[Jarod] It was cloudy tonight in Chicago, and the moon was waxing a fingernail crescent. Winter was hanging on to the city yet, despite recent supernatural occurrences that might suggest the contrary. Off and on lately there had been flurries of new snow that touched down and melted when it hit the streets and sidewalks. The temperature was just that side of the freezing point.
It had been an eventful couple of days, but then... this was not really so very unusual. In a city like Chicago, there were always notable events. Many of them simply happened to escape the notice of those who were not immediately effected. On this particular occasion though, the events in question were rather difficult to miss. Jarod suspected that Ashley already knew about the tornado, and had probably heard about it long before he'd called, but if she hadn't then... well, she was about to find out. Information relay wasn't usually one of his strong points. The fact that he was bothering with it at all said two things: first, that he trusted Ashley more than he trusted most people (a fact that had already been established,) and second, that he'd gotten the impression that this was a serious situation - serious enough to warrant a warning.
He'd gone back to the site the following day, of course. He'd have gone back even for the sake of simple curiosity. But he'd stayed because of the damage. Because people had been hurt. Because they'd needed help.
But of course, he hadn't told anyone about that, and wasn't likely to.
Yesterday Ashley hadn't been home when he'd stopped by. Today he'd called first, though he hadn't mentioned the reason - only that he wanted to talk. When she answered the door, he was standing there in his usual winter coat and school-day clothes - dark grey tailored pants and a dark green sweater layered over a white collared shirt today.
[Ashley] Ashley had been on the way to visit Kage last night when she'd thought to go and visit the area where the tornado had struck. It hadn't occurred to her that Jarod might have been caught up in it; if it had, he might have received a call from her much sooner. At some point or other he became Hers, as much as Emily or Kage or Gregor or Wharil are (as much as Israel was once). She takes his well being seriously.
She ended the night at Kage's. The Orphan let her stay there, which she has done several times over the past few weeks, letting Ashley (and sometimes Zane and Luka) sleep in her study. They drank tea. They played chess. Kage showed little surprise over what was going on, but then again, that's Kage. She's poised. Cool. Collected.
There are times when she hates being the only inhabited house on the street. There are times when this house feels inescapably lonely.
However Ashley feels about that, it's not in her countenance when she greets Jarod at the door. She sustained injuries last night; something (she doesn't know what) fell on her. Something broke her ribs and brought her own mortal frailty home with sharp, agonizing clarity. Now, though, she looks all right. She's wearing a red sweater over another long-sleeved shirt (black).
If she finds it worrisome that Jarod wants to talk, that's not in her bearing either. Zane greets him along with her when he arrives at her doorway, and she gives him a smile that's genuine, however troubled, as she gestures him inside. They take themselves to her room to talk; it's really the only place to rest in this entire apartment, right now. "What's going on?"
[Ashley] [Lingering injuries? Life 2, -1 for focus, -1 for applicable resonance Dynamic: Thriving. Not practiced yet.]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 5, 6, 8 (Success x 2 at target 3)
[Ashley] [Extend?]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 5, 6, 9 (Success x 2 at target 4)
[Jarod] There was the usual routine - removing outerwear, moving to the bedroom, settling in - and for all that the news was important, Jarod didn't seem rushed or anxious. On the contrary, he seemed a little tired. Worn at the edges maybe. When he sat down on Ashley's bed, he lay back and closed his eyes, draping an arm across his face as if to block out the light - though it wasn't particularly bright in here.
His other hand managed to find its way over to her, touching the side of her arm as if to tether them both to each other through physical contact.
"It's quiet here," he mentioned off-hand. Quiet street. Quiet house. Quiet room.
[Ashley] [Awareness - hey, you're hurt though.]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 5, 5, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 8)
[Jarod] There are small clues here, but careful attention would draw them into focus. First, he carried himself a bit more carefully than usual. He hadn't hugged her. He was blocking out the light. He seemed as if perhaps he had a headache, at least.
And well.. his mood was, yes, tired. Emotionally as well as physically. He seemed glad to be there though - as if this place had slowly come to represent some kind of comfort and security.
to Ashley
[Ashley] When he reaches for her it doesn't take her long to oblige him. She settles down on the bed next to him, and ordinarily she might have moved in close - physical contact from Ashley is rarely a thing done in parts. As she looks at him, though, as she moves to lie nearby, some part of her notices that he's a little ginger of his movements. That he's bruised.
