Molly
Evenings in late September this year have been
mild bordering on brisk, serving the tail side to the heads coin that
was the hot daytime. Though the sun had long since set, the smell of it
still clung to Molly's hair and skin. She was sitting at a small wire
table outside of some trendy little local-business coffee shop. The
patio area was encompassed by a hip-height iron fence with an open
walkway between sidewalk and front door.
Molly Toombs had her red
hair done back into a sideswept bun, with a few pincurls pinned back up
front-- very classic, very pretty Miss Molly. She dressed in a pair of
green pants that hugged her lower half nicely, with a white top tucked
in, accessoriezed with a brown belt and sandals and a half-sleeved black
blazer to protect from the descending chill of the night. She wasn't
reading a book tonight, but rather had her tablet out in front of her
and was skimming over an article she had pulled up. A cup of something
from the shop behind her steamed through the small hole in the lid.
All
in all, it looked like a quiet night out. She didn't glance about, so
she appeared not to be waiting up for anyone that was on their way.
Chances are this is precisely how Molly's been spending her nights
lately-- an upheavel in her perception of reality and stability had
shaken and knocked her about and driven her to fly under the radar for
the past month. Outside of work, she'd been difficult to find.
Tonight,
though, a rare night, she could be found out past the setting of the
sun. The bustling corridor of Santa Fe on a Friday night seemed crowded
enough to serve as safe enough.
Even if she knew 'safe' was the flimsiest promise in the English language.
Lux
[Hmm. Percept + Alert -2 for Auspex.]
Dice: 4 d10 TN4 (4, 7, 10, 10) ( success x 4 )
Lux
The
crowd is a good one tonight. Not quite First Friday good, but still,
good, with packs going from gallery to gallery in search of the best
food and the nicest wine, bringing just enough money to tip the
bartender so when they come back next week to gorge on little sandwiches
and petit fours they're not ostracized. The crowd is a good one tonight
for people watching, those who are dressed so sleek and so sharp that
looking at them cuts the heart with its magazine gloss and those who are
pierced and tattooed to an inch the illustrated men and women and then
of course there is every walk of Bohemia and every walk of Counter
Culture and some young hopefuls and
Lux, resting her palms on the hip-height iron fence near the table of Molly Toombs. The young (immortal.) woman leans over iron with insouciant grace, her dark hair falling forward over her shoulders in a careless mess.
"Is it Molly, braver than Unsinkable, holding a chair for me?"
There's reckless good will in the knap of her voice, in the way she leans over the iron rail with her palms braced.
Molly
A
significant chunk of time had passed from when Molly had seen Lux
last. That was all a matter of perspective mind you, so it probably
seemed less time on the immortal end of that particular looking glass.
For Molly, though, Molly still Mortal, she did not immediately recognize
the voice and had to glance up from her screen to identify it. When
she did, an expression of surprise was written all over her pretty face
(but not so compelling as Lux's, that was a different level of beauty entirely).
When
she found Lux's face, though, recognition caught up with her, and Molly
blinked the surprise clear so she could make way instead for a small,
closed and polite smile on pink lips instead.
"That does seem to
be the case, doesn't it?" Molly locked the screen of her tablet and set
it face-down on the table in front of her, reached for her coffee to
hold it over her lap instead (there is a touch of protective nature to
how she cradled her drink now, it's easy to understand why her trust of
letting drinks unguarded may have been eroded lately). When Lux would
no doubt come to join, Molly concluded a sip from her drink before
greeting her.
"It's been a while, Lux. I'm glad to find you well-- you look well, at least."
Lux
Lux is in jeans tonight. Jeans and a silk jacket [French Antiquity, Ancien Regime] of pale silk [moonlight and snow],
a jacket with sleeves narrow at the elbows that puff out before closing
at the delicate bone of her wrist. Beneath the jacket, which closes
with a tie and very low, she has on another scrap of silk albeit of
finer almost transparent make. Beneath the almost transparent silk: a
mark that might be a tattoo, which curls up and across her upper breast
toward her collar bones, where it blooms into a perfectly rendered
rose-on-her-skin. Her mouth is the same color as the rose; the green of
her eyes is heightened by a touch of shadow which takes itself from the
shadows of that pale rose. Her jeans are old and well-worn, but not
particularly ripped or tattered or anything like that, until you follow
the long line of her leg -- say when she is taking a seat at a table of
wire across from Molly 'braver than Unsinkable' Toombs, with whom she
has run from ghosts -- down to look low to see they've been torn at one
point to make room for improbable shoes of ridiculous origins, and
they're safety pinned together tonight.
Lux sinks into the chair
opposite Molly side-saddle, crosses one leg, and her shoulders pull
forward into a slouch. Poise, baby. Lux says, "Do I? I feel," and she
rests her elbows on the table, leaning over them, "as if summer is one
of those people who doesn't know how to eat pomegranates properly so it
goes at me with a spoon, just, you know, making mess."
