The great equalizer

Ned
They'd begun to make this a habit, though not regularly enough to call it a Mentorship.

Ned would have gotten in touch with Nick with a simple text message.

Alright. So what's next?

Like someone fiddling around with a gun, eyeball down the barrel for a split second while fumbling with it around in his hands. If Ned had any indication of how it came across or represented him, he either didn't seem to care or was beyond considering the diplomacy of such things. Nevertheless, they agreed to meet and Ned would make his way out to wherever, whenever Mr. Hyde opted to point him.

"You know..." Somewhere on the way, Ned chimes in with a carefully constructed bit of thought in his tone. "I didn't realize before but your last name...do you get a lot of Jekyll 'n Hyde jokes...?"

Nick Hyde
Mr. Hyde opts to point Ned to the chantryhouse, where he already planned to spend some of his day.  While he tends to be a more hands-on and experiential sort of learner, picks up and performs magick in a far more intuitive manner than his wife and several of his prior cabalmates, Nicholas occasionally does find books to be of some benefit.  He's an intelligent man: he just isn't necessarily studious in the way one tends to imagine such things.

He has been at the chantry for a few hours already when he receives Ned's text, and so he suggests that the relatively new initiate come out to meet him there.  When Ned arrives he is no longer pouring over tomes but instead out behind the house, where earlier he scribed a circle in ash and memory.

Whatever he was doing there, he is done with: there is a smudge marring the circle, and it lies there broken.  He is in the process of ducking next to the hot spring behind the building, gathering water from it into a small vial, and that is where Ned will find him upon his arrival.  And so: Nick straightens, and he offers a smile and greeting.

"I do," he says, though it is without any particular sourness toward the fact.  "I got it more often growing up when other kids thought they were being funny.  My Hermetic friends who were given to nicknaming didn't seize on it because it was too obvious."

Ned
"Right, because someone who's empathically inclined having a name like yours. Does sort of ring with 'on the nose'..."

Ned offers it without much mirth and no derision. His hands are stuffed into his pockets and his eyes are gathering around the landscape of the Chantry house, with all of it's...oddities and the sense of out of place that comes with it for a city boy like Ned. To say he's uncomfortable would be inaccurate. There is no mistaking the slight wince of...well, weirdness he must be feeling at the moment.

"So this is the big deal, huh? The way the Doc described it, I was expecting some sort of flashy delivery or fortified bunker. You'd think the lot of you would want to keep this place as secure as possible."

Nick Hyde
Nick has taken a small cork out of his pocket, which he works very carefully into the mouth of the little vial, tapping it a few times down with the pad of his thumb and pressing until the nail goes white.  He gives the vial a little shake or two, holding it between thumb and forefinger, until he has satisfied himself that it is not going to leak.

It is tucked away beneath his shirt and out of sight; once he slips it past his collar it seems to vanish entirely.  A corner of his mouth lifts at Ned's wry comment about his name.  "You didn't know me as a teenager."

Once the vial is gone, he brushes his hands together, perhaps to rid them of any residue from the circle he drew and from the springwater, and follows Ned's glance around the little outdoor space.  "I think in the old days there might have been more fortification, but that was before both our times.  Besides, some of the fortification that is here isn't visible unless you're looking with the right eyes.  There's a spirit guardian and some other weaving here."

Ned
"Huh."

Ned is weighing the pros and cons just then of activating something. Peripheral, perceptual or just outright x-ray to do some scans but the way Nick suggests some things and outright claims at a Spirit Guardian makes it momentary. Ned is not a student of Spirit and one would be hard pressed to convince him to begin or become one. That was what Margot was for, afterall.

"Are there no permanent residents? Or is this like-" Ned struggles for a second for the right word, hands brushing down the length of his jeans for a moment to rid them of sweat "-Communal space? No residents just guests whenever?"

Nick Hyde
"I think there might be permanent residents that I haven't met.  I'm not out here very often," Nick says, with a shrug of one shoulder.  This is not hard to imagine: the chantry house is an hour's drive outside the city, overlooking the plains and mountains and rocky knolls.  Still: it is not hard to imagine Nick out here.

"Some chantries do have permanent residents.  The one I used to frequent back in Connecticut had three or four people who lived there regularly and would take care of and maintain the grounds.  But they were all pretty close, and had a lot in common with each other.  Most of the time it's difficult to get people like us to share space on an extended basis."

Nick flicks his curly head back toward the door.  "Do you want me to show you the library?  The node is in the spring."

Ned
"Is it part of today's interrogation?"

Ned has approached the spring while Nick is speaking, eyes dipping into the waters with careful scrutiny and an attempt to decipher...well something. Maybe he's willing himself to try and see what those with Prime might sense intuitively. Maybe he's just trying to inspect the physical properties and whether they may be different to the naked eye. Regardless the question is passed over his shoulder at the older man.

