[Emily Littleton] A favorite Orphan of theirs used to keep a running tally on the Doom Phone Calls. Emily hasn't reached this refined state of cynicism just yet. She still pretends that her phone rings for things other than doom, gloom and the occasional mixed mayhem, but there are so very many varieties of doom these days that it's hard to keep a positive outlook.
Nevertheless, she is rested and mostly rejuvenated from a week away. In Manchester, doom is of a more familiar variety. It's family dinners, and ambushes with questions about boys and school, and sitting in Father Alden's office reviewing her catechumenate studies for his approval, and running into people who knew her when she was knee-high. Babes wake early in the wee hours, doors open and shut all night, there's no semblence of quiet in a house built to be a community center as well as a home.
She texts Ashley when she gets home from the Chicago Chantry Monday night. It takes until Tuesday for the doom to darken her doorway. By then, Emily has warded against it with a simmering pot of chicken stew and fresh baked rolls. The kitten has run itself in circles and scaled her jeans and made all manner of happy mewlings (Chuck is not the best pet-sitter, it seems) and is now passed out on Emily's scarf in Owen's chair.
Her door is unlocked and stands a littel ajar. Hunger could follow her nose down the hallway to Emily's door. When she knocks, Emily calls for her to Come in!, and then wanders over to the door to help with Ashley's coat. She seems more relaxed than when she left, a little more centered.
"Hey, Ashley. How was your Thanksgiving?"
[Ashley McGowen] Ashley received the text Monday night: it took until Tuesday morning for Emily to get the reply, but she got one nonetheless. Things have been odd between them since early this month, after Emily walked out of the Court and they had the awkward meeting in the park later, where neither of them quite knew what to say to the other.
It's not that Ashley has any expectations that this will be less awkward. It's that she doesn't like avoiding people and she has an official reason to stop by, and that makes her feel a little more comfortable with showing up. (The promise of chicken stew and rolls helps a little, though, let's be honest.)
It's a little warmer today, and Ashley hasn't had to layer her clothing quite as much as she did this time last year (when there was already snow on the ground.) She's wearing a striped blue and gray buttondown shirt over a lighter blue shirt, form-fitting, only two of the buttons together, and she passes Emily her coat after she walks in the door.
"It was okay," she tells Emily. "Kage went with me and we drove out to my dad's together." And if the truth must be said, the holidays were difficult; it is much, much easier to notice absences over the holidays than any other time of year, really. One must suspect that the Orphan's presence helped a bit with that.
She drops her hands into her pockets, a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth when she sees the kitten, who has gotten big in the span of a month. "How was the christening?"
[Emily Littleton] An, the kitten, twitches a little in her sleep. She's generally mild-mannered, and quite unfazed by the magical things that happen in her home. Like that first day in the coffee shop, she could care less which resonance walked through the door so long as no one disturbed her hunter spirit's need to stalk and terrorize textiles with her artfully shredding claws and teeth.
"It was lovely," Emily tells her. Whatever awkwardness they'd kept is swept away, just now. It doesn't color the Singer's tone or how she receives Ashley. There's the same manner of warmth that Emily can always muster up; it's polite and leaning toward friendly for Ashley. It's polite and leaning toward professional for most everyone else. "It was nice to be home, too, though the weight of this year really settles in when I'm around family."
She imagines it's the same for Ashley, so there's an undercurrent of empathy to her words. Emily waves her into the living room and begins dishing Ashley up a bowl of soup. She doesn't ask if the Adept is Hungry. That's like asking whether the sky is blue. There are better things to waste one's words on, like, "Would you like butter with your roll?"
[Ashley McGowen] Ashley, upon seeing the kitten, removes her shoes inside the door and then starts over toward Owen's chair. She doesn't know it's Owen's chair - doesn't know that the Singer still keeps it here for his return - and it thus doesn't receive a second glance while she crouches down in front of it so that she can run her fingertips over the dome of An's skull and around her ears. She's gentle enough to keep her from waking up, in all likelihood.
There's a glance toward Emily when she mentions her family, quick out of the corner of her eye. She only visited her father for Thanksgiving this year; there was no need to make her way to Connecticut or argue with her mother to drive up to Boston to visit her. "I thought you'd stay longer," she says.
