[Emily Littleton] With the Autumnal time change, the sun has become that thing that Emily sees out a window on her way to one errand or the next, or greets with annoyance on her walk between classes. She's up before it rises, home well after it sets. She's rarely outside of the Chantry, or the lab, and the rains have returned with their requisite cloud cover. She doesn't think it all that odd than she sees more moonlight than sunlight, but there's a quiet to nightfall that doesn't come with the day.
This is the season of long walks in the park, hands pushed deep into her pockets, shoulders subconsciously hunched against the chill or the damp.
The rain all buffers the temperature, so it is not the bitter cold of winter tonight. Her breath does not make little clouds of steam. Her nose and cheeks are not pinked with chill. The Singer is just another pedestrian, winding her way through the park, finding her shape and shadow distended horribly by the cloud gate, hearing her footfalls shift from pavement to grass to gravel and all back again. She's carrying a cup of something that is still warm enough to let loose a thin tendril of rising steam-smoke through its take-away lid. She keeps it steady, one pinky finger wrapped under its base to steady it, her hand kept at a constant elevation and pitch. There's no messenger bag, just now. One has to surmise her keys are in her pocket, along with her phone, and some form of ID, but the rest of her evening is left up to guesswork.
Her hair is not pinned up; it's down.
There's no football tonight.
It's quiet, here. The rush of the city has died down. The people have started to stray home to their beds. It's quiet when she settles down on a park bench, rests her cup of still-warm something against her thigh, feels the seep of rainwater into the seat of her jeans. It's not cold enough for her to care that the bench is wet. Through the clouds, the fish hook moon peaks. It's not quite half-full just yet.
[Jarod Nightingale] [Aware?]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 4, 4, 5, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Ashley McGowen] [Am I?]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 4, 4, 4, 5, 5, 6, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Emily Littleton] [Oh, fine, me too]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 4, 5 (Botch x 1 at target 6)
[Jarod Nightingale] He comes here a lot, especially at night. When Ilana is asleep and he can safely slip away to wander the streets and the park-trails alone (or with a companion.) There were more than a few memories involving Emily and this park and the moon. Last winter, they'd met here often, though it had never been planned. As if they each housed magnets in their rib-cages that hummed and pulled them ever-constantly towards each other.
Like tonight.
The last time they'd seen each other, it had been the morning of the first, after returning from their trip to Madison. Ten days later, he was walking past the park, and felt that... pull. He could have ignored it. Could have just kept walking. But he didn't. Instead his footsteps took him quietly past the safely-lit sidewalk and into the shadows, moving through the wet grass. When he finally came to the bench where Emily sat, he stepped around and sat down next to her without a word. Jarod looked up at the moon, took a breath, and closed his eyes. Then he opened them again, turned to look at Emily, and smiled.
His hand found her neck, reached out to brush past her hair and trace the backs of fingers down the curve of her throat.
(Missed you.)
[Ashley McGowen] There's no football tonight.
It rained earlier, and everything is still a little damp. It rained earlier, and Ashley's clothes are still wet so she doesn't mind in the slightest that the surface she's lying on isn't the driest, or that rain wove patterns into Zane's fur and water still weighs it down where she's resting her head. Her hair's wet too. So, there's Ashley, lying across the small stone wall that borders the Millenium Fountain: on her back with her head pillowed against the dog, an arm folded behind her over his haunches. Watching the stars.
There's a notebook, closed, that is resting across her stomach and chest now. She was probably writing in it earlier, but has since given up, or maybe decided that it wasn't worth the risk of getting the pages wet. She took off her coat some time ago and it's taking refuge under her bent knees, huddled in a pile even though her legs are too small to keep it dry if the sky decided to open up again.
Right at this moment, she has her eyes closed. Or does only until two familiar Wills nudge her own, and then the right one (the good one) opens because the other isn't really necessary anyway and she lifts her head a fraction of an inch to cast about the park. And there they are. Sitting on a bench.
Ashley hesitates, and there are a lot of reasons to hesitate just now. But she isn't the type to just watch people and not let them know she's there. So after a moment she sits up, runs a hand back through her hair to straighten it (it's already straight, if in disarray) even if she doesn't greet them or start in their direction.
[Emily Littleton] Have you ever seen something just out of the corner of your eye, but then when you turned to face it more fully it was gone? This is how it feels for Emily, tonight. There is something out there, something that ought to either feel familiar or foreign, something that captures her interest just enough for her to close her eyes and reach out...