"How
the heck are you? You look good with your hair all burnished;" Because
the last time Lux actually set eyes on Molly, Molly's hair was brown.
"Like one of those surrealist and arresting maidens in the Ex-Pat art
after World War I. Or World War II? One of those world wars."
Even
though Lux is somewhat slangy, the compliment does not seem tacked-on;
neither does the How the heck are you? She's got a deft turn for being
interested in people --
and Molly, well. Molly and Lux have so many people in common.
Molly
Molly did
look good with her hair all burnished, that was a truth. She had been
dying her hair much darker previously, and that was the way Lux
remembered it. For a girl with a light complexion and freckles like
hers, though, a return to her natural red roots was a benefit. There
was just something about red hair that made the curves a bit more
alluring.
She took the compliment with a
half-bashful-part-dismissive turn of her head and waving gesture with
her hand. She's learned to banter well, to charm and twist better than
she had before. To keep up in a world of vampires, a world where your
physical prowess and all the locks money could buy did nothing to
protect you, being on someone's good side was what you learned to rely
on instead. So Molly looked pleasantly the part of an evening catch-up
over coffee here at this table with the gorgeous woman with a tattoo on
her chest and an air to draw you in.
"At least we can thank the
fact that summer is on its way out." She sipped her drink again, then
set the rim of the paper cup on the top of her right thigh-- she'd
crossed that leg over the other and was bouncing her foot lightly to the
background music that pumped from the speakers hanging from the patio
awning. "Frankly, I'm upset myself to know that autumn's going to be so
short as it is. It's the best season of the year, if you ask me."
She
turned her head to glance at the trees that lined the streets-- the
leaves were turning on a few of them, and a couple breeds of tree had
even begun to shed theirs, leaving crumbly orange-brown dancers carried
by wind along the street. The crisp smell of fall was a particular one
to breathe as well, and Molly sucked that air in through her nose before
smiling at Lux again. "If you believe the forecasts, winter's going to
be long and severe this year."
Though she didn't say so out loud, she couldn't help but thinking: Perhaps it's a blessing, though. The ground will freeze enough to keep That Thing trapped under the earth.
Lux
"Oh,
I never believe in forecasts," Lux says, deadpan. "They're bossy." The
creature inclines her head, just so, lifting an imperious (stubborn
[intractable]) chin up -- a canting line of inquiry.
"So it's the
feel of autumn you like, the kiss of it on your skin, the whole wet
mulch of it in the back of your throat like incense -- not just
Halloween? Is it too early to be asking about Halloween plans?"
Molly
A
chuckle from the mortal woman with red hair and distinctly blue eyes
conceded agreement; yes, forecasts were bosy, weren't they? Molly
sipped her drink again, and throughout this conversation with Lux she
did a fine job of maintaining eye contact with the woman. A lesson she
learned early was that avoiding eye contact with a vampire wasn't a good
move when starting out-- it was too telling of too much distrust. You
had to use distrust as strategically as you did those smiles.
"The
color, the air, and the fact that sweat isn't so much a factor in my
day-to-day life. Plus, E.R. room traffic tends to slow down just a
little bit-- up until Halloween, anyways." Lux was inquiring about
Halloween plans, and Molly's smile lost its edge for just a second
before finding a renewed and particular knowing quality to its curve.
"I'm
not really making Halloween plans this year. Last year had more than
enough excitement to last me, I think." She recalled the scene from the
last Halloween; she was dressed as a witch in Nate's apartment, trying
to dispose of an envelope. It resulted in her nearly having her face
burned off and a couch zipping across the room to try and pulverize her.
Lux
"What happened last year?"
Now.
Lux and Molly: they've shared a ghost story together. They share
Nathan's ghost story together; have it in common. Lux is, in fact,
thinking about Molly and the Observatory ghost, about Molly as she has
seen her, Molly as she does not know her. Halloween, one way or another:
she's not thinking about that.
"Will you stay in or go out and
see if plans happen to you?" Quizzical, see? Quizzical, and she cups her
chin in one hand. There; now she is perfectly situated, falls into
reckless stillness. She breathes, tonight, a steadying rise and fall.
"Maybe you can keep Nate out of trouble," end it with a sardonic edge.
Molly
Another
small chuckle, this one mutually sardonic with Lux's tone on the topic
of Nate and Trouble (but more ironic, that could be noted), and Molly
shook her head some. "Oh, believe me-- the best way for me to keep Nate
out of trouble is to just forget his phone number." He had outright
asked her to do so before, but that had been a pretty tough time for
Molly so she didn't offer that in casual conversation just yet.