She remains where she is for a few moments in spite of being offered food, stroking the kitten's spine and rubbing beneath her chin. Animals have a way of providing a cute and furry distraction, which is something Ashley noticed some time ago after acquiring Zane. She rather likes them.
"Sure," she says, "but not much." And then at that point she rises, starting toward the kitchen. There's a glance about for the furniture. She hasn't been to Emily's new place very much, and it's still rather a relief that it isn't as empty as the old one was. "So, uh. Have you talked much to Chuck lately?"
[Emily Littleton] It's Owen's chair because Owen gave it to her. Because, of all the housewarming gifts she'd gotten on that particular day, Owen had known her well enough to find something that fit into her empty flat and made it feel a bit more like home. It was Owen's chair before she realized that her fondness for the other Singer went any deeper than friendship. And it's Owen's chair, now, in his extended absence. It's a reminder that good things are often only borrowed upon and not held.
Until An claimed it, she'd been considering putting it on a closet or selling it back to Good Will. Now that the kitten loves it even more than Emily used to like it, she can't really part with it. But by the grace of a kitten named Peace was it still part of her living room ensemble.
"About a week is all I can take in one go," she says, but her smile shifts fondly. She has a great deal of warmth for her make-shift siblings and the inherent chaos they bring.
Emily places the soup bowl on a plate, nestles the roll in beside it and tucks a pat of butter close. There's a soup spoon and a knife, too. It's a neat and tidy bundle.
"Not as much as I should. I mean, we keep in touch more or less, and he was working on getting Nico's things and apartment reinstated, but we're not that close anymore. Not since Riley left."
She says this much openly, candidly and without reservation. That's a notable thing for the Singer girl who keeps her secrets close. Emily leans back against the counter, and makes a small grimace as she eases all of her weight onto her right foot. There were bruises under her jeans, up and down her left leg, into the small of her back. Paradox had walloped her soundly the night before. The underlying damage has healed, but the bruises leave a little stiffness, swelling, just enough discomfort to make her favor them slightly.
[Ashley McGowen] [You might be excited about learning Life, but it's rude to use it on your friends without asking!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Ashley McGowen] Perhaps it says something for Emily, or for the friendship they've built over the past year, that Emily is still willing to feed her when she comes over and is still willing to offer these things up without reservation. Maybe it should be like a sort of olive branch; Ashley isn't sure whether that's how she should see it and doesn't think overlong about it.
Ashley slides into one of the chairs at the table, thanking Emily when she sets the plate and bowl down in front of her. The grimace doesn't go unnoticed. Ashley has been actively trying to pay attention to other people for the past few weeks in order to teach herself how to learn Life magic in the first place, and now that she has, those little things don't escape her notice as much as they once might have, lack of empathy or not. It's just a sort of instinctive alertness - something tells her Emily is hurt, even though she wouldn't be able to put her finger on what it was.
But she doesn't comment on it immediately. What she does have to do is consider whether it would be appropriate to look for herself; she doesn't have a second thought when it comes to Sleepers, or indeed many Awakened, but friends are a different matter.
"I talked to Molly yesterday," Ashley says, "and Israel before that. Israel was almost shot on the street last week by some guys who were affiliated with the Technocracy." She's leaving out a few details - they'd been there to investigate the Asylum - but to Ashley, none of the details really matter. When she heard Technocracy, it meant war, however cold. "And it looks like they're starting to take an interest in the city."
In truth, Ashley is not sure why they haven't done so before now, and so she's hardly surprised - this is an expected thing, and Emily can hear it in her tone. "And, uh. Molly told me that Chuck is...really, really heavily on the radar. They've been watching him for a long time and he's hacked into some of their files and they've threatened him with the well-being of his family in the past. They know who he is and have a huge file on him," beat, a sharp intake of air, "which he apparently didn't see the need to tell any of us. But the two of those things together could be really problematic for the chantry."
[Emily Littleton] [Subterfuge: My cabal-mate is... he... endangered The Chantry?... with Technocrats. ... Suuuuuuure, I totally take this in stride.]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 6, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1
[Emily Littleton] [Touche, Kasheeno, but I've just spent a week around family. Surely my lying skills are well-honed just now and my patience is above reproach? +1 diff]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 1 at target 7)
[Emily Littleton] [... I see. Well, then.]