"The Doc's Library is fairly extensive. I'm learning about Matter right now, which has him particularly smug in the teaching efforts. I assume a Chantry's library is far broader in scope given how many different paradigms come wandering through here at any given point."

Nick Hyde
"Do you feel as though you're being interrogated?"  Here, another slant of a smile.

Steam surrounds the spring, visible even in the summer humidity and heat: it hangs over the spring like a fog, like the mists of Faerie.  Step into them and you could step into another world, and you might not come back.  Ned could sense the significance of such a place, even without Prime.  Knowing how to drink from its waters is something else again.

"How is it going, learning Matter from Andrés?"  Nick's pronunciation of the Etherite's name is easy, rolls off his tongue; he has never taken to calling him the Doc the same way Margot and Ned do.  "You do get a broader scope here in a chantry, though it's still biased toward certain styles of learning and so certain Traditions and schools of thought.  Also certain histories.  There are plenty of historical texts back there too, and literature written by and for Awakened audiences, if you have any interest."

Ned
"I knew you were going to say that."

Ned tuts and snorts and chuckles all at once.

"It's fine. We're similarly minded in scientific interaction across both Matter and Forces so it has been a pretty smooth transition for those. There was a brief indication when I was still an apprentice that it'd be a good idea for me to become a Son of Ether." Ned's tone doesn't betray just how he might feel about that particular element.

"Science isn't everything though." He pulls back from the pool of water with it's reflective come hither, turning to face Nick again, hands in pockets and careful steps drawing across the grassy turf.

"My interests usually revolve around the present and now. I hated history in school. Lot of mistakes folks refused to learn from. Lot of the same stories and beliefs and structures replaying themselves over and over and over again." He laughs suddenly. "No matter how simple the wheel is, folks seem to keep repeating their same shitty mistakes."

Nick Hyde
"Clearly I should change my game a little, then," is Nick's rejoinder, once Ned's chuckle stills in his throat.

To the rest, he listens intently.  This is not always with his eyes on Ned; he has leaned back against the arm of one of the wood chairs that are scattered around the porch.  He lifts his foot so he can tug at the laces of one of his shoes (well made brown leather dress shoes, if worn at the heels and the outer edges) and wiggle it off of his foot.  He nods once or twice, here and there.  "What made you choose not to go with the Society of Ether?"

He tugs his sock off, tucks it away in a ball inside the shoe and lets the whole thing drop to the floor with a clatter.  Lifts the other foot to tend to it in the same way as he listens.

"People have short memories.  Most people don't remember the lives they had before, so to them it's all new every time.  Even if you do remember, the sense of you as an individual usually prevails over that connection to history and the larger whole."

Ned
"If anything, they're incomplete. Kind of like everyone else I've investigated." Investigated sounds a bit made up. Or at least, fantastical, when Ned says it. As if he'd given cursory glances at every Tradition under the sun and in the 'book' and come away with an opinion. Nothing worth it's salt or substance, but enough to go by.

"Science explains a lot, but only in so much as it's a cipher for how to understand the universe which...doesn't really want anything to do with those of us thinking kind. The universe does whatever it does, however it does. Same with the Umbra and spirit. They're going to operate and function regardless of our efforts. The impact we have is questionable, at best. You throw in the relation with have to any of them. Time, Entropy, Corr...each of them is a separate sort of interaction that has similarities to maybe a few others. Ultimately, it comes down to puzzle pieces. Each sphere represents a corner or a section that each Tradition is working on to understand proper but...without the other sections and their understandings, it's only ever going to be a part of the puzzle so..."

He shrugs, hands clapping infront of him, clucking his tongue at the back of his throat.

"Science holds sway in the realms of Forces and Matter. Scientific principle makes too much sense that way. Spirit and Prime are in their own House, wholly outside of the boundaries of 'mortal thinking' and mysterious. Time and Space...or Corr...are a step above even the Science of Forces and Matter...while Mind and Life are entirely, thoroughly intimate and impossible to ignore on a personal level..." He pauses, a hand coming up to count each of them off for a second before fingers snap.

"Leaving Entropy. The great equalizer across all spectrums. Each Tradition has a section of the puzzle they've been working on. Except the scope is so big, so broad to vast as to make Time and Space and Reality all just 'parts' of the whole...it is unfathomable." A pause. Brow furrowing. "At least from our current perspectives but then...that's enlightenment, yeah? What we're all working toward?'

Nick Hyde
Nick is a good listener.  This is generally the first thing other people notice about him, how he reflects others' emotions back at them sometimes before they know what they are feeling, how his eyes convey understanding.  He nods, intermittently, as Ned speaks to him about Spheres.