But it slips through her awareness like sand through fingertips. It will not be caught and held. This distraction lets a familiar presence slip right up to her bench, supplant the emptiness beside her. It surprises her, and perhaps that's easy enough to read in this familiar place. Easier yet when his fingers trail against her throat.
"Hey..."
(No, I wasn't worried that the park might be under attack, why ever would you think that?)
Despite that spike of readiness at the unknown, Emily has not yet noticed Ashley just a little bit away. It's like her mystical senses are cotton-balled up today. Fuzzy and indistinct. Like having a magical head cold. It's annoying; it's distracting.
"I, ah, didn't hear you coming."
A small smile. Emily shifts a little on the bench, seems to suddenly remember she's carrying something warm to drink. She sips from it. Brings it back down to her middle. Wraps the fingers of her other hand around it, too.
Now she looks around, to see what she has missed in her distraction. Maybe now she will notice the Hermetic by the Fountain. Or not. Maybe she'll see invaders in the shadows and be distracted yet again.
[Jarod Nightingale] Emily seemed a little nervous, but he didn't comment on it. Instead he just smiled a bit when she said that she hadn't heard him coming. "Sorry if I startled you."
His eyes flickered toward Ashley when she sat up. She was far enough away that he'd felt her only dimly on the edge of his senses, but now that she'd drawn his attention, her presence seemed more immediate. Perhaps she intended to join them at some point, but if either half of the pair seated on the bench were likely to offer a vocal invitation, it wasn't going to be him. Not because he minded, particularly. It was just a quiet sort of evening.
He was in casual dress tonight, so the remnants of the sky's tears weren't so much of a concern. And it had been a few hours now since the last of the light shower had fallen, and much of the wood had dried, or at least dried to the point where one could still sit comfortably.
"I think we're being watched," he mused quietly, in a playful tone.
[Ashley McGowen] There's a bit more of a chill in the air now than there'd been this afternoon, and the dampness of her clothes has made it seep through to her skin. She's wearing two shirts - if it isn't hotter than seventy degrees, she usually is, or more - but it's not helping much, at the moment. Ashley is only sitting up for a moment before she pulls her coat on, letting the fabric settle around her shoulders and swallow up her narrow frame.
She had not expected to see Emily out. Bran saw the Singer more recently than Ashley did: he made mention of it to her, after she returned to the chantry and found him in the basement. He said she'd said hello. Ashley'd wanted to know what the hell he'd said to her, but she didn't ask. She didn't call Emily to ask, either. Bran isn't going to be in town long, and even if he was, people sometimes figure out that he's dangerous on their own.
Regardless: she had not expected to see Emily here, and so there's a moment in which she is awkward. These happen often, and they happen more often lately because she's trying to decide who she is. Ashley suspects twenty-nine is too old for an identity crisis, but they happen upon people at the oddest times.
She drops a hand onto Zane's head and rubs the base of his ears. And after a moment, she lifts a hand in the direction of the pair on the bench in a lazy approximation of a wave.
[Emily Littleton] Jarod does not invite the mystery watcher over. Nor does he elaborate on who that might be. But slowly, oh so aggravatingly slowly, Emily's mind latches onto the sight of Ashley -- she'd never been so conscious of just how much she felt the other mages coming until her sixth sense took a holiday mid-week -- and Zane there.
Ashley waves.
Emily takes one hand off her take-away cup and waggles her fingers in return.
The last time she'd seen Jarod they'd ... well. It had been complicated. And that complication spilled into a shouting match the last time she'd seen Ashley. And this Bran fellow, of subtext fame and Chantry remodeling pursuits, was probably the calmest, most reasonable interaction of the three magi of note in this post. Even considering that he and Emily were dancing about one another for their whole conversation.
She quite liked him. He danced well. There was warmth and chivalry to him. He held joy for what it was he Worked. They both liked to build things; they both understood the value of breaking things down to their components or base elements. It was a shame that Ashley's friend was not staying longer. A shame.
But Bran's not here, and however much Ashley brings him to mind just now, there are more pressing memories. Like how she would have slammed a door, had the Court had one, on her way out. Like how the three of them dissolved a TNR meeting before it even began. Like the constant self-reinvention that this year has demanded of her. Like how more complicated things have become in the past two weeks.
She exhales a little, drops her chin a little. There's a slow smile that tugs at her mouth as she glances out the side of her eyes at Jarod.
"Ah, yes, Zane is particularly watchful," she says, and the particularness of her accent turns it slightly sing-song in its pendatry. Emily whets her lips, slightly, and then warns him in a low voice: "So... there might be fireworks just now..."