Instead, she glanced down and considered how her burgandy-painted
fingernails looked against the white paper of her coffee cup.
"Oh,
last year was flavored more true to the spirit of Samhain than I'd
really hoped it to be. It's a story that involves restless spirits, old
parchment, and some real risk of injury." Something to Molly's tone
suggested that it was a story she'd rather tell in a more private
setting than a cafe patio. The ears around them weren't paying them
much mind, no, but key words could pull attention if the pretty women
weren't doing so already.
As for plans, and how they may find Miss Molly, she lifted the cup and concluded just prior to taking a drink.
"I get the feeling that it won't matter whether I'm in or out; someone's plan will probably come to find me regardless."
Lux
[This is a Vampire Scene. There should be a Manip + Subt.]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (3, 4, 8, 9, 10, 10) ( success x 4 )
Molly
[Perception 3 + Empathy 2]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 3, 7, 8) ( success x 2 )
Lux
Lux
is no good at hiding. Look at her. She may have many talents, but
hiding is not one of them, nor is staying under the radar when the radar
is turned on. The city is war, is war, is always war, and Lux belongs
to a Sect whose members are the rebel dissidents, whose members want
change and action, whose members want a revolution; they're a slender
margin, they're easy targets, they could go either way so it's easier to
make sure there's none of them around to make a choice and head for
stronger alliances (as if a true idealist would [burn it down]). Lux is unmistakably a Toreador, for those who might guess at clans, too: and roses are always rough-shook in such conflict.
But
she is no good at hiding, and she wouldn't choose to be other than
herself either. Wouldn't choose to always be wearing hoodies, the hood
pulled up to conceal her face. Lux believes in caution; Lux believes one
cannot be too cautious.
(That's how you play the game, and sometimes you are winning--)
But Lux believes in living life, too.
What the fuck's the point if you're too afraid?
Which
is all to say that her mouth quirks and her green-as-glass, green as
tarnished metal, eyes get a gleam of easy humor at that forget his phone
number comment- the suggestion of a smirk; which melts away into keen
interest.
"I'd like to hear the story sometime. I've tried
looking into things, asking some people, I mean, who might be thought to
know, or at least to know what bullshit is good manure, about how to
keep a Shade from whispering and whispering or, you know," she gestures
with her hand; a languid thing, but see: there's a certain vibrant
attention in it too, "touching one. Manifesting? Oh, hell if I know. A
circle of salt a garland of garlic: nothing really seems to work and
it's silly to ask around about."
"But Molly, say it ain't so.
Please don't wait for someone's plan to come find you, unless I guess
you like surprises. Someones with plans are like forecasts; bossy."
Molly
Molly
knew something of the clans of Vampires. She knew enough to understand
that there were disadvantages and powers alike that ran down
bloodlines, and even knew a couple of names to match with some of those
identifying trademarks. She was a creature who was well-studied, and a
quick-read at that. She could pick up on and remember information in
ways that appeared effortless. Wasn't it just last year that she
learned things that go bump in the night are a real thing? Now she
could honestly call herself an expert in the subject.
Lux was
Toreador, but Molly did not know this. She wasn't aware of an
association between them and roses, but she did know what they were and
what they were weak-in-the-knees to. It was easy to assume that all
vampires held the potential for the dramatic, so to hear Lux speak and
to watch her gesture, Molly did an easy job of writing the disposition
up to the fault of living the undead life rather than tagging it as an
identifier for a bloodline.
"Well, I'm pretty sure we'll have
chances to speak again. The story won't elude you for long." And
honestly, Molly didn't sound opposed to the thought at all. Cautious
though she may be, Molly had found a level of comfort with vampires that
she could at least easily converse with the ones she knew. Having some
understanding of where they stood in the spectrum of The Great War
helped too, and Molly could claim that about Lux if nothing more.
Rebels probably liked to let maverick mortals like her carry on-- they
could only make things interesting, right?
But say it ain't so,
Lux pleaded for Molly not to stand idly by and let plans be made for
her, and the nurse-occultist smiled a little dark across the table.
"I've learned to handle bossy. I probably wouldn't have made it this
far if I didn't. But wait...," Molly took hold of the conversation and
turned it back for a moment, even going far enough to say that she was
doing so. She leaned forward, caught one elbow on the edge of the table
as well, and raised her eyebrows curiously at her impromptu companion.
"Are you having Shade trouble? Is there some old spirit you're trying to keep buried? I wonder why."
Lux
Molly's pretty sure they'll have chances to speak again.
"Especially," Lux says, laughing, "If we use our mutual aquaintance to make a date sometime. Karaoke."
And then, but wait, and...
"Oh. Personally? No."
