Soon you'll have tea

[Emily Littleton] In that quiet moment, when he draws his Will around her, Emily's fingers tangle in the silver chain at her throat. It's a thing she relies on less and less for its original purpose these days, and more for its newfound importance as her focus for Mind. She feels him spread thin her resonance, push it out to all corners, stretch it until it is nothing more than a membrane, a fluid and fleeting phase, a hair's breadth deep.

It's not how she would have thought to do the same thing, but it works. It works better than she would have considered. Reverence overlays the snow, laps against the street, fades in between the bricks of a nearby building. It casts a wide net that does not call out any given point.

He raised the background noise until it conflicts with her signal. Ashley's father is bright, quicker on his feet than most might expect.

He beckons, and she follows. Without hesitation. Without question.

It no longer bothers her that she has to make quick decisions on who to trust and who to shut out. That she's climbing into a strangers car, however tied they are by their association with Ashley. She has asked him for no proof; he could be anyone. Likewise, he must be measuring her identity off only what Ashley has told or shown him. This is a precarious thing; she's not yet jaded enough to demand more of him.

Then again, they don't need to say much. People like Jim and Emily have not predicated their existence or magics on words. It is enough for her to watch him out of the corner of her eye as they climb into the vehicle, that alone is enough for him to realize that she is not entirely trusting or naive. She is following things to their natural conclusions, though. She trusts him, enough, for now.

Hopefully he can say the same.

[Ashley McGowen] If Jim did not trust Emily at least a little, one might suspect that he would not be taking her to where his daughter is hiding at all. Then again, there's this: he is a disciple with thirty years' experience beneath him, and Ashley, however less experienced, is an Adept. Between the two of them they could make short work of her if Ashley's reaction happened to reveal her unwelcome.

The car is warm and the radio is playing quietly (classic rock - the Doors, currently.) He's pushed Emily's resonance out into the surrounding world and as a result it seems as though everything seems to carry a little more Reverence, a little unrelentingness: like heightened contrast in a picture, it seems to both sharpen and soften. It glows. For a little while, maybe it even seems like the world's gray is less, like everything is a little clearer wrapped up as it is in that duality. It's all One.

The two of them are going to drive for a long time. Ashley's new place - it can't rightfully be called a home yet, and maybe it won't ever - is quite some distance away from her old one. It's a long way from the Green, and a long way from Emily and Kage and Jarod.

Things seem to fade the further south they drive. To Bridgeport, specifically, close to Bronzeville and Back-of-the-Yards. It was Irish, once, and then Lithuanian and Czech, and now it's a mishmash of cultures. Like much of the south side, buildings have been abandoned and foreclosed and entire stretches of street stand emptied of purpose and people. It's an urban wasteland. Ashley could disappear here, easily.

The house is an old brick house. From the front, it looks completely innocuous, and that would be because power and heat haven't been activated there yet. It looks like every other empty home on this street. Jim stops in front of it and then gets out, moving up the front steps with a surprising lightness of foot in spite of his size and age.

[Emily Littleton] It's a long drive, and on that drive it becomes apparent that there will be no more just stopping by evenings. It will be less and less likely that her friend will drop by and conveniently sweep up her leftovers in a take away container. That this physical distance between them speaks to a shift in the surrounding atmosphere as well.

Emily watches the streets pass out the window. The music plays softly. They do not talk. She's learning about Ashley's new neighborhood while they drive. She's learning that she will stand out like a sore thumb here even more than she did in the Green.

When they climb out of the car, the Singer's shoulders are squared. Her held is held proudly, without affectation. Her foot falls are clear and evenly meted and she walks as if there is nothing at all wrong with her being here, or the newness of the home they are approaching.

Except that she slows and glances once down the street to her right, and once down the street to her right and takes her bearings noticeably, with her hands in her pockets and the particularness of her gaze leveled at no one and no thing in particular. Seeming nonchalance. Carefully guarded anxiety.

Ashley could disappear here. Emily didn't want her to have to. She exhales, shakes her head quietly, and hastens her step to catch up with him.

So much for this being a cold war, a stand off, a relic of the past. People in her present were struggling. She takes the steps quickly, leveraging her long legs toward hurrying out of the cold. That's all it would seem like, if someone happened to see them.

