[Jarod Nightingale] It was early afternoon (just following lunch-time), and the sky over Grant Park was gray and clouded. The wind pushed around and scattered leaves that had turned color and dropped from branches, and the sound that they made as they danced across the ground was like a paper waterfall.
Jarod was walking through the park with another man. A friend perhaps, or a business acquaintance. Given their casual state of dress (Jarod had on jeans and a button-down black shirt beneath a thin leather jacket), it was more likely the former. The two of them paused underneath a tree as they spoke, and something that Jarod said made the other man laugh. He was about 25, this man. Tallish, skinny... attractive in a hipster kind of way.
As they spoke, he gradually drew nearer until he leaned in to whisper something in the Verbena's ear. Whatever it was, Jarod smiled, but he gave a light shake of his head when he pulled back. A few moments later, they'd bid goodbye, leaving Jarod to his own devices.
He leaned back against the trunk of the tree and closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of autumn in the city.
[Ashley McGowen] It looks like it might rain, but this is prime leaf-season, and that's a rather short period of time. By next weekend, many of the colors will have faded and many of the daubs of color splashed over the framework of branches will have smeared down to carpet the ground instead. It's transient: maybe two weeks at the very most. Maybe that's why people appreciate it.
Regardless, that's why Ashley's outside today instead of hovering indoors in her library with a cup of tea. Throughout most of the week, she probably spends at least four or five hours a day outside: enough to walk the dog for a few miles in the morning, sometimes more, and then enough to go off on her own and do whatever she wants to do without canine companionship.
There's a group of college-aged students nearby who have made a leaf pile and are jumping into it and kicking smaller piles at each other. College students can often get away with activities typically reserved for people under the age of ten. It's one of the privileges of their age group.
Ashley is perched on a bench with her legs drawn up, watching them. If she were a more outgoing person, maybe she would have joined in - such groups tend to be open to this sort of thing - but she doesn't know them and they don't know her and regardless, she isn't in a particularly playful mood today. She has a book, but it's lying across her knees closed with her index finger curled between some of the pages to mark her place. The cargo jacket is on today, buttoned, the collar flipped up against the wind.
Her cheek turns into it when she notices Jarod, watching him over the collar. The young man he's with. Ashley has to think about approaching him.
Until one of the errant college students, dodging a cloud of leaves, trips and smacks into her blind side, knocking her over the arm of the bench. A "What the fuck?" of protest and a scathing glare and a few stammered apologies later, she's walking over toward the Verbena's tree anyway.
[Jarod Nightingale] The sounds of the nearby students dominated the periphery, and for awhile Jarod remained in his quasi-meditative state, listening to the sound of laughter and displaced leaves as they were jumped on and scattered. A couple of the girls noticed him and pointed, speaking in hushed tones, but he didn't see them, and a moment later one of their male companions tackled them both to the ground.
Not long after that, the sounds of a collision - and the verbal aftermath - drew his attention. Jarod opened his eyes in time to catch Ashley's scathing glare, and he put a hand to his mouth to hide the quiet laughter that escaped his lips. When the Hermetic drew near, he let his hand fall and asked, in a mixture of concern and amusement: "Are you okay?"
[Ashley McGowen] One thing Ashley has learned is that people don't really afford others of her size and gender the same space as they would, say, Solomon. Or Jarod himself, even if his appearance weren't so perfect that he made the common person a touch nervous or awed or any of the numerous reactions people have to him. Like a badger or a housecat, she compensates with temper. Besides, near Jarod himself she's at least moderately assured that she isn't going to be knocked over again.
One has to imagine, given how average she is if one doesn't take her Willworking into consideration, how frustrating it is to have to put on that mask day to day. A brush of her Will and she can make the world bend, and reality has a mind to force her into mundane behavior.
Then again, perhaps it really is better that way, depending on who you ask.
She approaches the Verbena and stops next to his tree, though she doesn't lean into it next to him. Watches him cover his mouth with his hand, and perhaps it stirs a memory; in China that's polite behavior. "I'm okay," she tells Jarod, and the clipped tone is not for him. She tucks her book under her arm instead, content to watch the students play from a distance instead. She glances out of the corner of her eye at him for a moment, perhaps not knowing what to say after the manner of her departure on Tuesday. Then, "You must come out here a lot."
[Jarod Nightingale] "I do," he affirmed. "I like being outside. Especially this time of year."
He'd never really gotten to experience fall, growing up. Dallas really only had two seasons: hot and dry, or less hot and less dry. These days he associated that kind of climate, not with a sense of home - as perhaps he should, but with feelings of loss, ennui and stagnation. Chicago wasn't his home either, but it would do for now.