"Say more about Entropy being an equalizer across all spectrums."  His shoes and socks are off now and he has turned toward rolling his pants up at the bottom, cuffing one leg and then the other neatly at the middle of his calf.

Ned
"Kind of hard. Half of me expects it to act as the over-arching definer for each and every other sphere. They can't all be immortal or shift and change without some semblance or rate of decay. Mind and Life are obvious for that, while Matter and Forces produce it in inertia, gravity, momentum and the lack of perpetuation. What we conceive of as 'infinite' is just a term that we attach to a concept too vast to think about in truth. So entropy is the answering force to reduce and make efficient all other Spheres and Infleunces. It's what ensures everyone and everything has room to play in and that the odds are always geared toward maintaining that sense of 'fairness'."

Ned's face screws up at this last word, as if it struck him as all wrong. He thinks for a second and then shakes his head, unable to decipher another word to use.

"Entropy feels like it could be above the others but it also seems like it's just a slave to them as well. Constantly needing to put away the toys of everyone else, so that the day, the sun, the wheel...can keep turning."

Nick Hyde
"So you're looking for some sort of great unifier, then, moreso than an equalizer," Nick says, and his voice has the quality of a musing.  There is a thoughtfulness too in his eyes, in how they track off into the mist that he stands in front of.  He is headed over toward the spring, meets it in a few brief strides.

It is too hot really for him to slide to the ground in front of it and let his feet fall into the waters, but he does it anyway.  The mist around it wreathes him, settles into his hair and lends him an otherworldliness.  He belongs in this sort of place.

"You're looking for missing pieces.  What do you think might be missing from the Traditions you've spoken to so far, and the points of view you've heard?"

Ned
"That would be the deciding factor. Whether it's an equalizer or a unification process. Regardless of that decision, it's above my paygrade in all this. The complexities are vast and I have about as much understanding of how it all fits together as one would expect...namely, that of a second year uni. student thinking they've defined the world according to all the second year philosophy studies they took during first year."

He doesn't follow Nick over to the spring. Simply waits nearby, hands in his pockets as the man's feet slip into the water. Ned is observant. Curious, perhaps of what might occur or whether they would be some noticeable change in the way Nick begins to interact. Safely removed though.

"I'm content to wait for the pieces to come to me but the Puzzle is there. Hard to deny. Mainly I'm discovering that the rules are no where near as simple as they first seemed and that is only on par with my understanding. I have no doubt the higher up the echelons you go, the more complex and intensive it all gets, to match the level of enlightenment and regard you need to achieve those echelons."

He sighs next, head lolling back to stare upward.

"Of those I've spoken with or had some exposure to? Commonality seems to be the key. The only time I've been told that the Traditions work together was during this Ascension War and that...did not go well but again...these are all simplifications. Mainly, what I imagine is missing? Is a willingness to admit that others can be right." He holds up a hand. "Not admitting that you're wrong. But that others can be right."

Nick Hyde
At this, Nick makes a thoughtful sound deep in his throat.  "I think that might be true of each Tradition, as an entity.  Individuals, though, I think have to accept that other people can be right in order to work with them.  At least, I think most of the time that other people are right for themselves, even if their philosophy isn't right for me."

Trust a counselor to say such a thing.

The air around him does not change; perhaps he is only choosing to soak in the water, for now.  Or perhaps he is preparing himself for something else: it would be difficult to say to one who is as yet uneducated in the Spheres Nick tends to make the most use of.

"What would you rather see, or what sorts of things would other people say to you, ideally speaking?"

Ned
"Well given what being an individual outside of the Traditions entails more often than not? I'd say that speaks to how important an Individual's opinion is."

He chuckles, dismissive without being bitter or unpleasant about it.

"Traditions are as much a clubhouse of respect and backing as they are a philosophy. Having that amount of history and power behind you can do a lot for your voice and recognition. For your place in the world and how much influence you might be able to have on it. Comes with its prices and demands, mind you but that's to be expected."

"I-" He pauses. Thinks about it for a second. "-don't know what I want to see just yet. Most of it revolves around various methods of making life better for others. Or just ensuring comfort is there, whether you're dying, living or want to do either. "

Nick Hyde
"Individuals shape Traditions.  Each of us matters, as an individual, and each of us can shape reality.  I don't think we can overlook that, being the sorts of people we are," he says.  And Nicholas is an idealist, but the words are not said without a certain gravity to them.

"Admittedly, Disparates get dismissed in a lot of circles, but there are still some that have power and influence.  I knew a few in Boston who probably knew more about the inner workings of the Traditions there than most Traditionalists did."

