[Jarod Nightingale] Jarod was used to these kinds of social outings. When one arrived in a place after a prolonged absence, naturally there were appointments to make, people to see, things to discuss. Emily had suggested that Ashley would want to meet with him, she he'd dutifully called the Deacon and made arrangements to meet the following day at the Grand Lux Cafe downtown, for brunch. The timing of the meal had been calculated to fall during elementary-school hours, but he didn't mention this as being one of the key motivators. (Naturally, he wouldn't.)
A reservation had been made, and now he was sitting at a table, sipping a peach bellini (oh how very trendy) as he chatted with the waiter. Judging by their mutual body language, it was probably not a completely innocent kind of chat.
This place was big, and expensively decorated, and judging by the name and the location, one had to assume that it was a little out of a Grad Student's usual price range. Jarod had anticipated this, which was why he'd mentioned over the phone that the meal would be on his tab. Despite the menu prices, though, the dress-code here was casual. As such, Jarod was in a dark blue button-down shirt and jeans.
[Jarod Nightingale] [Awareness]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 6, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Ashley McGowen] Ashley, too, is used to these kinds of social outings. Nowadays. There was once a quieter time when she used to go weeks without speaking to another mage, when she could hole up safely in her apartment and her library and go to work and go to class and no one would be the wiser. Once in a while, Hannibal Caspian Temple is the recipient of a litany of curses - for precisely this reason.
She has seen this cafe before but has never set foot inside, nor many like it. Let's be honest: most Hermetics come from money, most Hermetics (at least half of the Tradition, really) are groomed to be Hermetics from when they are very young and are the children of consors, at least. She's one of the few. She's also determined not to make this more awkward than it has to be, even if she didn't expect Jarod to be calling her (at all) quite this soon.
Fortunately, she knows it's casual; she's wearing a wine-colored shirt over another, slightly lighter, top, and a pair of jeans. Ashley hasn't been sleeping much, and it's a bit earlier than she wants to be out of her apartment, but she manages some semblance of alertness.
The touch of her Will has gotten strong enough that even Sleepers are beginning to notice now, and not just the particularly sharp ones. Jarod can feel it even before he sees her, can feel that her presence has somehow magnified, that the shape and tone of her Hunger has shifted but it's hard to say how. It feels at once livelier, more forceful, bittersweet.
Whatever it is, it doesn't seem to have gone to her head: she raises a hand at him in greeting when she's in eyesight and pulls out a chair, letting her messenger bag sling over the back before she sits down. "Hi, Jarod."
[Jarod Nightingale] You'd think they might behave differently, these two. More intimate, perhaps. (They'd slept together. How much more intimate can two people be?) Or maybe a little sad and distant. (They'd both lost someone that they deeply cared about. They'd both had to watch their lives change in ways that they'd probably never expected.) Jarod, at least, was neither of these things. At least, he didn't appear so. Ashley would find him much as she remembered him. He looked the same. He still flirted much too deftly and much too readily.
It was like an outfit, these social patterns. One put them on whenever leaving home. They kept the rain out.
(But make no mistake. Neither of them were the same.)
He noticed this about Ashley. The way her resonance preceded her. And in truth, he wasn't surprised. He smiled when he saw her. "Ashley, good morning. Or afternoon, as you prefer." (It was right on the cusp of both, after all.) The waiter turned to the new arrival and asked if Ashley wanted anything to drink. Whatever her response, it would be duly noted before he left to allow them time to look at the menus. (And yes, that was a meaningful smile that he shot in Jarod's direction as he was walking away.)
And speaking of the devil...
"I imagine you probably didn't expect to see me again," Jarod mused, a little wryly. "How are things with you? Still working on grad school?"
That was intentional, asking about her personal life instead of prodding for news of the awakened world at large. (Emily had already told him that much, and one didn't ask about traumatic events first thing over brunch.)
[Ashley McGowen] Ashley also does not appear to be either of these things. Two weeks: that's enough time for her to piece herself together when she goes out. And Ashley isn't a skilled manipulator, not really. She doesn't lie. The thing she has gotten very good at is learning to magnify certain personality traits. People don't dig very deep when they think they've seen all there is to see.