Jarod noticed Ashley's clipped tone, but didn't acknowledge it (perhaps correctly assuming that it had little to do with him). He bent down and picked up a maple leaf - crimson-colored and recently fallen - and spun the stem slowly between his fingers.
"I don't supposed you'd care to enlighten me about what happened the other evening?"
[Ashley McGowen] "I do too," she says, watching some leaves tumble by, swirling once in the wind like dancers in shades of red and orange before they all float once more to the ground. She folds her arms, almost swallowed by the jacket.
And then her eyes are on Jarod again. She knows she doesn't owe him an explanation; she doesn't feel that she should have to explain herself to him at all. For a moment or two she's of the mind to tell him exactly that, the words sharp enough to cut her lips on while they're on the way out. Then again, maybe Jarod isn't expecting her to. Her eyes are much bluer than today's sky and they lock on him for a few moments while she chooses her response.
"Emily as much as made a promise to herself when I spoke with her once, so I'm disappointed to see her Will faltering," Ashley says. Her words are brief, because really, this has nothing directly to do with Jarod, and perhaps she's a bit unwilling to discuss the particulars without Emily present. She respects the Chorister enough. "And like I said. I have a lot on my mind. I wasn't in the mood to deal with it or sit there and keep my mouth shut."
[Jarod Nightingale] [Ladies and gentleman, I give you tonight's empathy roll]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 4, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 5)
[Ashley McGowen] Ashley is a little disappointed in Emily, but it's mostly because she's jumped to conclusions. She doesn't have a lot of patience for what is, in her mind, not being able to stand by a decision - which is compounded by the fact that she has been one of the friends who has watched Emily's trials for the better part of half a year now.
A lot of her anger, though, seems to be caused by something else and unable to find a target. She's upset and frustrated and bitter and lonely and they feed into each other and cycle. Her position of leadership and the teachings of her Tradition are not helping.
to Jarod Nightingale
[Jarod Nightingale] Jarod fixed his eyes on Ashley for a long moment. It seemed like a measuring gaze, as if he was trying to decide just how volatile Ashley's mood actually was. A breeze gusted by, and he let go of the leaf in his hand, allowing the wind to carry it away.
"The only person who has the right to be disappointed in Emily, is Emily. I fail to see how her personal life is any of your business."
This was stated calmly, but there was... a subtle edge to his voice. Almost like a rattlesnake warning. (Tread carefully - I bite.) Ashley, of course, wasn't likely to heed such a warning even if she happened to pick up on it. She was willful, and dangerous, and had a pretty solid bite of her own.
"I don't recall seeing any of that high-minded morality when you slept with me."
There were plenty of people, after all, who might say that fucking your friend's lover wasn't the world's nicest thing to do. Jarod probably wasn't one of them, but he could still use the argument to make a point.
[Ashley McGowen] "I have the right to think whatever I want to think of whoever I damn well please," Ashley says, with a sharp sidelong look in his direction. The edge to her voice is not nearly so subtle as Jarod's. There's no warning rattle: just teeth.
The second comment, while it might have been the one that rankled most people more, does not seem to bother her as much as the first had. She just turns to face him so she isn't looking at him over the collar of her jacket anymore (to face him head on.) "I didn't know at the time. And she and I weren't really friends at the time." This could be argued: Emily was an acquaintance then and they were beginning to know each other. For Ashley, though, caring is reserved for a select few. Not for acquaintances or for an apprentice she's guided a few times. And if she hasn't started to care - no, there are times when she's not very nice at all.
"But that's beside the point anyway. It's not about morality. It's that you should have the Will to fucking own your decision." Her jaw tightens a moment while she watches him, while she bites the inside of her cheek. And then she says, "Anyway, I fail to see how what's between me and her is any of your business. I'll discuss this with her if she wants to ask me."
[Jarod Nightingale] There was a point, when Ashley said: you should have the Will to fucking own your decision, where Jarod's face twisted into an expression of barely contained disgust. It wasn't clear, at first, what part of what she'd said had bothered him so much... but something definitely had. Perhaps he thought that Emily should not have made that decision to begin with.
"It's my business when you make it my business. When you break up a perfectly good evening because you can't deal with so much as looking at us. She's a friend. I'm not going to stop seeing her just because she can't sleep with me."
His nostrils flared, and he took a deep breath. Ashley's gaze was direct and confrontational, but Jarod's wandered to the group of students playing in the leaves. It wasn't an indication of backing down, but an attempt to re-ground himself. He didn't want to lose his temper. Down that road lay weakness.
"Clinging to a naive promise when it no longer has any meaning is not an indication of Will. It's stubborn intractability for its own sake. I will never understand why people seem so fucking eager to ruin their lives over romantic ideals that have no basis in reality."