Nick's feet sway in the spring, and he leans back on the heels of his hands.  "How would you make life better for others?"

Ned
"Not overlooking it, simply giving history it's due. Individuals don't have nearly the level of impact on long stranding Traditions as they do in maintaining them. Half of history's problem is wrapped up in how people adhered dogmatically to the singular method previously defined in earlier generations." He snorts slightly.

"Helping others is....a big topic. It depends on the individual-" He snorts again, laughing this time. "You help whoever you need to whenever you need to, but only if you have the capacity to help otherwise you're just hindering or spending time someplace you could be spending elsewhere. Or fucking things up for the person further. You gotta know and if you don't, figure it out and if you can't, leave it alone until you can or find someone else who can. Other than that...it's just details."

Nick Hyde
"Do you not think the details are important?"  There is a glance back over his shoulder for Ned here, a half-lashed look up at the younger man as he leans a little bit farther backward on his hands to allow for it.  "I think it is important to understand your limitations, though, at least until you manage to surpass them."

Likely his wife would disagree; they have had discussions about that very thing.  Such are the travails of being married to someone outside of one's Tradition.

"Do you remember any lives before this one, Ned, out of curiosity?"

Ned
 "I think the details are ignored. Which is what people are fond of doing. Ignoring facts to believe and that...well is sort of the crux of us isn't it? Believing what we like or hope or demand, to ensure we can do what needs doing. If the details get in the way of that...well, it's a long road to Enlightenment."

Ned shrugs. He has yet to draw closer. Yet to approach the pool. There's something....distrusting in his stance and regard, that says the Chantry as a whole is probably not up to his particular comfort zones.

"I don't remember anything past early childhood and there are spots and sections that are blurry at best. Past lives are something I can't put a lot of stock in until I get some sort of understanding about why they exist or why they function the way they do. If it's a universal truth that all lives are multiples across Time, that says a lot about both Life and Time as spheres."

Nick Hyde
"They may be ignored by other people, but they might be important for you to know in order to do what needs to be done."  He is still glancing back at Ned, sweeping his attention over him and his stance and how he hangs back rather than approaching the pool.

Perhaps he had known that the chantry would be a bit outside Ned's comfort zone.  Regardless, he does not call him forward.

"What do you think it says, if it's a universal truth across Time?"  A beat.  "Let's say you were to discover some universal truth.  Do you think it would be truly universal, or only your perception of what universal is?  How would you know?"

Ned
"I wouldn't. Thus, not really something I can put a lot of thought into until I get some level of personal proof, truth or fact behind it. Right now it's as valid as the Doc telling me the-" and here his hands flutter and flit about in the air overhead, eyes rolling in tandem "-flux capacitor requires ionizational charges off the core components found in red on the buffer triangulation device. Though only because I've seen the Doc make something like that happen with my own two eyes....and I've talked to River."

The comparison there could not be any more distinctively different but Ned's tone suggests there is a correlation he is comfortable with.

"Finding out details. As much as possible before the decision is made. If I can, I will, if I can't, then I'll make the time. If I can't do that, I'll leave it in the hands of someone that can. If I can't do that, I'll make the hard choice." A pause. "As far as universal truth goes well....I suppose I'd go looking for that truth until I found it, or something to make it irrelevant. Like a Tradition...or bullet."

Nick Hyde
Ned describes the way Andrés perceives magick, perceives making magick work for him, and Nick laughs.  It's a sweet sound, sudden and clear as a bell at dawn, the sort of sound that other people might not immediately attribute to him.  When he speaks again, his voice still carries traces of amusement in it.  "What if it's all true?  The way Andrés sees it, and the way the Conventionals see it, and the way I see it, and you?  Do you need more proof than that it works?"

There is a furrow in his brow when Ned continues.  This, though, he does not address immediately.

His feet sway in the water, and perhaps it's only to soften the sound: it's a hard word, bullet.  The Hermetics, those who have studied Enochian, might shape the word itself and all the significance around it, everything it is and means and could possibly convey: this is the power of a Word.

Ned
"It all is true, is the thing. I've seen what the Doc can do. I know what I can do. I know what Margot can do and those are vastly different elements and belief structures. If anything, belief is the commonality behind it all but even then, that's suspect at best. I don't really...care though." He shrugs rather helplessly.

"Half of belief is about what you have on your inside self and how well you reconcile it. Mostly I know what I believe and what it represents to the way I work reality. Some of it interacts comfortably with how the Doc sees things and some of it interacts more with the way Margot does. There are whole elements yet to piece themselves together running in the background, that might be where your past lives structure fits. The main idea though is...well....any soapbox preacher can tell you and believe wholly and deeply the world is going to end tomorrow....and he'll be wrong because he isn't awake. He isn't working with the puzzle, just the little piece that he is."

