Here is rural New England in late November: the air is crisp and it whispers of branches recently bared and falling darkness and winter yet to come.
Elaine has not been home for very long: perhaps only for a handful of days. Whatever meager Thanksgiving her family had came and went a few days before. They say you can never go home again, and maybe she finds a sort of truth in that now that she is back in this place after only a few months far away and across an ocean. Home has not changed, but Elaine probably has.
Maybe she chalks it up to her own changes, this dream she had a few days ago of this black shapeless beast digging its claws into her brother's back, its jaws positioned at the back of his head as though it'd devour him next, as though it had merely paused long enough to decide which chunk of him to devour first. Thanksgiving day, or the day after perhaps, she chanced to see him as he walked past a hall mirror and she didn't see his face, but she noticed - well. Maybe the mirror was just dirty, in this way that it caused him to smudge and blur and slide out of sight, but when she went to the looking glass she couldn't see any sort of film left behind.
There were pointed comments, too, about his lack of church attendance, and questions about Elaine's. Was her brother bitter that she had gone so far away and left him behind here? Home hasn't changed. Right?
And this brings us back: in the countryside there is an old factory, its metal spires rust eaten and its brick worn down and sprayed with crude block letters and the urine of dozens of errant teenagers. It stretches there in the middle of the field, dappled here and there by the beams of light that struggle through the clouds on this overcast day, a gauntlet between heaven and earth.
A car has come to rest here, at the edge of the field. Two male shapes beside it, conversing, one with cigarette in hand (the purpose of today's stop, in all likelihood.) Maybe she'll see them at a distance, one tall, the lines of him made elegant and clean by the heavy overcoat he wears, and the other, wiry and short and so small of frame that from far away he could almost be taken for a woman. They've collected portents, these two, have looked to see how the tea leaves would float today, and maybe it's this that has them in the right place at precisely the right time.
For them, at least.
Elaine
Elaine Siddal is come here to think. Solitary suits her, rather slight frame lent bulk by an grandfather's military coat found for pennies and with luck at a consignment shop, stride meted out by old boots in danger of peeling, a study in entropy, in cobbled together wear, they are homey boots, boots that have tried their best, will continue to try their best as they dissipate, boots that could still kick a man in the shins and splinter his shin-bone if enough pressure were applied, boots that wish to be useful, that remember so many jaunts through leaves and over streams, that are scratched and worn as veterans of multiple battle-fields. Solitary suits her, because even with her hands in aching fists, wedged deep in the pockets of her coat, there is a certain grace as she wicks along -- here is one of the lichen-crusted stone walls which criss-cross through the New England 'wilderness,' here is a patch of lichen blooming like the Man in the Moon's pock marked face is contagious, here is a dangerous edge she leaps over, here is the land, a branch rolling, splintering, here is the dull shine of some abandoned beer-can crumpled up and razored edge through the leaf-litter.
Elaine is blanched and tragic, hatless in spite of how cold it'll be when the sun does go down, Pre-Raphaelite red hair which might belong to her family's namesake a red flag in the sun-shot gathering gloom as the day burns down and chars into ash and blight behind the clouds, a strong-jawed young woman keeping her eyes on the ground. There is a candle in her pocket and a box of matches taken whole-sale and if she'd think to look ahead she'd see the two male shapes at the car at the edge of the field outside the derelict factory, but she is rather busy taking up a stick and pushing bramble snarls out of the way and thinking thinking thinking distracted and unhappy and thinking thinking thinking about Heath about Heath about Heath and treachery her mind keeps striking on these images these half-conjured dreams these lines that could be poetry and she is certain, more certain than any explorer that True North is what a compass might be read by, or a map, that there is something -
If she'd looked up over by the wall, she'd have just gone around; avoided the possibility of human contact. But she didn't look up until the creek, which barely deserves the name and won't even have the name come winter proper, when it freezes and disappears into the ground; she could've still gone around, but Elaine is stubborn and she exhales slow.
She is very young; she decides to sail right past.
Allard and Lockbourne
The car is a bright splash of color on today's landscape, this gleaming electric blue that complements and contrasts the oranges and browns of the field. Its color is the only remarkable thing about it; it is otherwise this sedan, scratched a little around the wheelwells and scraped here and there, it too a veteran of multiple battlefields. Inside Elaine can see a woman, dark hair bound into a twist at the back of her neck and dark dark eyes pinned on the screen of her flip phone.
Elaine can notice a certain something as she goes to pass the two men. This is a gathering time, a time when in days of old the walls between this world and others would wear thin. Maybe Elaine believes that, and maybe she doesn't. Either way, this something which cannot quite be placed is a sense she gets from them, as they stand there like a pair of country knights come to rest at a stream.
Perhaps it is this strange sense that they are not quite human, or are more than human, or are special in some way; who can say? Today she is open to these things. She is thinking about Heath about Heath about Heath.
The taller of the two cannot be more than twenty, his hair long and in his eyes which are this very sharp washed out sort of blue. It lends something hard to his face, which otherwise could be considered callow or somewhat feminine; his hands are gloved (good black leather, slightly cracked) and...well. He does not seem as though he should be as close as he is to Elaine's age. There is this way in which his eyes follow her as she draws close to them, this way that is not necessarily predatory but carries an anticipation with it, as though he is waiting to say something to speak to figure out exactly what he is going to say.
The shorter one, the one with cigarette in hand, his eyes follow her as she moves past, and Elaine is blanched and tragic. He is dressed in a black military jacket, one not dissimilar from her own if newer. He is handsome, in this nonspecific bland sort of way that could describe any number of handsome men with dark blond or maybe brown hair, with a sort of sweetness to his features.