[Emily Littleton] Riley and Alex are leaving town.
Owen might have Jhor.
Chuck is on the Technocracy's most wanted list, and guess what, Emily: They're coming to town!
Having cabal-mates was a lot like having siblings. They produced similar headaches between Emily's eyes.
She's quiet for a long moment, and her jaw clenches a little. Her cheeks pink, just a little. It's all the response Ashley gets at first, save that the stock silent, still and immoveable repose is an answer in itself. Her eyes are not quiet, they're sharper than they were just a moment. They're not trained on Ashley, or any thing in particular, but they split the distance between the closest chair back and Emily's feet. She's looking into nowhere in particular until she closes her eyes and exhales, heavily.
One hand comes up to pinch the bridge of her nose for a moment. Falls away. Her lips part, like she might just say something. Then they close. They part again, she whets them; her mouth closes. Emily pushes off the countertop and says:
"I'll put the kettle on."
It's calm and rather solid sounding. It is too calm. She doesn't address the news directly, not just yet. She has to parse it first; she has to play back everything she's ever done or that Chuck has ever roped her into and then, oh, and then, Emily stills halfway through filling the kettle. Her head lifts a little, and her eyes track more clearly to things in her apartment. Her mouth purses, and while she says nothing at all, the Hermetic does not have to doubt that it's a good thing Chuck is not here, just now, to hear out Emily's half of the argument they'll undoubtedly have.
See, sometime last year, a particular Chuck Carmichael decided to dig up everything there was to know about one Emily Littleton. He pulled it down to his drive, localized it to a memory stick. He gathered in her name, without her permission. If his rig was compromised, well, then -- this is why she didn't hack things unless she absolutely had to.
She sets the kettle down on the burner with a little more force than is necessary. It settles firmly rather than quietly. She's just a little less careful, that's all; imperfect.
"Is Israel okay?" This is Emily's first question when she -- still gingerly -- settles herself into a chair at the table. "And, to be honest, I don't even have the first clue on where to start with containing this. Or what ground assumptions we should make on whether Chuck's ID or system has been compromised -- like a computer's equivalent of a wiretap. I think, right now, I'm actually happy that Riley's moved somewhere warm and sunny because she was studying with Chuck. Aside from Molly, she's probably gotten the most exposure."
Aside from Molly and Emily, but let's not go there just now.
[Ashley McGowen] Having cabalmates is, indeed, a bit like having siblings: Ashley could attest to this. They often produce headaches, cabalmates do. Wharil is locking himself away in the library, Gregor's been sucked into the Umbra, Rene is leaving without so much as a word or a note. Daiyu is dead. Yes: suffice to say that the two of them have had their share of cabal-related woes. Ashley is not unsympathetic.
Ashley's knuckles are a bit white, and she hasn't started to eat either the stew or the roll yet. When she meets Emily's eyes, it's also clear that Chuck will have to answer to Ashley, too; she is less than pleased with him.
Emily wasn't there for the reaction to what Lara hid from the rest of them; it permanently altered the Hermetic's opinion, it permanently changed how she saw the woman and would relate to her. She, too, has been a bit distant from the VDept since this summer, but it isn't likely that Ashley will trust him again after this. Her trust is one of the only fragile things about her.
"Israel seemed fine when I saw her," Ashley says. "But I'm kind of worried that they've got her name and know what she looks like. I mean, both she and I aren't really inconspicuous." And resonance can be hard to conceal, particularly in the amounts that the two of them have it.
"From what Molly told me, it sounded a lot like Chuck is going to draw their attention once they're here. They haven't had much of a presence here and people have gotten lazy about taking precautions. That's going to have to stop."
[Emily Littleton] Emily runs the tip of her tongue over her eye tooth, feels the scrape of it against her taste buds. It doesn't stop the roar of anger at the back of her head, but she can contain herself better than some. It's not mastery of will, but rather of social conditioning. That does not mean that Emily is anything but seethingly mad just now.
"Okay," she says, but that's just another placeholder for yet another rant she isn't digressing into. That much is clear. "For my sanity's sake, are we talking as Dean and Council Member just now, or as friends? Or as potentially wronged parties? I...