Nick Hyde
"Belief is the commonality, but it seems to conflict with your desire for proof," Nick says, and there is a slight smile here.  There are traces of warmth in it; there is no mockery there, though perhaps Ned will perceive such anyway.  He is a distrustful man, after all.

"Maybe the preacher isn't wrong.  Maybe it's just that no one is listening to him in the right way, or he hasn't discovered the right words.  You'll find plenty of doomsayers who are Awakened, too."

Ned
"Belief is proof. You don't need facts to make someone certain, just convince them to believe by whatever means they're comfortable with. That's where Science sort of falls apart. Preacher's wrong because he doesn't have the tools or the equipment to make belief real, regardless of what's been proven before a thousand days to a thousand days before hand. World didn't end then, it won't end tomorrow."

Ned sucks in a breath, slow and deep, exhaling it out in a long sigh.

"Say what you want about a War, when it gets waged, it's done to high proof. High concept. High belief. Soldiers don't need facts, just an enemy they believe is in the wrong and the weapons and orders to make it right again. Folks die by that Tradition and they die by the Bullet. Everything else is-...heh, details."

Nick Hyde
"Science is as much its own religion as anything else," Nick says, and he says this with a shrug of one shoulder.  "The Technocrat purists don't want to admit that, but I think some of them know that they have to inspire people with it in order to get them to believe."

Nick lifts one of his hands away from the cobblestone floor, examines it and scrapes a pebble away with the tip of a finger.  "It sounds like you're more interested in being the soldier than someone who examines the high concepts, then.  Which is all right.  We need soldiers too."

Ned
"I'm more interested in doing what's right until I get the proof I need to figure out what's right. Traditions have been around for a long time and if there's any thing I've begun to recognize in the last while it's that Traditions don't die easily, the alternative is a Brown Paper Bag with a White Collar and the third option is what I'm currently doing which is nothing and an early death sentence. Nothing gets you killed. Or worse."

Ned swallows, gently. Something about his tone suggests there is a quality there that might not have been before. A recognition that being outside of the boundaries of what is these days...really really wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

Nick Hyde
"So what right thing can you do, then, until you figure out what's right?"  And Nick's voice too is gentle; there is something of Ned's manner, of his hesitance, reflected there in Nick's tone.  It may be something that is done unconsciously; Nicholas Hyde often responds to others and to situations intuitively.

He is an instinctive creature, if one is inclined to boil it all down, no matter how many layers of thought and analysis he has attempted to heap on the world.

"And how can I support you in that?"

Ned
"I can kill, where necessary and I can..." He sucks in a breath, as if this next part is the actual difficult one. "I can keep people from being killed. Those two are...remarkably, outstandingly easy. Beginning and an end. Allowance of progress or the cessation of it. What they do after either is beyond my paygrade. Outside of my boundary." He's shaking his head. Remembering an old man with a glass knife. Remembering a broken sibling to a best friend. Remembering worse than both combined.

"Failure in either, means a problem but it's a problem I'm equipped for. It's a problem I can solve. The Tradition is equipped to help me believe those have purpose. That there's something beyond those two options. That the Wheel provides and that if there are lives beyond this one? Those individuals have a chance. An option. But they have to be given that chance and that option. Because taking a life...or sparing it. Those are easy. Anyone can do it.... Anyone at all."

Nick Hyde
"I don't know if I would say anyone," Nick says.  "But I understand the desire for simplicity, after you Awaken into a complicated world."

There is a little furrow of his brow here, lines and ridges that appear and shift, the motion of the world made miniscule.  "But I hope that you do understand that if you're initiated, sometimes you'll be called upon to understand when killing is necessary and when it isn't.  That requires some understanding of nuance.  Details."

Ned
"Nick."

He pauses. As if he realizes who he is about to...correct. The pause doesn't last. Longer than any he's managed before, but it doesn't last.

"Living in this world, awake just makes me realize there are a far cry of experiences, entities and beliefs that can make anyone of sound mind and rational thought, willing to believe, capable of anything at all. They just need the right motivation and if proof doesn't exist...or rather, if belief is the promise we make to be right well...anyone can kill or spare a life. It's just the details that make that process complicated."

A shrug. A hand rising to scratch at the back of his neck, a slight wince riding his face. That same level of unspoken discomfort that he buries in his tone and convictions a moment later.

"I understand the details and when it's necessary I'll do what needs doing or find someone who can. Belief doesn't need nuance though. Belief doens't make you kill someone or spare them it just...convinces you it's a good idea. After that, you make the choice and the choice...well yeah. I'll consider ever detail I can before making any choice in this or ever. You can't not. Even serial killers pay attention to the details, it's all they have to go on half the time." He pokes the air, like tapping a fact on a white board. "Make everything just so."