He has exhaled a puff of smoke. (They say it'll kill him; he's pretty sure he won't live long enough for it to matter.) "Hey," he says as Elaine draws close to pass the two of them, and if she looks in his direction he'll say, "Do you live around here? We're trying to find someone." Small towns: everyone knows everyone else, right?
Elaine
Elaine does look in the shorter one's direction, somber gray eyes and aloof courtesy (Fare well [Hey]), but -
Mayhaps the presence of a woman in the blue blue blue car makes Elaine more inclined to give the two men some of her time even if they're outside the derelict factory where heroine addicts come sometimes to die by needle. Mayhaps she just cannot truly bring herself to walk by other human beings without so much as a glance because she is not practiced yet in reserve or control and neither is she very tempered: we know that old saying; still waters, etcetera. Maybe she has given both men a grave, incisive once-over, twice-over, and she has always been good at noticing nuance at teasing out colors that other people might not notice immediately and she has not been re-assured but her curiosity has been pierced by a sharp little hook impossible for her to ignore in the mood she is in and -
- a ripple. They're a stone, skipped across a still water, leaves behind a wake. Elaine slows. Her voice when she first tries it is all blighted by disuse: "Who - " she pauses. Clears her throat of fog; underneath the fog. "Abstract someone or specific someone?"
Elaine
[And yes, does Not-quite-Awake Elaine have any specific Awareness at all?]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (3, 5, 8, 10) ( success x 2 )
Allard and Lockbourne
Elaine doesn't know it, but there's a sort of portent hovering over her, this sense of what she could be and how it's different from what she is. It was this portent that led them to her, in fact. That a year maybe two from now her world will expand, and expand is just another word for explode, and it will be momentous and shattering.
She is not quite Awake, and yet she can pick up on something odd about both men (and the woman, too, there in the car, who feels like a reaching, like a yearning, like someone who is stretching out and past herself and into the unknown that waits. It'd be hard to tell just now from the way she is disengaged and looking at her phone: and yet.) The taller of the two, well, his eyes are merciless and he has this somber air about him, she can tell this just by looking and by sensing; he is Unbroken, he is a warrior.
Miles: this is the name of the shorter man, the smoker who is sure he'll die young or at least before he hits middle age, and he is Transformation, he is unbridled flourishing growth with all that was useless to him shed and cast aside. And Miles, he recognizes this incisive sort of look she's giving him now, because Miles understands why a young woman would be leery of speaking to a pair of strange men outside a derelict factory where people come to fill their blood with sweet poison. He's not an especially intelligent man, Miles; there is nothing of the sharpness of his partner there in the way he looks at Elaine. He just gets it.
So: the hook is a necessary thing, and it worked.
"Specific someone," he says. There is this look that passes between him and the other man: does she see it? Does it mean anything to her, if she does? Miles appears to have gained whatever permission he needed, and so he says, "You're Heath Siddal's sister, aren't you?"
Elaine
If Elaine had a nickel for every time somebody asked her that, she'd be able to afford a new coat for herself, and at least two of her younger siblings. Usually the somebody asking was asking because they wanted to be just that much closer to Heath Siddal's golden warmth; they wanted to bask in his glory; they wanted to touch him, see, somehow, even if it was just by recognizing his kid sister with the red red hair, the one who'd take any dare you gave her as long as it wasn't cruel, who had no patience with that kind of thing. They wanted to touch Heath Siddal's name because his was a name going somewhere else; except it wasn't. He was loyal, a loyal local hero; he was good, right? He was too good, even when he got in trouble.
Usually somebody asking her if she was Heath Siddal's sister wouldn't make her hesitate for a beat. Another beat. A longer beat, while she is considering whether or not to try to lie. Fuck; better lie fast, or the window of opportunity is gone. Is the window of opportunity already gone?
"Are you looking for Heath Siddal's sister or Heath Siddal?"
Elaine drags her fingers through her hair and holds it back at the base of the top of her skull; the sleeve of her coat slip-slides over her wrist-bone, which is sharp and delicate and purpled; she is wearing no rings except one, on her thumb, and she has some writing on her hand, faded as if it were from the day before.
"Who are you; owls?"
Allard and Lockbourne
She has a pair of questions for them. If she were looking toward the car, perhaps she would have noticed that the woman is glancing up from her phone at them now and again, and the phone is not the distraction it was; now it is only there to provide her with some means to look like she isn't really paying attention.
Miles' face sketches itself into polite confusion, as he echoes, "Owls?" perhaps wondering whether or not he heard her correctly. It might have derailed the conversation were she speaking to him alone, because he is not sure of how to answer her or whether this is some local terminology he should know but doesn't, and that's plain. "I don't - my name is Miles, and this is Jonas."
It is Jonas who saves him then. "We're here to ask Heath Siddal's sister some questions about Heath Siddal." His voice is not forceful, not precisely; it is however to the point. There is no humor there in his face as he says this; it is Miles though who winces and gives her a somewhat apologetic sort of glance. Jonas, his eyes are like two chips of ice, bright as the edge of a blade, and he is not making any sort of effort to soften them today. He blinks at Elaine. And he waits for her response.
Miles, though, chooses that moment to cut in. "Sorry. This must seem really weird. We did just want to talk to you."
Elaine
Elaine looks from Miles to Jonas as they speak. Miles is so disarming she does not think about leaving yet or put one foot behind the other and she does not cross her arms over her chest, though she also does not smile. She pays attention. When Jonas speaks, she cants her chin upward. Her lashes do not go low and she stares at him with her gloaming gray eyes, pale but just now dark as a sword's shadow - see - on the sedge or the still silver water it came from. She squints when he blinks but does not herself blink or look back at Miles when Miles cuts in to play good cop. Not immediately, at least. We did just want to talk to you, and that's when she does place one foot behind the other, but doesn't commit to a backward step. Backward steps aren't Elaine's style.
