[Nathan Spriggs] It's been a strange few days, Enlightening as much as worrisome, difficult as much as he's enjoyed them. Today, wearing a thick grey fur coat, black jeans and short brownish red work boots, he sits on the porch of the House. Waiting.
A short call to arrange a meeting, brief exchange, between himself and Emily, one of the city's Awakened with whom he hasn't had the chance to properly chat with in a long time. Maybe even never. It is a meeting for questions and some small doubts, to find information on his own and view certain things from another perspective, about the Choir.
It isn't so much recruitment or membership he seeks, nor a brochured view through the marvels of the Tradition and reasons it was worthwhile. No, that was useless. Wasn't a look at their MO either, or for someone to bring him in and take him through the rites and steps, for that he had Solomon who, in his own ways, seemed to be trying to lead him to it. Testing, always testing, a push here and there, trainings and practices, conflict... He'd either destroy him or shape him if he had his way, perhaps both.
What it was Nathan seeked even he wasn't quite sure. It would come to him though, all he had to do was act for it to. So that's what he focused on now, the step. There's a new sense of calmness that surrounds him, acceptance over something that had long plagued his mind over the past few months, a new found Understanding amongst other things. It colors his Resonance a new, adding with it that insight, movement, the perpetuation of it (Momentum). The first step set the pace, all that you had to do from there was continue onward.
[Emily Littleton] And if Nathan had wanted a stereotypical view of the Chorus and the party-line answers to all the usual questions, then the once-Orphan, once-Apprentice among the city's Singers was not the right place to go for it. Emily approaches the house with her dark winter coat drawn up around her, her hands in her pockets and her hair piled up on her head and secured with several small clips into a messy but effective bun. Her eyes are a calm, clear storm-colored grey blue that can seem piercing in the right moments. They can seem steady in the right moments.
There's a click of bootheels as she approaches the house that embodies so much bloodshed and bickering, so much hope and momentum lost to trivial things. She cannot say she hates the House, not with a fervor and intensity that merits such extreme languge, but she does not like it. She will never stop remembering the squish of offal and blood beneath her footfalls when she stepped onto the living room carpet that January morning.
There's a reason the hardwood floors have all been refinished.
She will never forget watching Ashton hold her insides into her belly, splayed across the lawn and still barking orders. Or watching Daiyu die, right there, on a patch of grass that is now dead and buried under snow at a place in the lawn that Emily is just now passing.
She glances toward it, and then away. She stamps her feet a few time before ascending the porch steps. This is not the scared and startled girl that Nathan had met almost a year ago; this is not the Apprentice that he gave her first imbued weapon. Many things have changed in the past year, one of them being the note of near warmth in her tone when she greets him.
"Nathan."
Or the fledgling respect (tolerance) to the nod that comes with it.
[Nathan Spriggs] Slowly his eyes lift from the porch's hardwood floor, as his ears register than unmistakable tapping of footsteps slowly drawing closer. It could be a million things, other people, passerbys, but he's sure it isn't. His thoughts confirmed by the girl's (woman's?) visage, and the nod that follows.
He returns it with a slow curve of his lips into a smile, friendly and honest unlike the glances and smiles he gave so long ago, it's been a year now for him too... The cold sweeps back memories of days gone by, and the House too carries them with it. Possession in the basement, Nephandi corpses to dispose of, arguments, fights, the death of comrades, things he'd best not dwell on.
No, this place is a place of heavy memories for him. Perhaps that's why he finds himself drawn to it now, in light of recent developments.
"Emily, I'm glad you came," he responds, an honest thankfulness touching his tone as he slowly shifts from his chair and onto his feet. "Shall we go inside or would you prefer to stay out here?"
[Emily Littleton] There is far more poise to the Diplomat's Daughter this year than last, and she carries herself as a quietly confident young woman more than a girl. If he'd seen her dig deep, pull on this skills and places last year when they went to parlay with with a Demon's mouthpiece then none of this would be so strikingly unfamiliar. As it is, she is different. There is a gravity to her. Something somber and steadfast.
Her smile warms and the light of it touches her eyes just so. Then it slips toward something wry as she looks from him to the Chantry door, and then back again.
"There's a reason you're still on the porch," she tells him. Emily doesn't ask what it is, or if a reason exists. She knows that it is and does not need to know what it may be. "I'm fine out here. Let's stay."
There is space beside him on the bench, and that's where Emily will come to rest. Close enough to keep their voices low and shrouded by the relative privacy of the veranda. Distanced by the way they have to turn to catch sight of each other's eyes. She could have leaned against the low railing, perched there to speak with him face to face. This seems more appropriate, somehow. Easier. A small mercy for them each.
"You wanted to talk to me...?" The statement lilts upward like a question, but that's just a formality, an easy little introit.
[Nathan Spriggs] With the same calm that he stands, Nathan gives Emily a nod in response to her comment and slowly slides back to the seat. A moment's delay as he considers the situation, organizes his thoughts, before he responds. "Yeah, I'd understand if it's not something you want to get into with an outsider... but I wanted to ask you about some things."
A moment, as he relaxes and his eyes wander to the row of houses opposite of the House. "I was interested in hearing your opinions of the Choir," he adds a moment later with a sideways glance to her.
His days in, and deparature from, the Cult had taught him many things about a Tradition. Amongst them was that the worst thing one could do was get complacent with your teacher's ways and views. Always network, meet new people, connect. It came natural to him in the Sleeper world, in the Awakened one... not so much.