Her
lashes sink and her skin is pale if not so pale as the silk of her
jacket or the silk of the top she's wearing under the jacket and her
lashes are dark as a fairy tale's warning against her cheekbones. The
expression is a canting one, and pensive; her eyes do not gleam when
they are shadowed so, but are a suggestion of some deep thing; some
private thought. Her inflection is surprised or bemused.
When her
eyes have returned to Molly's, the shadow is half-lifted. Her eyes are
expressive and, although not always easy to read, generally honest; Lux
is a creature if impulse and of passion, after all. Of choices.
"But,"
with a nod, and now the suggestion of a smile is in the scrunch of her
nose and the movement of her cheeks, tightening at the corners of her
mouth a down-turn which uplifts, "Wouldn't you like to know how to get
rid of the things, since apparently they're real? At least with flesh
and blood you can kick them, lock a door, threaten damning photos of."
"Maybe
I'd feel differently if they touched my life more than they have. Maybe
I'd want to have more conversations, you know? Find out what they want;
why they want; talk."
Molly
Molly gave another
chuckle, this time accompanied with the nod, to show easy agreement to
the suggestion that sometime they use the fact that they both knew Nate
as an excuse to get together again sometime. Karaoke wasn't a repulsive
suggestion, and she could just picture Nate looking uncomfortable and
ruffled as he so often did with a lady on either arm, and how the
outside world would react to the sight. It was a humorous thought to
entertain for a second.
For the possibility of interacting with
these Shades, since they can't be treated as flesh is, Molly pondered
over another sip of her drink before settling back comfortably into her
iron-wire chair once more.
"There are some tricks that you can try
to ward them away, but as holds true with most things there are only a
scant few tricks that are universal-- the rest can't be a guarantee.
From Shadow to Shadow the rules tend to change. What repels one may
have no impact on the other. One Shade may be weaker than the next,
too, and may be able to overcome some of these 'safeguards'.
"Ultimately?
If you ask me? It's probably a better idea just to let them keep
haunting whatever scrap of something they've stuck themselves to and
chalk it up as a loss for yourself. Unless they've latched themselves
to you, in which case I'm really sorry and you should find something to
move it onto instead."
Eyes flicked down, briefly, when she
added: "A medium's more useful for these things-- half the time you
need to have the ability to reach through to make anything happen at
all. You'd probably have better luck turning Nate onto the case
instead."
Or one of the Vampires that deal with the Dead in
particular, but Molly was chilled to think of what encountering such a
creature would be like.
Lux
[Manip + Subt again!]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 2, 5, 6, 6) ( success x 2 )
Molly
[Perception 3 + Empathy 2 again! Engarde!]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (3, 4, 4, 5, 9) ( success x 1 )
Lux
As
the fine-featured creature listens to Molly, she curls one hand between
her shoulder and her fine long throat, under a fall of dark (careless [messy]) hair, cants her head to the side and cants her weight toward that arm.
She
does not stare with eyes gone piercing; she gazes, with eyes gone
out-of-focus, that dreamy blur of film where shadow and light is
imprinted by silver or mercury or something else fixative and poisonous;
it is an absorbed expression, still as it is, and although her eyes
have gone distant there is no doubt that it is a listening sort of
distant.
"You have an air," she tells Molly, her tone
confiding. "What the heck is it? I think, darling, it might be
expertise; you sound settled in your shoes. D'you feel it?"
Molly
Change
was about Molly, Lux had noticed and called it true enough. She shared
knowledge in more of a spoken sense than a pondering one. She had felt
out and learned and determined much through her (broken) friendship
with the now-still Nosferatu, so she had spoken in musing and wonder and
exploration often with him. Nearer the end she spoke with confidence,
and now that carried into certainty.
Their mutual friend Nate was
the medium, but Molly the Normal Mortal Woman with no supernatural sense
about her dove into these waters eagerly.
She was misdirected
successfully, and cleared her throat a bit before setting her latte back
down on the table; her hand stayed around it, mind you. "I suppose,"
she agreed, and there was the faintest tone of bashful (aw shucks, you
noticed) resonating in the words.
"I just think of it as keeping my head above the water."
Lux
"Water,
water; it's the spinniest thing. Go on," with a faint lowering of her
chin. "Tell: what's the most frightening thing you've discovered in your
quest for expertise?"
Lux, she seemed genuinely interested;
probing, certainly, but not for the perfect spot to yank the rug out
from underneath Molly.
Molly
Lux's question
dropped like a stone into the water that had been swirling. It was very
forward, seemed some combination of needle-sharp and coy like sheer
fabric. Molly's eyes sharpened in reaction, but they did not narrow,
and that was perhaps more important to note. She wasn't struck by the
question, but it did draw notice in a special way that it was presented
at all.
She thought for a moment. Really considered the answer,
and took what time Lux would let her. If left unpromted, that would
accumulate to about thirty seconds before she decided, and began.