"Fuck me.
"I'm going to kill him."
Ah, there. Her temper got the better of her. But it's said so clearly and calmly in Emily's pristinely Northern accent (the trappings of elsewheres other fall away when she's angry) that it's hard take that threat seriously. Even from another willworker.
[Ashley McGowen] Ashley is not terribly diplomatic, or very good at politics. She's passable - in her Tradition, one is required to be in order to get by without being completely and utterly taken advantage of. But when Emily asks her to draw the distinction between Dean and Council Member, or just as friends, or wronged parties, she just looks at Emily with raised eyebrows.
To her, all these things are one and the same. She doesn't tailor her behavior, or what she says, depending on who she is speaking with.
Some day, that will probably have to change.
"I guess...as friends," Ashley says, after a moment. "I'm pretty pissed too. I was more pissed yesterday. He's probably going to be pissed that I'm telling people, but I don't know how he could fucking hide this with the kind of risk it is to people in the chantry. Molly said he thought he was keeping everybody else safer if he didn't say anything."
She runs a hand back through her hair after a moment, glancing toward the bowl, toward the wisps of smoke that are still curling up out of it. It's rare that she doesn't feel like eating right away, but it will have to wait a few minutes.
[Emily Littleton] "So, obviously, he can't have Chantry access if he's a person of interest. Right? I mean, he can't just walk into the House and bring them right to our doorstep. I won't have it. None of the Council would. So there's that."
She's thinking now. Emily is possessed of a very ordered, task-driven mind. There are lists to make, game theory trees to parse and peruse. There's a whole litany of cause and effect, if-then-else to run through and Emily isn't well enough versed in the Technocracy to even know what ends they might run to. She places her hands flat on the table before her, and it's a very good thing that she is not a Forces mage. Not truly.
"And he's pulled all of my personal data at some point," she says, so calmly, like it's not a point of contention, like it wasn't the turning point that ruined whatever they might have built as a couple. Oh, no, that was all distant history. "So I hope to God that it isn't still on his system, and he's not being traced."
The kettle starts to whistle quietly. Then it starts to build up toward a screetch. Emily rises to snap that off.
"I--damnit," she pulls her hand away from the handle. She'd set it just a little askew and the black plastic had gotten too hot. Emily shakes out her hand a bit, and gets a potholder from the nearby drawer.
She begins again: "I don't know enough to know precisely how angry I should be. This seems like the sort of thing we should sit down and talk through with Fath--Mister Ward and the rest of the Council."
This was the sort of rock, dropped in their quiet and still autumn pond, that was going to leave ripples for a long, long while.
[Ashley McGowen] Ashley bites the inside of her cheek when Emily mentions council business, because this...is something she is not entirely prepared to navigate, something she's not entirely sure of how to handle. "Morgan could technically be considered one too," she says, "and for that matter, me or Solomon or anyone else who's done any fighting against them in the past."
Though Ashley has never been caught - Bran and Justine didn't leave anyone alive - and she suspects Solomon hasn't either. But her apprentice is of concern. Emily knows that.
After a moment she sighs, reaching up and tugging at the hair at the back of her neck. "I don't want you to panic, and if we push him out, that makes it all the more likely that they might pick him up," she says. This sort of pragmatism, in fact, is precisely what fueled Ashley to organize the Chicago magi in the first place, what has made her start to look out for all of them (even the ones she doesn't care about.) It benefits all of them. "Israel already knows. I see no reason why this should be brought immediately to the Council."
There's additional trouble here in that Emily is Chuck's ex-girlfriend; Ashley is aware of that and she's aware that it probably complicates the situation, though she isn't sure how and doesn't have enough empathy to gauge. She knows that there are probably a lot of different feelings here on top of the initial anger and feelings of betrayal.
"Be as angry as you want to be. But the Technocracy gains a lot of its ground against us because we're afraid."
[Emily Littleton] "I'm not panicking," Emily says, and is fully aware of how defensive she sounds as the words cross her lips. It causes her expression to pinch in odd ways. She pours the hot water into the kettle, drops in a more-or-less measured dose of tea, and carries the teapot, two mugs, and a strainer to the table.
