Making ammends

[Thomas Taylor] University Campus, students moving around going about their everyday lives, so are stressing over exams others are feeling the pressure of parental control forcing them down grinding their bones into mortar until there a carbon copy of their mother or father and those that came before. Girls gossip about boys, boys gossip about girls. Jocks throw around a football trying their best to impress the girls and talk about loose women. Everyone goes about their lives walking, talking living the university dream.

There is a shadow on this fine day, a sense of wandering, a overbearing urge of consumption...s shadow has been cast over this place, a hollow cockney shadow.

Stood off the beaten path stands Thomas, cigarette in his lips, grungy black T-shirt, grey ripped jeans and some very worn, very battered very much falling apart converse. Even as the Goths pass, and the metal heads he seems to stand out however no one seems to notice him. Reality granted Thomas many favours one of which was the ability to just be passed over, the man in the corner of your eye you never quite see, a ghost in the world.

Smoke encircling his head before it wanders away he is stood watching the people pass him by like he was looking for something or someone.

[Emily Littleton] Here, on campus, is one of the places Emily does not imagine her Awakened life will follow her. This isn't true, of course. There isn't a single square mile on God's green Earth that is separate or safe. So she's walking across campus, with her head slightly bowed and her fingers wrapped aroudn the strap of her messenger bag. She looks just like any of a dozen college girls who wander by -- jeans and sneakers, a sweater -- so long as she doesn't open her mouth, there's nothing but her resonance to mark her as Other.

And here, Emily doesn't carry a proudly tipped chin or neatly squared shoulders or any of the hallmarks of her Awakened life. She's almost shy. Indistinct. She's background noise, until someone strikes up a conversation or she sees someone she notices or some other little cue drags her out of the single-minded reverie of campus life.

The jocks are tossing a football around; she doesn't notice them. The girls gossip about boys; she's not sharing. The boys gossip about girls; she really doesn't want to know.

There's a shadow cast over the quad, and it causes her to look up for a moment, to seek out whatever cloud shape might have cast it. This makes her footsteps slow, stop. Pause. She's looking up, now. Hand shading her eyes. Hair trailing down the middle of her back and a dark pony tail.

And, finding nothing to have caused that darkness, she's looking around the quad itself.

[Aware?]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 5, 6, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Thomas Taylor] ((I am for once on the look out, ergo Per & Aware))
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 6, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Thomas Taylor] He breathes out the last of the smoke as he drops the cigarette to the floor, eyes scan around as the chain smoking cockney once more reaches into his pocket and pulls out another placing it behind his ear as he stays out of the way arcane helps fill in the gaps, he stands there still and because of it a wanderlust fills up the air, people seem to be walking down the path faster, always in motion projected outward from Thomas because if it cannot find motion in him it will take it from those close by.

A moment then when bright blue eyes half close and Thomas sniffs the air like a predator would it’s prey (Or perhaps more the prey to the predator?).Unrelenting is the first thing he feels as the jocks get the worst of it, trapped between unrelenting wandering they forgo the usual kicking about of the ball and try some tackling practise, the need to wander, unrelenting...to be unstoppable as it Consumes them. Still there fan’s, there ladies and friends suddenly cheer, seem awe inspired by their actions, they feel Reverence towards their idols, their boyfriends. Two mystical natures play over the crowd between them.

Thomas eyes half close as like catching a familiar scent (They have only met twice but there second encounter would be hard pressed to be forgotten) Thomas looks left and then right, no sign of her but she was close. He starts moving perhaps to find her or make his escape?

[Emily Littleton] When the wanderlust finds her, it's no surprise to Emily. She doesn't immediately chalk it up to something mystical. She's been in this city too long; the soles of her feet itch. It all itches. Like a thing kept just below the surface that threatens to erupt at any time. The wanderlust is not just contagious, it calls out a infection deep within her bones, a thing that keeps her from keeping still, from keeping quiet, from staying put, from staying.