"In
the terms of the tangible, it was a back room of gore in a pawn shop.
Lampshades and furniture made from people and all of that." She said it
quickly, in a low tone as well. Did not like to be overheard, and also
did not like to think on it too long. It would perhaps be the second
answer that drew most attention anyway.
"In the terms of a
more...exostential level of thinking, it's probably coming across the
realization of what it takes to not become so much mince meat in this
world."
Lux
Lux listens. Her gaze is focused; her eyes, the
occulted green of antique glass. Her delicate features: repose --
listening, see, because listening is an act, and there is a sense of
some contained intensity, the candescence that makes metal sing white,
animation, life, because this is the difference between a painting and a
person, the living and the dead. One of 'em.
"But what does it take? What's your philosophy?"
Molly
Lux
was attentive, and Molly couldn't be certain if the woman across the
table from her was hanging on her every word or if she was already five
steps ahead behind those antiqued green eyes. She supposed that there
was probably some direction that this undead woman was trying to lead
her in, but Molly didn't feel concerned for that suspicion. So what if
she was? Even if there was an invisible thread guiding through this
conversation, it didn't seem a harmful one.
So, with a chuckle, Molly took another drink before indulging the lovely Lux.
"If
I had it figured out entirely I would patent the philosophy and sell it
so I could retire." A shake of her head, and she continued.
"It's
all very personal; not that I feel like your prying, but in that I
doubt I'd be able to sell my philosophy anyways. Might not work for
others, you know?
"My philosophy, though, is to be three things:
useful, unobtrusive, and neutral." Molly Toombs paused there, lifted a
hand to brush her fingers lightly over the pincurled bangs that were
styled to the side, made sure that they were staying in place. Then,
speaking in a tone that was curious and testing to see where boundaries
may lay, she followed with a question of her own. "Did you have a
philosophy? Or do you, I suppose?"
Lux
[I read your aura? Let us willpower, just so there are no mistakes (botches).]
Dice: 6 d10 TN8 (3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 10) ( success x 2 ) [WP]
Molly
Lux
peeks and looks, and those green eyes find another filter that pulls
energies and patterns from the very air around her impromptu coffee date
for the evening.
Molly Toombs had a bright aura-- full of life
still, unblemished by the pale spots that may have been there several
weeks ago when she was still working through that Malkavanian blood in
her system. The colors were peaceful and at ease, a light blue cast
that the glow of life took to confirm that Molly wasn't doing a very
good job of covering up fear for her mortal life.
Lux
Lux does not know that Molly has her number (Vampiress);
if she did, would she behave differently? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Could
she be surprised? Perhaps not. Perhaps. As is: this brief touch of (kiss of) a smile, see, the play of shadow on silk, at not that I feel like you're prying, "Oh, but I am," unrepentent and clear, slipped into the right point of their conversation neatly.
As
Molly answers: she looks at Molly, coaxes her sight into a vision of
Molly's personal halo, the radiant reflection of her spirit (Sun-worn,
Sun-bright), and attends it as near as she attends Molly's words.
And then her eyebrows quiver together, a line etching between, at the past tense: Did. Do.
"Sure," she says. "Do you want to hear a true one or a pretty wouldn't-it-be-nice sort of thing?"
Molly
"I've
lost faith in the wouldn't-it-be-nice situations existing at all."
Molly didn't sound bitter about it, honestly. There was a weathered
tone to her voice, though. It had been approximately a year since she
began her trek into the woods of the supernatural, so to speak. A year
hadn't aged her physically, not in any noticeable way, but it was
understandable that a person may see much in that time. What she's seen
has been full of horror and Things Going Wrong.
She wasn't bitter. She was just a bit exhausted.
"The truth is often much more useful."
Molly
[I keep forgetting that I'm a supernatural detecting badass now. Perception 3 + Awareness 3!]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 3, 6, 7, 10) ( success x 3 )
Lux
"Useful? Why, I don't know about that."
Lux
tips her head further to the side, this unconscious, arresting little
gesture before she straightens, drawing herself up so she is not
sprawling quite so carelessly and her weight isn't centered on her elbow
and her hand is no longer in her hair because Lux sweeps it back from
her face; see how it falls again, slowly, slowly and, thoughtful, she
has cupped her chin in the palm of her hand, her pinky curled over the
edge of her mouth.
And Lux
considers the street openly now, or seems to be considering the street.
Perhaps she is considering her philosophies instead, or those who have
contributed to them.
"Knowing
the truth doesn't pay bank and the bank's a nasty little tyrant in need
of a Robin Hooding. What does it take to not become so much mince meat
in this world? Oh..." Her eyes return to Molly; Lux is a passionate
thing, even now, alway and forever; immortality is for cold starlight,
you see, which lasts longer than memory, even if probably not forever. "Determination."