"Owls," she tells Miles. "Like a parliament of. For debate and argument. Unless you'd rather be a murder," this humorless but kind (see your attempt to soften your partner's directness does not go unacknowledged) twist of her mouth. "A portent, bad luck or good luck, dragging your evening car behind - nevermind. Don't worry about how weird anything seems to me."
Elaine rubs her forehead with the palm of her hand, though is careful not to let that obscure her vision of the pair (trio?). Her hand drops. It seems evident that Elaine is about to make some excuse to be on her way to meet up later and talk then (and maybe she'd show, and maybe she wouldn't), but before that possibility can solidify (resonance is an Echo of one's will; not the other way around, and she has no resonance yet but the red-haired Disparate will feel like Daring to others) Elaine offers a hand.
Gives them both a certain kind of look, see.
"As catchy as Heath Siddal's sister is, you can go ahead and call me by my name." Which they may or may not know; see? Test test.
People around Elaine often feel permission to respond as they wouldn't normally, to do what they wouldn't find otherwise acceptable, to - say - accept the hand offered and ride on the milk-white steed and go off to Fairyland, to break a branch of May-flowers down and declare they're as lovely as you, to unwrap this shining sword (take it [obligation]) and sip from this silver chalice and give yourself (fate [Destiny]) to to sleeping until the time comes when you are needed again though it be centuries from now, have a conversation about owls and parliaments and whether or not one has anything to do with the other, say that you think the blue strip of evening is the belt Night girds itself with before going off the moon as a shield to fight the stars because otherwise the world will burn to a crisp say with sincerity - something, anything, and it's okay. Because she is inviting in the manner of a dare or a promise that promises always to be in the moment of promising, never forsaken and never completed.
She's got presence.
"Miles. Jonas. Car. What do you know about Heath? Where do you know about Heath from? How far out of town are you guys from? Why are you here?"
Allard and Lockbourne
Miles, to his credit, tries to hide how lost he is as Elaine speaks of parliaments and murders. There is good nature there in his lost-ness, a sense that Miles accepts the strangeness of others for what it is, he cleaves steadfast to them anyway, that this is at the very core of who he is. Semper fi, he'd perhaps say, if he could hear the narrator just now.
"Actually, we are interested in how weird things seem to you," he says, because this he can seize on, and she is talking of portents -
Which, oddly. It's funny Elaine should mention. See, there is this very specific Prime/Entropy/Time combination, this Working that is wound around the bones of them, has lent them vision. Days ago Jonas drew cards, read them while Miles was present, and this third this unnamed woman who is seated in the car and still glancing up at them on occasion (but not too hard, this is the boring part after all) and even had he not had faith in Jonas and his Working he maybe would sense it now, this sense of Becoming.
"We're from up near Boston," Miles says. And he reaches out and shakes her hand. "What's your name?"
This is even as Jonas, who wears his overcoat like a surcoat, who has this easy sort of languor as though he ought to be leaning on a blade as he watches her, cuts his chin upward and regards her for a moment as she answers his partner (or doesn't). Jonas Allard, too, has presence, all tragic balladry and this sense of overcoming having overcome and - he is fate bound, sworn to. Jonas is the leader here, even though he is speaking less than Miles is.
"We're here because some strange things have been going on with Heath lately. Haven't they?"
Elaine
"Elaine." And it is a name which suits her; she looks like an Elaine, all half-sick of shadows and the bright-thread center of some gallant tragedy, somebody perilous to know - in her modern day coat and her threadbare jeans and her ruined worn boots. Elaine is an archaic name. Ellen is what somebody else might be named. Helen. Jonathan Siddal liked fancy names and bestowed them on all his children, except for Mary Margaret, who still got a twice-queened name in the end anyway.
"If your presence here is defined by strange things going on with Heath, I'm not going to tell you nay," Elaine says, good-naturedly; it's a stalling tactic, neither confirming or denying. Which is confirmation in its own way, isn't it? And there's the way she looks at them. She asks again, "What do you know about him?"
Allard and Lockbourne
There is this way she looks at them, and Miles, who had shaken her hand and then let his own fall back to his side, is also looking at her in this way. He is weighing, see, because - well. If Elaine is looking for information, she is more likely to get it from Jonas, because Jonas simply does not care about her innocence. Or: he sees it, and he knows that sooner or later these things are lost to us, that sometimes we choose to kill the child the not-readiness the fears inside ourselves before something else does it for us.
"He spoke to someone he shouldn't have spoken to," Jonas says. "We know less than we would like. Hence, finding you."
Miles, again, grimaces; but note that he does not stop Jonas from speaking. Doesn't contradict him, either. He's a good follower. "A lot of this probably isn't going to make much sense to you," he says, with a touch of sympathy. "Just bear with us."
Elaine
"This is my bear face, rar," Elaine says, no life in her voice, raising one eyebrow. She holds her hands up, fingers curled loosely into claws. She doesn't immediately follow that comment up with another question or an outpouring of confession, but waits watchful - a hint, perhaps, of the reserve she'll one day no longer need to force; it will be a comfortable gauntlet, it will be like skin.
Allard and Lockbourne
See Elaine's bear face. See the way Miles grins a little, how he finds this a bit endearing: plucky kid who can laugh in the face of the unknown, even if her voice is telling. See how the woman in the car glances up at them again, and then rolls her eyes and languishes against the back of her seat, and goes back to her phone.
This all passes in silence. Jonas watches Elaine, and there is this set to his almost-too-delicate jaw, to his mouth as he watches her, as though he were biting back any words he might have said. In some parts of the world, its far reaches, magma winds and boils just underneath glaciers, which remain implacable and unmoveable (well, almost) and all it does is make them more dangerous, creates deep canyons and boiling pools reeking of sulfur just waiting for unwary feet. Jonas, still a very young man for all his power and composure - he's like that.