"I just..." Emily's arms cross low across her middle when she sits back into her chair. "One of my cabalmates disappears for months and comes back injured and under suspicion for Jhor. Another turns out to be on the Technocracy's short list of people they'd love to sit down for a heart-to-heart. I'm not doing very well at this. And we have no guidance, and no one with experience to oversee us. I don't even know what to do about this, for myself, much less for the Chantry or the community or anyone else that it's compromised.
"I'm failing Owen, and I'm not sure where to begin with Chuck. My cabal, my people are what's bringing us down just now. I don't know how to rein that in."
[Ashley McGowen] Ashley sighs when Emily sits down in the chair, speaks about what's happened to her cabalmates, that she's failing Owen. "Emily, don't start," she says, and her voice sounds a touch tired.
"My cabal's had as many problems. You rein it in by figuring out what to do instead of complaining that you don't know what to do. You're not an apprentice anymore - you're not going to have as much guidance as you used to. That's just the way it is. We don't have the people," Ashley says. Her words are a touch harsh but her voice, while not warm or comforting, at least isn't cold, doesn't have the air of a reprimand.
"There are problems. You'll be stronger in learning to deal with them. Think of it that way." In a way, this is how Ashley sympathizes - she's offering Emily the things that work for her. She wouldn't admit to feeling frightened or unsure or that she wishes, desperately sometimes, that there was guidance to be found, a master or another more experienced adept to tell her what she should be doing. But she does.
[Emily Littleton] Ashley reminds her, and Emily's tongue stills. Her jaw tightens a measure further, but she doesn't complain any more about what she does or doesn't know how to handle.
"Sorry," the Singer says, softly. It's genuine and gentle in the middle of the rest of her frustrations and concerns. It manages to step away from that to remember that she's not been the only one with struggles this year. She manages this without sounding sullen, somehow.
"So if we don't push him out, where's the line? What's reasonable to trust him with, now? How significantly does this change things... if at all?"
She's not sure if these questions will be taken as complaining, or steps away from that. She's trying to be pragmatic, but is missing the scaffolding for framing in better questions, or suggestions. And she's not sure, when she sits down and thinks about this with a little less ire, whether Chuck's indiscretions were all that much worse than Lara's. Both caused her teeth to ache from clenching her jaw, but neither was any more or less forgivable.
Some of the community had forgiven Lara.
[Ashley McGowen] Some of the community has forgiven Lara; Ashley has not. Not really. She hasn't spoken with the woman since she gave her the initial one-week ban from the chantry house, though that has been as much Lara's doing as hers - but Ashley has never gone to seek her out. There are many things she can forgive, but dishonesty is not among them, whatever the reason.
"I'm not sure," she says, and while it doesn't have the air of a confession about it, it is frank. "I guess...part of it will probably depend on what he says to me when I go to talk with him. But I'm pretty fucking angry, still."
No, the Virtual Adept will not have an easy time in explaining what he did and why. He might have had to fight for his chance to do so at all while she railed at him, if she'd gone to him immediately after speaking with Molly.
"What I'm thinking we should do is make people aware of the situation, first and foremost," Ashley says, "so that they know to take precautions. Don't single him out or tell people that he's been hiding this or that they might come get him - that'll turn him into a pariah, and we don't want that." Sometimes it's difficult to take in stride how well Ashley understands people in groups, when she seems so clueless about how to interact with them on a person-to-person basis. But she is a sociology student, after all.
"After that, in speaking with him the smart thing to do would be to see that he actually takes precautions. There are ways for him to hide himself that don't involve cowering in his apartment or not taking action - he just can't do stupid shit like openly hack them. If he won't take precautions, that's a different story."
[Emily Littleton] "So we post something on the Chantry board along the lines of Please be advised, the community has recently come under Technocratic scrutiny; it's in everyone's best interest to exercise caution and discretion at this time and hope it's read and heeded? Talk to the Apprentices and keep better tabs on them, and follow whatever guidelines Solomon wants to set up in the wake of this news?"
If Emily, a relatively recently minted Initiate, is going to be on her own to grow up and handle this, then she assumes the rest of the Initiates will have to as well.