She's warning, because she waves Ashley over with one hand. Jarod may not extend an offer, but the Singer sees no reason to prolong this abstract triangle and not close their circle in a bit more. Unless, of course, Ashley prefers the buffer the distance gives her from the growing awkwardness between them.
Hunger pushes. Reverence pushes back. Sometimes there is no room for grace. Some nights, she's too tired to hold grudges or pick fights.
[Jarod Nightingale] Ashley had turned 29 recently. Jarod was going to turn 30 tomorrow. There were people who believed that this was a notable occasion - the end of selfish narcissism and the beginning of true responsibility. There were those who might suggest that 30 was the year that beautiful people started to grow old, and develop flaws. There were those who might say, to someone like Jarod, It's all downhill from here.
To which he would respond, by his very existence: Hah.
But that didn't mean that he couldn't feel some uneasiness about the event, more for what it symbolized than for what it meant in regard to his aging. Then again, this was Jarod... and if anyone was likely to find a way to balance his selfish desires with his responsibilities, it was probably him. Case in point: sleeping with Emily in the middle of an entire weekend dedicated to making his daughter feel like a princess. (And with the only noticeable backlash coming from Ilana's friend, whose glum moodiness had lifted not too many hours after it had set in.)
That did not mean that there had not been complications, but those same complications would have been present between he and Emily, regardless of when and where they'd chosen to do what they'd done. For his part, though, he didn't seem stressed or anxious - not about Emily, and not about his birthday. He was the picture of calm, easy grace. (So perhaps there was room for it here, after all.)
Ashley waved, and Emily beckoned her over, warning Jarod that complications might arise from their interaction. He pursed his lips together thoughtfully. "I suppose we'll have to be on good behavior then." (Though it wasn't particularly clear whether or not he actually planned to enact this plan.)
[Ashley McGowen] Were Ashley aware of complications, it's likely she'd be giving these two a wide berth right about now. Her own dealings with people are complicated enough, of late. They've been complicated for a while now, where at one point they were very simple, when her philosophy as far as other people were concerned had been revised upon leaving her old cabal and had guided her through most of her early dealings in Chicago.
She hadn't been happy. But it had been simple.
Regardless, the last thing she wants is to get dragged in, because she too has some pressing memories. But she's not aware of any of it, and the moment her discomfort with the situation digs its spurs into her, it goads her forward and toward them rather than away. Ashley gathers her notebook under her arm and loops Zane's leash around her wrist, and she and the dog start toward the bench.
There aren't any fireworks. At least not right now. Ashley doesn't manage Jarod's grace: she's not a graceful person. She's quick, sometimes, and has a sort of cunning that is just beginning to extend itself into her physical movements, somehow, but no one would call her graceful. She doesn't need to be. There are times when a sort of casual arrogance, something confident and almost smug, finds its way into her demeanor.
Ashley drops her hands into her pockets once she gets close to the bench. Zane, possessed of a more charming and eager to please personality than the Hermetic, wanders over to Emily and wags his tail.
"I keep running into you guys here," she says to the two of them. And sounds a touch amused.
[Emily Littleton] Awkwardness takes a certain amount of energy. Emily doesn't have it in her tonight to brave that sort of naked honesty, to fess up and deal with the layers beneath what seems to be a nice enough meeting in the park just now. Since her post-Halloween spat with Ashley, she's been relatively scarce. Between midterms and her encroaching family obligations, her life was too full for magely drama. Or boy drama for that matter. But she has always kept busy, so maybe it would go unnoticed.
"And me without my football tonight," Emily offers, carrying the amusement forward easily. She's borrowing heavily against her Embassy upbringing of late. There's nothing wrong with that, but it pulls her back a little from the warmth she could offer. It pulls back, too, the loneliness.
She shifts over on the bench, closer to Jarod, making room for Ashley at her end. It will put the Hermetic's damp clothes against her side of the seating arrangment. Clearly she plans to buffer Jarod's particularness for Ashley; clearly she plans to put herself between them as a measure of distraction.
There was a time, in May, somewhere in this park that Emily ran across Ashley and they immediately exchanged Cliff's Notes on what had happened in the community of late. Ashley's expression had shifted toward frustration -- this is a memory Emily understands, now, so she doesn't ask after Nico, or whether Israel has mentioned the Assylum, or after the work Bran's doing at the Chantry. She doesn't want to know, really.
Instead, she offers: "I met your friend, Bran, the other night." It's not a leading comment so much as an acknowledgement.
Whether Ashley joins them or not, Emily's now fitted more neatly beside Jarod on the park bench. The warmth they both bring into the night puddles, complements the other's. It's a welcome thing, just now.