Allard and Lockbourne
[Charisma + Intimidation.]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (3, 3, 5, 5, 9, 10, 10) ( success x 3 )
Elaine
[You're not that scary.]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 4, 6, 9, 10) ( success x 3 )
Elaine
[Charisma + Intimidation.]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 3, 5, 6) ( success x 1 )
Allard and Lockbourne
[That's adorable.]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 4, 5, 5, 5, 6) ( success x 1 )
Elaine
This all passes in silence. Elaine lets her hands drop again; fixes her sleeve, there's an ace up it; and then she feels Jonas's eyes on her; does a small double take. When her glance touches his the second time, it stays. Jonas has the kind of stare that unsettles people, that terrifies them; makes them remember that their heart is an animal, and sometimes it races.
Elaine meets it; stares back, and the way evening gathers into darkness after the sun sets, so intensity comes to bear on her gaze; it's a gathering brightness, a kindling sort of (brash) temperamental. She is an older sister; she knows how to play these games. The effect of what might be a potent Look sometimes is ruined by something wistful in her eyes, perhaps, the exact set of her mouth - troubled and upset rather than firm. Still.
Still. Stare.
Allard and Lockbourne
[Miles: This is so awkward :( :( :( ]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (3, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9) ( success x 5 )
Allard and Lockbourne
This is expectant, here. Jonas has the sort of stare that terrifies people, and he knows this on some level that is not wholly conscious. There is no ego there, is the point, no conceit and nothing in him that suggests that he is staring Elaine down for the pleasure of doing so. And if one were to think about it, that might make it all the more unsettling.
Miles shifts from foot to foot and looks between both of them, and there is this moment where his mouth almost opens and just as suddenly he shuts it again.
If he were to stop, it would be because that wistfulness in Elaine's eyes that can be glimpsed, well, if he weren't here for a purpose it otherwise might shame him. But he is here for a purpose; maybe a part of him already knows that the trouble he sees there will be compounded upon itself before the month is out. He knows what Fate holds, Jonas does. It's not for the weak of heart.
Allard and Lockbourne
[Jonas: Okay. We aren't going anywhere.]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (4, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 6 )
Elaine
[I'm - ...just wait until my will isn't sapped, jerk. -_-]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 4, 5, 7) ( success x 1 )
Elaine
Elaine holds Jonas's gaze for as long as she can; but she isn't tempered yet, isn't quite yet the creature she is supposed to be (could be [shall be]), and the metal buckles; the brightness in her gaze reaches a crescendo; her spine goes straight; she glances away, sharp, inhaling at the same time filling her lungs like she is about to go under, and flushes a rather delicate pink.
People have different reactions to things which intimidate them. Some grow quiet, go pale and listless; go with the flow. Others grow combatant and wild. Elaine -
She is thinking, thinking, thinking, and absolutely miserable, neither quite pale and listless or combatant, some median thing. "My brother is not well," she says, as steady-voiced as she can; flicks a little lap-of-a-glance back at Jonas; cannot bear to look at Miles or the car because she is proud.
Allard and Lockbourne
Elaine's brother is not well, but they both knew this. They traced him here, but really he is a waypost on a longer trail, and that trail will turn out to be longer and more winding than any of them know tonight. Years from now, if Jonas hasn't fallen upon his sword by then, if Miles hasn't grown disillusioned the way all good soldiers eventually must, maybe it will come back around: full circle.
"How is he not well?" Jonas, implacable, merciless. It might have been Miles to ask her this question initially, but Miles is just watching her, and quietly. Perhaps he is only sorry, and he would be the only one who is.
Elaine
Elaine's hands bury themselves in her coat pockets again. She finds the candle. It's a heavy cylinder, but short; it probably wouldn't do much damage if she had to throw it in Jonas's face unless she got extremely lucky. The feel of the wax is a comfort; the matches in her other pocket rattle in their box when her knuckles push it out of the way for room.
"I don't know," Elaine says, and halfway through the statement it is clear she's not really sure she doesn't know; she suspects she knows something, and it frightens her far more than an implacable stranger in the not-quite-winter woods. The trouble shadowing her mouth has reached her eyes again; it never really left them. Was just, for a time, replaced by some other troubles.
"What kind of strange things do you think you know have been going on with him?"
Elaine rallies pretty quickly.
[*g* I'm gonna say because she spent a WP to do so. 5 suxx worth of intimidation is skeery.]
Allard and Lockbourne
[Jonas: Do you have a weapon? Perception + Alertness.]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 5, 6, 8) ( success x 2 )
Allard and Lockbourne
[Miles: Hand in pocket?]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 5, 5, 7, 9) ( success x 2 )
Allard and Lockbourne
Elaine reaches into her pocket, and there is this manner in which Miles, who has been the more relaxed of the duo until now, suddenly tenses. Beneath his jacket he has a lean frame, all corded muscle, and there is some hint of that now, some flexing, some deep intake of air which is inaudible but which narrows his focus to a few points on her body. There is this outline of something heavy and cylindrical, there are boots which could conceal more -
And Elaine is showing no sign of knowing how to use a weapon and is even less likely to be carrying an explosive. And yet he is more cautious than before.
"I think you do know," Jonas says, and there is this way in which his head has tilted as he looks at her. His attention had also been called to her when her hand disappeared, but he is more relaxed than Miles is, precisely because he trusts Miles. "Don't try to deflect."
Elaine
[Mrrrr? Perception + Empathy! on - ...Miles, first. -2 Acute Sight.]
Dice: 5 d10 TN4 (1, 2, 4, 6, 9) ( success x 3 )
Elaine
[Now the scary guy!]