Emily is a Diplomat's daughter, but having dinner with her father recently has not imparted his political aptitude or grace into her skillset just yet. Ashley understands groups better than she does. Emily nods in agreement when Ashley tries to steer them away from courses of action that would render Chuck a pariah -- neither of them want that.
"I know he's already changed his name," Emily says. It's betraying his trust, and she knows it, but there's not much that can be done for that just now. She's angry, hurt, and irritated, but she isn't cruel. "But Chuck's not the sort to exercise caution, overmuch, with hacking. He thinks he won't get caught -- obviously that's not the case. I know he dug into some pretty heavy stuff with Blue Horizon, back when Henri had that pet Goop. Between Chuck and Molly, I'm not really sure who hasn't gotten hacked by one of our black hats this year."
[Ashley McGowen] Emily makes her suggestion for what to post on the board, and Ashley nods after a moment. "Something along those lines, yeah," she agrees. "And follow up to make sure we've got people's attention. And that we get to the people that don't go to the chantry," and she adds this because she knows there are plenty. She adds it because just because they aren't her people doesn't mean they won't become her problem, if the Technocrats should get a hold of one of them or if anything else should happen.
Dylan showed her that.
Ashley finally picks up the spoon and scoops up a bit of the stew, blowing on it before she transfers it to her mouth. It's still a bit warm in spite of all the time they've been talking. When Emily mentions Chuck and Molly's tendencies both, Ashley rolls her eyes. "I know," she says - though really, the Hermetic isn't one who should be lecturing others about recklessness.
"Changing his name is a good start, but I don't know the whole of the situation. Molly seemed to be kind of worried about his family and what they might do to them and...it's a complicated situation," Ashley says. "So I think talking to him will probably give us a better idea of what to do."
[Emily Littleton] "Molly's probably worried about his family because it's easier than worrying about herself," Emily observes. She can be as blunt as Ashley at times. She has more choice about when and how it bubbles to the surface. Emily places the strainer in one cup and pours out some tea. She moves it to the second and pours another glass, then she lifts the teapot's lid and slips the strainer basket into the pot, re-lids it and tries not to think about how imperfectly the pieces match up just now.
She can't be arsed to get a plate to set the strainer on, and she hadn't had hands for it when she brought the tea-marking things to the table.
[Ashley McGowen] That had occurred to Ashley as well - and indeed, Molly had been upset about what it might mean for her. She'd been more upset by the fact that Chuck had lied, by her feelings of betrayal and confusion and God knows what else; the conversation is still quite fresh in Ashley's mind. (She'd given Molly advice on what to do about it, in fact.)
When Emily pours the tea into her cup she reaches to take it and scoot it closer to herself, though she doesn't sip from it yet. Still too hot, and she's eating a little more quickly now.
"Probably," Ashley says. "But she should be. Especially if he looked up files on her like he did on you. I'm glad I never gave the guy my Sleeper name now." Though she isn't sure if he'd go to the lengths with friends that he has with lovers, anyway. At least, she hopes not.
[Emily Littleton] That Chuck had lied wasn't really what upset Emily. To be fair, she expects that most people lie when it serves them or when it's inconvenient to discuss something in present company. Lies, small and large, were a large part of how people moderated the information they gave out to others. Lying was somehow more acceptable than telling someone they hadn't earned your trust or concern enough to answer them.
"Yeah."
There's a deathly quiet pause after that.
"You know that wasn't consensual, right? Chuck got curious, and he thought maybe my dad was a spy, so he went digging to see what he could find. It's not like he had my permission, or would have gotten it if he'd asked."
All these months later, she's still angry about that. This latest news only rekindled that anger.
[Ashley McGowen] When Emily says that it wasn't consensual, uses those words specifically, there's actually a bit of a grimace that crosses the Hermetic's face. It's uncomfortable, and it's perhaps a little more understanding than it might otherwise have been: the use of those words, you see, brings to mind what Emily mentioned about her time in Prague, and if anything, Ashley is skilled at metaphor and symbolism. She can draw lines between one action and the next, assume that one act might have similar feelings as another that way.
"Sorry," she says, because she doesn't know what else to say, what else she could offer. She would still be angry herself, in all likelihood.