[Ashley McGowen] Jim knows it is not a relic of the past, and perhaps that fact will be driven home to the magi of Chicago too, shortly. It's not quite like it was in the old days. They're no longer killed just because they were found out for what they are. They're no longer snatched off the streets and sent to some whitewashed room. But make too much noise, wear your colors just a little too brightly, and that's the end of the illusion.

The steps whine under Emily's feet as she ascends them. Part of the porch is sagging in, over in the far corner. It's low on the priority list for repairs; Ashley is far more concerned with the rest of the house.

Inside it's as cold as it is outside. Ashley is a mage well versed in the Ars Essentiae, and rather than risk drawing attention to herself just yet, she's chosen to cover herself and the two animals who are currently sharing space with her, wrap them in warmth. The floors here are hardwood too, though they're worn thin and bare and a little buckled in some places. Perhaps she'll work to restore them; it's one of those situations in which knowing magi well versed in the Ars Materiae comes in handy.

It's bare, in here. Whatever might have been left by the previous occupants has been cleared out, and she and Jim have both obviously been cleaning the place: the rooms are barren but they have been mopped and scrubbed, in the past few days. Candles are along the walls and along the floors, carefully balanced in holders to catch the hot wax. No house fires.

Zane comes to greet Emily when she comes in. Jim gives the dog's head a rough pat and then leads Emily back, back, back through the empty hollow halls and toward one of the side rooms. It's a large house; she'll have a difficult time filling it. Particularly now that her possessions are gone.

Ashley, when she appears, is clothed in a T-shirt and jeans, unbothered by the cold. She looks clean. (Another benefit of Forces - she can move water.) "Emily," she says, a little surprised. A little chagrined.

[Emily Littleton] Let's not pretend that this is the worst living arrangement Emily has seen in her years. Or even that it comes close. There are solid walls, floors that need refurbishment; it's cold in the house and the heat may never get properly turned on. It's certainly not what she wants or expects for her friend.

All of this gives her something steady to hold on to as they move through the house. Of course she stops long enough to crouch and greet Zane, who must be struggling to adjust almost as much as his human counterpart. She doesn't care if Jim thinks this is odd, or assumes she is a pet person. Emily is a Zane person, almost any other pet on the planet can hang (including, some days, her own kitten).

When Ashley appears, some of that steady and removed demeanor breaks. Emily's smile goes from careful and calculated to warmer, and openly relieved.

"Hey," the greeting is utterly informal. That alone says a lot. "I'm glad you're okay." And the Hermetic can be as rumpled as she likes by the insinuation that Emily cares about her and her well being. The Singer isn't offering help, maybe a hug but she knows better than to give handouts.

"Your dad and I had a nice chat on the way over," she says, underlying the comment with a delicately wry twist of her lips, offering Ashley something to play off of to break the moment up a little. The Singer's gaze trips over to Jim, and then back again, including him in the moment without pressing.

[Ashley McGowen] If the way he clings is any way to judge, Zane is certainly having a difficult time adjusting. There are little bowls for the dog and cat and new bags of food that are nearby for each of them; it was one of the first things she had to think of. Everything went up in the fire, almost.

Now that Emily is in the main room she can see where most of Ashley's library went. The shelves are haphazardly placed around: they were transported wholecloth, books and all, because that was the easiest way to do it. On the floor there is a sleeping bag, which is new and at least looks as though it is warm and durable. For now, it works. And other than that, very few things seem to have escaped the apartment with Ashley. There is a photo of smiling faces painted with woad, balanced on one of the shelves. There is a very old stone carving of a serpent devouring its own tail. There is a wooden box, a puzzle box of some sort that looks large enough to contain a small book or journal, on one of the shelves too. And, oddly, there is a violin case that presumably contains a violin and bow, carefully placed up against the wall.

Off to the side there is a doorway to a small room, still dark. Inside it feels like Hunger, though less than Ashley's old study did.

"...I didn't expect you to bring anybody here," she says to her father, with a glance toward Jim. Jim just looks back at his daughter and shrugs.

There's a moment of mirth that passes between Hermetic and Singer when the younger woman comments on her father's talkativeness, or lack thereof. Jim looks at Emily once, grunts, and then disappears to go and work on repairs.

"Thanks for coming," Ashley says after a moment. It could be mistaken for reluctance. "I'm glad I thought to start constructing a backup sanctum and a safehouse last year."

