[Emily Littleton] Blustery evening. Storm brewing. It shakes the leaves from the trees, rattles them about angrily, like papers in a wind tunnel, sheaves of a pen-veined leaves, a House of Leaves -- her cabal is aptly named. It seems to crumble, scatter under stress or tension. They're not connected, Chuck and Emily, the way others might be. She goes to Ashley to learn something he could have taught her. The wind tangles her curls, touches them brusquely, pushes them out from behind her ear, from where they are tucked into her coat.
It's chill now. Cool enough that the tip of her nose is pinked from the wind. Emily likes it, this briskness. She likes the sting of it after a languid and over-pressured summer. There's a movement to Fall, like there's a movement to Spring. The seasons do not stand still, not like dead of Winter and height of Summer. She can't quite see her breath when she exhales into the night.
The Singer girl knocks once, then twice on Ashley's door. She's carrying a fabric bag with treats. Inverse trick or treating. Hostess gifts. She rarely comes empty-handed to Ashley's, but unlike Morgan Emily only comes with enough. A loaf of pumpkin bread and some leftovers to share -- a chicken stew with vegetables and dumplings, thick, spoon coating, stomach-filling. A weighty thing that warms from the inside out.
Now comes the scrabble of claws on floors -- and she's brought a treat for Zane, too, now that the days are cooler and shorter and he'll probably spend more time indoors. It's a rawhide bone, big enough to give him something to chew on while he warms the Adept's toes -- and the inevitable thump of dog against door. Zane, who is more acceptable than the average pet, always brings a smile to Emily's face. She is unaware of the small, five-pointy-sided creature also within. Luka will have the element of surprise tonight.
[Ashley]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 2, 5 (Failure at target 8)
[Ashley] It's cold and blustery. Ashley loves this time of year, and so contrary to what most dog owners would do, Zane has actually been out more in the past few weeks. Still, he's a young dog, barely one and a half, and no sooner has Ashley taken him out for a few miles and tired him than he's regained all his energy with a quick nap. Ashley rather envies the dog.
He runs for the door, and Justin, who is leaving the apartment next door to go outside and smoke, smiles at Emily while he taps one of the sticks free of the package. He knows Kage, he knew of Daiyu, and after yesterday he will certainly remember Jarod even if he only glimpsed him briefly. Emily he's seen a bit less of, but he's starting to notice patterns with the odd friends of Vanessa's that come and go. He's noticed that they're all a little on the quirky side, but that doesn't bother him. He likes quirky. "Hey," he says with a nod as he walks past her.
Which is when Ashley, tired and bundled in a tightly knit gray and black striped sweater over a long-sleeved white T-shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbow, opens the door. Normally she might have given it at least a little time, but Emily called and Emily is here now, and Ashley is still quite happy to see the Singer even if her smile wavers a little at the corner. Maybe it was just the manner of their last parting. But Emily brought food and a treat for Zane and so perhaps all is normal again.
"Hi Em," she says, holding the door open. She waves at Justin, staring at him once when he gives her a broad grin and stops in front of the door.
Then she throws a pen at him.
It spins end over end, like a knife, and it goes sailing over his shoulder and clatters into the wall, where it will be forgotten. Justin's laugh trails down the hallway as he makes his way toward the stairs, cigarette already tucked between his lips. "Sorry," Ashley says, with a look back at Emily. "Come in."
[Emily Littleton] [Aware as Empathy: Hey, Ash...]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Ashley] Emily knows, better than most of the magi in Chicago, the state of Ashley over the past month and a half. In some ways she doesn't even need to look that hard; she already knows what she's going to see. Ashley's tired and she hasn't been sleeping very well, even if everything that happened with the Labyrinth is over now. It isn't easy being the city's only Adept: she feels pressured to seem like she has it together even if she doesn't feel as though she does because people are still calling her the Deacon, because she is a Hermetic and she is Hunger and she is expected to be strong. Most of her days consist of trying to keep going because she doesn't know what else to do; they consist of trying to fill a hole. She's lonely.
But Emily knows all that.
More immediately, the anger that she was holding in on Tuesday seems to have abated. It was broken up or shaken loose or something happened but for a while she's feeling a little better. That waver to her smile was the product of chagrin; it's likely that she realizes she hasn't been the best friend the past few weeks. There's something awkward in her manner. That might be because she's embarrassed about how she acted on Tuesday, or it might be something else. With Ashley it's always hard to tell.
to Emily Littleton
[Emily Littleton] They've probably seen each other in passing over the last year. Emily's no stranger to Ashley's apartment building, even if she's not over as frequently as Kage, or Morgan. Or leave as striking a memory as Jarod does. Justin says Hey, and Emily says Evening in that mellow, fluent, British-touched lilt of hers. He nods, she smiles. They pass each other in the hall.
When the door opens, Emily is still smiling. The Singer understands, perhaps more than most of the city, that the time after stress and loss and terror can be just as painful and murky to navigate as the initiating crisis. She is not always patient, and she is not always compassionate, but Emily tries to give people space to make their own missteps and recoveries. She may be a bit more cautious, quick to read into the Adept's expression and carriage for signs of lingering hostility, but Emily has not brought that baggage with her tonight.