The Singer's expression darkens when she names this upwelling. She shifts the bag's strap across her torso as she feels it begin to consume her. Then, and just then -- you can see the moment, the flicker of realization, of recognition -- she places it and the darkening recants. Relaxes. Relents. Emily exhales and picks up her progress across the square.

Out there, somewhere, is a particular Cockney. On this traverse, Emily's thoughts flicker back to their last meeting. Perhaps that's why there's a little wince to her expression when he sees her cross his path -- or not, as the case might be. She certainly isn't seeking him out, but Emily won't give Thomas the satisfaction of her fleeing from him either.

A girl's got principles.

Oh, there's the tip of her chin. It's not quite haughty, but there's a firmity to it. A surety. This life, the one a couple steps to the left of everyone else's, is a more certain thing for Emily.

Up ahead the path clears the quad and ducks between two tall buildings. There it is cast more in shadow. There is a coffee cart to the left hand margin, and an entrance to the book resale center on the right. The crowd chokes at this point, then opens out into a thinning mass on either side.

[Thomas Taylor] He feels it getting closer and stops, Eyes scan around as he seems to natural move to the shadows of the tall buildings, his eyes meet hers then like they would across a crowded room and then there’s the chinGet high and mighty with me you northern monkey, not bloody likely. Defiance rises up in his throat in his eyes as they widen head tilts to the side and his cheeks become hollow as he watches the approaching Northern singer like you would a rival.

He stays still now he has been spotted, he will not give her the satisfaction of him walking away. He makes no effort to move into the light, perhaps he believed that out there she had power, this was her place, her home she knew it well. Perhaps he just wanted to talk out of the way, perhaps he was here for her? Or maybe creatures of darkness hate the light?

His voice is deep and throaty when she is within speaking distance “North, sum cunt ‘ates me if I meet yer ass ‘ere.” He looks up to the sky and sneers rolling his eyes before placing the cigarette back in his mouth.

[Emily Littleton] It's a good thing, in some ways, that they are not privvy to one another's thoughts. While Thomas is calling Emily a northern monkey, Emily is trying to word how she wants to phrase the proposal for her graduate research. It's a thing that runs through the back of her mind often these days. And will until her advisor approves something. Anything. Well, no, not anything. The tip of her chin was reflexive; it was not for Thomas or of him. It was a reaction to the mystical world finding her hear.

The last time it had found her here, there was an orgy.

Oh, yes, it's excellent Thomas cannot read Emily's thoughts, but the sideways glance she casts may well read as reluctance -- whilst really being embarrassment at that whole past ordeal.

He calls out. His voice is resonant and sneering. His darkness rises up to touch the sky. Emily smiles a little; it's pulled thin but not pained. Her voice is gentler here; quieter. There's less of a pull of their natives hearths to it. It is plainer, but still faintly British. She feigns assimilation here more than most places.

"Hey, Thomas."

Not Southie. No smart ass remarks. Emily wanders near where he's staying, nevermind the wreath of smoke that clings to him. The steady foot traffic shelters them, renders them a little island of non-movement and thus almost invisible to the passing students.

"How are you?"

North is damned polite. Diminished. No fun at all, today. And it isn't an act.

[Thomas Taylor] ((Will I be a pain in your bloody ass as you do seem to have lost your bottle, WP))
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 6, 6, 7 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Thomas Taylor] She is stood in the light, he is covered by the shadows of darkness, North and South look at each other while the world goes by. Each of them a product of their upbringing: the Diplomat's daughter, the Council Estate escapee. He is almost pouting as they talk as his head slowly becomes straight and that edge in his voice is diminished but still like him it was rough around the edges.

“Am calvin pet, back of the bus, don’t fret I ain’t ‘ere for you...” Of course why would he be here for her they were not that close. Thomas was the stranger here not her, he had caught her in a natural element. He snorts looking left to right as some of the air leaves him, leaves the point of this macho bravado “I talked to Le Fay, she was a proper judge, cut it down the middle said we were both Isle, so we argued over nuthin’.” That was not an apology by any stretch of the imagination, however it was something, and that something was as close as Thomas got to truly saying sorry when he believed he was right.