[Emily Littleton] She glances around, of course, but most of her attention is for Ashley and her father. And Zane, who is welcome to cling as much as he needs or wants. Her clothes are washable; Emily knows how to get pet hair off them now, it's become almost rote.

"I'm wishing I hadn't gotten rid of my futon, just about now," she tells her friend. Whatever reluctance Ashley shows is not reflected in Emily's voice or carriage.

"I'm glad you had somewhere to go to. I wouldn't have." This admission is plain, easily spoken but worrisome all the same. She glances in the direction that Ashley's father went, and then back to the Hermetic.

"Who knows you're here?" she asks.

[Ashley McGowen] "I'll have a bed sooner or later," Ashley says, with a glance toward the sleeping bag. She doesn't tell Emily how long that might be, with her TA position and her student loans cut off; all she has at the moment is some of her funding from the Order of Hermes, and that has always been supplemental at best.

Though someday, should the house be restored, it might have its charm. It's an old house, painted the way old houses often are in very bold colors, wall to wall. The main room had a fireplace in it, though the hearth was cold. The stairs lead up to a few bedrooms, or what have the potential to be bedrooms someday. There's an iron stove in the kitchen alongside space for more modern kitchen implements, though those were torn out, presumably when the house was condemned (or whatever happened to it.)

"Janine would've found a place for me, if I hadn't had this. Or I'm sure there would've been people in Boston who would've harbored me." She's glad she didn't have to resort to that, though. Ashley's expression tells Emily all she needs to know in that regard, and she's familiar with Ashley's pride at any rate.

A beat, when Emily asks her question. "Just you, so far," she says. "I contacted a few other people but you're the first person who called Dad. I didn't expect him to bring you back," she says. Perhaps she didn't want anyone to see the place she's staying in now.

[Emily Littleton] "Honestly? I didn't expect him to either."

Which implies that Emily hadn't exactly asked. Not in so many words. Though Ashley would be hard pressed to name a time when the whole of what Emily got other people to tell her, show her, do for her fell down to things she directly asked after.

"I have leftovers calling your name. When it's safe, I'll bring something by," she offers, knowing that this trip is anything but incidental for either of them, and that they would have to establish protocols for how to visit one another and maintain Ashley's safety. Emily's own as well.

Everything is more complicated now. The Singer doesn't seem, outwardly, to mind much.

"Have you heard about Molly's place, then?" she asks, knowing full well that Jim's surprise spoke for both Novotnies on that topic. "She's gone to ground, too, but I don't know where."

[Ashley McGowen] "They got Molly's place too?" That explains a thing or two. Ashley had been wondering how they found her, what happened. Her True Name, at least, affords her some more secrecy than many other magi. But it clearly can't protect her all the time.

Ashley bites her lower lip after a moment, then leans down to scoop up Luka when the cat comes wandering by. He's almost full grown now, has lost much of the gangliness of late kittenhood and certainly the floppiness and clumsiness that had been his when she first brought him home. Ashley brings him up close, resting her cheek along the smooth fur of his side. He doesn't protest.

"I wondered, for a little while, whether someone sold me out," she says, with a glance toward Emily. It wasn't a bad assumption; there are a lot of people who know where Ashley's place was. "But I figure if they got Molly too it must've been because of the Asylum. Or the information the Rogue Council gave us a while back when they did a broad scan and triangulated the position of my bans."

She lets out a sigh against Luka's fur. He settles into her arms. "I'm going to have to quit school."

[Emily Littleton] Emily likes it when offering up a key bit of information makes things clearer, rather than stirring the muck up all over again. That Molly's place was likewise under siege meant something to the Dean. It meant little, in particular, to the Singer.

"From what you father said, you had warning. I don't know if anyone sold you out, or if someone on our side knew ahead of time and gave you warning, but I'm fairly certain that by now Solomon's made things difficult for me at the House and I won't be able to find out much, save for what the periperhy knows.

"Thomas, maybe. Kage, if she hears anything."

Emily doesn't elaborate on what happened, but there's a sharpness under her skin that her smile and calm demeanor can't hide.

"If it's because of the Asylum, you and Israel and I worked together. Molly was involved in some entirely different aspect. I'm not sure I follow the connection there."