She's dressed for the weather, this year. It's an improvement over the last. There's a light pink (blush pink, barely off-cream) scarf around her neck, her leather jacket, a thin plum colored sweater underneath. The boots she wears escalates the discrepancy in their height to nearly a foot, but Emily will step out of those as soon as she's entered. Maybe Luka will hide in one.
"Hey." No name as greeting. It's taken awhile, but she's finally realized that Ashley's Sleeper and Awakened worlds are separated by more ritual and certainty than hers. "I brought dinner," she hefted the bag a little, offering it over to Ashley.
Who, ostensibly, takes it up after exchanging glances and pens with a disappearing Justin. This brings a darker amusement, a warmer-but-still-wry curl to her mouth. When there's no flicker of anger off the Adept, that smile broadens a little. She relaxes a little. They've no quarrel, just yet, and she has no plans to make ready for war this evening.
[Ashley] The interaction between Ashley and Justin fortunately seems to have been mostly good natured, or as good natured as a person can get when they're retaliating for being teased about something. They've lived next to each other for over a year now. There's a degree of familiarity that's crept in.
Ashley looks toward the bag when Emily says that she brought dinner, and she takes it and then turns just inside the door to walk into her kitchen. "Thanks."
There are plates and bowls there and a microwave, and Ashley hasn't eaten yet. She isn't all that talkative just yet, either. It takes Ashley a little while to warm up to these things sometimes, or maybe she too is just feeling things out, testing the waters, and her sense of these things is not quite as developed as Emily's.
"How are you doing?" she asks Emily while she takes the bread and the container of stew out of her bag, setting it on the counter. It's spooned in equal measure into the two bowls she took down - which might end up being more than Emily wants or could eat, because Ashley can eat a lot - while she looks at the Singer over the half-wall.
[Emily Littleton] While Ashley is getting dinner ready, Emily is stepping out of her shoes, unwinding the scarf from her neck, stooping to say hello to Zane -- if he hasn't figured out that there's something for him in that bag that smells like food, and found that far more interesting than Emily. She shrugs out of her coat and folds it over an arm of the sofa. Lays her scarf across it, unaware that there is a kitten who may make ready plaything of a dangling bit of yarn-stuffs and softness.
"Pretty good," she replies easily. "I took today to myself, since I didn't have to teach any classes and it's not my sentry day. Went sight-seeing, blew off some steam. I forget, sometimes, that Chicago's a nice city." She's just talking, filling up the space, making it seem a little warmer through comfortable conversation. Emily's hands slide into the front pockets of her jeans. She finds somewhere to lean. It's nonchalant, easy, and unfeigned today.
"Thanks for having me over."
She toys with saying You seem better, but there's an implicit challenge to that. It implies that Ashley wasn't better at some point in the recent past. It implies that Emily's noticed something. Instead she says, "How about you? How're things? Got any plans for the weekend?"
[Ashley] Zane's attention, for now, is all on Emily; the dog is at least interested enough in new people for the time being to ignore the food, and Emily is known to him. Ashley waits until Emily has stopped paying attention to him (he's rolling over so she can rub his stomach) before she pulls out the dog treat that she's noticed. "Thanks," she says, wiggling the rawhide bone to indicate what she's talking about before she passes it into the dog's waiting jaws. Her tone is a touch amused; several of her friends have started bringing gifts for the dog too, by now.
The question of how she is draws some hesitance from her, but just for a split second; after that she makes a face. "I have sentry duty tomorrow," she says, as though she's been suddenly reminded. Ashley's resonance might not smack of wandering the way Thomas's does, but it's difficult for her to remain in the house all day. She's used to going out and roaming until she's tired.
"I've been okay," she says, but offers no more detail on that. Because 'okay' really sums it up: she isn't happy. But she's calmer. "I'll probably see Kage this weekend if she's back from her business trip." Which is dubious at this piont; it's already gone longer than expected. Ashley tries not to sound too unhappy about this, though. They don't owe each other their time, and Ashley isn't generally the sort of person who cops to missing people.
"I figured it'd be a good evening to do more work with the Ars Mentis, since it's been kind of quiet." Downtime, in Ashley's mind, is not a time for relaxation. It's a time for being able to focus on studies in a way one can't when war is occupying the mind. She's still quite Hermetic, no matter how she has branched out.
[Emily Littleton] Ashley's friends have no doubt noticed that Zane is a key part of keeping the Hermetic happy, and balanced, and that he does a damn fine job of it. He's an integral part of the Chantry without even being human, much less possessed of an Awakened will. So some of them, like Emily, indulge him (and through him Ashley) with a little extra attention from time to time.
"I'm thinking of going out to the Court," Emily says of her own weekend plans, even though Ashley didn't ask. It's a thing they three share, Ashley, Emily and the absent Kage. "Maybe scout around for a good place to plant those seeds before I lose them."
At the mention of more magical work, the Initiate nods. "Sure thing," she says, easily agreeing to more studies after her day of relative freedom. Ashley may have noticed this about Emily by now, she rarely backs down from an opportunity however ill-prepared she may be. She's almost always ready to learn, and if she's closing herself off to that it's usually for a rather strong reason. (Though not always a good one.)