Dice: 5 d10 TN4 (2, 2, 3, 9, 10) ( success x 2 )
Allard and Lockbourne
[Jonas, contesting.]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 4, 6, 7, 10) ( success x 3 )
Allard and Lockbourne
[Elaine can certainly see that Miles grew a little warier when she reached into her pocket, and perhaps she can make the intuitive leap from there that he is looking for a weapon, or suspected a weapon, or is merely concerned that there might be one based on past experience and training. She can also tell: parts of this interaction are making Miles very sad. He wishes they did not have to be here.]
Elaine
"Tell me something you think you know about him," Elaine says, because she is stubborn and because she does not think of herself as deflecting right now. She wants purchase. Her gaze cuts to Miles and her throat clicks when she swallows. She takes one hand out of her pockets and brushes a fly away strand of red hair away from her cheek, where it had blown, glinting there a burnished crack, a fairy thread. Cuts back to Jonas, though. The hair catches in her eyelashes, tangles up there, and she sees them both through red; has to brush it away again, tucking her May-Queen hair back and back. Maybe that's why her lashes flutter rapidly.
They are strange enough, the pair of them, that a part of her wants to challenge them with what she thinks she - with what. She is desperate enough; unhappy enough; hopeful enough.
Her voice is low and steady and unpolished; it might be silver, under all that weather, all that tarnish. "I don't know you at all."
Allard and Lockbourne
There is desperation in Elaine, and it does not take a particularly insightful or empathic person to see it. A fortunate thing, that, as it is is not a strength of Jonas's; he is simply too tunnel visioned, too focused on his target. (There is this, too: empathizing with others, a lack of clear divide between your emotions and their own, sometimes makes the necessary all the more difficult, as he will tell Nicholas Hyde one day.)
Still, something in his expression softens, here. Perhaps it is respect for who he knows she will become moreso than who she is, or maybe something in the way she is looking at him now has touched him. It is difficult to say. "He made a bad deal," Jonas says. "And I think we can help him."
An exhale, from Miles. "We can definitely help him, but the kind of help we can offer depends on when we find him."
Elaine
[Hmmmmmmmmmmm......... eloquence? This is hard! Char + Exp.]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 4, 7, 8, 8) ( success x 3 )
Elaine
[And wait! One more Perc + Emp. Really, you're being straight with me. *SQUINTSQUINTWP*]
Dice: 5 d10 TN4 (4, 7, 8, 10, 10) ( success x 6 ) [WP]
Allard and Lockbourne
[Totally exceeds either of their Subterfuge pools.]
Allard and Lockbourne
[Miles: Subterfuge]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 6, 8, 10) ( success x 3 )
Allard and Lockbourne
[Oops, that should've been Jonas]
Allard and Lockbourne
[Miles: Subterfuge]
Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (8, 10, 10) ( success x 3 )
Allard and Lockbourne
[Elaine: she has been having all sorts of flashes of insight, lately. This, these past few days, her dream about Heath and seeing him in the mirror the way she did, and feeling these strange resonances off of these two men, the way reality bends around them as though they'd walked out of the pages of a fairytale (albeit a dark one). Maybe she's seen more than that, other times, other places. Would she even know?
She's keyed up and she's worried about her brother and perhaps she'd meant to go light that candle for him, somewhere private and away from her family. So it makes sense that tonight she can parse the nuances of what they're saying, as though each word they speak were spoken in the language of angles and carried infinite nuance and layer upon layer of meaning.
See, look: they aren't being dishonest, either of them. They do believe they can help Heath, and what's more, they know that they have the power to do so, whatever is wrong with them. Miles is steadfast in this belief, he is even hopeful that maybe Jonas, something he knows from Jonas: he is hopeful that this is wrong and he can help Heath in the way he wants to help Heath. Jonas, well, here's where we take a turn for the darker in this already dark world because Jonas has this sense that Elaine might not like the help that they have to offer her brother. He is not saying that. He is offering only what he can offer, and no more.
Peel back another layer and there is this. They believe they can offer him peace. For a while.]
Allard and Lockbourne
[Oops, should read *whatever is wrong with him]
Elaine
[One more roll. Manip+Subt. I'm totally cool.]
Dice: 2 d10 TN6 (4, 6) ( success x 1 )
Elaine
Elaine wants to be aloof, so badly. She wants to be aloof, collected, a creature of composure; she is none of these things. The air has an ozone taste to it, a bright penny tang; her wrist throbs, maliciously; she does not directly address what she sees in Miles and Jonas as they tell her - what? Something they think they know. A bad deal, their own ability to help. There is no clear reason for them to help Heath Siddal who they don't seem to know, but Elaine does not think to question that kind of urge.
She believes that people are kind, that people want to do the right thing, that humanity's greatest asset is its spirit; that free choice means people are free to choose to be good to one another. Elaine believes that now; Elaine will believe that later, when she has shucked the name Elaine Siddal and takes it out only for special occasions. The name will still suit her. It will suit her differently: she will be less a damosel in a French lay.
"He can't control his temper. He has a temper; he doesn't sleep. I don't think he sleeps at all," and Elaine's voice is distant, remembering how pleased she was when Skyping turned out to be easy, because he'd be up when she was up in Scotland. "But the temper is not at all Heath; I would have thought him on drugs, but - "
Mundane symptoms. Elaine toes the ground, to give herself something to think about, something to meditate on. Her lashes are low, because she is considering the way the pebbles fall: considering the scratches on the toe of her boot. She is extremely lovely right now; she is all gathered up, the plaintive hope at the root of her speech sheathed behind the rather impassioned (Dare You To Keep Your Eyes Open, Dare You To Say I'm A Liar, Dare You To Be So Honest) confession.