"A
great deal of wanting, and fearlessness, and luck; imperviousness to
pain can help, but it's a scotch tape fix, worse, a wet toilet paper
fix. Mostly you just need to remember to be in love with something."
"And
that nobody has the right to make you into mince meat, and they can't,
either, unless you choose to give 'em the cleaver handle-first."
Molly
There
was a ripple of some kind of energy in the air around them. Molly
picked up on it as Lux had picked up on the calm blue life-light
permeating from the mortal woman herself. Not only had Molly Toombs
become a regular encyclopedia of occult knowledge, but she'd also
developed a particular sensitivity to such disturbances nearby.
It's
how she could tell when a police scene was caused by men hating men, or
if it was caused by something much Deeper and Darker.
Her
eyebrows had raised with the perception, but Molly did not feel strange
or different or threatened. Whatever it was the woman had done to
disturb the air and make the fine hairs on Molly's arms try to stand up
against her blazer sleeves, there was not a sense of threat or impending
danger that came along with it. The days of being on-edge suspicious
had passed. The medication she was prescribed could have assisted with
that some.
So Molly eased into her chair and listened to what Lux had to share.
Determination,
fearlessness, and luck. These were the tidbits that the vampiress had
to share. The curvy redhead considered this for a few moments, tapped a
fingernail against the side of her paper cup with a muted 'thmp-thmp-
rhythm to go with it.
"'Love' is a surprising answer. I haven't
been encountering much of that, really. It always seems to steer in
quite the opposite direction." Thoughtful, and then with a single
eyebrow raised higher than the other, she followed the thought up with
another entirely. "It sounds like a lot of independence, and Every Man
For Himself.... Must the cleaver always be the analogy? Is it so
unheard of to offer the cleaver to someone and have them not use it
against you? Perhaps, to use it for something better instead?"
Lux
"A cleaver is
a rather limited metaphor. If not for mincing meat, I suppose it could
be used for burying in a back: but that's not much better, is it?" Lux:
this kissing curl of a grin. Of course it touches her eyes. Dredges a
lucent gleam out've them; something articulated by shadow. Be serious,
Lux: and so she is, the grin diminishing to an echo to a memory to gone
baby gone and now she is serious again.
Reflective: "I suppose a cleaver could be used against your neighbor. But no!" Laughter. "I am abandoning
the cleaver, see? It is a great deal of independence and
self-sufficiency, but I sure don't mean for it to much of Every Man For
Himself. That's the road to usefulness which is the road to somebody
else's tool or a cold cold heart and a tedious existence. I just mean
that you can choose what turns into the weapon that slays you or the
rope that trips you and what does not.
"Take this conversation! I
don't know, maybe you take it somewhere or to someone and they think, Ah
hah, I've got it, I've got her now, and they come back to me all 'Love,
is it? So you want to love things, do you? Well now we know
where to press the bruise! Ha ha!' And either that minces me a little
bit to pieces, or I pull myself together."
"I am a hopeless romantic, Molly. Why do you think it always seems to steer in quite the opposite direction?"
Molly
The
tone shifts to a serious one, and Molly is serious about listening.
This is a trait that she's maintained since the very first time she
recognized signs of lifelessness on a walking man's face. It's perhaps
the thing we can attribute her survival to the most. When someone was
speaking to share, when it was insight they shared especially, Molly
listened apt and attentive.
Laughter is met with an empathetic
grin that quirked one side of the mouth stronger than the other, but it
faded to neutral as the conversation pressed on. Particular notice was
taken of the comment that Molly may take this conversation elsewhere,
and that conversation may come back upon Lux one day. That wasn't
missed, and Molly was pretty sure that it was a deliberately tucked-in
statement as well. Not a threat, not a warning, but a reminder-- be
careful what you share and with whom you share it.
"I always
suspected it was simply the nature of things." Molly lifted her drink
to her lips again, and had to tip the cup quite drastically to get a sip
of her latte this time around. The beverage was getting close to
empty. When she set it back down her hand parted from the cup for the
first time since Lux had arrived. The dredges weren't of any interest
to the mortal woman, so she would not protect them. Instead, her hands
found their way into her blazer pockets and her elbows tucked back along
with the rest of her posture.
"How do you hold on to a great love
of anything when years turn to decades turn to centuries? I can
imagine it gets hollowed out and replaced with obsession and hate, or
maybe even worse yet simply numbed to nothing. Especially when you
consider the War that has promised never to end, and how everything
seems to boil down to survival and oneupsmanship." She shook her head.
Those questions were hypothetical, explaining her belief. She
concluded.
"I believe in monsters. That said, I don't think that
being a monster is all encompassing or absolute. I don't think that
love is a wholly human essence, but it probably doesn't carry over well
when one's humanity begins to wither."