"Though I, for one, wouldn't mind a little more quiet." It's only gently wistful. Emily wanders into the kitchen to wash her hands, when there's space around the sink and she won't be crowding Ashley. She helps set places if there's obvious work to do. She complements without getting in the way. It hasn't been that quiet at Emily's flat this week. Nico came back, worse for wear, and added his name to the growing list of magi who are recuperating, mending, slow to heal themselves back up to hale again. It caused a faulter in the Singer, some quaver in her nascent certainty; it made her worry, and the doubt, and then confide in a mutual friend.
Emily doesn't like to share her secrets. Loosing them, for whatever reason, is painful. She's better for it, but it isn't easy. It isn't quiet.
[Ashley] Ashley had almost forgotten the apple seeds, that they said they would plant them shortly after they reappeared in the Court last month. She looks up at Emily and blinks, as though surprised to hear that the Singer hasn't done it yet. "Yeah," she says, "if you want I can help. Though I don't know much about growing plants, myself." Ashley has never really thought of herself as a nature person, not because she isn't or because she doesn't enjoy being out in it from time to time, just - it has never been a strong interest of hers. "Do you think they'll be okay getting through the winter if we plant them this late?"
Ashley isn't sure about how seeds grow. When they're to be set to rest in the soil to germinate. Whether it would be better to grow them inside as little saplings first.
There's no real work: Ashley seems to have handled all of it. Placed a kettle on the stove because she drinks a lot of tea and she knows Emily does too, and by now boiling water when someone shows up at her apartment is something she does out of habit. Most of the time. The bowls are heating in the microwave, and she seems to eat leftovers often enough to have a sense of how to heat them so that they aren't too hot and they don't warm up too fast. She isn't that great a cook. She subsists on them a lot.
"I never really count on quiet," Ashley says, with a wry twist of her mouth as she starts to carry plates and cups over to the coffee table in the living room. She doesn't have a kitchen table: when she has guests over, this is where they eat, and she usually just seats herself on the floor. More often she eats at her desk, when she's alone. "A couple of people told me it was supposedly 'quiet' when I got back from Boston in August and we saw how that went a week later."
[Emily Littleton] Ashley mentions August and Emily's smile shifts to something vaguely darker and mildly frustrated. She rubs at the back of her neck, a little, saying, "Yeah... well..."
And then leaving it there. It's possible that things might have gone different if the then-Apprentice had stepped up and dealt with what Molly poured into her head sooner, but it had all come like water through a broken dam, unfiltered and unregulated. All at once. She hadn't put enough stock in it until it was too late; until everyone they knew were involved, compromised. Emily has a lot of regrets from this summer; she doesn't know which ones are survivor's guilt and which ones are legit. All she knows is that she should have been able to do more, and it grates on her.
Then the topic shifts back to the seeds, because that's what Emily is certain they'd rather talk about. It's less weighty, less riddled through with angst and what-ifs and loss. "Mmm, I tried suggesting they winter over at my flat, you know? I've seen people start seeds in egg crates, all wee and insulated indoors, but Jarod seemed certain they ought go straight into the ground and have a solid, cold winter to set."
She makes a little what do you know gesture. They're equally clueless about the growing of plants and outdoor things. Emily knows more of what to do with them when they're established. She has, on occasion, watered a garden, or help pick berries and apples. But nurturing something from square one was new. She didn't even have pets; pets could complain when they were hungry, or act out when they'd been cooped up too much.
The portions are bigger than Emily had intended. She'd meant to sneakily drop an extra meal's worth off at Ashley's. But it isn't bad for her to eat a little more, to keep pace with Hunger as best she can. The girl has grown thinner, a little less physically solid for all her metaphysical growth. She reads more solid, certain; she weighs less. Somehow it all seems to balance out, cosmically, in Emily's mind.
[Ashley] Ashley does not stay on the topic of August. She too would rather not talk about it, about that meeting; there had been so much information that she came back to that she wasn't sure how to parse through it all, figure out what was important and what wasn't. She and Daiyu had been planning to sort through it and try to organize it better, form a plan, when the chantry was attacked. She wishes they had acted sooner.
But Ashley is, by now, a veteran in a way that Emily is not. She has dealt with these what-ifs and should-I-have-done-mores, and she's weathered them, and she's come to a sort of acceptance of her limitations. It's something that all magi struggle with at some point. How could they not, when they can bend reality?
So she lets the topic turn back to the seeds. She frowns a moment as she sets everything down on the coffee table and then starts back toward the kitchen, anticipating when the timer will go off. "I guess Jarod would know," she says. "Unless he's thinking the winter will kill off the weak seeds and..." A wave of her hand. She pegged Jarod as a social darwinist the first time they spoke at length, because she could understand it, because it was so similar to the teachings she learned from her Tytalan mentor. She assumes that those beliefs transfer in a way.
"I mean, I'll be kind of pissed if we end up losing all the seeds, but it's not like I know any better. So we can look for a place." Distantly Ashley wonders if knowing about gardening is something she needs in order to become a Verbena. She hopes not. Then again, she's temporarily relaxed her efforts to join the Tradition: the discussions she's had with Jarod have run up against a wall or two.