Or when they suspect that digging too deep might result in a date with one Ashley McGowen, the Ars Mentis and the Midgard Serpent. But no, they aren't the same. Ashley is Hermetic stoicism, smug and a little indifferent.
At least, until she sits down and looks at the menu and is, for a second or two, lost. She ends up asking for water; the only other thing she really drinks is tea. (And alcohol. Probably too much, if it has to be said - but that's been the case for a while now.)
The glance she gives Jarod once the waiter leaves is, likewise, a bit hesitant and indirect. Not in the slightest familiar with the world of casual encounters, Ashley, and she isn't really sure of how to behave here. (But he knew that.) "I didn't," she says, and leaves it there.
"I am still in school. I have another year left on my master's," she says. "I'm actually teaching a class this semester. Which has sort of been a trial by fire as far as public speaking goes."
[Jarod Nightingale] If Jarod noticed that Ashley felt a little lost in their particular surroundings, he didn't say anything. One might wonder at his reasoning for picking this place at all. Maybe he just liked it here. Or maybe he wanted home-field advantage. (Adept social manipulators thought about things like that, after all.) Whatever his reason, it did seem that he was familiar with the menu.
"The Brioche French Toast is supposed to be to-die-for, though I've never tried it myself. They also do some nice omelettes."
Jarod already knew what he was going to order, so his menu was left on the edge of the table for the waiter to pick up. He leaned back a little in his chair and took a sip of his drink (idle, contemplative). He smiled a bit when Ashley talked about grad school.
"I've been thinking of going back to school. Once things settle down." He laughed once, quietly. "Who knows when that will be."
The waiter returned with Ashley's water and asked if they were ready to order. Jarod asked for the Crab and asparagus omelette - hold the hollandaise, light on the fontina. After Ashley ordered and the waiter disappeared with their menus, Jarod finally broached the topic of awakened business. Ashley would be able to tell that it was coming, because he straightened and leaned forward a little, and his voice dropped to a softer pitch.
"Emily told me you'd want to see me. That there'd been a lot of changes since I left." A beat. "She also told me about the recent attack. For what it's worth... I'm sorry."
[Ashley McGowen] Jarod doesn't call attention to her discomfort, which is something she is grateful for, silently: only some people can manage that sort of subtle skill with suggesting what a person should order, that polite nudge. There are plenty of other people who would be a little condescending, or who might be sympathetic and "helpful," which would be worse by far. She's proud.
She does indeed order French toast, because it sounds like something she'd like, because it's a bit lighter and her stomach has been in knots of late. She raises her eyebrows because Jarod says when things settle down, and it doesn't seem to Ashley like Jarod has much to worry about. She doesn't say that though. Not right away.
She would have asked him what he planned to go back to study, but the subject is about to change, and when it does, when he leans in and his voice softens and she tilts her good ear toward him so she can still hear him well, there's something in her expression that just...falls. It's hard to say what: she doesn't look stricken, her eyes don't tear up, but it's there and unmistakable. "Thanks," she says. And she says, "She wasn't just a friend," and she adds that not out of a desire for sympathy or even understanding but because there are rumors, and she knows there are rumors, and she is tired of whispered supposition.
Her face has pieced itself together again by the time she reaches for her glass of water and takes a sip from it. "There've been a lot of changes. I manage the house and keep a list of who's permitted inside, which is probably why she sent you to me."
[Jarod Nightingale] Truthfully, even including the events that Ashley did not know about, the things that kept Jarod's schedule busy were not the same things that Ashley had to worry about. He wasn't running a chantry, or protecting the city from demons and nephandi. But he was trying to juggle two jobs (one of which required a lot of travel) and the care of a ten year old girl without much in the way of assistance, and that just didn't leave a lot of room for the kind of intense focus and discipline that graduate school required. He was a pragmatic creature, and he had his priorities. (Some would say they weren't always the right priorities.)
She wasn't just a friend, Ashley said, and this particular rumor had not been on his radar. He was good at gathering that kind of intel, usually. Hang around Jarod long enough and who knows what one might end up discussing. Like Kage, he was much more fond of asking questions than answering them, and he was a good enough listener (when he wanted to be) to make talking easy. Emily, of course, had always proved a large source of information. Even while she was an apprentice, before she'd gotten officially involved in government. It helped, knowing someone so proactive. (Especially since he, himself, was completely removed from the process - and intentionally so.)