[Ashley McGowen] There's a sharp roll of her eyes at what he says, and in that moment one has to imagine Ashley must have been an infuriating teenager. It's what Jarod says - romantic ideals that have no basis in reality - that seems to have caught that lash of temper, and it's not because Ashley doesn't have any idea how people work. On the contrary. "We fucking determine reality. Why settle?"
And it isn't that she doesn't believe what she's saying; it isn't that she doesn't feel passionately about it. It's that she knows that it's impossible to press one's Will upon certain behaviors of others and still allow those acts to maintain their integrity. And sometimes that fact is bitterly disappointing.
"The promise still has meaning for her, I think," and that bit of uncertainty simply because there has been a lot of guesswork on Ashley's part about much of this conversation (the main reason she had to be coaxed to speak about it), and because she has been wrong about other people before, when it comes to this kind of thing. On plenty of occasions. "But entertaining the idea that he does come back - do you think she's going to be happy if she caves? I've never regretted keeping my promises, to myself or someone else." Of course, she doesn't make very many (and this is the reason).
Then there's a wave of the hand and her jaws close again, tightly. "There's no point in talking about her like this. I'll bring it up with her, specifically. She doesn't need you to white knight for her."
[Jarod Nightingale] [WP - Temper? Because you're kind of right? And I don't need to be reminded of that right now?]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 5, 7, 10 (Failure at target 8)
[Jarod Nightingale] "I am not..."
His eyes flashed with rage as they snapped back onto Ashley, and if she was having an unusually perceptive moment, she might recognize that a great deal of that rage was directed internally. That somewhere along the line she'd hit a nerve. A big one.
His lips curled back for half a second: an instinctive response, and on him it looked more than a little feral.
"Why the fuck do you think I haven't fucked her yet?"
Because for some stupid reason, he wanted her to be happy. But he was not, and never would be, someone's white knight. He wasn't even a very good person. (Except that he was, sometimes.)
(But not today.)
There was a sudden movement. Lashing out? Not... exactly. His physical presence pushed into Ashley's space, and he grabbed her face in his hands. There was a fraction of an instant, before he actually touched her, where his eyes searched for discomfort or resistance - anything that might tell him that this advance was unwelcome. Even after he pressed his lips to hers, she could have pushed him away. But if she did not, he'd kiss her. Not gently. Not with restraint.
And when he pulled back, there was a ferocious intensity in his eyes. A challenge.
[Ashley McGowen] Say what one will about Ashley's social skills in most circumstances, but she does know how to fight. She does it instinctively; at no point later will she look back on the conversation and easily realize that Jarod was upset when she accused him of championing someone else, of being strong for someone else. She'll have to think about it for a long time if she bothers at all, because it isn't her way, that cold analysis of others' weaknesses. But right now she notices that she touched a nerve, and she latches on. Presses the advantage and makes a guess.
She speaks over him, over his question. "I distinctly remember you saying that I 'made it your problem,'" she points out, finger quotes and all, locking eyes with him when they snap back in her direction, "which sounds an awful fucking lot like what white knights say. But I guess it's fine if you think she isn't strong enough to - "
That's when his hands come up to her face with that impossible sort of quickness (and grace) that Ashley herself can't manage. One reaction tails another because her mind reacts more quickly than her body does: she thinks he's about to harm her, at first, and then one of his hands goes into that senseless void on her left side where she can neither see nor hear and she's angry (and alarmed.) By the time her face is in his hands and he looks into her eyes there's only confusion in them.
This isn't how people argue.
If it were gentle, it would be more than she could handle right now. If there were any tenderness, it's likely that it would upset her before it would do anything else. There's neither of those things. Given that the rough shove of a hand against his chest is followed with the hard press of her mouth against his before he breaks away, rather than a twisting out of his grasp, it's not as ambiguous as it might look.
It's like a grab bag of angry thoughts - furious at the audacity of it, incredulous that he thinks this is a valid means of conflict resolution, anger at the things he's said because he's wrong, surfacing rage at her loss - but compared to the sudden surge of hunger it's nothing. She grabs a handful of the front of his shirt and gives a jerk of the wrist and pulls him down, and it's the kind of kiss that happens when a person is trying to drown something out. It rapidly becomes more than a kiss when she bites his lower lip. Hard.
Distantly, she's happy that the college students are on her left.
[Jarod Nightingale] If someone had asked him to explain what in the hell was going on in is head right now, he wouldn't have been able to. This moment was not about rational thinking. This was about two people who were frustrated, hurt and angry. Because the world was a fucked-up place, and it was anything but fair. Because happiness was fleeting and frail. Because good people died, and assholes stuck around. Because the things that you cared about the most were the things that got taken away.