It was part of the reason she was frustrated; she has not had something to pour her efforts into. After becoming an Adept and learning the Ars Mentis, which took a considerable amount of effort and time, after dealing with the Labyrinth, she suddenly found herself with nothing to focus on or guide her ambition for the first time in nine months. She found numerous roadblocks standing in the way in which she wished to channel those efforts.
But no matter, for right now. She's too tired to think about it. When the timer goes off she retrieves the bowls, intending to bring up theory once they're both sitting down.
[Emily Littleton] They know very different sides of the resident Verbena. Emily doesn't think of Jarod as a person who would let all of the seeds die out there, in the middle of the wood, just to prove some sort of Darwinistic ideal. She'd explained where they came from, after all, that they're not just rescuees from her apple-a-day. Then again, she's also learned that particular sphere from him, seen how intertwined its understanding is with some of the less combative parts of his life.
Emily doesn't think that he is merciless, ruthless, or so committed to this social darwinism that it overshadows all other things. There's still room for wonder and surprise. This is Emily, she will always believe there is room for wonder.
"We can keep an eye on them," Emily says. Whenever she says these things it's inclusive. They all, in their own ways, with their own gifts, can watch what's happening under the grown with mystical magical seeds. If their potential snuffed out, and the magic they carried was lost, one of them would notice. Maybe each of them would notice in their own ways.
When Ashley comes back with the bowls, Emily takes up a seat. She scoots forward enough to bring her knees near the coffee table, to form a little birm between herself and Zane's inevitable advances. The stew is thick, like meat and vegetables with gravy more than a soup. It's home-made, and hearty. Emily likes fall foods as much as she likes the season.
They've been friends long enough, now, for Emily to sense the shift in topics coming, so she waits for Ashley to settle and then glances over expectantly, as a sign she's ready for the lesson to begin.
[Ashley] Emily means to include all four of them; Ashley just makes a noise that indicates some sort of agreement. She isn't sure what to expect, and she does not hope: hope, after all, is a more fallible thing than she allows her Will to be. It isn't that she has been given reason to think that Jarod would let the seeds die just to prove an ideal; in fact, there have been a few occasions where something in his behavior suggests the opposite. She just confers no expectation.
This is Ashley, she will always believe there is room for conflict. She will always count on other people to act solely in their own interests, and when they don't seem to she will find a way to explain why they still are.
She seats herself carefully and picks up her spoon, though she looks sidelong at Zane when he starts to take interest in the bowls. The dog immediately takes a step back, sits down, and then lies on the floor nearby. In case they happen to drop something. And at that point Ashley takes a spoonful of the stew and blows on it to cool it. For a few moments she eats in silence, because it's good and hardwood floors get a little cold in winter and it's not as though she has a lot of money to pour into the apartment's heating system.
Once she's taken the edge off her hunger she says, "So do you have any idea how this works, just from what you already know? Have you thought about it at all yet?"
[Emily Littleton] Emily reaches back in memory to the last time they spoke on this subject. It was difficult to go back quite that far. Things were so different, then. It's a memory touched by the frustration of the days that preceded it, warmed by the things that came after. There was this golden slip of summer, then, wherein both Ashley and Emily were happy. Genuinely happy. Loved, some might say, by people they cared about, in their own ways.
She presses her lips thin for a moment, closes her eyes against the auxillary thoughts that threaten to surface. The faces of people they both missed now. It is not strange for Emily to think before she answers, so maybe Ashley does not mind. Maybe it doesn't strike her as unusual.
"We talked a lot, last time, about symbols. That we define ourselves through symbols, and expound upon and refine that through words. That it's part of how we define ourselves, and our Will."
She balances the spoon in her hand while she speaks, rather than setting it down. Emily pushes a piece of potato toward a cluster of corn and green beans, so she can sweep them up together when she's done thinking and explaining.
"At the end, though, you mentioned the Mind being the seat of our Wills, and learning to shape and control our Minds as being the first, perhaps the foremost importance to any willworker. I think I understand this better. As people, and as mages, we're very verbal. It's the primary way most people see the world, interact, interface. Intellect is seen as a measure of worth, mental stability is crucial in crisis or high-stree situations, anyone with control over their thoughts and that structure has an advantage. To be clear thinking is raised up like a virtue in the modern world, even over piousness, or compassion, or generosity. We value rational motivations over emotional ones, generally speaking."
Emily glances over at Ashley, looking for some sense of approval or a read on the Adept's frustration.
"If we can teach ourselves to self-heal the body, and bend pieces of creation, why not order and set right our own minds?"
[Ashley] What Emily senses from Ashley is a sense of approval, that sharp sort of attentiveness she gives when she is dissecting someone's words, seeking out their flaws, looking for something to correct or expound upon. And she finds nothing to pick apart; Emily's reasoning for why Mind magic is valuable is sound. She sees the merits, the uses.
Ashley has to think back to what she said to Emily last time. She recalls, distantly, having been fresh from her Seeking and using it as an opportunity to explain the symbolism of the Serpent, and...oh. They'd both been so happy, then.
