly.

"I'd be happy to help out, but my week day schedule is largely determined by class times and office hours. If you need non-technical references, I used to volunteer at the Cabrini Green Soup Kitchen and shelter, up to last Winter." She keeps herself busy, is the gist of it. She's been part of service, of meaningful work, even before she was Called back to Him.

To Molly, then:

"There will be some that are willing to hear the Truth you offer, to see that Light, and there will be some that, as Solomon says, have already atrophied beyond it. It is a choice to Awaken, to seek Ascension, and it is a choice to Fall. If their heart is set upon it, then their soul has already given ground to evil. There are things that mortal man cannot redeem, not even as we are or as what we are becoming. We cannot go back to the Garden, and those that will their way into this may not be salvageable.

"A person has to want goodness, they have to invite salvation in. Even God cannot reach them without that, and we are not Him."

[Solomon Ward] "Ms. Quincannon, you ever attempt to explain it to one of them, to make them an alternative offer... and its going to lead back to square one" he says, with out a hint of amusement. There's a touch of worry in his tone. Perhaps she means before they slide so far?

"The Cauls twist people. Literally, the soul is a said to be turned inside out. It's why their magic changes, why the Qlipphotic spheres are so terrible and dangerous. You can help and touch and work with people who aren't too far gone, but once they've made that choice there is no going back, ever. They are marked by their chosen patrons, and those that don't find hell are born again and again into the same twisted roles. They become scions of a cause we can't understand and can only mitigate. Some people, say... the Euthanatos death cult, and my partner, Israel, think they can be healed. Generally its understood to be imposable, and I agree with this approach."

He slides his chair back and stands. Even as he explains these things he is not patronizing or condescending. It's simply point of fact. What is and isn't, proven versus theory.
"I do apologize, but there are things that require my attention. I'd happily take up this conversation with you another time. For now though, Ms. Quincannon, and I understand you say you aren't 'wired that way'... but that is the over all gist of it. It's like cancer. You can't argue it, can't explain to it. It spreads, and we cut it back. Some times we succeed. Often we don't."

Then to Emily, he gives a slightly perplexed look, "No references are needed. It was an offer and an option, not a mandatory addition to your learning. If you feel you'd like to involve yourself, then you're more than welcome. If not... that's no problem. I'll simply need to go through a more usual hiring process. No big deal."

[Molly Quincannon] "No, no; I didn't mean actually trying to explain that to someone who's already Fallen, Solomon." Molly knows her own reputation and decides to correct the misinterpretation right here and now so that no one starts worrying that she's going to try to hunt down Nephandi to 'save'. "I don't know much, but I know that once the Cauls come into play, it's ... pretty well over without the kind of magic that goes beyond Mastery to cleanse the soul. I'm not talking about barabbi or widderslainte or whatever; I'm talking about people. People who make the choice to be nasty, corrupt, unpleasant, greedy fucks just because it's easier than trying to put themselves in someone else's shoes for two seconds. The more people - just ordinary people - who can be shown that nothing that comes easy is worth all that much in the end, no matter what it looks like ... well, the fewer people can be tempted as easily all that, and maybe fewer opportunities for recruitment for the Nephandi already out and about. It's not a right-here, right-now solution, but it doesn't just touch the Nephandi thing either. We'd live in a lot better world if people were just less apathetic and miserable at each other all the time."

The next is aimed more at Emily. "There's stuff of what you say that I'm ... not entirely clear on. I'm not what you might call a person of strong religious convictions in that regard. But I tend to believe that people are ... well, good, at their core. Until the influences around them start eating at that goodness. I mean, souls are what make us special; it's the divine in us, whatever fiath you're looking at it from. Unless there's been that taint a few lifetimes previous, I don't believe people can be born bad. It's just a matter of appealing to that sense of good before it goes to a place where there's Great Old Ones twisting that piece of divinity into ... I dunno, toxic origami." Then she shrugs and blushes a bit. "I just think that, until that point ... people will make the right call if given all the facts and help understanding those facts."

[Emily Littleton] "Ah," she says, and is thoughtful for a long moment. "See, I believe we're born people. Self-aware and with Free Will and a lot of potential. But I also believe it's our choices that shape who we are and our actions that define what we leave behind. We can go in grace, in gentleness and compassion -- we have that capacity. Or we can go in selfishness with little regard for others -- we, too, have that within us. I hope that people are inherently good, that there is a predisposition in the lot of us to seek the Light."

She glances to Solomon as he leaves, then finds her manners and stands. "I would appreciate the work, Mr. Ward," she clarifies. And offers a smile. "Go well."

[Solomon Ward] "In that you are absolutely right. Come see me later, when the Ophelia House project is running, and I'll show you. It's basically what you've stated in words being put into action. Yet, divine soul or not man is flawed. Give them the option of the moral route and the easy route, most will take the moral. Most; the rest fuck it up for every one else", he shrugs and adjusts his shirt slightly.

"Again, my apologies. Good day to you ladies. And I enjoyed the conversation, Ms. Quincannon. Please do look me up later should you feel the need or desire. Good day."

[Molly Quincannon] After bidding Solomon a quiet farewell, she turns around to Emily and says, "Maybe it's my overconfidence talking, I don't know. You hope that people are inherently good; I know it. I know there's potential for bad there too, and free will and the rest. Difference is, I think those who go to the bad and selfish aren't bad to start with; just ... misinformed, and don't make good choices because of that misinformation. The path to Ananda begins with information and understanding. Misinformation and obfuscation ... that's where the rot sets in. Lies perpetuated by the people in the high seats who have a vested interest in keeping people ignorant and mean-spirited, because that keeps even the more enlightened ones miserable as they see what their world's becoming. Despair's just another form of apathy."

Then she wrinkles her nose as her phone starts playing "Take This Job and Shove It". As she checks her phone, she smiles an apology at Emily and says, "Saved from my yammering by ... the bell. Oh, they didn't." She slaps the heel of her hand against her forehead and sighs. "How do they still have jobs? Um ... sorry to cut this short, but I have to go rebuild the Titanic. But ... thanks. Interesting hearing another point of view on this kind of thing."

So off Molly goes, with a different kind of thoughtful look than's been on her face the last little while. Now she's got something of grace to ponder, not just the nature of evil. Maybe that'll help too.