Nick Hyde
Ned says his name just before there is a breath of air, and it is long enough to draw Nick's eyes up from the water and back to the younger man.  Something has caused his eyes to narrow just slightly: it is not quite a squint, a desire to see more clearly.  It is still kin to it, perhaps.

For a handful of heartbeats he says nothing.

"All right," he says.  A beat.  "Sooner or later, I'd like to hear what you're learning about Matter in more detail.  It would interest me."

Ned
"Was pretty simple, really, which is probably why I didn't see it to begin with. Science explains how Matter is constructed in all it's components. I was having trouble defining how I could use the Sphere, to alter Matter from one shape to the next. Or from compound to chemical. Atom to other Atom. It is all very complex, trying to decipher molecule from molecule and how to transfer over. Puzzle pieces though." He pauses, puffing his cheeks out.

"The Doc helped me see that it wasn't about fitting the puzzle together properly so that I could turn lead into gold. It was about changing the puzzle itself. Like a rubix cube. Instead of turning the sides and pieces to make the colours match up...you just take the Rubix cube apart and put it back together so the colours all match. Change the rules of the puzzle. How the pieces fit together."

He shrugs and stuffs his hands in his pockets again, murmuring.

"All I have left to sort out is how best I can change those details within the tools I've got. How best to apply it. I think...." A frown. "Getting there though."

Nick Hyde
There is another moment, here, in which Nick is silent, and his free hand drifts upwards and runs through the curls at the back of his neck.  It tangles in them, once, as they snake around his fingers and hold them there like twining ivy.

"Getting there is always the hard part," Nick says, and this thing he says at the least sounds like some sort of agreement.  "What do you think it means, to discard the rules of how reality already works and make new ones for yourself?  What do you think that means, in the long term?"

Ned
"Not so much making new rules, as discarding the rules currently in place. They expect the Rubix cube to function the way it does. The belief is that it's 'cheating' if you don't turn it the way it's meant to be turned but getting the colours to match up, even if it means taking the cube apart. That's just as valid. Unless you believe otherwise and we do..." He chuckles.

"Some people take it apart and put it back together. Some people peel off the colours and stick them onto the appropriate sides. Some people throw the rubix cube away and bike around." He 'pops' his lips, the sound audible, like the cluck of the tongue. "Belief is the only thing that says any of those is wrong. Or that any of those will work. Reality...I think is infinitely more flexible then I give it credit for."

Nick Hyde
"It is flexible," he says.  "But I think I would treat the idea that conventional wisdom and ethics are all wrong because belief is the only thing that makes things mean anything with caution."

Nick yanks one of his curls out so that it is straight (and see, it would fall nearly to his shoulders if it didn't curl that way) and then lets it spring back in place.  He draws one foot out of the water and lets out a sigh.  "I'm not saying you're wrong.  Just that I would think on that a little further."

Ned
Ned stares at Nick for a second, contemplating as he does. After a long moment his jaw shifts to one side.

"Caution noted. Though admittedly, I anticipate having to change my mind pretty frequently in the coming days as well."



Nick Hyde
Nick observes Ned's jaw shift to the side, watches as it does, and hears the reply.  As it does, there is a subtle movement of the set of his shoulders, of his chest; they seem to ease, to deflate.  When had he become uneasy?

"You will," he says.  "A lot, within the first year or two.  After that it's going to get easier."  Because things do, and because few are more open to the possibilities of the world than the newly Awake.  "It's important to experiment with ideas."

Ned
"Yeah. About that..."

Ned's fingertips do a flutter, his head canting around to one side, eyes regarding their location again as if memorizing some of the details.

"I've got a bus to catch back into town but I wanted to hear some thoughts the next time around from someone who knows more about it because realistically...the Spirit World makes about as much sense as...well a Horror Movie."

Nick Hyde
Nick's eyelashes flicker as Ned says this, and his smile belies whatever memory such a thing might have triggered.  It is difficult to know what sorts of things lie in anyone's mind: not without that particular Art, at least.

"I'll share with you what I know, in as simple a manner as I can manage it.  I'm probably going to take off soon myself, if you'd rather have a ride back to town instead of catching the bus."

And should Ned take him up on that, well: he'll find that after a while the questions stop, because sometimes it's pleasant to simply enjoy music and the scenery.

I'll be the knife

Nick Hyde
It's been a little while since Ned went and found Nick in his office on the hospital's third floor.  They haven't had occasion to speak much since then, besides perhaps an occasional text: they are both busy men.  Maybe Ned was waiting for Nick to reach out; maybe Nick was waiting for the same.