She doesn't let herself dwell. Emily is focusing on the human aspects of Mind magic, says that she understands it better than Ashley's talk of symbols and words. Ashley bites the inside of her cheek for a moment in thought and lets the spoon hover a while. When she's thinking about an answer during a conversation like this - that's usually about the only time she stops eating.
"One of the other things you should understand is that since the Mind is the seat of the Will, any conflict between your Mind and someone else's becomes Wills pushing against each other. There's an element of symbolism in that too, that I could go into if you wanted, but..." A shrug. It doesn't really bother her that Emily prefers to think about it another way. The other Traditions are welcome to their (less complex, let's be generous) methods. "So since you understand that it's mastery of the self, you should understand that it also extends to having a stronger Will than those that would Will you to act differently. No one has more control over who you are than you do. You choose what to show them, you choose what they see, and you choose how they affect you."
People have remarked in the past - usually with some amusement - that Ashley isn't fond of authority. It's in her very paradigm. (This is an age old story, the rebel that becomes the establishment. It happens to everyone.)
[Emily Littleton] "I can appreciate that," she says, easily. "It's not that different that Sleeper life, either," Emily points out. "It's why were care so much about our personal information, or hide our reactions when we're suspicious or hurt. Knowledge is power, right? And not just ones and zeros, or words, or names -- if you can understand someone's mind, you can manipulate them through it. People do it to people every day, without any magic. The stronger your sense of self is, and the higher your integrity to that concept," Give a little Emily, "Or that Symbol and those Words, I suppose, then the better off you'll be at defending against it. Or recognizing what's not of you when you're being manipulated."
She's very frank about it, how to manipulate other people, how subterfuge works on an insidiously subtle level. She talks like they're describing something straightforward and less human -- like this is a schematic and she's walking Ashley through all the little parts. This is a darker part of Emily's personality, less innocent and warm, no less high-minded. Ashley can take of it what she will, but she probably won't be comfitted by it.
"I imagine that, if you were particularly skilled in the art, you could masquerade as something familiar -- and it'd be harder to defend against, right?"
She understands what Ashley's saying, but Emily's not quite sure that it boils down to whose stronger. There's a lot to be said for agility, for grace, for information and intelligent use thereof. Not every war comes down to an arm's race. Some stagnate in Mutually Assured Destruction. Some rest on the shoulder's of Diplomats. Some, smaller, every day struggles are won out by things like whose justification seems more sound, in the moment.
[Ashley] Bran sometimes talked this way. His speech and his Will were one and the same, and he had an excellent command of how to manipulate people, how to get them to do his Will, without any magic at all. Ashley is quite familiar with this more subtle approach to the Ars Mentis, even though it's never an approach she has taken herself. Her way is more about overpowering and overawing: it's about presenting a front and making that front into reality (or letting others believe that it's what reality is, layering the truth beneath half-truths and never letting someone suspect that this core is there.)
Ashley is not troubled by the detachment; she is, after all, a pragmatist, and she believes in the underlying pragmatism in everyone else. It doesn't surprise her to hear Emily speak this way in the slightest.
But it does give her pause when it comes to what, exactly, she tells Emily. There is an old adage. (I've taught you everything you know but not everything I know.) And it is that adage that gives her pause, because say too much and...
Secrets aren't just for cats. Hermetics hold them dear.
"Yes," she says, after a moment. "You could. And you're entirely right about the rest. Everyone has a Will, whether it's an enlightened Will or not - it's just that you have a greater capacity to exercise yours and a better understanding of just what you can do. Will is just your ability to make the world around you change...convincing people, whatever. So what you do is take that Will that you apply in your everyday life and let it stretch to encompass all of what you now know to be true.
[Emily Littleton] Something she's said gives Ashley a little pause. Emily doesn't see this as winning, or any sort of triumph, just the natural ebb and flow of a conversation that requires two very different viewpoints and sets of priorities to reconcile, seek center, and begin building anew in this temporary truce.
It does give her a chance to eat before her stew gets cold. So Emily tucks in, moving small and neat mouthfuls at a time, mindful of the path the liquid takes and cautious not to create any messes (Perfectionist) while Ashley thinks. While Ashley responds. And then she nods, in agreement, as it seems they've reached some sort of accord.
"Okay," she say, when Ashley's reached a pause. "I think I'm comfortable with all of that."
[Ashley] Emily says that she is comfortable. What Ashley has taught her are the complexities, and unfortunately for many of the people she teaches, this is often where she starts. Ashley has no idea how to start small; it is why she has intimidated apprentices so in the past. It is why apprentices joked for a while that a 'casual drink' with Ashley McGowen would never be just a casual drink. But she thinks it's better for them to learn the hard concepts first; it makes learning the basics easier.
There's also this - it's difficult to be an Adept in a city full of initiates and apprentices. Sometimes it's just putting thoughts out there in the hope that some of them will understand, and they'll run with it, and she'll be able to to people in a way that she can relate.
So much of her life is rooted in her magic, now. She had to find something to fill that hole.