[Ashley McGowen] [Friend Bran. Uh-huh.]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 6, 7, 8, 8 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Jarod Nightingale] Ashley approached, and Emily shifted to make room, until she fit neatly and comfortably against his side. This was not the rigid, careful closeness of strangers or mere acquaintances that were forced into tight quarters. There was a natural ease to it. Their legs touched, resting one against the other. When Emily settled into place, the hand that was closest to her slipped easily in the rest against her lower back. He'd done this before. It was a subtle kind of non-verbal communication. (Affection. Stability.)
Ashley said that she kept running into them here, and it made Jarod grin, just a little, out of one side of his mouth. "Clearly this is because we're the three most interesting people in the city, and have a lot of the same ideas."
Or maybe not, and it's mostly just a coincidence. Or maybe they just all happened to like walking in the park at night. (Probably that last one.) It didn't really matter. The point is, they were there, and for the moment, everyone was being pleasant.
"We should definitely have a re-match some day soon, before the snow makes kicking a ball back and forth rather difficult."
[Ashley McGowen] People have called Ashley a lot of things in relation to Bran Summers, and many of them have not been particularly complimentary. There was more than one person in Boston who referred to her as his attack dog, once it caught on. And they are talking now. All told, hearing him called her friend is not the kind of term that should engender any sort of real reaction from her.
And by all appearances, it doesn't. Ashley's eyes flick to Emily, once, when Emily says that she met him in the chantry the other night. There's just a minute creasing of the skin between her brows before she says, "Yeah. He told me." A beat. "He liked you." Which isn't all that surprising, really. Bran likes a lot of people, and Emily is likable - and moreover, she knows how to tailor her behavior. It's a trait Bran and Emily share, among many.
Ashley does not join the two other magi on the bench. She lets one hand grip the other wrist, the one that is holding Zane's leash, and stands seemingly at ease.
Jarod's grin draws one in return. A half of one. "I don't know about the most interesting, but we're up there." And that rejoinder is followed by a glance out toward the lawn, in the direction of the patch they used for a makeshift pitch. Ashley's answer is a touch slow, as though she has to process something, as though briefly troubled by a thought. "We will," she says. "But Israel's been bothering me about snowball fights. So I don't think we'll lack for activity once winter rolls around."
[Emily Littleton] Jarod and Emily said the most about their relationship when they said nothing at all. That she fits in beside him without hesitance or particularness says enough. That his hand finds the small of her back and she does not stiffen or glance over at him for an explanation says even more. But these are truths that Ashley will have to reach for, read into, divine for herself and that takes a certain amount of attention and effort. It's a lot of effort if one is not particularly vested in the answer.
"He seems nice enough," Emily tells Ashley, regarding the absent Bran. There's a little lilt to it, a verbal shrug that isn't paired with its physical manifestation -- but might as well have been. "Will he be around for a bit, or is he going back to Boston soon?"
It's an easy question, one that belies little true interest but seems polite enough. She's not ushering him out of the city by asking, and she's not overtly fishing around to steal Ashley's friendships. But Bran had been easy to talk to, interested and engaged in his magics, willing to explain without the awkwardness of cross-Tradition education or expectations. He'd been friendly without making his wants and needs so clear that a conversation felt like a contractual exchange.
He was likable. There wasn't enough of that in town these days.
"He could even out the teams," she says, to Ashley and Jarod, about the football game and Bran. There's a little lift to her eyebrows now, and a cheeky grin painted across her mouth to emphasize the Just Teasing undertones.
Emily says nothing about snowball fights, with or without Israel, but she can think of a few members of the local community she wouldn't mind beaning in the face with a non-lethal projectile. Neither the Orphan Disciple nor Ashley come readily to mind in that list. Jarod, on the other hand, might be a lot of fun as a target. Especially if she could get Ilana in on the game. Oh, there was a danger to letting Emily linger around his family and daughter. This was one of them: mischief managed was always better with conspirators.
[Jarod Nightingale] [Per+Subterfuge - Something you're not telling us Ashley?]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 6, 6, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Ashley McGowen] For someone who claims that cowards lie and that falsehood is the avenue of people who are afraid of confrontation, Ashley certainly seems to be at least decent at omitting or obfuscating truths when she wants to be. She probably has good reason, because Jarod, insightful as he is just now, can tell that asking her about her feelings about Bran Summers would be opening a can of worms. Saying that their relationship is complicated is putting it lightly.