Regardless, it's one day around the lunch hour that Ned receives a text from Mr. Hyde.  Hi Ned.  Headed to the river by the hospital after work if you want to meet me there.  

Arrangements: we don't need to know the details.

The river Nick was talking about runs north of downtown, and there are parks on the banks.  Wilder areas than the rest of the city, some of them, left to river reeds and whispering waters and wandering birds.  The distant towers and the rush of cars just at the edge of hearing remind one that they're still in the city: otherwise it would be easy to forget.

It is early evening and so the sun is still relatively high, or would be if the day weren't overcast.  There are soft grey clouds that scud across the sky today, moved along by the winds; their mirror is in the river water (as above, so) below.

Ned finds Nick at the place where they agreed to meet, which is near a stone bench (polished granite: even here there are traces of a more cultivated life) on which the Chakravanti is seated.  He is facing the river, and there is a leatherbound journal in his lap in which he is scribbling with a heavy pen as black as his hair.  The humidity has frayed his curls, made some of them stand nearly on end, as he bends his head over whatever it is he is doing.  There is a bottle of beer next to him on the bench (some places are stricter about open container laws than others), and on the ground at his side a bag.

The air is stagnant, today.  It has silenced even the birds.

Ned
In silence, can be found a bit of the world.

Not by listening, but by accepting what the surroundings are trying to tell you. That these moments are rare, you have your thoughts, all to yourself, so make the most of it.

Ned's approach is not quiet, but it is somewhat subtle. Few have had the chance to explain much about the Arcane 'subtlety' that comes with some Mages, who drift in and of notice, as if memory were trickier to maintain around them. Ned is not so prolific in it as others, barely a scratch really but it makes him easier to dismiss. Easier to forget, even in silence.

His footfalls approach may be abrupt or it may simply be a moment or two before noticing their distance closing.

"Sweating like a pig." His first words. He is dressed in a simple black t-shirt and dark green slacks. His converse are well worn gray probably in need of replacing soon, and his socks are invisible below the pant cuffs. His hair is gelled back, resistant to the humidity. He carries nothing of accessories. No backpack, no book, not even headphones to denote music to drown out the world should it be necessary.

"Quiet out here. Bit of an oddity I've been finding." A pause as he settles onto the bench, facing the same direction, the river, that Nick was. "Had a conversation with-...heh...well, with River, the person about that. The Quiet places. How rare they are." He flicks a half grin, arm draping along the back of the bench away from Nick.

"She'd like it here."

Nick Hyde
Nicholas, too, has something of the subtlety that follows Ned; he passes in and out of notice.  He is not noticed, unless he wants to be, embodies a sort of cultivated ambiguity in his maybe-white-maybe-mixed-maybe-straight-maybe-middle class sort of way.  He exists between worlds; he always has.

He does not notice Ned immediately, but his senses are sharp and so it is not long: Ned is still a little distance away when he turns his head, though not in full.  There is a crest of light along the sharp edge of his cheekbone, the gleam of a dark eye.  He is wearing a checkered shirt of white and light gray, light gray pants: all monochrome and neutral, today.

"I'm glad you met River," are Nick's first words to the new initiate as he tucks his pen away and closes the journal in one hand with a soft snap.  He lets it rest on the top of his thigh, rests a hand over it.  "She would like it out here.  I've been meaning to invite her out hiking sometime."  As it is she has been helping him garden.

Nick glances over at Ned now, takes in his appearance.  He is indeed sweating.  Nick is not sweating as much, or at least seems less affected by it: he is used to the heat; he grew up in it.  "What did you think of her?"

Ned
"Abrupt. Blunt. Child-like without being innocent. Sort of like a doll someone scooped the adult out of and put in a Tradition."

If it sounds harsh, Ned doesn't seem to notice. If anything, there's a hint of...admiration? Appeal? Attraction in his tone? He doesn't glance at Nick during the explanation, nor does he seem put off or put out about explaining. Abrupt was something Ned understood and appreciated. He and River getting along probably wasn't difficult to imagine.

"She bends to the Euthanatos method pretty firmly traditionally. Went into details about several names and differentiating spokes on the Wheel and what they mean...I had to prod her to boil it down a bit but essentially it came out like I expected and like you've hinted at."

He turns to look at Nick, a vague smile on his face.

"She's good. Different, which is also necessary these days. More perspectives I catch the more firm I become."

Nick Hyde
Nick listens to Ned's assessment, quiet and without interruption; there is a smooth arch to his brows as he listens and notes that - admiration? attraction? there.  Nicholas is an insightful man; he does not have to look hard.