"Yeah," she agrees, and her voice too is quiet. Instead of resting her head on his shoulder it comes to rest on the mattress next to his instead; her hand folds over top of his on her arm. "Are you okay?"
And the house is indeed quiet. The only noise within comes from an occasional creak of wood or a sigh as it sinks into its foundations, as though winter is reluctant to release it from its drawing-down. Occasionally Zane or Luka can be heard clicking along the floor, tossing around a toy. They seem to be reminders that the place is still living.
It's not like her to use magic during day-to-day life, not often, and almost never for the sake of other people. She does it today, though. After watching him, tracing his profile with her eyes, the hand covering his tightens a little, closes - enough to affirm. To claim, and specifically, to lend strength. Ashley's magic is not like Jarod's; this doesn't seep into him with sensual ease and bleed his weariness away. It just gives him a little more vigor, the vitality and Will he might feel he's lacking right now - and the room certainly does feel more secure. Safe.
Or it would, if that part of her effect would touch him. It's not like his, but maybe she's picked up a thing or two from him, after all.
[Mind 2/Life 2, -1 for focus.]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 2, 5, 8 (Success x 3 at target 4) [WP]
[Jarod] [Awareness]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 7, 7, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 8)
[Jarod] It was a conscious thing, letting her in - letting the threads of her Will touch his. Ashley was not soft sensuality, but she was vibrant. It shifted away some of the lethargy of exhaustion. It felt warm. Thriving. He dropped his arm away and smiled.
"Worried that I might fall asleep on you?" he teased gently. There was some care in the way that he pulled her down next to him on the mattress, ever-mindful of bruised arms - and she'd notice the presence of two-day-old scrapes on his hands - but that mindfulness didn't carry over into the way that he kissed her, which was every bit as meaningful and enthusiastic as one might expect from him.
This was a welcome respite after the week they'd both had, no doubt.
Eventually though... reality had to reassert itself. When he pulled back from the kiss, he took a slow breath, and let it out, sorting his thoughts.
"Do you know about the tornado that hit Division Street?"
[Ashley] "No, I just wanted to - " she begins to say, before she realizes he was teasing. There's still an awkwardness, at times, in how she gives to others. It's much more difficult for her than taking from them, most of the time; she has to actively make an effort. She has to wonder whether they want what she's offering. But it's earnest, for all that.
When he kisses her she sinks into it, leans over him, still as mindful as she can be - which is much more mindful than she is with most people - of his arms. Encompassing. The backs of her knuckles stay behind on his jaw after she pulls away and she watches the shift in his expression.
It doesn't mean much to her, that look. She has a sense that something is troubling him. She doesn't know what; she just knows, after he kissed her that way, that it isn't her. That's good enough for now.
Then he mentions the tornado on Division Street and her brows knit together. "Yeah," she says. "I actually just stopped by the wreckage last night, when I was going to visit Kage. There was this thing there that..." She doesn't say woman, even though she was beautiful and she wore a sari and she appeared as outwardly human as Jarod does (which is to say, a little superhuman.) She has to stop, because she's tried not to think about the chaos that suddenly sprung up around her and Elizabeth and Basil last night, and now she has to. "I couldn't Work. I was trying to point a crew to some people that were trapped and I couldn't anymore. There were meteors and things just...I don't know. People started shooting."
Ashley doesn't fully remember all of it. She tried to stay behind; Elizabeth pulled her away, and then something hit her, and the rest is a blur of pain and rage and some horrible ache (sympathy.) She looks back down at him then. "Why?" It doesn't seem to occur to her, at first, that he was there.
[Jarod] [Just checking! Life 1, with focus]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 4, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 3)
[Jarod] The woman in the sari... she hadn't been there when he'd returned the next day. When he'd gone back, he'd found only wreckage and barriers and ordinary people - both helping and in need of help. Like any other scene of a natural disaster.
Perhaps he'd hoped that the natural order of things might settle back in. But if so, that clearly was not what was happening. When Ashley told him about what had happened when she'd gone there, his brows knit together in what looked like frustrated concern.