She lofts her chin; looks up to meet Jonas's eyes again.
" - it is not that. It can't be; he - " Break. "I keep having dreams about him, you know? He has a crown; it shines like pearls under the moon, but it isn't pearls, it isn't metal, it is teeth; the teeth are - he has this thing on him, it's ridiculous shining teeth latched on, and it is eating him. And he doesn't like it sometimes; and sometimes he doesn't know it's there; and sometimes - "
(She does not yet believe that the only peace is death).
There is a certain assurance now - she is almost sure they're going to disbelieve her after all; that what she is saying is nonsense; that she will be called out for lying (she hates being called out for lying; she never fucking lies). So it's a challenge: Yeah, what'cha gonna do, assholes? Disbelieve me?
Allard and Lockbourne
Mundane symptoms: and yet, for someone who is not-quite-Awake, on the cusp, those last burning heartpounding moments of nightmare before your eyes suddenly snap open, assuming Heath is taking drugs makes a lot of sense. Neither Miles nor Jonas correct her when she makes this supposition, though across the face of Jonas at least there is this ripple, as though her words were a stone, and it shifts into something expectant instead.
He'd said: I think you do know, and he really thinks she does. He wants to hear her say it.
She does not disappoint him. And all he says is, "I believe you, Elaine." And then, softly, because he is somber too, "What else have you seen?"
Miles is quiet (though this could merely be him trying to follow and make sense of her metaphor, her poetry: so many quirks, the other Awakened, and so few who know how to talk straight). They trade, the two of them, an equivocal sort of exchange, with one or the other coming to the forefront depending on who seems to be getting results. They've worked together for a while, at least.
Elaine
"Have you met him before?"
Speaking of equivocal exchanges (which this is not, this is certainly not), Elaine - even as worried as she is (and oh, she is so worried; it is not a relief to talk about Heath but it still needs to be done and she can feel it in the ache of it; the fucking pain of it) - wants something back.
Especially since -
Jonas thinks she isn't going to like it. Miles is so regretful wishes this weren't necessary.
Allard and Lockbourne
"No."
An equivocal exchange it most definitely is not. Though perhaps, given the sensitivity with which Jonas has approached most of this conversation, she could be glad of that. Does she, after all, really want to know what's going on with Heath? (She is daring, she has one eye open already; of course she does.)
That might have been all that was said before Jonas went back to staring. Miles, though, he clears his throat and rolls his shoulders beneath the heavy canvas of his jacket. "Elaine, do you want us to tell you what's going on?"
His mouth is still open, though, as though he'd say more, and he makes eye contact then, and he has friendly brown college-kid-next-door sort of eyes. Before she can say anything he adds, "Keep in mind that once we tell you we can't take it back."
There is something impatient about Jonas here, as he lets his hands fall to his sides and his eyes drop to the ground and away.
Elaine
[Eep? Another Perception + Empathy roll! Boom!]
Dice: 5 d10 TN4 (2, 2, 8, 8, 9) ( success x 3 )
Elaine
[And then for J!]
Dice: 5 d10 TN4 (1, 1, 3, 4, 5) ( success x 2 )
Allard and Lockbourne
[Miles: still something sad about him, here. Elaine can pick up on that, just as she has before. There is something else there though, some hesitation, the kind of hesitation people have when they're about to tell you something they know you won't believe. This is not the same as lying badly (though Miles certainly isn't skilled at deception.) He's hesitating because he might be about to tell Elaine some Really Weird Shit. He thinks she will believe it, but it is still really weird.
Jonas: Is impatient, it has been said. He is impatient, perhaps, with the fact that Miles is asking permission; Jonas would have just told her. But he doesn't fight Miles here, not in front of Elaine. They're a team, they and the eye-rolling woman in the car.]
Elaine
"Do I want you to tell me what's going on? With my brother?"
And earlier, when she couldn't keep holding Jonas's stare, she was metal; she was metal with a flaw, buckling. That metal's back in the forge; going molten, transformative . Elaine's voice cracks; she'd throw her fucking voice in the fire for betraying her, too, if she bothered to care; the body will do what it does. "Of course I do!" Expansive; a wild gesture with one hand; it could cut. She toes the pebbles savagely, sends a spray kicking toward the two strangers.
Even behind the passionate expression of her anger, her shoulders set, she is plaintive; she wants to see these two properly; believes they could be helpful, couldn't they, believes something - difficult to put into words or even feelings. "What do you think, that I just ask you questions to hear myself talk? Don't you think maybe I want to fucking know; I don't know you; I just know you're all wishful and you're all leaving shit out because you don't think it's necessary and - I want to help."
Time to stop, Elaine. She does, jaw setting again, sharp. She takes her other hand out of her pocket at long last, letting the candle settle, and folds her arms across her chest instead - or begins to and then judges that cowardly see so she laces her fingers and braces her hands on the back of her neck instead.
Allard and Lockbourne
Miles, he flinches in the face of her anger. It has been established that people have all sorts of reactions to intimidation, and people are intimidated for all sorts of reasons. His guilt is an oozing wound, and Elaine has just poked her fingers into it. The muscles at the corner of his jaw bunch together, and he angles his face away.
Jonas does not. Of course Jonas does not. He stares at her as she becomes molten, as her voice cracks and sparks. It is this sort of dispassion, this layer of removal from her and what she says, and perhaps this is an intentional thing. (Perhaps this is only how he protects himself. He is young too, remember.) His anger, see, if she had glimpsed it earlier, it was all beneath and her fire does not bring it out of him now.