Lux
Lux
shakes her head, firmly, when Molly begins her fall of hypothetical
questions; as it happens, the subject is one she specifically abhors.
Her
lips part to say a word, but I believe in monsters and she pauses. Her
lips stay parted; she has stretched her hands out across the table,
they're nearer Molly, fingers reach-reaching, then walked back to her
side of the table, folded so she can lean on her elbows again: she's got
no posture; only a careless sort of style, as if she were in constant
negotiation with gravity about whether or not it would let her get away
with this or that.
"Specific!" she says. "And diplomatic!" Pause; her smile is an impulse-tugged thing. "Am I a monster? D'you really think time's enough to cause the human spirit to wither?"
Molly
The
stretch of hands across the table was accounted for, but left alone.
It didn't look like a reach toward her, nor did it seem that Lux was
indicating that she wanted to do something like hold Molly's hand. It
just seemed that the Hollywood-gorgeous woman was restless. Constantly
shifting this way and that-- sitting upright, then leaning, then
propping herself on elbows once more. Restless was a way of being,
Molly understood. She herself? She just remained leaned comfortably
back in her chair, hands tucked away and legs crossed at the knee. This
posture relayed comfort and calm and openness, to whatever degree Molly
would allow that openness to remain so before she'd swing it closed
again.
When asked if Lux was a monster, Molly blinked once, then smiled. The expression was soft and half-apologetic.
"You
don't seem like a monster. I suppose it depends on whose definition
you go by, though, doesn't it?" It was the best answer she could give
there. Diplomatic was a good word for how Molly tried to be.
As for time...
"Much
as fire needs fuel and flint both, the loss of humanity needs time and
other elements as well. Like the War, and everything that comes along
with it. The recognition and understanding that so much more
lays beyond just human existence contributes too it, too. It's easy
enough to creep away from humanity when you see the other paths opened
up for you, when you consider how those paths can help you survive that
War and the world that's created from it.
"The inevitable mention,
though, is what fuels you; what you need to keep going and avoid that
Great Final Fall. When you start looking at lifeblood from the hearts
and veins of human life as a ration, it no doubt joins hands with time
in walking you away from humanity as well."
Molly smiled a polite,
and again somewhat apologetic smile, and added with a minor shrug of
one shoulder: "This is the royal use of the word 'you', of course. I
can't accuse you of anything personally, Lux."
Lux
"Huh. 'The War.'" Here, almost fond: "For what can war, but endless war, still breed? What do you think humanity is? Now that you've got your eye on other paths, are you thinking about creeping down one?"
Molly
Molly chuckled and shook her head to Lux's last question in particular.
"I
like you, Lux. I don't think that you want to 'bring me down' or cause
me harm or foul luck or anything like that. But, at the same time, I
hope you understand that a girl can't be showing her entire hand of
cards." Suffice to say, Molly wasn't going to indulge if she was
considering other paths or not.
"Humanity's a lot of things. In
this conversation, though, it's the root of a being that keeps them
prone to things like love and mercy and good faith. Which I suppose is
unfair, considering all the suffering and terror that humanity itself
has bred over time. If we wanted to step further down that rabbit hole,
though, I could also argue that what I'm told humanity has done by our
history books could easily have been influenced by other elements that
we refuse to see, couldn't it?"
Lux
"Sure," she
says, leaving aside whether or not a girl can be showing her entire hand
of cards (for now). "But so what? Do you think it matters, unknown or
unseen influences? It's rather like blaming the Devil for lighting the
wood under those rich old women, isn't it? So go on, what do you hold
true?"
Molly
"What do I hold true?" Molly
repeated the question, because it was a dramatic one and because she
wanted to mull it over a little bit. There was no better way to stall
for time in answering a question than to feel and taste that question in
your own mouth.
It didn't take her long to sum up her thoughts after that, though.
"I'm
not God, or Saint Michael, or whoever it is that is supposed to be
judging a soul when the time to judge comes, whenever that time may be.
It's not my place, and I don't have the omniscence needed for something
so heavy. One could argue that the Devil is responsible for lighting
those fires, but the rich old women are responsible to step away from
the devil-red flame if not put it out entirely
"I don't hold on to
truths unless I can call them exactly that. Humanity is too loose a
concept for a concrete truth without the tools of Final Judgment,
right? So I suffice to say that there's potential for good and love
beyond the human-born stage of humanity, but past that point there is a lot
for it to weather to try and remain intact. It gets tattered after too
many storms, if not ripped away completely, and there is plenty of time
and plenty of storms to take into consideration here."
Molly took
her hands from her pockets to spread them out on the table in front of
her, palms up and fingers splayed. The gesture was one of helplessness
and presentation both.