Ashley still cares about Bran. Probably more than she wants to admit that she cares about Bran. But she doesn't trust him - at all - and was very uneasy at the thought of having him in Chicago period. She is unhappy about Emily talking to him, and she's very unhappy at the suggestion that they should all spend time together. While it might normally be difficult to suss out this kind of thing, Jarod can tell that it isn't jealousy that's the source of those feelings. She's deeply angry and resentful at Bran for something, and there's actually a little fear that can't help but mingle itself in among it. Not a lot. But enough to have made her very cautious.
to Jarod Nightingale
[Jarod Nightingale] Ashley mentioned that they would not lack for activities during the winter months, and Jarod's smile flickered back to life. He, of course, never lacked for activities, and if he did, he remedied the situation quickly. But he did not often get the chance to participate in an actual sport. At least, not one that he enjoyed. There was a competitive streak in him that enjoyed those kinds of activities.
Snowball fights... were probably less likely to seem appealing, for all the obvious reasons. Which probably made him all the more tempting as a potential target. Ilana had cajoled him into one such fight, during a late-season snowfall in Toronto last spring. She was looking forward to repeating the endeavor, so Emily would have a very willing accomplice.
On the subject of Bran, he couldn't contribute. He hadn't met the man in question. But Ashley seemed to know him rather better than she was copping to, which naturally perked Jarod's curiosity. He watched her for a moment, silently contemplating.
"Hmm... I don't know. I think I kind of like our threesome dynamic."
[Ashley McGowen] "He's very nice," Ashley says, and there's a little stress on the last word that is subtle enough to go unheard - or enough to be dismissed as a gentle scoffing from someone who thinks highly of forthrightness, who doesn't have a lot of time for social niceties herself. Bran and Ashley are very different people and Ashley, after all, is known for having a bit of a temper. "I think he'll probably stick around to see who he can win over to his agenda around here, even if I try to boot him out."
It could sound flippant. It's not.
"He'd probably enjoy it if you invited him out here," she adds, with a glance back toward the field where they played a few weeks ago. Perhaps she's trying to be generous, just now, give Bran the benefit of the doubt. "But he's a politician."
Emily is a politician too, in many ways. Ashley knows that. She doubt the words will dissuade the girl any; that is, in all likelihood, why she isn't trying very much. Or perhaps it just isn't something she wants to go into in front of Jarod. With Ashley it's always a little hard to say.
Jarod's comment just draws the Hermetic's eyes toward his, and she shuffles from one foot to the other. And then decides to ignore it and pretend she didn't catch the innuendo. "It'd be kind of unfair to just keep putting two..." she starts, and then trails off. No. She's not walking right into that one.
[Emily Littleton] Emily is a politician's daughter. A Diplomat's daughter. She tells herself it's a different matter entirely. She tells herself that being bright excepts her from being a social person, and that being nice can make up for her innate manipulativeness. She tells herself a lot of things to keep from grouping herself in with her father, to keep thinking that his assessment of her is wrong.
Emily would never have painted herself a member of local government. She would not consider herself politically influential. She would not cite networking among her strengths. Personal connections were simply a side-effect of knowing one's place and one's job and fulfilling it admirably.
"Even politicians need sunlight, and vitamin D," she tells Ashley, but this time she does shrug, as she's picked up on a slight shift to the other woman's tone. She's saying it like he might well suffer the indignities of the out-of-doors if he were going to try and push any agenda in Their House. Like even basement-dwelling Hermetics require food, fresh air, and regular watering to grow up into their full potential. Bran was the Other, here, and as much as she and Ashley had their differences, Chicago was their city not his.
Solidarity. Sort of.
This threesome comment earns a particular Verbena the point of a particular Singer's elbow nudged (gently) into his ribs. Just about the time that Ashley trails off on her thought and a noticable Silence ensues.
Solidarity. Sort... of?
Instead of following that train of conversation, Emily's comments make a sharp turn toward another subject. "I haven't seen Kage in a bit," she says, a bit carefully as it could be a sore subject just about now. "So I've not had a chance to tell her I'll have to opt out of the theoretical Thanksgiving road trip. I'm going back to Manchester for home week instead." She gestures incidentally, and that pulls her elbow out of Jarod's ribs. "Family obligations, and all..."
[Jarod Nightingale] That particular innuendo, given present company, could be construed as meaningful. In the present circumstance, though, the joke itself was not the ends, but the means. Ashley had strong feelings about Bran, and not all of them good. There was probably a reason for this, and if he liked Ashley a little less, he could have attempted to instigate some kind of awkward encounter purely for the enjoyment of watching her attempt to remain poised despite her feelings. He was the sort of person who would do things like that (who had done things like that.)