[Ashley McGowen] "I mean when Molly did her scrying before you and Israel and I went in," Ashley says with a sigh. "I helped with that and put bans down around her place while she Worked." The Hermetic continues to cuddle Luka, openly and without making any efforts to make it look less like a child hugging a particularly lively but still quite amenable stuffed toy, which perhaps suggests something about her current state even if she isn't saying anything in reference to it.

There's a glance over toward Emily at Solomon's mention. "Israel came to talk to me," she says. "She told me Solomon had spoken with you about not going to him." Ashley doesn't add that Israel blamed her for it. She doesn't feel it necessary to hold Emily accountable for that, even though she's not terribly inclined to claim responsibility for Emily in regard to neglecting that report.

Her brow furrows, after a moment. Perhaps she wants to express sympathy for the fact that it's causing Emily trouble at the house now, but she doesn't.

"I was talking to Thomas," she says after a moment, "and he's almost sold me on splitting away from the chantry myself. It's looking like a better and better idea, after this. It'll be hard for me to go to the house for a while anyway."

[Emily Littleton] "Spoken is a gentle term, but precise, I suppose." Her smile twitches faintly in irritation. "There were words involved, after all," she offers with her usual dry, wry wit. It doesn't directly hint at whatever else transpired, but insinuates that words were not the only things bandied about at that meeting.

No one wants to claim responsibility. Emily will not saddle more than she feels is her share, given the situation. Solomon will not choke down even a morsel, and Ashley has always been clear that other people's bullshit stops at the boundary to her wards, or doorway, or person. There is a lot of blame floating around, and they all look past it and keep right on moving.

The Singer knows it's part of what's wrong with the Chantry. She no longer sees it as her place, or her right, or her duty to fix.

"I'm not going to tell you to step away from something the Society built," Emily tells her, shrugging a bit to emphasize her uncertainty on the topic. "But I do know where I would stand, if the choice ever came between my friendship with you and my loyalty to the house."

Which answers some things that Ashley might be worrying about, at the back of her mind. Emily wouldn't sell her out. Emily hadn't sold her out. And the Singer, what little support she could offer, would stand beside her friend should a schism come.

"And, you know that Kage never liked the house anyway."

[Ashley McGowen] When spoken to, Ashley had defended the younger Singer. She wouldn't mention it to Emily - but she had. It was part of the reason for her quarrel with Israel, and part of the reason that quarrel turned ugly so quickly. Israel had been surprised to receive a call from Jim along with the rest, and she probably should have been; these are things Ashley doesn't forgive easily. Or forget.

The Singer expresses where her loyalties lie, and Ashley's eyes flick up and find hers. There's something warm in them, suddenly. Warm and a little vulnerable, as though she's surprised to hear it, or touched at the very least. It doesn't linger for very long.

"I know," she says. "Kage would never stop making fun of me about it, though, probably." She can almost hear it now, the questions about whether or not this really makes her any different from an Orphan. The slightly smug air. She's come to expect these things from Kage; they fell into 'sister' territory some time ago and the mockery each makes of the other is certainly reminiscent of that dynamic.

She looks around the house after a moment. "I'll start taking care of it once I'm more settled in here, probably."

[Emily Littleton] Word has a way of getting around. The estrangements that are at present hidden behind apathy and closeted circles will come to light, and Emily will know what happened when Israel spoke with Ashley. Perhaps not in so many words. Ashley will know what happened when Solomon confronted her -- though Emily will not tell her, unless it is pulled from her or otherwise tricked forward, that the Templar attempted to use magic to restrain her from leaving.

Because that is the line he crossed with Emily that is irreparable. When cross words turn to more than slammed doors, even the politest threats of violence are unforgivable.

"Kage teases because she adores you. It's how she shows affection," Emily says off-handedly, easily. "It's a wonder to me that she has so many sisters; that's the kind of nonsense you learn from brothers."

Says the only child. Who realizes this juxtaposition and smirks.

"Or so I've been told," she lilts the syllables easily, raising her gaze upward in seeming innocence.

"If she were really cross, she'd say: Ashley..." And it's a serviceable impression, the mannerisms are right, then intonation is right, but it lacks Kage's certain je na sais quois, that ardour and candescence. The tarnish and the moonbright.

Of the house, though, all Emily can say just now is: "It has good bones. You'll make it into something, I'm sure."