She, too, takes a moemnt to eat in silence. She isn't particularly careful, not mindful the way Emily is, but she still manages not to drip. She's so thoroughly intuitive sometimes that she doesn't know how to be any other way. "Good," she says. "Then you want to start differentiating those other Wills from the world around you - the other things that affect reality and impose their Will upon it. You have to recognize them before you can work against them, or read them. Try to push yourself. You're part of your reality and you are what you Will yourself to be as much as everything else around you."
[Emily Littleton] This is no new exercise to Emily, though the formality of it seems somewhat strange. She's been mentally keeping an Us and Them tally for as long as she can remember. It may have been one of the first social skills she learned, growing up in a place of perpetual Otherness, dealing with alien and oft competing world views. She'd learned how to blend in, to assimilate, but she'd also learned how to stay separate, to hold out, to keep a piece of herself out of the constant fluctuation so she had a seat of self to come back to when the journey relented (if only for a moment). So she had a place, internally, to come Home to.
She's not entirely sure what Ashley expects, at this juncture. So Emily finishes as much of her dinner as she cares to eat -- and no, she cannot finish the portions Ashley has given them. She is not Hunger, does not crave in the same ways -- and then sits back on the couch a little. She draws one leg up, leans into the arm, places her hands in her lap. That is, until Zane comes around the table to look mournfully at her bowl. Then Emily just scritches his head; she doesn't feed him from the people food.
"Is this like when Wharil asked me to notate all the Odd things I felt or saw happen? Do you want me to keep a list, actively, or cite examples, or just be aware of them?" Emily was infinitely more aware of the magical world, and other Wills, than she'd been a year ago. It was partly due to mild paranoia, and its corollary of hyper-vigilance, but also an outgrowth of understanding the fundamental nature of their realities better. She had to be more open, more alert, more tuned it to be able to react, to and be able to learn.
"I have a decent sense of when I'm being bullied," she says, with a gently wry twist to her mouth. "Or steered in particular directions." This is a bit more pointedly directed at Ashley, but not with any malice or frustration. Her hand smooths over Zane's head, toys with one of his ears. Emily seems calm, not upset about any past manipulations. She'd pushed back, once, when someone had reached into her mind. Emily doesn't bring it up; that someone was Daiyu.
"And I remember what it felt like to have you, and Solomon, in my head, even for a few moments."
[Ashley] This is challenging for Ashley. She did not have to learn the very basics of the Ars Mentis; they were intuitive for her. She Willed her mind into its current shape during her Awakening, and after that it was just something she could sense. This isn't something she's had to really articulate before; for Morgan, it was enough to learn the technique from books, and her fear of having her mind broken was strong enough that she was capable of pushing back out of fear.
Emily doesn't have that kneejerk reaction. It isn't going to be as easy.
A corner of Ashley's mouth twitches while she looks back at Emily, while she mulls her thoughts over. Then she says, "The difficulty some people have with the Ars Mentis is that it is subtle. It's difficult to tell what your limit is until you really try to push past the boundaries. It's less defined and more abstract. Some people that are skilled with it just come across as really sensitive, until they know a lot more - Israel, for example."
She too is done, and she has emptied the bowl; given that she lost some weight in September it's probably a good thing. The spoon rattles while she reaches up to her collar thoughtfully. Doesn't reach beneath toward her necklace yet, but her fingertips hover. There's a dark bruise on the side of her neck when she pushes the cloth aside; she doesn't seem conscious of it. Thinking too much.
"What I want you to do is to do what you normally do, but push farther. Your Will is stronger than the reality that says that others' thoughts and moods are closed to you. Pull them up, see what they tell you, and look past the physical. Start here."
Another beat passes, and Emily has a sense of what she's about to do before she does it, because she can see when Ashley's hand passes beneath her collar and hooks around the iron link at her throat. She has a second or two to ready herself before those jaws flex, lunge forward and snap shut. Seeking to encompass, to know. Ashley's controlled herself before. But with that feel she emits it's always hard to believe she'll stop this time.
[Mind 3, -1 for focus, -1 for practiced rote, -1 for hungry resonance.]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 6 (Success x 3 at target 3)
[Emily Littleton] [Shielding! Base dif 4 +1 never done this before, +2 reaching (new sphere) +WP]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 4, 5 (Success x 1 at target 7) [WP]
[Emily Littleton] But, see, Emily does have a fear of her mind being broken into. Of having it subverted against her will. Because it's the one thing has has that hasn't been taken from her, sundered, left in ruins around her feet. Her body has been broken, abused. Her will to live, even, broken. Her Faith, broken. She's been manipulated, and lied to, and strung along. There's been a lot of darkness in Emily's life, but it's never gotten so far into her head that she couldn't come back to herself.
The thought of anyone inside her head, messing with the root of what makes her Emily, is enough for her to push back somewhat. It's an act of sheer Will, not mastery on any level, and it's not enough to keep the Serpent jaws from snapping shut. But it could slow them. Make them struggle a little, work more than they'd otherwise suspect.
Ashley has said it's a battle of Wills, and hers is clearly stronger and better honed. But Emily's is not utterly impotent. It pushes, leverages this nascent understanding as best she can, tries to rebuff the Adept.