“’ows tricks on yer end pet, don’t let me keep ya if yer on the frog.”

[Emily Littleton] But that's the thing about campus. He belonged there as much as she did. It took all kinds to make a University run. And a University thrived on far more input than just its students and faculty. Emily might not recognize it, yet, but there were many behind the scenes jobs to which she was indebted for her education and research.

"Morgan has a good head on her shoulders," Emily agrees. There's no hesitation in how she uses the other girl's current name. Mind, it's not capitulation either. She bends no words for Thomas, but isn't in the mood to argue either. And there's a something underlying her words that says now. Morgan makes good decisions now. It's approving. It's an improvement.

"Look," she says, and unlike Thomas this is an apology. "I'm sorry we quarreled." It's an incomplete one, but she has her own pride to tend to. She is sorry for the argument, but concedes nothing more than that. They are, occasionally, well matched.

"I'm not busy," she tells him. Small shrug. "I was just going back to the lab to work on a board. I can do it later." Easy. This is not evasion or misdirection; it's almost thoughtless. She has to think a bit about how to answer him when he asks how things are.

"Things are fine," she says. It's a lie. Little white one. Don't hurt nobody. "Had another meeting at the House. Your name came up. Seems you're well thought of." The corner of her mouth lifts a little. It's the hint of something teasing, amused, though her words are level and honestly voiced. And, my, if that isn't a compliment you gave him, Emily. Your snark is slipping.

[Thomas Taylor] He tilts his head again as she speaks the zippo brought out and used to light his cigarette as he blows the smoke upwards, she speaks about Morgan and a faint smile crawls onto his lips it is neither snide or reeking of righteousness it is simply a smile. “Aye pet, she does.”

Then she apologises, or very close to it, Thomas takes a deep inhale of his cigarette before answering her “wats done is done pet, lets close that captain an move on, shit ‘appens we deal.” A shrug an acceptance of the apology in his own way as he takes the cigarette between fore and middle finger and the smoke escapes with each breath he lets loose.

There’s a look he gives her thats almost a tell, like he knows things are not fine by how she said it, listen to a woman enough and you pick up on these things. He can imagine if she wanted to talk about it she would so he does not put her on the spot or ask invasive questions he carries on with her. “Me name at the club house...” A small roll of his eyes. “Well it’s robin to be well thought of I guess...” He seems awkward for a moment like he was trying o guess why it had been mentioned “Me ears weren’t burnin’ earlier, you ain’t been talkin’ ‘bout me behind me hat ‘ave ya pet.” There’s a cheeky wink and smile, the cockney she first meet at the coffee table all brash and face value

[Emily Littleton] His cheeky smile resurfaces, and the wry cant to her smile comes out a bit more boldly. Emily rolls her eyes a little, sufferingly. It's a bit more playful; just baby steps, but it's progress.

"Oh, no. I promse you I have much bigger things to waste my breath on." No love for meetings, then, either. "It's just that Molly's putting a group together; she'll be at the meetings soon. I said I thought she might ask you; Wharil spoke rather highly of you."

A little shrug. Emily gives nothing away about how she feels about Molly putting together a cabal; or about Molly joining their meetings. That alone was almost a tell.

"Thought you should know. Figured you might already, though." There's a little challenge to that. He gathered information; she gathers information. She doesn't expect this to be news to him, but it might be.

[Thomas Taylor] ((Can he get a lock on this Northern Monkey? Per & Aware as Emp))
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] [Subterfuge: How well are we hiding our feelings?]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Thomas Taylor] He blinks... he leans forward and makes a rather strange sound something between a huh and the sound an animal might make when confronted with something it does not understand. He smiles, it goes from ear to ear like she had just told him the most amazing joke...”Info ‘as got a group, an she is wantin’ me...” He suddenly bursts out laughing, it is a belly laugh you rarely see, it comes from his toes and exits in volume as he holds his stomach nearly doubling over in the humour of it...”Info...wants....hahahahahahaha!” his eyes become wet and he puts one hand on the floor to stop him from falling as the laugh slowly subsides.