[Ashley McGowen] Kage may adore her, but Kage has never said as much. Ashley smiles at that, and small though it is it's genuine, though there's a shadow to it, a tarnish. Uncertainty that can't help but color such pronouncements for her, perhaps. Ashley is never confident in such things, but she hides it well. People forget to notice things like that about her.

"You'd probably know. Gregory and everything," Ashley says. She remembers well the interaction between Emily and her godbrother, which had struck Ashley with a kind of curiosity and longing. She has never had siblings. She just picks up sibling figures.

Another look around the house. "I'll try. I'm just glad I managed to transfer over most of the important stuff from my library. It would've been the worst thing to lose." Many of the books she has are truly priceless, and some of them are very, very rare. She probably wouldn't be able to find others like them - but more than that, they would have been lost. To everyone. Their words wiped out and scrubbed from existence.

There's something painful and tragic about the very thought. "I guess...could you let people know what happened? I don't want to make Dad talk to more people than he has to."

[Emily Littleton] "Of course," Emily says, and it's underlaid with a sort of surety, a certainty that is more solid than bedrock. It's not a problem at all for her to quietly spread the word. It's not a burden; she doesn't want Ashley to think twice about it.

"I trust you just want people to know that you are safe, but not where you are? I'm happy to bring notes or messages to anyone you like, as well." Though likely anything going to the Guardians will be conveniently passed off to Nathan for delivery. A broad network was a useful thing; when Emily needed to cauterize a section of it, for personal reasons, there were always back ways into those sectors that didn't require her to give up much.

"Which makes it sound like business, and not letting your friends know you're okay." She skews her mouth a bit to one side, thoughtfully. Shakes her head a little. "I'm... still getting used to this. If I'm being an insensitive bitch, just kick me," she tells the Hermetic, trusting Ashley not to take her literally.

[Ashley McGowen] "My dad got a hold of my friends," Ashley says, with another look toward Emily. There's something implied here: 'friend' is a term Ashley reserves for very few people, the handful that have come to matter the most. There are few magi in Chicago who can claim that title, and all of them are people that she asked her father to contact. They were all the people she was worried about.

That's not to say there aren't others who should know. Gregor and Wharil, in particular, though she's hardly spoken to either of them in some time. Wharil is...notoriously hard to get a hold of, and Gregor is Gregor.

"I don't want anyone to know where I am. Just you. Maybe Kage and Jarod," she says. And that's really all, for now, though perhaps she will consider extending an invitation to Thomas at some point. Morgan, well. The girl would cluck and fuss and...Ashley just isn't really prepared to handle that. Not while she's still fixing up the house.

"But I figure the Society should know where I am. Dad didn't contact them."

[Emily Littleton] "I am sure I will regret this someday," she says, which is quite the lead in to an offer, "But consider me your messaging service, for now. I'll leave word for the Society, and let them know you're alright."

Which is not the same as telling them where she is, or how to find her. "I'll do the same with Kage and Jarod. Though I imagine they'll push for more details, I've gotten much better at telling people no when they simply don't get to know things yet."

She glances around the house again, rather than back to Ashley just yet and then the Singer proclaims.

"But before any of that, I'll get you a kettle, something that can survive being put over the fire even. And some tea. It's positively uncivilized that you can't take tea here, lovely," Emily says, and if that happens to coincide with her stepping in near enough to loop an arm around Ashley's shoulders in a show of solidarity and friendship, then that is entirely by chance.

Isn't it?

[Ashley McGowen] The truth is, Ashley suspects that her father will make her location known to at least Kage and Jarod no matter what lengths Emily goes to in order to hide the Hermetic's location. Jim Novotny has gotten it into his head that she shouldn't be dealing with things alone, that he shouldn't let her push people away. It's a fine time for him to decide to be a father, as far as Ashley is concerned.

There's a part of her, though, that can't deny that it's nice to have someone here. Particularly when Emily's arm loops around her shoulders. Ashley takes a moment to lean into the embrace, even goes so far as to briefly drop an arm around Emily's waist when she does.

"I'd commit murder for tea right now," Ashley says, with a glance toward the fireplace. "I'd maraud teashops and take their stock. All of it went up when I burned the place down. My liquor cabinet, too." Which is truly a thing to mourn, given that it was as well stocked as her tea cabinet and given that the liquid contained therein was much more expensive than tea generally is.

"If you need to come and find me here, you can. Just...find a way to announce your presence before you try to come in. I'll probably be warding the place in front," she says, with a glance down the poorly lit hallway.