Her hand on Zane's head stills. Emily's body is still; then tension in her frame sings, her bones are pulled tight by their tendons and ligaments, she breathes in smaller, measured rhythms.
[Emily Littleton] Emily's mind is an ordered place. She's an analytical person; she's a perceptive person. Memories do not come cleanly away, packaged like isolated parcels. They're interconnected, interwoven, inter-indexed by analogy and similarities and striking contrasts, and comparative timelines and people or places, by thoughts and colors and scents and touches -- it may strike Ashley just how sensually immersive these memories are; how tangible they seem to wade through. She's felt that before, though, when she excised something from Emily's mind.
When Emily says that someone is immanent, it is a compliment.
Surface thoughts are reined in, a bit more than usual just now. There's a tendril of relief that things are not as tense with Ashley as earlier in the week, and that follows, naturally, to whatever happened after the TNR meet broke up. To a quiet worry after Nico, and from Nico to a quiet worry after Owen. She's thinking, too, about the implications this study of Mind could have on her friendships -- the way she percieves things. It's a twin-edged blade, these expanded senses; sometimes it seemed better to think the best of people, but it was clear that they all had the potential to manipulate and cajole one another.
Emily wishes the world was a profoundly nicer place.
There, also, are the motivators for keeping people out. And they interlaced with what happened after the TNR meet broke up. With Jarod. Memories further back that are occluded, just now, but could come up if Ashley tugged. The scent of river mud; the feeling of having her ribs broken: these are clear thoughts that flicker across the background of her idle mind. They are the things that make her shove against Ashley's will, like David pushing back Goliath, all the while wishing for a slingshot and a rock.
to Ashley
[Ashley] With what she knows, Ashley can crack a Mind apart and lay it bare, find what it hides at the very core of it, find the Word underlying it all and the Name that people keep to themselves alone. (Except not always. She knows Bran's. Bran knows hers. People do these things when they're young and in love.) She can devour it all and rearrange it as she pleases.
She can also Will it back together again. She can mend what's broken and make it thrive. She doesn't know how to describe how to do this to Emily, in its entirety. It comes naturally to her. But she does think experience is an excellent teacher.
Emily knows what it feels like to have Ashley inside her head. The first thing she gets is a sense of approval, because Ashley encountered resistance on the way in and that's what she was hoping she would have; she can feel that barrier raise before it's crushed into itself. The second thing Emily gets is a sort of two-toned amusement, because it wasn't much resistance after all, and let's face it - sometimes Ashley just isn't a very nice person if she lets herself be temporarily blinded to everything but quieting those pangs in the back of her mind. And that's something she has to do in order to overcome that resistance, just focus on Hunger and let it guide, because she does care about Emily and if she thought about that it would not be an easy thing for her to do. To fight is to cast a spray of blood in the water, for a mentality like this.
But for all that she's not doing what she could do. She's not stripping Emily's mind apart and laying it bare just because she can, just because Emily can't fight back, precisely because Emily can't fight back. She's lurking there at the surface to see what Emily shows her, to see what she can follow down and dredge up, and she doesn't bother to hide that she's going to do it. In further lessons, she will; she'll be more subtle about her intentions. But for right now, she's only trying to make a point.
And that will become clear, because the moment Ashley takes in that scent of the river, of rot but the clean sort that lies beneath water, of the pain that was in Emily's ribs once, she seizes it. Doesn't follow it down, but Emily can feel Ashley's voice in her Mind. If it's important to you, bury it. If you wear it people will pull it up. A beat. And you have to know and confront what it is you're burying in order to have that be at all effective.
[Emily Littleton] [Out, out! Same as before. +1 dif extension. -1 Unrelenting + WP!]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 5, 10 (Success x 2 at target 7) [WP]
[Emily Littleton] This is not the first time this year something has brought these memories forward this year. They are not stung through with new-hurt all over again. But there's blood in the water already, and this is how it tastes:
[Like dirt, and salt, and copper. Grime and blood and sweat. Her body hurts; breathing hurts; it's like fire in her chest every time she fucking moves. There's a scrape of boots on hard floors, the slip sound of water somewhere --
It's like remembering all over again. Slipped sideways. Watching and feeling all at once. The crack-bright pain. She saw white; she remembers seeing white, she sees white again. Hears/feels the pleading tumble form her words, numb and awkward from a dry tongue and split lip --
The picture in the Labyrinth. Black-void. And it pulls her in, drags all this up like a tangle. --
Sitting in the middle of Jarod's bed, his arm around her, her hair dishelved, numb and crying, but crying at last. Talking at last. The scent of his skin --
The smell of river mud --
The smudge of in the newsprint left behind --
A picture frame on her wall.
And lastly, the view of the city street, one thousand three hundred and fifty three feet below. Her own voice. Telling someone she was thinking of going back there...]
No, this is not the first time this year, or this season, or this week, or
today that these things have crossed her mind. They're blunted because of it, but there's just enough insult to the grasp-and-hold-onto of these particular hurts to motivate Emily to push Ashley out, to rebuild that wall and place the Monster outside of it. To be Unrelenting long enough to protect her own Reverence. Hunger could stay outside the gates, could want, could crave.
These things were not for the Serpent. They were her own.