"Are you alright?" he asked, though physically she seemed to be. Further inspection revealed traces of healing that lingered on her pattern. She'd been hurt. Worse than he had. He traced his fingers down the side of her face and neck gently as he looked at her.
"The tornado wasn't naturally occurring. It was a reaction. I was there when it happened. Something tried to change the weather - to make it summer instead of winter. And it cut off our Wills. I couldn't... " his voice trailed off. Perhaps he didn't have the right words to describe it. "Anyway, like you said. Everything went a little crazy. The Sleepers were using Awakened magic without realizing it. And then a woman showed up with a group of people. They were chanting something in a language I didn't know. I'm almost positive it wasn't human. I'd recognize the roots at least..."
"I thought maybe it was Enochian. But I could be wrong. The woman disappeared, and then the tornado happened. There was an Awakened reporter there. Callista. She seems to be new in town. I grabbed her and got out as fast as I could. There wasn't time to do anything else."
"Thomas was there too," he finally added, with some reluctance.
Her eyes are intent as she listens to the rest of what he says. She hadn't quite realized what was going on - not to the extent that he seems to have done. "Using Awakened magic? Really?" she asks him, and she doesn't sound disbelieving so much as interested. Even a little amazed. "I don't...even know what might cause that to happen, or cause what she did to us. I haven't heard of anything like it before."
Though chances are good that this doesn't mean there's nothing to be found. They're both scholars, in their way; this kind of knowledge is the sort of thing that can be tracked down, eventually. They'll find records.
He mentions Enochian and she says, "I could tell you for sure if you could reproduce any of the words, or...I don't know. If I hear it..." Thoughtful. She doesn't ask him to let her Look, though. She probably doesn't think he would.
Then, a frown at the mention of Thomas. "Is Tom okay?"
[Jarod] It was a hunch, really. He could never be entirely sure of how the woman was able to achieve what she'd done. When Ashley reacted to this statement with surprise, Jarod furrowed his brows together a little, looking thoughtful. "Well, it wasn't static magic. It was... like chaos. Wild. More like..." he hesitated. "Like a marauder might use. But if that woman was a marauder, she was a very powerful one. I don't know if that's the right answer, really. I think it might be more complicated."
He deliberately avoided answering questions about Thomas for a time, his thoughts focused on what he considered to be the important part of the conversation - on figuring out what had happened. Now he glanced away briefly, then back into Ashley's eyes. There was an intensity about them, even in quiet moments. He shifted his shoulders in an approximation of a shrug. "I'm sure Tom's fine. Haven't seen him since then. We don't really keep in touch, you know?"
[Ashley] Marauder had also been Ashley's first thought, perhaps evidenced by the way her eyebrows arch when Jarod voices his hunch. "Yeah," shes says. "But it doesn't feel like...I don't know. Dylan didn't feel like that. Maybe she's a High Umbrood, which would explain the Enochian, if that's what it is." A thoughtful frown. "Like...a manifestation of an idea or a concept. Maybe they manifested her."
By which, one would imagine, she means the Sleepers. Ashley bows her head for a moment, clearly mulling that train of thought over a little more. Carefully, she settles down against him, though the pause Jarod gives in responding makes her lift her head once more, keeps her from fully relaxing.
"I know," Ashley says. There's no irritation there; she knows Jarod and Thomas don't get on, and she doesn't seem to see it as her responsibility to reconcile that. Each of them are what they are. "I just...wanted to know if he got out okay. I'll call him."
[Jarod] He'd skipped over any mention of the fact that he'd deliberately left Thomas behind (not out of cruelty, really - if he'd thought that the Hollow One would die if he left him, he probably wouldn't have,) mostly because it seemed like unnecessary information to him. And since Ashley didn't press... well, that was just as well.
"Callista, the reporter... the told me she had a recording. Do you want me to give her your number? If not, I can ask her to send me a copy."
Under better circumstances, he probably would have given Callista Ashley's contact info already, but life seldom went along with the better version of events. Ashley was in hiding. Care needed to be taken. As it was, he'd only mentioned off-handedly to the woman that she should speak with someone involved with the chantry. Which... wasn't tremendously useful when one didn't know who any of those people were.