But he didn't do that tonight. Instead he shrugged off the suggestion and made a joke about it. Blame it on the good mood, maybe.
Emily distracted his attention from Ashley when she elbowed him in the ribs, and he glanced at her with a soft huff of breath. The expression was droll and a little cocky. But then she mentioned familial obligations and he rolled his head back to look at the sky. His arms moved as he stretched out, both sliding up to rest perched upon the top of the bench behind them. "Ahh, family obligations and holidays. The perfect way to ruin everyone's good fun."
[Ashley McGowen] There's a glance toward Emily that says that that's not what she meant, that Bran's not a basement dweller (or unathletic) and Ashley has never thought of him as such. But Ashley isn't in a hurry to clarify what she did mean. She's tight-lipped about some things, Ashley.
When she sees Bran next they'll argue. Bitterly. And it will come to nothing because sometimes there isn't anywhere else to go. And chances are she'll speak nothing of it.
Kage's name comes up and Ashley drops a hand to the top of Zane's head, running her fingertips over the crown of his skull and the base of his ears. "I haven't seen much of Kage either," Ashley says. "She's been on the road for work a lot. I'm not even sure whether she and I are going anywhere, at this point." And then her eyes scan Emily's face for a few seconds. Because her family does not celebrate Thanksgiving: they're in England, after all. "But I'll tell her. What's going on?"
[Emily Littleton] Emily sits forward a little, rests her arms on her knees. Jarod's pulled back and stretched out a bit. Perhaps this difference draws a subtle delineation between them. Here he is, there she is. That's not her intent, though. Emily's expression shifts toward thoughtful, serious, but not morose.
"A Christening," she says, and for all the seriousness to it -- doubly so for her renewed Faith of the past year -- there's a warmth; there's a Hope in dedicating a life to righteousness and faith. It's the sort of thing that warms her smile, elevates it beyond simple happiness toward a sort of grace.
"Gregory and I are to become god-parents," she says, with a glance up to Ashley. Ashley is one of the few people in the city who have met her Brother, who know how closely they are bonded for the lack of any direct and discernable blood relation. "Though he'll be a far better god-father than I a god-mother, I'm sure. He's a lot like his father."
(And I'm too much like mine.)
He'll be closer, for one. Emily will not be home to mould and shape and offer counsel. Not often, at least. But she has ways of keeping in touch when she needs to; and she is not averse to last minute travel. For a distant and oft-absent counselor, she'll do better than most.
"Then I'm stopping in New York to see my father on the return." Just saying this aloud agitates her enough to roll her shoulders a bit as she sits back. And belatedly seems to remember that she has some cooling beverage in her hand to sit from or set aside. It's a ready distraction. Since Ashley's not taking up the open bench space, Emily sets her take-away cup there.
[Jarod Nightingale] For a few moments there, the Disciple exhibited an almost too-careful kind of aloofness. He looked out at the park and let the two of them speak, and although he certainly heard (and would remember) the things that Emily said, he behaved as if this turn of conversation existed apart from him. Or perhaps, as if he was thinking about something unrelated. Something that had no bearing on the conversation and thus was kept to himself. It was not indicative of a lack of interest, though one could perhaps interpret it that way. He did not talk to Emily of personal affairs (his or hers) when other people were around.
His attention zeroed back in on her, though, when she mentioned her father. It was the agitation that had drawn his focus, and he watched her carefully for a moment, but did not pry into the reasons. (His own father agitated him immensely.) Instead he let the arm that had been resting on the back of the bench behind her slide down to curl around her waist loosely.
"I think you'd make a good mother. God or otherwise."
[Ashley McGowen] Other than her own father, Bran and Justine are the closest thing Ashley has to family and they too are now somewhat estranged. She's questioned, on occasion, Kage's relationship with her sisters (and Margot's children) and watched Emily's interactions with Gregory with a sort of wistful interest. When she wasn't trying to get information out of him about Emily's embarrassing teenage escapades.
She says, "Congratulations," and means it, both because it's the sort of thing most people would be excited for and because she can hear that touch of warmth in Emily's tone.
Jarod's gesture, his comment, draws little from Ashley save a glance, but the Hermetic too has been rather aloof tonight. (Well - moreso than usual. Ashley, let's be frank, is never particularly friendly or forthcoming.) She chooses not to focus on Emily's comment about her father, perhaps because she assumes that it's the sort of relationship she has with her own, or perhaps more like what she had with her mother, and it is not something she has interest in alluding to or talking about.