[Ashley] Ashley is not Victoria Kurtz. She has spent the better part of her Awakened life convincing herself of this fact. It's why she doesn't take, doesn't push back and devour and force Emily's mind down until she's broken (to remind her that she still has a long way to go. To give her incentive.) She has adopted many elements of the woman's philosophy but they are not the same person.
It's why there can be giving along with the taking, along with the warning: because she sees that Emily wishes the world was a nicer place and Ashley does too, really, even if she knows it's not. It's because even though Mind can be used to shatter others and sow discord that isn't why she's learned it, and there are good things about it too.
So in the face of those concerns about manipulation, the awareness that this can be a weapon used to cut through to the heart of others just so it can be shaped, Ashley offers honesty. Because this can be a way to show things which are True, too, to unveil wonder. She offers approval because Emily isn't broken again by having these things dredged forward, and she offers pride because this person pushing her back is not the person whose fear swelled the first time she held up the memory of a dead boy in May, because Emily has come so far and the summer was harsh but it tempered too. She offers warmth because she attaches strongly to people when she bothers, and she offers a sense of protectiveness (an angry edge but she can't help that) because she does get what Emily lost and she doesn't want what happened in the Labyrinth to happen again. And hardest to grasp, but present, is a sense of joy because this thing that can be used to harm can be used as a connection too: it can be made into something, transformed.
They're all raw and vibrant, those emotions, because Ashley's mind is nowhere near as structured as Emily's. Those feelings are all impulsive, reach into the heart of her, and if she weren't comfortable with the Singer seeing that bit of truth (it's its own sort of Reverence) she wouldn't show it at all.
But she does. Just for a moment, before she allows Emily to push her out.
And then her hand drops away from her necklace. "That was a good start," are the words offered, and given the mild tone it's hard to believe they came from the same woman.
[Emily Littleton] It is quiet for awhile. Even Zane is quiet, perhaps he is still, held like a tableau under Emily's hand, waiting for the tension to abate in the room around him. Maybe he whines a little. Maybe he's used to this. He's Ashley's dog.
The things that Ashley has offered, in the most immediate of settings, are not cast aside. Emily is careful with them, accepts them. She is warmed by them and it takes some of the edge off the things that were remembered. To see herself reflected in Ashley's mind, in her opinion of Emily, it is a positive thing. It leaves her with a sense of acceptance and accomplishment, with an understanding of some part of Ashley that is not always immediately apparent.
Despite the things that have happened in Emily's life, there is a wellspring of compassion to her. She kepts it separate, hidden away. It is not a surface thought to be tapped into, but it is present always. This gentler demeanor, a resounding optimisim; it dovetails with her Faith, which is as much Faith in humanity as it is Faith in anything higher. When Ashley leaves warmth behind, it is answered in kind. There is a washing away of percieved hurts or tensions.
That was a good start, says the Adept.
The Initiate nods. Just once. Then exhales slowly and shifts her position on the couch. The movement seems quick, after so much rigid silence. It's enough to startle Zane, which draws her attention down, draws her smile to something lop-sided and amused. When she glances back at Ashley, Emily does not seem over-wrought or unbalanced.
"... Thanks." There's a verbal quirk to that word. Almost ironic, but warmer than that. It's as much for the spoken compliment as for the impressions that Ashley left behind. Emily rolls her shoulders, forcing her body to slake some of the residual tension, unwilling go back to the tense and ready state she'd held earlier in the week. (She'd already called in her Jarod favors. [She had Nico to go home to, almost as watchful as his still-missing friend.])
"It went better than I expected," she admits, with the sneaking suspicion that Ashley had gone extremely easy on her. This understanding hangs between them for a moment, then is lost to the quiet of Ashley's flat.
[Ashley] Zane is indeed used to this. One has to imagine that somewhere along the line Ashley got curious about what a dog thought about. He's had her magic directed at him for that reason: but he's a dog. They settle easily into the idea of dominance. They take to it, even, and are better pets when it is established. By that Hunger he's rather unbothered.
Emily's sneaking suspicion is confirmed when Ashley looks back over at her and meets her eyes for a few seconds. Hers are tired, but now that Emily's seen it's a bit easier to guess at what's going on behind them. It's less murky. "It wouldn't really have done either of us any good if I'd pushed too hard," Ashley says. "No contest." Because she chooses to focus on the unequal challenge, the fact that her Will would not be strengthened by wearing Emily's down, rather than the fact that she had knowledge to gain. It's easier for her if she thinks about it that way. It's better for the people around her too.
"It'll get harder as you get more familiar." She'll start to push back after a while. But it will be a gradual thing.
Ashley is content with the quiet in the apartment. They've summoned the attention of the kitten - or, rather, Emily's scarf has summoned Luka's attention - and Ashley has to untangle him before dropping him into the lap of the Singer (if she's amenable.) She's all right with other bits of conversation as they come and go, as she clears out the dishes and brings them back to the kitchen.
If it stays quiet, she's all right with that too, and if she's not content with the fact that she managed to overcome some of her earlier awkwardness by showing in the best way she knew how, rather than trying to navigate with words, well, she's damn close.
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