One might imagine she'll be a little on edge for a while.

[Emily Littleton] Emily chuckles when Ashley explains her pillaging intentions toward tea shops in general. The shake of her shoulder and chest translates to Ashley as much as the sound. The Singer's arm tightens a bit, hugging her more soundly, cementing that implied but not directly spoken bond of friendship all the more certainly.

"I think I can manage to bring you a collection without any additional bloodshed," she says, her voice warmer and richer than it usually is. Friendly, in the way Emily could be around Kage. Closer to how she might be with Gregory. It signifies that some of the Singer's tight kept shields are down.

"And why don't we agree on a method of self-identification, so you don't accidentally smash me to bits on the doorstep, thinking I was canvassing for a congressman or something?" she suggests, mildly, thinking of Molly's door.

[Ashley McGowen] "I should set up a door knocker or something," Ashley says, with another look down the hallway. Things like this are generally done with a rhythm, with a song to act as a kind of code, a password. Ashley can't hear those things. Presumably she can't even hear a doorbell, or at least if she could, it would be painful for her to listen to.

"For right now, I'll just try to set up an effect that'll let you pass," she says. "I'll probably have to do something more permanent later." She'll have a lot of time, without going regularly to the chantry and without going to her classes. Without her office hours.

There's a pause when she suddenly remembers. She'd wanted to speak to Emily about something, but in the aftermath of her home being invaded it had (understandably) flown from her mind. "Did anyone talk to you about the Horsemen?"she asks, quietly. "I waited for you, but when you didn't show up there wasn't a lot of time, so we just went."

[Emily Littleton] "I always knock twice," she says, admitting to a habit. "If you want me to, I can just wait five or ten seconds, and knock twice again." It's a simple suggestion that doesn't rely on rhythm as much as discrete pattern matching. Ashley can, no doubt, discern two knocks from one. Followed by a significant pause, and a second set of knocks.

They could choose something more distinctive. More elaborate. More carefully timed, but there were ways around her inabilities that didn't require ruling out the whole of a method or mode. Emily is careful about how she suggests it, though, just in case.

"I had to present my research to the funding committee," she explains, though the tightness in her jaw speaks to her frustrations. "It over-ran, and I couldn't exactly leave. Not with my field, and our friends in town; not to go hunt down a rogue technocrat. I have enough marks against me in the department just now."

She'd gotten tied up in red-tape and University politics. It happened. It never made it less frustrating.

"Evan wrote me, actually. Given his tenses, I'm guessing that Anya and Gabriel died in whatever happened?" It's a question, because Emily is looking for confirmation. There's also a resonant sadness to her voice, as if she had found some sort of deep sympathy for the Messengers that was otherwise unexplained.

Maybe Emily was still soft.
Maybe Emily was still human.
Maybe Gabriel had turned her ear one last time, from across the veil between the living and the dead.

Either which way, she exhales, rolls her lower lip between her teeth, lets it go.

"I'm glad the child is safe."

[Ashley McGowen] Emily mentions university red-tape, and this is something that Ashley could sympathize with until very, very recently. It will no longer be a problem for her, presumably, unless she should choose to continue as a graduate student when and if she constructs a new identity. It's a shame, really, to be so close to her master's. Her thesis was nearly finished.

So it goes.

She runs her hands back through her hair and lets them lock together, strands sticking out between them, when they meet at the back of her skull. Then she lets out a sigh at the mention of Brandon. "I got him to his grandparents on Sunday night," Ashley says. "Which I'm...really glad for. It would've been a lot harder to get him out with me, and to get him to stay here. I wouldn't have been able to look after him."

Though she doesn't say she wouldn't have been willing. Other people may have been surprised that Ashley took the boy at all, but it wasn't that odd for her. Not really.

Her mouth thins for a moment. "Anya went to shoot the kid when Ben went in to talk to her," she says. "And Gabriel Strode in the way of the shot. It killed him. We went in and took Anya down and I knocked her unconscious, and then the fourth guy who they kept around - fuck, I can't even remember his name - shot her and Ben both." Ashley has no difficulty in recounting this. She wasn't personally attached to anyone involved.