Instead she just tilts her head a little toward Jarod while maintaining her gaze on Emily and says, "Yeah. And you'll have plenty to offer the kid. Even overseas."
[Emily Littleton] "Cheers," she says softly, and it's warm enough to encompass them both, but she does lean into Jarod's embrace a little more than she might have otherwise. There's comfort in it, and a bit more history than she might admit to.
"That's my hope, at least," she tells them. Clearly about being a god-mother, though, as Emily has never said anything about wanting a family. At least not that plainly. It's not really in her make up to talk boldly about those things. If she does discuss family wants and hopes, she does so quietly, in one-on-one conversations, not in groups.
"I'll be away quite a bit through the end of the year, though. My father's taking holiday time between Christmas and the New Year. I think we're going to Provence," she says, with a dismissive expression. The French region is properly pronounced, but only just.
"How about you two? Do you have family obligations and oh-so-lovely travel plans to make, too?"
[Jarod Nightingale] [Honestly, I really have no opinion about your holiday plans whatsoever..]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Emily Littleton] [Empathy? Really? You don't care at all...?]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 5, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Jarod Nightingale] Ashley congratulated Emily, and Emily spoke of her travel plans over the holidays. He didn't react to this until a specific question was directed at him. At that point, he just lifted his shoulders in a light shrug (perhaps a little dismissive.) "Not this year. I suppose I'll have to do a little something for Ilana, though."
Of course, Emily knew full well that when it came to his daughter, Jarod was hardly the sort to half-ass an attempt to make her happy on a holiday, so this answer was more than a little deceptive. She also knew, though, the reason why Christmas was a particularly troublesome time of year for him. She was the only person in Chicago who knew, and was likely to remain that. He didn't show it, but one could guess that he was probably having some very mixed feelings about it all. Poor Ashley, of course... would be left in the dark on that one.
He did not mention that tomorrow was his birthday. Naturally, he assumed that if he didn't mention it, then no one would be the wiser.
"Provence is a lovely place to visit," he added, thoughtfully. "I haven't been back there in a few years."
[Ashley McGowen] "Kage and I had talked about going somewhere, if that's going to happen," Ashley says, with a shrug. If it isn't, well, she has her father's house, and Boston will always be home: she retreated there this time of year last year, too. "I'll probably try to bring Morgan home with me for Christmas, since she can't really see her family and I've just got my dad."
It's a holiday her father doesn't even celebrate, really, particularly now that she's older. It'll be a bit of an odd gathering, to be sure. Even with as limited as her understanding of other peoples' emotions is, Ashley can guess that this time of year will probably be particularly hard on the girl: she remembers visiting Morgan before last Christmas and after, and how different things were then. Things have gotten more complicated for them both.
On Provence she has nothing to say - she hasn't ever been to that section of Europe - so she just listens to the other two, reaching down to rub the dog's ears.
[Emily Littleton] Ashley mentions Morgan and there's a flicker of concern, and possibly regret that shades Emily's features. She doesn't expound upon it, or draw too much attention to it. She just exhales, long and slowly, like something is pressing down on the bellows of her lungs. As if breathing it out, all of it, might lighten that pressure or lift the load.
Morgan's world had contracted, severely, since Awakening. She'd lost family. She'd lot friends. There had been harrowing moments. On the latter, they were somewhat the same. But Emily's world had broadened, sharply, since Awakening. She had more and truer friends; her relationship with her godbrother had mended. There had been someone, here, for a short while, that might have been like family to her if things had gone differently.
So there's regret, and for the observant there is also gratitude. There has been darkness, and struggle, and strife, and loss, but at this moment Emily can see the glimmer of Hope more clearly. There has also been great joy and triumph. She rolls her lower lip thoughtfully between her teeth for a moment.
"I prefer Catalonia," she says, fully aware that this will make her sound like a travel-weary brat. But never they mind that; Emily is a travel weary brat. This year has not seen her outside of Chicago often enough for her liking, but the end of the year will make up for that. This time, there is no trip to East Asia. Just back and forth across the pond.
Emily says nothing of her plans to visit Prague after Provence. She's not even told her parents about that.
"But at least this is holiday, and not Embassy dinners and host family obligations. Last year was so busy I hardly got any time to myself."
Last year she'd been in Taipei, and had sent Jarod a picture via cellphone. There were sharper contrasts, but this comes to mind just now. Probably because his arm is around her waist, and his warmth is against her side, and she'd been thinking cheeky and not entirely appropriate thoughts (for the first time in a long time) when she'd taken that picture. There would be less misbehavior on a proper holiday. There might even be peace and quiet.