But he'd been gone awhile, and was no longer up on the local secrets. Or even, for that matter, many of the current events. He had known that Ashley had lost someone important to her, though, and whether that someone was a friend or a lover ultimately didn't matter much. It was still a loss. His response to that statement wasn't verbal. It was a shift in expression. Something in the eyes. Not pitying (Jarod never pitied anyone), but soft. Empathy.
(He could be human, on occasion.)
"Well, if it helps, I won't make things complicated for you in that respect. I don't plan on going back to the chantry." This was stated quietly, and somewhat matter-of-factly. As if they were talking about vacation destinations, and he'd decided that a certain place just wasn't to his liking.
[Ashley McGowen] Ashley, too, can be human (in spite of how hard she sometimes tries not to be.) Some people don't breach the social awkwardness in order to find out, and fewer suspect there's more to her than a brash Will and a desire for more, a drive for conflict. She intends this (they hide their Names in darkness, Hermetics do.) But it's there sometimes. It is now, in the glance she gives him that is grateful that he doesn't speak, that is sad but shoring itself up and trying to keep living (thrive.)
A smile, bitter and wry, pulls at a corner of her mouth when he says he won't be going back to the chantry. Ashley can't recall ever having seen Jarod there even when it was open to anyone who might have happened to walk in, before the Society of the Nameless Crow seized control of it and vowed to see to responsible use of the city's resources. That was a different time, safer, but it doesn't really surprise her to hear him say this now. Besides: "You're probably better off. I'm starting to think that house is cursed."
She has few pleasant memories of it, and a handful of rather traumatic ones. She's killed only three times in her life; all of them were done at the house.
"The city has been pretty dangerous, since you left," she tells him. "Handful of problems in late spring, a demon took an interest a few months ago and there's a Nephandus running around now who is an Adept of Mind. A Labyrinth somewhere in the city." Ashley, too, is matter of fact. Unafraid. "I've warded the chantry to be a place to go to ground, so if you don't intend to go there, you might at least want to take a lot of care with your place."
She suspects he would already. The suggestion is still there.
[Jarod Nightingale] "The unfortunate side effect of claiming a valuable resource is that you have to defend it from those who would take it from you. I suppose it was only a matter of time before various entities started to notice its existence and make life difficult. I don't envy you."
When Ashley mentioned the demon (this was something Emily hadn't told him about), and confirmed his suspicions that the local Nephandi were going to be (and already had been) much more than just a casual threat, a slightly brooding expression seemed to cross his face. There was worry there, yes. But not surprise. He was long past the ability to be surprised by the atrocities of the world.
"I always do," he said, when she suggested care be taken. "Things aren't much better elsewhere, to be honest. I had to avoid them in Toronto as well. One of these days I should just build a cabin out in the woods and be done with it. Live like a real Verbena." He smirked a little. They both knew perfectly well that he'd never do that.
[Ashley McGowen] "That's the unfortunate side effect of having anything," Ashley says. Because Jarod has the right of it: Ashley defends the node because it is hers. She defends the city because it is hers and those within it are hers to do with what she Will. The people she cares about, those left: they're hers too. She's protective of the things that are hers. It would, doubtlessly, be easier were she to claim (care about) fewer things.
In fact, it used to be, last year.
She lets Jarod sit on the information, doesn't press him. Doesn't protest and say oh no, you should throw in, this is your city too. She doesn't do it with Kage, either. For Ashley, choosing to assume responsibility and rise in the city was very much a personal matter. She too manages a smirk, a ghost of a thing. "Somehow I don't see you running around swaddled in hides with a bow and arrow."
Pause, because it brings to mind what she'd wanted to ask, because she doubts Jarod wants to hear about the coming assault. "I had something to ask you, actually."
[Jarod Nightingale] Usually, when Jarod laughed, it was with a kind of deliberate control. As if whatever amusement he chose to exhibit was a conscious and intentional decision, rather than a spontaneous utterance. It didn't mean that his laughter was false or affected - just that he was very practiced in schooling his outward behavior. Most of the expression that he showed was deliberate, not just laughter. This was why people like Ashley's apprentice tended to think (somewhat erroneously, though not completely) that he was a dishonest person.