[Emily Littleton] She fixes her attention on some distant thing, a picket in the low white fence that surrounds the yard, the neighbor's front door, a roof peak, something. Emily listens, and then the quiet between them stretches for a long moment. Long enough that Nathan may think she isn't going to answer. Then a hand comes out of her pocket, pushes a stray tendril behind her ear, and Emily's attention drops away from that distant line of sight and swings back toward him.
"I don't really think in terms of Outsider or Other," she tells him with a low-toned patience underscoring her odd accent. "I probably draw those lines less distinctly than any other Singer here, Solomon being the most stringent about them."
Still, there is pause here, there is a little reticence.
"Are you asking after any particular opinions, or just my general opinions? And in what context? I want to make sure I answer your questions, but all I can really tell you is why I have chosen to be here. It's a personal matter, mostly," she says, and whether she means Faith or Traditional affiliation is Nathan's guess.
[Nathan Spriggs] He doesn't push during the silence, wouldn't even if she decided to get up and simply walk away without another word. No, Nathan simply waits patiently, and with a little bit of hope, for an answer. When she speaks, he slowly internalizes the words and considers them.
As if taking her approach, however, he remains silent through out. Even in the face of her question, he keeps the silence going for several moments more. Moments that feel like they drag on in the atmosphere.
Finally, he closes his eyes and responds, "Hm, that's all I can ask for, really. What attracted you to it and brought you into it. I've found, in my experiences with my former Tradition and the separation, that it generally carries all the other answers with it."
It's all from experience, from the moment he decided to leave the Cult and the reasons behind it. He has to wonder about how many people truly left their Traditions throughout their entire Awakened life, to find a new path. He'd never heard of many such cases, which only made him feel weird about the answer he gave.
[Emily Littleton] She draws in a little breath, holds it a bit longer than is strictly necessary, and breathes it out in a thoughtful manner. Emily's fingers interlace, resting in her lap despite the outdoor temperature that lingers near the freezing point just now.
"I've struggled with Faith, privately, for most of my life. A large part of why I joined the Chorus is that it's one of the few Traditions I found that put purpose before self-aggrandizement and humility into magic. Whether you believe in God, or something else, or something more nebulous, or even just in Humanity itself as a transcendent ideal, the Chorus uses that awareness of something higher to ground itself. I chose this over hubris, though there is a very fine line between what we do and what, say, the Hermetics do on any given day.
"I chose it because I need to believe that there's a reason we sacrifice and suffer, enlighten and uplift and ultimately Awaken. I want this chapter of my life to be about service to something bigger than myself, bettering the world I dwell in. Even if I often fall short of that mark, my oaths and vows are to keep striving toward it."
She rubs her thumb against one finger, pauses, and then asks.
"Is that what you are looking for?" She means the answer, but it could easily be a more personal question as well.
[Nathan Spriggs] Nathan slowly leans forward, eyes falling down to the floor below them as he closes his eyes and listens, just listens. The answer he sought, and something personal for her, and he's more than satisfied with it. He's glad he asked, took the time to check. Not, perhaps, because he's found the answer to all his doubts, but because it teaches him a little more of what it was Emily stood for. The type of person she was.
"Thank you... really," he answrs softly, eyes still upon the wooden floor at their feet as he softly taps his left foot in thought, a slow rhythmic tapping.
It reminded him of the questions he'd asked himself, and others, of right and wrong, purposes and why they fought. The aftertaste of failure was something that always stuck to him, far longer than the taste of success and victory ever did.
"In a lot of ways, yes. It is exactly what I was looking for," and he took means the answer, though his tone is a calm understanding that leaves it vague, open, to more personal interpretations. Doubts remained though, the doubts he'd struggled with all this time. At what point did the fight for a greater Purpose, a One, caused them to look away from the world and the reality in their faces? To pass judgments rather than offer salvation and a helping hand.
No, his doubts were of being unable to separate himself entirely from the smaller things, tiny appreciations, lost in the shift to a Greater Purpose. "This is less for my understanding and more personal curiosity, so I apologize if it's too personal... but I'm curious, did you ever find what you were looking for ultimately?"
[Emily Littleton] For some of them, the responsibility to offer sanctuary, to witness for one another, to redeem more than they condemned. But the Singers were humans, and fell to human foibles and vices just the same as any other soldiers and sages. She may be an instrument of His will, but Emily was only human. And she knew it (most days).
"Yes and no," she tells him. The answer weaves between two extremes, failing to settle at either side of the spectrum. Likewise, Emily's hands make a balancing gesture before falling still in her lap again.
"People are people. They're just as inconstant, self-interested and short-sighted here as anywhere else. Awakening doesn't change that. Picking a Tradition doesn't change that. The only thing you can do, the only thing you can really influence is to be the change you want to see in the world."
That Emily quotes Ghandi easily and fluently should not surprise Nathan. Nor should it startle him that this is what comes readily to mind when she speaks of her Tradition, more readily than a Bible verse or other bit of liturgy.
"If I'm going to hold myself to an ideal, it might as well be one that professes mercy, reverence and grace in the same breath as judgment, action, and decisiveness. This is a place I can feel included, welcome and celebrated as well as challenged. There's room for compassion here, and it's not seen as a weakness. If I ever find a place to belong, I hope it will be like this but no, it does not entirely feel like Home. I have my reservations and my misgivings, like anyone else."
[Emily Littleton] [ Pause! ]
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