"Morgan used to volunteer at the Soup Kitchen in Cabrini around the holidays. If she misses things like that, maybe we can redirect some of her holiday baking to the shelter, or a Kitchen, so she feels like she's still giving back," Emily suggests, after a bit of thought. She well remembers Ashley's apprentice before her trip to China. She also knows what it feels like to have your avenue for doing good in the world usurped by drama beyond her control.
"It's a little thing, but it might help a bit with this first year's transition." Her tone is hopeful, but not overly so. Emily knows a lot about giving things up, and filling in the holes they leave behind.
[Jarod Nightingale] I prefer Catalonia.
"Well, truthfully I prefer Paris. But everyone knows what an unrepentant city-boy I am." Made all the more ironic, of course, by his Traditional (not to be confused with traditional) beliefs. But he'd been born and raised in a cosmopolitan area, and even were one to assume that he must be more partial to the natural world than he usually pretended to be, that still didn't change the fact that human culture held far too much fascination for him to ever be away from the best of it for long. "Or," he mused, "...Berlin. We should go there some day."
He said this very off-hand, and didn't really make it clear whether the we in question included the entire group, or just him and Emily. In any case, his thoughts trailed off when talk of the soup kitchen came up. He'd been there. Once. It had not been a pleasant encounter. Then again... Emily had been there. He glanced at her thoughtfully. Then at Ashley. Then back to Emily. He waited until they were done discussing Morgan. Whenever there was a lull in the active conversation. Then he made a little hmm sound in the back of his throat and checked the time on his cell phone.
"I should be getting back. Can I give you a ride?" This part was directed exclusively at Emily, mostly because Ashley had her dog with her and there was no way he was going to let a dog ride in his car.
Of course, it was also probably code for: want to come back to my place?
[Ashley McGowen] "They might look for her there," Ashley says, after a moment. Because all in all, it isn't that bad an idea, regardless of how Ashley herself feels about charity. It seemed to do something for Morgan, before, and it might again. "She's taking a risk by even staying in the city at all."
Ashley has started to suggest that she go elsewhere, has started to nudge her and tell her that it's something she might want to consider, eventually. It's easy for a Hermetic apprentice, out of the spotlight and major city events, to slide away from the eyes of a devoted mother. This is something less simple for a girl attending college, with political aspirations and a desire to step up and assume a place of power in her Tradition. Chicago's a big city, but it's not that big.
There is no assumption that when Jarod says we he is including her. She's aware that the two of them are closer to each other than she is to either of them. There's a look that goes from one to the other and back, detached, and she rubs Zane's ears through the little bout of quiet.
He's offering Emily a ride, though, and so after a moment the repetitive motion at the side of the dog's head ceases and she nods to both of them. "I guess I should probably head home too," she says, with a glance toward Zane. Who has shown no sign of being tired. She isn't either.
Ashley leaves the two of them to sort out transportation, who is going to whose place, in privacy. With a hand lifted in an approximation of a wave, much the way she came over here, the Hermetic turns down one of the sidewalks, hands in her pockets and the dog trotting next to her, off toward the south and the (very) long way home. The rain stopped a while ago and the moon is starting to peek through the clouds now, and Ashley glances up at it once before she disappears in that area the streetlamps don't touch, as though she could swallow it whole.
[Emily Littleton] Their gathering is breaking up. This takes precedence over questions of Berlin. It shapes Emily's thoughts in the moment where Ashley is glancing between the two of them, drawing some small conclusions. Emily gathers her take away cup and stands. Ashley waves a little, Emily waves back. Nothing has blown up, just yet. Nothing has turned to shouting. It was a marked improvement on her last visit with the Dean.
"I'd appreciate it," she answered, somewhat belatedly. Enough time had passed that he might not be certain she was replying to his offer to give her a ride. Or bring her back to his place. Emily was just as non-specific with her answer as he'd been with his invitation. She also made no mention, no mention at all, not even a hint toward her awareness of his coming birthday.
A little bird had told her.
Nonetheless there is a stiffness that flees Emily's shoulders when the night swallows Ashley up. When the moonlight no longer catches in her hair, and the shadows are deep, too deep, to see the tiny Hermetic amongst them. She takes a few purposeful steps toward one side and bins her take away cup, then her hands find their way back into her pockets.
It keeps them busy.
It keeps them still.
She glances over to him and cants her head a bit to one side. (Ready when you are.) It's wordless, but that's a language they're more fluent in when left alone. She doesn't have to say anything at all.