"I have to admit," he mused thoughtfully, "I kind of enjoy having you mostly to myself these days." And, surprisingly (despite his injuries,) he reached out to grab hold of the Hermetic's waist and drag her atop him, so that she could sit with one knee on either side of his hips. There was a playfulness about it. Lingering vibrancy that she'd left in him. He grinned, then bit his lip, oh-so-casually attempting to tickle her side as his fingers slid beneath her shirt.
"But... I suppose that has to end some day."
[Ashley] [I am too willful to be tickled!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 3, 3, 5, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 7)
[Ashley] "I haven't met Callista," Ashley says, and there's a touch of regret in her tone. There was a time when she knew everyone, when someone couldn't enter the city without her knowing about it and approaching them. She was the go-to person because she was self-assured and competent, but also because she was a presence. Because she was strong and reliable. "But I'd like to speak with her, if she can pass along the recording."
The magi of the city are less tightly knit, now, but that's not surprising. There's been a lot to divide them, in this time without a common threat. The days when they pulled together to defend the city from Edom and from the Nephandi who'd built a Labyrinth in the city are gone. Ashley knows something could motivate them; Ashley also isn't sure she wants to be that person.
When Jarod pulls her on top of him she doesn't resist, and she grins down at him for a moment, leaning over him on her elbows with her face a few inches from his. Somehow, she manages to keep herself from reacting, though someone as sensitive as Jarod would notice her muscles tense with the effort. She's generally rather ticklish to start with; he would have well acquainted himself with the fact, by now.
At what he says, her smile fades a little, becomes touched with something pensive. "I'm pretty sure I'm not going back to the house," she tells him. "So it might not. I doubt Wharil and Gregor will want to see much of me if I'm not involved in it." A pause. "I'll still do things in the city and the node at the house is worth defending. I just...I don't know."
[Jarod] "The world's a lot bigger than one house, or one city for that matter. Do you know why Awakened politics don't interest me?" He stopped tickling her side (for now) and raised his hand up to brush a section of Ashley's hair off her forehead. "Because we've isolated ourselves. We separate the mundane and the magical, as if somehow that makes us more enlightened than Sleepers." He smirked. "It doesn't. Different maybe, but our perspective can be just as small." He paused, and a faint shadow of something slid across his eyes. Something stubborn and intense. Something that looked an awful lot like ambition.
"I like to think bigger than that. If you want to change the world, you have to actually live in it. Fuck the chantry." He grinned broadly (predator-like) and kissed the side of her jaw. "You." His lips trailed to the corner of her mouth. "Don't." He bit gently on her lower lip. "Need them." But these words rang of manipulation, whether he meant them to or not, and Jarod was conscious enough about these things to notice, so he tempered it by kissing her softly and lying back. "But you should do what makes you happy. Whatever that is."
There was a slight cringe as the pulse of blood-flow highlighted the throbbing pain in his frontal lobe, and he reached up to massage the bridge of his nose. "I fucking hate headaches," he grumbled, in the manner of someone who was unaccustomed to having to deal with these sorts of every-day maladies.
"Anyway, I'll give Callista your number and you can set up a meeting. Why do I suddenly feel like a glorified secretary?" That last bit was teasing, of course.
[Ashley] "We are part of the world, though," Ashley says, brow furrowing in thought. "If you deal with people more on your level, that doesn't mean you're removing yourself from everything else. It's like you associating with the modeling crowd. Or with a bunch of intellectuals at the university. I just didn't intend to be a politician, as much fun as it is to rub it in Bran's face every time I talk to him."
Once, a long time ago, she'd spoken with Jacques about this. He'd told her she seemed like a leader and he'd tried to push her to take Dylan's place; she'd laughed. She'd imagined that she'd like to try it if she could, if only because it would distinguish her, to have her Will followed that way. It didn't end up happening the way she'd expected (others followed out of respect and affection, not force of Will), but it had happened.
There's a half-smile at him, pulse just slightly quickened from the way he'd been kissing her a moment ago, and she says, "I'm still trying to figure out what makes me happy, I guess." Pause. "Some of the things."
Unlike him, Ashley does get headaches. A lot. She's well accustomed to dealing with them, and she's found ways to alleviate some of the pain. One of her hands skims along the line of his jaw and settles at the hinge, and she gently presses at the muscles there with a thumb. It's where a lot of tension tends to collect, there and at the base of the skull. Then, playfully, "Until we've had sex under a desk between meetings, I think full secretary status still eludes you."