[Emily Littleton] Emily didn't think it odd, at all, that Ashley looked after the child. Not for the Ashley that Emily has known. Maybe it seemed at odds with the public persona she projected, but anyone who was truly surprised by this news would earn themselves a long, hard look from the Singer and the subtle suggestion that they were, perhaps, even more stupid than she'd first given them credit for. (The Hermetics did not hold monopoly on condescension, after all.)

"Evan," Emily supplies the name again. He'd sent it to her in an email, unobfuscated. She'd read it over and over and over again across the space of the weekend and the first few days of this week. "His name is Evan."

It's breathed out in the wake of all Ashley said. And Emily's chest threatens to constrict, but she doesn't let it this time.

"Gabriel wrote me, before he died. He wrote a letter, but didn't send it. Evan found it in his outbox and thought it was something I should have. They both explained, and apologized and I'm sure it will be meaningless to just about everyone involved, but I believe them."

"I just --"

It falls away and she shakes her head a bit, conflicted, warding off the wrong words and willing the right ones to coalesce. "I see a lot of us in them, how they were fighting and what they were fighting for. It bothers me that so many people had to die, but it bothers me even more that we would have done the same thing."

[Ashley McGowen] Ashley absorbs what Emily says about this in silence. She still has Luka in her arms, and for a moment they tighten around the cat, who lets out a little huff of air and finally begins to wiggle to get free. Ashley allows him to jump back to the floor and then begins to pick cat hair off of her shirt.

She watches the little strands of white and gray drift toward the floor like shed feathers or ribbons and confetti after the parade has gone by, floating downward to lie cast away in the street. It'll hardly show on the naked floorboards.

"I think the only thing we can do is fight for what we know and what we feel," she says. And then is quiet for a moment, considering her words, before she moves on. "I think Molly thought she was saving the good guy. Ben, I mean. And I know he wasn't any more than...any of them, or any of us. He was just doing what people do." And in this, it is evident that Ashley does not hate Technocrats - she just opposes them. It might explain at least a little of why she doesn't seem interested in violence, at the very least.

"I'm not even sure it's wrong. It just is." She looks up toward the younger woman again, then. Knowing, perhaps, that it probably isn't what Emily wants to hear.

[Emily Littleton] "The more I look for things that are black and white, the more it all turns up shades of grey, Ash," Emily tells her. Ashley's reply hadn't upset her, or touched upon some topic that offended the Singer. Emily would likely never be as zealous as some Choristers, single-mindedly focused on their Right to the exclusion of all others. She was trending, already, toward a more Monistic point of view.

It was how she'd been raised. Politically, religiously, socially, down to aims of humanitarianism and altruism, however little she personally embraced those actions.

"And a lot of war, or politics, or any human conflict comes down to choices between two horrible shades of grey, not an absolute right or wrong."

She looks over at the Hermetic, who is picking cat hair from her shirt. From there she glances around the bare and unfurnished room. Emily sees the nothingness in it, but not futility. This is a new start, another day, and another reason to hope. Perhaps it's overly optimistic, but the lack of one true way and one great evil left a lot of grey areas in which they could lodge themselves, make new homes, wrest out new beginnins.

"I'm glad you're okay," she says, again. "Molly, too. I'll talk to the others. It's gonna get better," she tells the Hermetic, with a surety that's borrowed from a man who walked this path before her, someone Ashley would never meet and Emily would not see again until her eyes closed for the very last time.

"I mean... soon you'll have tea," she adds, with one last wry twist, to give the Hermetic something tangible to hope for and a little levity.

[Ashley McGowen] "Infinite shades of gray, actually," Ashley says. "But I don't think living is about being right." It's a cryptic statement to leave things on, but Ashley does not seem inclined to expand upon it. As far as she is concerned she's already said enough as it is; it's a rather un-Hermetic sentiment to express, in its own way. Or at least it would seem so.

Whatever living is about, well, that's for each of them to guess at.

It's going to get better, says Emily. Ashley's eyes, pale in the dim light, move up and catch Emily's, and for a moment there's a half-smile there on her face. A wistful thing. It says that Ashley would like very much to believe it.

She doesn't.

"I'm glad you came," she says. There is no certainty that Emily will come again; there is no certainty that Ashley will be around for it, and so she does not hope. For now, what she knows is that someone cared enough to seek her out. For now, that's enough.

[Emily Littleton] [ And wrap! Everyone take your bows.... Oh, Okay, Jim, you can just fold your arms over your chest and scowl. ]