People look of course, such a laugh is hard to miss but this was a campus, people move on forget. “Pet you just made me day, oh my word that’s fuckin’ funny cos Info gets Isle on me tits an it be a cold day in ‘ell I’ll join ‘er lil’ firm, priceless pet, priceless.” No apparently he had not heard, Thomas has been staying out of Info’s way, he wants to distance himself from her the cockney has had enough of the suicidal woman. He still chuckles but mentions nothing on the complement from Wharil, he does not know what to make of it.

“Nah pet I didn’t know, been keepin’ me distance from Info, loose lips sink ships, an she is a sinker, cannot be bloody bothered with it.” A shake of his head and the cigarette is placed back in his mouth “Well I doubt it will be a shock wen I say no.” He breathes in the smoke, it being blown back from his nose and now his face was lit up, blue eyes wide, face cheeky yet charming. Thomas was rough around the edges, not everyone found that charming or endearing still there was something enticing about that grin like he knew the secrets of the world or had something you wanted to know.

“Pet, I feel for ya, I really do, you got Info at yer clubhouse, am sorry for ya truly I’am.” This was no jest, he actually was sorry for her

[Emily Littleton] [WP: It's not polite to laugh, too... however much I want to.]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 4, 6, 6, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Emily Littleton] Thomas reaction is --
Well, you see it's just that --
What Emily's trying to say is --

Oh, bother, it'd be horribly inappropriate for her to laugh, too. But there's a bit of relief to her expression, which quickly gives way to a laughter-touched eyes, to a broad grin, to a small chuckle of mirth and a shake of her head. Emily has to look away, because if she grins down at him like that she might start laughing, too. They might start acting like friends. It's --

It's damned good to have her position on the Cultist validated. Look, see, North and South can agree on a few things. (Common threats?) Emily clears her throat a bit, wryly (dry-ly), says "Gee. Thanks."

Deadpan.

And then? A rueful smile; a heaven-ward glance of why me. She tells him, "Oh. It's better than that." Beat, for emphasis. "She's also dating my ex."

Karmic rimshot.

Now it's her turn to be cheeky, to meet his laughing blue eyes with her own -- just as blue, slightly stormy. Whatever had passed between them in Chinatown is long forgotten, now. It's ancient history.

"You alright?" she asks, as if he might just choke on his amusement. COuldn't have that, now. Not on Emily's watch.

[Thomas Taylor] His head is still shaking as he meets her eyes, notes the way there’s a tease of a smile on her eyes, a chuckle, he holds up his hand and shakes it when she says Gee. Thanks He shrugs “Pet I can only be wat I’am, an wat I’am Isle now is fuckin’ tickled pink!” He throws the cigarette away still full of joy and mirth. It was rare for him to act that way, not unless it was forced, not unless it was to make someone else happy or influence someone. It was honest.

She goes deadpan, he stops and tries to regain some seriousness, she tells him the the next bit of news. He blinks “Chuck was yer ex?” Yes he has met the man, at meetings, Molly ranted at him. “Pet no offense but Chuck ‘as settled then, Info ain’t got jack on you, my word poor bloody Chuck, bet ‘e ‘ad no bloody idea” Another cheeky wink, along with a verbal ‘click’. Was that Thomas offering a compliment back, someone call somebody this was unnatural. His back hand comes to his mouth and rubs over it, he might have actually dribbled a touch with that laughing fit. “Pet, his fault for lettin’ ya go but am calvin pet, all back of the bus” He moves next to her, in her personnel space again but his presence is completely different, he nudges his shoulder against hers “Cum on pet, I’ll get ya a brew.” What happened in Chinatown again?

[Emily Littleton] [ PAUSE! ]