[Jarod] Ashley offered a counterpoint to his argument, and he took it in without comment. Perhaps he'd been speaking more about his own Tradition than he cared to admit. Perhaps he simply didn't care whether or not she agreed with him. Certainly one's perspective had a great deal to do with motivation, and for all their similarities, Jarod and Ashley were not motivated by the same goals. At least, not on this level. (Maybe that was what made them such potent allies.)
Ashley said that she was still trying to figure out what made her happy, and Jarod quirked a little smile and rolled his eyes up to the ceiling as if to say: join the club.
"Mm," he rumbled happily when her ministrations caused some of the pain to die down to a more manageable level, closing his eyes and elongating his body in a luxurious stretch that ended with a slight hitch in his chest when he pulled on bruised muscles. Some of his injuries were natural, and some of them paradox-induced. In the end, it didn't really matter which was which. They both annoyed him equally.
But not enough to curtail his flirtatious tendencies, of course. He laughed when Ashley mentioned having sex beneath a desk.
"I've had sex on a desk. Does that count?" There was a wry little smirk that suggested he might have been thinking of a particular occasion. Perhaps even somewhere they were both familiar with. "Or does it have to be with you? Because if so, I'm sure we can arrange something."
[Ashley] For all that she'd expressed her opinion, it wasn't particularly vehement; Ashley is the sort who argues out of habit sometimes, to affirm a belief, to hear thoughts given Words. To see how it stands up when tested. It's one of the ways a Will evolves. While she might have been interested in hearing what he had to say - they are motivated by different things - she doesn't prod him for an answer when he goes quiet.
"That doesn't surprise me," she says, amused. "And I did say we. I don't think it counts otherwise." A beat. "I'm glad you're not...out in front, honestly." He's safer that way. He, Kage and Emily - they all keep out of the main city events, these days. Ashley finds herself a little relieved by it.
Once she's felt some of the tension ebb away she lowers her hand before it can make the area too tender, then settles her head against his chest. Contemplating resignation and how it's done, perhaps; they both have a tendency to get lost in their own heads rather easily, at times.
[Jarod] She said that she was glad he wasn't on the front lines, and Jarod looked at her thoughtfully. He'd expressed concern for her safety on a couple of occasions, but this was probably the first time she'd done so with him. Probably because, as she'd pointed out, he took a great deal of care in keeping himself out of harm's way.
"Don't worry about me," he offered with gentle assurance, tracing his fingers through her hair. "When humanity destroys itself and the cities crumble to dust, I will still be here."
There was something a little odd about his voice at the end - words barely spoken above a whisper that nonetheless carried with them a resolute power. Like something else was speaking through him (Old Gods) the way that Ashley's Hunger came from something both a part of and greater than herself.
"Though I rather hope that doesn't happen any time soon," he added with a lazy smile. "I like people. Some, in particular."
His hands slid down to her hips again, and one of them found the button at the front of her jeans and pulled it open, sliding the zipper down. Soft fingertips slid between her legs, searching out a suitable manner to distract them both. If she wasn't in the mood, he'd be easily dissuaded, but if she allowed it then, well... he was hardly going to stop.
[Ashley] Of the people she's gotten close to, he's the first who she could be reasonably certain was not going to die young, was not going to spark and flare and leave a trail of ashes. Very early she resigned herself to the idea that Bran and Justine were soldiers, that they were both too courageous and too dedicated to make it to...well, the ages they are now. Maybe the fact that they defied the odds, that Kage is still all right in spite of reckless behavior every other moment, was what caught her so off guard when Daiyu was, in seconds, bleeding her life away on the chantry lawn.
She glances up at him when he says those words, not missing the strength in them, the certainty. The purpose. It's a contemplative look, that; wondering, perhaps, what he is, and realizing that there's as much to him hidden away as there is to her.
There are a few things she thinks about saying in response, a few things she thinks about telling him, but she doesn't. It's unusual for her to express affection - verbally, at least. She speaks with Hunger, and she speaks in how that hunger is tempered, too, mindful of his bruises and just gentle enough. Her breath catches at the touch and again when her mouth presses against his, welcomed and wanted even if she continues to insist that he isn't needed.
The house isn't quiet for much longer.