"Do you believe in possession, Elaine?" he asks. "Or...I have the feeling you're well read. Have you read or seen Faust? The Devil and Tom Walker? What was it...seven years of prosperity in exchange for your soul? Do you understand what I'm telling you?" His questions have a sort of rhythm to them, his voice this rapid cadence, and Jonas: sometimes there is this sense that he is acting, that if he ever has a flair for drama it's because he is trying to fit into a pair of shoes that are still too big for him.
He knows the future. It's not for the faint of heart.
He does not wait for her to answer. The fading light hides one of his eyes beneath the fall of his hair, and his voice is as unbroken and inflexible as the rest of him, reedy and sharp. "Just so we're clear, possession is the best scenario we were hoping for here. That's what's going on with your brother."
Elaine
"What's the worst scenario?"
Allard and Lockbourne
He does not blink. "We kill him, because at best he's not your brother anymore, and at worst he's going to spread his corruption to everything and everyone he comes in contact with."
Elaine
Elaine stares at Jonas. Brief flash [ardent, careful] of a glance for Miles, because in spite of herself Miles's demeanor has worked on her, and it is the sort of glance that looks for - not reassurance (perhaps it is obvious that Elaine does not look for reassurance from anybody who is withoutherself), but some sign of - some reaction to put Jonas further in context. But after that brief glance, Elaine stares at Jonas, and also does not blink. Stare down the second. Maybe she thinks that he is going to falter, to back down and take his words back, and it's another test test test, not because she doesn't believe them (she should be denying them; she should, shouldn't she), but because: how dare he?
And because: Elaine is the exact opposite of dispassionate; compassionate and passionate in equal measure.
And because: she probably has to gather her thoughts (she doesn't seem as if she is gathering her thoughts; reactive creature, quick-tempered and heedless for more years than she'll like to admit later on she'll feel so awful about how young she was for so long). Her mouth firms.
Quick, she drops her hands from her head; keeps them (hide, hide) behind her back.
Allard and Lockbourne
When Elaine glances in his direction, Miles meets her eyes again, and his are narrowed not from anger but in that sad way, and maybe there's still a bit of a wince on his face because Jonas did not need to be so direct. There were gentler things he could have said, that might still have gotten the point across. Elaine still sleeps, meaning: she does not understand the context in which they live out their reality. Not yet.
What she doesn't see is a shred of doubt about what Jonas just said. Even though he says, "We're hoping for it to not be like that," or, at least, Miles seems like he is hoping for it to not be like that. "We wanted to find him before things have a chance to become the worst case scenario."
Jonas throws a glance over his shoulder at the shorter man, then. "False hope isn't going to do her any favors, Miles." (Perhaps he, too, will feel awful about how young he was for so long.)
And here Miles draws in a breath. "Elaine, I'm sorry you have to hear this. Talk to me, okay?"
Elaine
Back behind her back Elaine is playing with the cuff of her coat, and with the late gone to less than half-light, blue evening radiant above and the shadows very long, the air has gone from brisk to as cold as the flat of a knife, and a fine shiver works its way under her skin. Behind her back: this is her finger, this is her palm, this the knuckle, this is the first button, this is the thread where the button was lost.
She is staring at Jonas and she is thinking, very hard. Blue evening is radiant above; eyes are not radiant. They are the bottom of a lake - or the potential of a lake-bottom, the potential under water, see, they are in shadow especially when she inhales. A soft echo, gentle even.
"Yes?"
As in: okay.
[>.> manipsubt.]
Dice: 2 d10 TN6 (5, 9) ( success x 1 )
Allard and Lockbourne
[J: Whaaaat are you doing]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 6, 8, 9, 9) ( success x 4 )
Allard and Lockbourne
[scratch that.]
Allard and Lockbourne
[J: Let's try this again]
Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (1, 6, 10) ( success x 2 )
Allard and Lockbourne
[M: ???]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 3, 4, 10) ( success x 1 )
Elaine
[Tie-break! >.>]
Dice: 2 d10 TN6 (6, 7) ( success x 2 )
Allard and Lockbourne
[Tie break!]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (5, 7, 8, 10, 10) ( success x 4 )
Elaine
[Ugh.]
Elaine
Alertness:
Gnarly, weird bruise on her wrist, hidden but eh Jonas caught a glimpse; a dead fox in the trees over there, bullet spray pock-marks in the trees over there; the knife in her boot (yes, the left one) is small but the kind that flips out, has serration; the cold is about to become the kind that lets snow gently down, flake by flake; the snow hasn't reached them yet but the roil of clouds, you see.
Empathy:
She is trying not to appear as though she wants to leave or wants to stay. She wants both because people want contradictory things. Hesitation. She's pretty sure that Jonas is going to committed to killing Heath. That's why she'd leave. But she's also pretty terrified, and she feels an obligation of sorts, and she knows knows knows something is really, really wrong, and if something is that wrong then -
well there's a reason she hasn't left yet and said 'okay' to talking more eh.
Further Adventures in Empathy:
So. Same deal, more nuance. Elaine figures that Jonas is committed to killing Heath because of that 'false hope' crack, which she feels quite argumentative about. Elaine's impulse is to turn her back and leave them in the field - she doesn't have any thoughts about whether or not they'd let her go; she just wants to go because she loves Heath. She hasn't gone because she loves Heath and because something she has seen has made her open to the idea (subconsciously, mind you, very subconsciously) that he might need to be stopped. And because she just wants to help him, see. Great moral distress. She is just sad; she is so sad and she is so angry and in some pain and really sad and she doesn't know what to do or if she should tell them about or if she shouldn't. She'd be pretty close to tears if she hadn't cried recently; it's just one more bad thing, you use it up. Apologizing to her just makes her angry; she is struggling to not be angry. Good thing she's so sad. PASSION SO MUCH PASSION it really sucks but eh.
Elaine
Oh, and she's a little worried they might think she's been 'corrupted.' It's a thought that has occurred to her.