The laughter that he gave now, though... it seemed both honest and spontaneous. A sudden burst of raw amusement that made his eyes grow warmer for a moment. He set his drink down and covered his mouth to muffle the sound. "No, that... would not be me at all. Not the hides, anyway. So unflattering." After a thoughtful pause, he added, "I've actually used a bow and arrow a few times. I'm not very good with it though. That kind of thing needs practice."
Ashley had something to ask him, but they were interrupted when the waiter came back with their food. Jarod glanced up and smiled, and it was such a beautific expression (show-off) that the man actually blushed and hesitated for a moment before he took his leave. When they were alone again, Jarod stabbed a piece of asparagus with his fork and looked up at Ashley. "Go on?"
[Ashley McGowen] That burst of laughter, how genuine it seems, was not entirely expected, and that faint smirk broadens into a grin in response. That's what you do, when you make someone else laugh. Ashley doesn't lift a hand, doesn't block her smile from view. She doesn't school her expressions, wouldn't think to do it.
There's a glance toward the waiter when the plates are set down in front of them. A glance that passes between Jarod and the waiter when Jarod smiles, when the waiter blushes. She hadn't really registered the flirting as flirting when she first arrived at the table, and it takes a minute to sink in now. Untroubled, she files the detail away, picks up her fork and spears a strawberry.
It happens to be a very good strawberry, and she chews and swallows it before answering Jarod when he asks her to go on. She has to collect her thoughts, really. She's a Hermetic, whatever else: they aren't used to making requests.
"I want to study Life with a Verbena," she says. Then, hesitation, in the interest of full disclosure. She stills her fork and glances up at him. "I've been wanting to study and possibly join the Tradition. Will you teach me?"
The request holds no urgency, no sort of desperation: there are other Verbena to study from, somewhere, should he refuse. But she would like to learn from him; he is, after all, not one of the variety that runs around in the woods wrapped in animal skin, is closer to the approach she will take.
[Jarod Nightingale] That... had not been a question that he was expecting.
He stopped eating for a moment and set his fork back down. Then he leaned back a little and fixed Ashley with a long, unreadable gaze. It was the kind of lengthy, fixed attention that often made people uncomfortable, but Ashley wasn't likely to be very bothered by it (not unless the attention was flirtatious in nature, perhaps.)
"Correct me if I'm wrong," he said finally, "but I believe you're already a part of a Tradition that is very much not the Verbena." He didn't sound accusatory, but it wasn't exactly warm, either. More like a kind of flat pragmatism. "Why even bother? You could learn how to manipulate living patterns through Hermetic teaching."
[Ashley McGowen] Ashley is indeed untroubled by this kind of stare. It's how she watches other people, and occasionally, how other people watch her; there is nothing troubling in it. She finds it honest. She too sets her fork down and meets his eyes. There's no surprise in hers, nothing to suggest that she's offended by the question - or defensive, for that matter.
She would likely have some similar questions were a member of another Tradition to approach her about joining the Order of Hermes. Or would have, at one time. Might have at one time been a bit more mocking than Jarod has been. People who keep to two Traditions are rare.
The hand that reaches up and roughs the hair at the back of her neck is the only sign of discomfort or uncertainty that she betrays, really. It isn't uncertainty at her decision. "I could," she says. "And I have no intention of leaving the Order of Hermes." Another glance at him, quick and direct. "But there are a lot of times when I feel...I'm not going to say stifled by the Tradition, but it doesn't encompass my approach. There are aspects of myself and what I know that might be strengthened by the Tradition."
It's a bit of a struggle, fully articulating this. Ashley isn't one to painstakingly analyze a decision: she makes one intuitively, because it feels right, and that isn't always as impulsive as it seems. Might, she says, because she doesn't know yet. Knows what she's read, knows what she's discussed. Might is a could be.
Another pause. "Claiming one Tradition when my ideas and methods speak to both strikes me as deceptive. And denying myself something that could really benefit me."