"I've just been trying to give the benefit of the doubt without being blinded by optimism or poisoned by suspicion."
Lux
"D'you
wanna hear what I think?" The inquiry is a true inquiry, not a
rhetorical question; Lux is a bright thing, but the brightness is
defined by shadow; see?
Once Molly's given her go-ahead, Lux says
this -- and let's not mince words. Lux is a Lucifer-of-a-thing,
rebellious creature at heart: the desire to fight is what gives her
shape, and sometimes that is obvious, and sometimes she is winning (and
sometimes she is -- ) so she is lovely as she says it, even in her
element:
"Going back to earlier points made: It's all just a line. There's no good reason to let time undo you. There's no good reason hate and obsession would be easier.
Hell, there's no good reason for any of it; the party line is boring,
and if you ever find yourself invited to the party, you should stop
listening to it."
"Do you think Nathan is happy?"
Molly
Of
course Molly wanted to know what Lux thought. Who didn't want to hear
what the charming woman had to say? So she had inclined her head, and
Lux gave her advice. They are all lines, and if she's invited to go
stand in one that's a pretty good indication that she should switch to
another.
Then came the question, a ball from left field without
expectation-- did she think Nathan was happy. Whatever Molly may have
retorted or asked to keep the line of philosophy going, it was paused
there. She held a corner of her lower lip pinned under an incisor, and
this gave her face a borderline worried cast. The subject of Nathan did
that specifically, and the worry served as a glimpse at something that
ran deeper still.
"No," she answered finally, and she didn't sound
happy with the conclusion either. "I really don't think that he is. I
can't say I'm positive that I know what could get and keep him there
either."
Lux
"Did you ever love him a little?" Lux; she just sounds wistful.
Molly
For
a second, Molly's cast is a defensive one. She straightened up some,
and her shoulders squared up a little too. She looked across the table
to Lux, Lux with her hair falling just right no matter what she did with
it, with that wistful cast to her voice and eyes both when the question
was posed.
The second passed, and Molly sighed some. She'd done a
good job of holding eye contact with Lux appropriately through the
conversation, but now she glanced off-- to traffic, to a streetlamp, to
another shop's window-- instead.
"Of course."
Then, as a separate statement: "Where there's love, it's not a guarantee that happiness is far behind, though."
Lux
[IS IT TIME TO TRY TO HIDE AN EMOTION? YEAH I CAN DO IT.]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 4, 5, 8, 8) ( success x 2 )
Molly
[Perception 3 + Empathy 2]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 4, 6, 6) ( success x 2 )
Lux
[No ties!]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 5, 6, 8, 10) ( success x 3 )
Molly
[NO TIES]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 4, 5, 6, 6) ( success x 2 )
Lux
Lux
measures Molly's profile; measures the length of her lashes, the
movement of her eyes; she is, herself, still wistful; contained.
"That's true," she says. "Happiness is the lightning bug flashiest thing, huh?"
Molly
"So
short lived," Molly agreed quietly. Her profile revealed no great
secrets, only told what has been known before: apple-cheeked with
freckles to spare, blue (not green) eyes, lashes made longer and darker
with mascara than what they would be naturally.
With a small bit
of a sigh, Molly brought her gaze back from wherever it had wandered to
Lux's face. She blinked once, then pressed a button on the
all-but-forgotten tablet on the table to check the time. A clear sign
that a person was about to see their way out of a conversation.
"Nate
tells me that he wants to be removed from all of this," she said with
her eyes on the tablet screen still. A moment passed, then she folded
closed the cover on the tablet once more and moved about to get it
stashed away in her large purse. "When he was born with one foot into
the thick of things already, though, that seems impossible. I think our
greatest gift to him is to just let him be as much as we can."
A
smile, pleasant and polite, lit her face up and chased away the worry
and creased brow that was trying to settle there earlier. Her purse was
pulled to rest in her lap-- Molly didn't stand just yet, but it was
clear she was getting ready to do so soon.
"I didn't expect to
have a chat over coffee tonight, but I'm glad that you spared some of
your time for conversation. It was good to see you." She sounded like
she meant it, at least.
Lux
[SC will decide me]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (2, 5, 6, 10) ( success x 2 )
Lux
"Do you?" Lux sounds surprised.
Lux
probably has a place to be, but she is in no hurry. That's what happens
when one becomes eternal (potentially), isn't it? And when one seems
determined to take things as they come, moment to moment. Which is to
say that, although she responds to Molly's signals, she herself does not
seem as if she is gathering herself to leave.
And then, she laughs. "Why, I have all sorts
of time for conversation, as long as it isn't dull. But -- " Her eyes
flicker, and her lashes lower, contemplative; she touches her earlobe,
considering. Pause.
"Take care. And try not to focus on war, war, war; it's a great mess."
No comments:
Post a Comment