This was not a valid means of conflict resolution, Ashley was right on that account. Audacious, yes. She would have been justified in hitting him, and had she done so, he wouldn't have even complained. She didn't hit him though, and there was perhaps some small, inward satisfaction at that.
When she grabbed his shirt, one of the buttons broke. Under a different, more relaxed set of circumstances, he might have been annoyed by that, but today he barely noticed. When she kissed him back, she bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, and Jarod sucked in a tight breath, but it wasn't an unwelcome kind of pain. He wanted it. It was real. Pain was alive and immediate. He didn't have to think about it. He just felt it. And it was loud. It drowned out almost everything else in his head.
There were people watching them. A few of the nearby park-goers had stopped what they were doing and were looking over in a mixture of nervous concern and fascination. This was not the kind of thing that people did in broad daylight, this reckless abandonment of civilized behavior. Jarod knew that they were watching, but for a moment he allowed himself not to care. He handled Ashley roughly, as if she were not the small and breakable creature that she outwardly appeared to be. His fingers dug into her back, then tore open the buttons of her jacket and worked their way under her shirts, until they found skin at the small of her back, her hips and her stomach. When he pulled back, his teeth grazed her jaw on their way to her neck, and when he kissed her there, he bit down. Hard.
Ilana got out of school in 2 and a half hours.
It took considerable effort to pull himself away, but he did, because they'd get arrested if they kept going. For once, there was very little to mask the expression of unbridled frustration on his face. He did not want to stop. He did not want to wait.
"Your place."
It was not a question.
[Ashley McGowen] This is the second time Ashley has stepped out (no, no, this is more like a leap out) of her comfort zone with Jarod. She'd never had a casual encounter before that evening at his place sometime last winter. She's never done anything like this, either, bookish Hermetic who had once been a kid who loved only music. She's not going to let him know that.
Her book tumbles from the place where it was held between her ribcage and elbow when the front of her jacket snaps open, and though there's a flash of horror because she's gentle with books - what if the pages get dogeared, they're going to get covered in mud - she couldn't break away to recover it even if she wanted to. People are staring but she can't see them and she can't hear them and so she can ignore them, ignore the fact that they are very much in public and she gets embarrassed even talking to strangers. She's silent until he bites down into her neck, and the sound that she makes, while still quiet, isn't entirely of pain. It snaps the world into focus, makes her acutely aware of the blood pulsing just under his teeth and the skin she's digging her nails into and the crunch of the leaves when she shifts a foot.
This isn't the best idea or the most healthy decision, and maybe the hypocrisy of it all will strike her in an unguarded moment later, but right now she doesn't care. She's reveling in the intensity and the rage and its release.
When he pulls back it's clear that she doesn't want to wait either. Her pupils are dilated, cheeks and ears flushed and for the most part it isn't from self-consciousness. Your place, he says, and her eyes roll upward for a second. Her place is a two mile walk over the river. It's still probably closer than his, so she doesn't protest.
"Your car's here, right?"
And the moment he confirms she leans down to pick up her book and makes her way out of the park, toward the place he indicates. She says nothing during the walk, or during the ride to the brick walk-up in River North. While most people might avoid the eyes of those who are now pointedly trying to look elsewhere, occasionally stealing glances at the two of them, Ashley stares. As though daring them to say something.
Fortunately, it's a much shorter drive.
[Jarod Nightingale] Ashley has never done this before, but for all the inexperience, she didn't show fear or hesitation. That was probably a good thing, because if she had, Jarod might have had second thoughts. Unlike her, he had done this before. Whatever he'd gotten up to the night before their last encounter, it had left a bite mark on his neck just like the one he'd just given her. It was safe to say that he wasn't a stranger to either rough sex or sex without emotional attachment. Still, there was a degree of intensity and combativeness to this that made it stand out as, if not unique, then certainly unusual.
Ashley asked if his car was here. It was. The M3 was smooth and quick on the roads, and it did indeed get them to Ashley's apartment with expedience.
There was a dog inside. And a cat. Jarod ignored them both. (The dog in particular.) If Ashley didn't take the initiative, then he'd pull her to the closest room with a door and a bed. More than likely, they'd push and pull each other.
And then there wasn't any reason to have to hold back anymore, so they didn't. He'd probably lose more of the buttons on his shirt (he didn't care), and the two of them would end up tangled on the bed, clothes quickly discarded, and there was a wild, feral intensity driving them forward. This kind of sex was not safe or comfortable. It was violent. Lines were crossed between lust and anger, pleasure and pain. There was not a moment when Jarod held back or shied away from these things. His every sound and action encouraged it.
They fucked each other - hard, and without restraint. And when it was over, they'd both have bruises and broken skin, and they'd both be sore, but none of that mattered in the face of cathartic release. It might not have been a rational solution to their problems, but at least for the moment, it would make them feel better.