[Jarod Nightingale] It wasn't a bad answer, really. She'd thought about it, and put some honesty into the words. (Say what you will about Ashley, but she was a very person, for both good and ill.) Jarod listened, and considered this while he ate, cutting into his omelette in small, precise bites. (He ate like a cat.) And perhaps he remembered something of the way Ashley had behaved the afternoon they'd run into each other at a bookstore and ended up back at his place. That raw, primal energy that had not seemed very Hermetic at all.
"When I joined the Tradition, I was already years past my Awakening. I knew about the world. I had skills, and I was hardly naive. Nonetheless, I was required to apprentice for a year before I was accepted as a Verbena. Some of the hard-line traditionalists demand worse. It's not an easy Tradition to join, and you'd be asking us to trust an outsider from a group that has abused our trust considerably over the years. A group that has, in fact, waged wars against us."
Still, his voice lacked anger. He stated all of this matter-of-factly.
"Furthermore, as I'm sure you must have realized, I am hardly the poster-boy for the Verbena party-line, which makes me a pretty unsuitable mentor." There was a faint smile at that. Something knowing. "Of course, maybe that's why you asked me in the first place. But, regardless... my answer is no. I don't have the time, or the inclination, and you haven't given me a reason why that should change."
[Jarod Nightingale] [she was a very *honest* person... damn you typo]
[Ashley McGowen] She listens to what Jarod has to say about all of this. About apprenticing for a year. It's a long time to wait, but not entirely outside of what she might have expected: the Order of Hermes, after all, is not an easy Tradition to join either. Its members have to be suitable, always picked and approached by an existing member. A person just doesn't petition to join. That the Order's waged wars: that she knows, too. (Knows it too well, when she recalls the mess her former cabalmates have gotten into in Boston.)
She's not brushing all of that aside. Her reply to his matter-of-fact statements is a simple "I know."
And for the rest, she is patient. Ashley can be surprisingly patient, when she wants to be, when that is an endeavor she channels her Will into. It's something a person learns, after a while, that kind of tempering. It's the kind of thing a very cerebral Tradition drives into its students.
Her brow furrows, though, when he refuses. She'd thought he might refuse, but not for those reasons. "I'm an Adept," she says, "and pretty prominent in the city. I would've thought the benefit would be obvious. What reason do you need?" It's not mocking, not the sort of arrogant scoffing it could be. Like him, it's matter-of-fact, and also: just confused. Put off.
[Jarod Nightingale] The Order of Hermes placed a lot of stock in things like position and ability. The Verbena respected the elders among them for their wisdom, but a witch who could conjure storms held no more official importance than one who could only sense them. And Ashley... wasn't Verbena (even if she wanted to be - at least not yet), so her rank and title was significantly less meaningful to him than it might have been to some. That didn't mean that he didn't still understand what she was capable of, and respect the raw power and potential that she held contained.
It just meant that he didn't feel obligated to do her any favors. He'd already helped her once, and had yet to receive any benefit from that encounter beyond the obvious.
"See," he said, and grinned as he pointed his fork at her, "you're still thinking like a Hermetic."
He hadn't finished his meal (only about two thirds of it), but now he pushed his chair back and set his napkin on the table before standing. There was a moment when he fished into a pocket to draw out his wallet, and after counting out some bills, he dropped them on the table (it was more than enough to pay for the meal, as well as a tip).
Then he offered Ashley a final, lingering smile... and walked out.
[Ashley McGowen] It wouldn't be accurate to say that Ashley tries to throw her rank around, that she uses the weight of being an Adept often. She prefers to let her Will speak for itself, in that regard. But she is beginning to get used to it conferring a certain authority: people generally want her favor, want to have her around.
Moreover, she is not used to being refused as a student, has quite a bit of confidence in her abilities - which, to be fair, has largely been rightfully earned. (Though in this regard she is indeed thinking like a Hermetic: a student, what the student accomplishes, is a reflection of their mentor's Will.)
So when he grins and points his fork, Ashley's eyebrows just furrow, and that sense of bewilderment deepens. Might be a little hurt, for a few seconds, until he smiles before he walks out: she can't quite wrap her mind around what she did wrong.
Which means, of course, that she needs to think about it.
Which, of course, she does in between the last few bites of toast. (It is very good.) When she picks up her bag and walks out a few minutes after he does, she's already rather deep in thought. And determined, erroneous assumptions or not.