Allard and Lockbourne
The bruises are interesting, there and there and the dead animal back there. Jonas is considering, Jonas is weighing whether or not he should say anything. Sometimes being sidetracked is useful, see. He just isn't sure if it especially is right this minute.
Miles has grown quiet again. He sighs and both of his hands, strong things they are though small, with thick blunted fingers, latch together behind his neck and pull it forward. It's almost a stretch, or it looks like he's a prisoner being marched forward at gunpoint: hands up. His first instinct, see, was to apologize for apologizing, so he bites his tongue until he can find the right words to say.
"I know this is a lot," he says, and his hands finally fall away. "Please help us help him, or at least stay where we know you're safe."
"There's more you want to tell us," Jonas says.
Elaine
Elaine kicks some stones toward Jonas and Miles again. Alas, but they do not ricochet up and blind them both, or make her feel better, or ease the band of pressure around her ribs which has made it difficult to breathe. Her lashes fall low for half-a-second; when she lifts them, it's almost too quick, like she caught herself: can't do that; that's cowardice.
"I'd rather I was unsafe than anybody else," she says, in a what's the point of staying out of the fray / away from danger sort of way; it doesn't come from a martyr's instinct. And then, "Also, there's no such thing as 'false' hope, there's just hope. Also, he's not always unwell. I'm just not around any more, so I..."
Elaine plays with the loose thread of her sleeve, the button.
"This is fucked up. I should go." Tension mounts, and: "I believe in all manner of things, or might believe in them," Elaine says, and here she is: ardent. "I believe that you might have gone through an ordeal, you might have been wracked, but come out unbroken; I believe you might be undergoing metamorphosis, or you have already, like one of Ovid's creatures - transforming; and that you might flourish; that you might flourish where ever you go, like a strangle-vine or a weed or a music scene. I believe that my dreams, which are just dreams, they're nothing, I believe that they mean something; that he has something on his back. Maybe he is possessed. I believe his reflection is curdling and losing its consistency; I believe he becomes incoherent sometimes, and his eyes change, you know, they just change - he has a kid, you know? I believe he just wants to do the right thing."
Elaine
ooc: actually, scratch the 'This is fucked up.' Elaine wouldn't say that. (grin)
Allard and Lockbourne
They both watch her, and Jonas's eyelids flicker as she names some part of him, that he might've been wracked. Miles, who has no idea who Ovid is, much less Ovid's creatures, lets out a breath and listens to her, this affirmation that she needs to speak just now.
"I believe you have it in you to be great," Jonas says, because he's seen -
Well, we know what he's seen. Perhaps he means this to be comforting, perhaps he means it as an appreciation for what she has just said, perhaps it is a recognition of her bravery and daring. Perhaps he says it because he thinks he might have to kill her soon too, let's not rule that one out.
"You should go," Miles agrees, and he says this before Jonas can say anything else. There is this look to his cabal mate, the sort of look that says that they have a lot to talk about.
And neither of them would stop her if she left just then. Darkness is falling.
Elaine
[What? Why? Why are you saying that? I don't like it! For some reason I feel like in the future I will REALLY DISLIKE IT! Per + Emp. *grin* With WP, because she doesn't want to be inducted into their creepy cult.]
Dice: 5 d10 TN4 (2, 4, 4, 5, 6) ( success x 5 ) [WP]
Allard and Lockbourne
[J: It will be a mystery that will haunt you until you die. I am very mysterious.]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 4, 5, 7, 9) ( success x 2 )
Allard and Lockbourne
[Elaine has been seeing a lot tonight. And sometimes we see more than we want to see, that's true. The first and most obvious: Elaine spoke true. Jonas did indeed experience some sort of ordeal, he was wracked, and it was probably terrible. He is not much older than she is, but he has been doing this for a long, long time.
Jonas does indeed appreciate her bravery and daring. In a way, this is perhaps Jonas's way of saying: everything is going to be all right. He knows something about Elaine that she doesn't know. He believes that whatever is about to happen, whatever ordeal, she too will be unbroken. He has confidence that she can face some sort of hard truth and that this was, partly, why he was so direct with her in the first place. He says greatness: he means destiny.]
Elaine
Elaine gives Jonas this careful clear-eyed look, lifts her chin because she sees -
Well, we know what she sees. There is a subtle change to her expression; perhaps it remains occulted, not because she is good at hiding her feelings (she is not), but because whatever her response is it is multi-layered and complex.
Before Jonas can say anything else, before she can say anything else, Miles is agreeing with her: She should go. Elaine cuts him a look, but she does take a step backward, and another. "He's really good. Heath. Heath Siddal. He's great, not me. And not you either, I bet. Don't - "
Her throat tightens. She shoves her hands in her pocket again and comes out with the church candle, which she passes from hand to hand, and perhaps she is taking some self-possession from the feel of the wax against her palm. Her lashes have gone low; her head is bent, just so; she looks as if she is the kind of creature who lures knights astray, into a tower or onto the milk-white horse or under the hill; she looks like a painting, but then she always looks like a painting.
"Don't hurt him if you meet," and it is a little helpless. Because what can she say; how can she even react to this? "Don't you dare, and be careful of - "
Half-laugh; it has no sound. Let it go, a rush: " - be careful of the shadow, right?"
And then, she straightens; impulsive, and decisive. She is very young. She throws the candle at the window where a certain dark-haired girl with a cell-phone is sitting, and she throws the candle at the window HARD. And then Elaine shoves her hands into her pockets again. It hurts her to do that, she does it with such force, and there is something so wrong under her sleeve; then instead of going back the way she came, she whisks between the (Mages) very strange strangers and their car and goes the way she meant to go all along -- forward: over field, around factory, through the woods.