And then there's another moment where all's quiet except the quiet sound of her eating as she works through the remainder of the bowl. Finally Ashley lets out a quiet sigh through her nostrils and says, "We'll figure out what to do about it."
[Emily Littleton] It had brought up overtones of what happened to her, so long ago. It had also brought that same memory up in newspaper articles and photographs. Chuck had stood next to her while she paged through the assorted memories of her life that the net held in its digital clutches, Prague included. She'd been too angry to speak, and yet she'd let him hold her for awhile that afternoon.
She wrapped long fingers around her mug and drew it toward her.
"Yes," she says, and there's a sort of unrelenting resolve beneath it. It could be a dangerous thing, if Emily were not usually cautious and collected. "I'm sure we will."
She sipped from her tea and then shifted the topic soundly toward another theme.
"I found a couple more books in the library at home you might like. I had to post them back to myself, though, so they'll take a bit to get here. Customs slows everything down. I was going to wait for Christmas, but I'll bring them over as soon as they arrive."
Because they both needed something to look forward to, and something lighter to focus on tonight.
[Ashley McGowen] It is, perhaps, fortunate that Emily shifts the topic. Ashley was a little unsure of herself in coming over here, and once business looked like it had been discussed, as though it would die away, it left her unsure of what to say. Emily knows how to navigate awkward situations, how to smooth over bumps in a friendship; Ashley does not. Ashley, point in fact, is clueless about how to express to someone that she was hurt by something (not clueless. She just refuses.)
So when Emily mentions the books and waiting for Christmas, Ashley looks up from the bowl, a touch startled. "You didn't have to do that," she says, and she sounds genuinely surprised; it isn't in the manner people sometimes say it in, the mock-protest.
"But, um, sure. I'll look at them when they get here." The bowl cleared, she nudges it out of the way, takes a sip of her tea. "You should tell me what happened at home," she says, and though it has the wording of an interrogation it isn't one. It's supposed to be an invitation, something to let them talk about something that isn't this month's helping of doom and despair.
[Emily Littleton] [Some dice? I don't roll these often, but I have them...]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 10, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Emily Littleton] "They're literally locked in a library at the House, and neither I nor Gregory has time to catalogue and read them," Emily says, when Ashley protests. "Better they find someone who will enjoy them, use them, and maybe take care of them than languish in a dusty case."
Emily is an Architect and a pragmatist. The books do nothing but hold up their shelves if they stay in the Manchester House. If Ashley feels they're overmuch of a burden for her collection, Emily can ferry them home whenever the Hermetic is done with them. The Atlantic is not that wide, it is not an insurmountable distance for a few library members to travel. It's less bother for her than picking them up at a book handler and hand-carrying them through customs.
Their conversation takes them away from Chuck and Chantry matters, toward the things that make up the true core of Emily's life. The people she considers kin, without sharing blood relations. Ashley has met Gregory, so it is easier for Emily to talk about him with her. And tonight, unlike most of the nights they've shared meals or information, Emily is not so tight-lipped and reluctant to speak of home.
She weaves little anecdotes into a convivial and telling pastiche. The sometimes sister character, Rhiannon, builds up as a troublemaker and caregiver, with a heart of gold and wicked sense of humor. Gregory remains steadfast and constant, with sound advice and pointed wit at times. Emily balances them. For all the she is distant, she is the heart of their group. She brings them stories and things from far away places, sleeps in the shadow of their doorways, rocks a babe to sleep -- these things are glossed over, nuances hidden in the waypoints that are focused in on another character, or the details of a place.
The House looms, large and often empty. Full of secrets, wood floors, a stove that's never actually off. There's a warmth, even, to the lamplight cast through windows onto the paver pathway that winds up to the kitchen door. It's home, and she laughs a little when she tells Ashley that the baby sneezed when he was baptised and the Priest's expression was a little disturbed.
Maybe it's an olive branch, telling the Hermetic these things. Maybe it's a response to feeling how narrowed and insular her circle of trusted people has become. Or maybe Emily is just happier, for a moment, underneath the ire, and willing to offer up these memories in the name of friendship.
The night passes. Her apartment is warm, and there's enough soup to sate even Ashley's appetite. Whatever passed between them before she left is tabled, for now. Left squarely in the autumn twilight.
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