"River is very straightforward," he says, and maybe it's an agreement of sorts.  "I think she's more traditional in her beliefs than I am in mine, though, to be honest with you.  She was trained more formally and much sooner than I was, from what I understand.  But it's good to get different perspectives.  There's room for difference even within one Tradition."

Nick drums his fingertips against the top of the journal.  His eyes have wandered out along the river; he absently tucks his feet underneath the bench.  "Have you had any more chance to think on what we talked about?"

Ned
"I've had the chance. I haven't changed my mind, if that's what you're asking."

He turns back to the River, regarding the flow of it, the landscape of the 'Wilderness' that tries to hide the civility of where they genuinely are. It's an inspection, his gaze darting and moving with slow sweeps over the various green, dark puddles and flowing currents.

"There's a certain level of...Hope, necessary to all of this. What we are. Nothing I could comfortably give a point to just...Hope. Possessing it. Torch in the dark. We're losing a fight or lost a War or waging a battle that can't be won and we keep going anyway. The Wheel turns and all that, but the point was never to turn it until it clicked into the right place. Just to ensure it keeps turning, even if we're... Well-" He huffs a laugh, not depressed or somber. Genuine amusement.

"-Keep on going, until you can' anymore and Hope there's someone else to pick it up when you're gone. I like that. Pieces in a puzzle that may never get solved but...it's that maybe that I'm interested in. Because what if-" A glance at Nick, brow arched. "What if, you know?"

Nick Hyde
Hope necessary to it, Ned says, and here Nick draws in a sharp breath: an audible thing, that, a sudden rush of air.  There is still that arch to his brows, a little point that has appeared between them as he considers the words.

"Keep that hope, then, Ned.  You're going to need it."  It is perhaps a more grim thing than Ned will have heard him say before: nonetheless it is delivered with gravity, with only a touch of the wry humor Nick sometimes exhibits.  He lets a hand drop behind him on the bench, leans back on it.

"I think once you begin to work more extensively with the Wheel, if you do, once you begin to work more with balancing life and death, you realize how fine that balance is.  The world is never very far from chaos.  It needs us, in order to keep turning, because there are things that actively work to stop it.  You realize that, after a time."

There is a little sigh, and then Nick straightens again, his hand returned to his lap.  Then he glances back over at Ned.  "So what is it, exactly, that you're hoping to learn from me?"

Ned
"Learn?"

Ned says it with a vague frown, brow creasing inward. It hadn't when Nick had said his part about balance, life and death. That was the party line. The edge that many of the Euthanatos he'd met or heard about seemed to have in common. Learning though.

"I'm not sure, Nick. That's sort of like a Teacher asking a Student what they want to know about?" He pauses, a hand rising to scraped over his chin and cheeks for a moment.

"Mostly I want to know more about the threats to the wheel. Their reasons for threatening it and what you do to stop them. You, personally, and you, the Euthanatos."

Nick Hyde
"Shouldn't teachers ask students what they want to know about?"  A sidelong glance now toward the other men, and there's a crinkling of the skin near his eyes.  Humor, even if there is sincerity there too.  "You must be more broken up about deciding not to go to a university than I thought, if you're after a lecture."

Ned offers more specifics, though, and he wants to know about: threats to the Wheel.

And here it's Nick's turn to furrow his brow again.  "There are as many reasons for threatening the Wheel as there are reasons for maintaining it.  Depending on who you talk to, they might not consider themselves a threat to the Wheel at all."

Ned
"When it comes to something you can't learn on TV, the Internet or through experience. Like this? Hard to decide where to start."

Ned offers little more than a snort at Nick's explanation, head shaking gently.

"This vagueness that suggests everyone has a reason for doing what they do, is endearing and all, but it doesn't answer my questions. I understand the circumstances often demand you be careful about how you handle things but there was a War you old guard keep talking about from way back. Something happened and you went up against some folks who decided you weren't doing the world or reality any services. From the Tradition's standpoint...from your personal standpoint...Who is harming the Wheel and it's progression these days that you want to do something about. Kill, heal or help, doesn't matter."

Ned turns slightly so he's facing Nick, enough that he has to prop one leg up on the bench between them to do so.

"Right now everyone's handed me particular words that don't mean anything. I've squeezed a small amount of info. out of the Doc and Grace about the Technocrats. 1984 meets Men in Black meets 'Human Patriotism' but that's about the gist and mostly sounds like propaganda. Then you have the other things out there that..." Ned mangles a smile, trying to find the words.

"Words like Nephandi. Or Marauder. Terms with definitions that don't do much but paint a text book picture. A Theory. Give me some detail here."

Nick Hyde
Nick laughs, once: it's a sharp sound, and clear.  "I'm not old guard, I was never in the Ascension War.  That was a little before my time.  I think even if I had been, though, it wouldn't have been my war, beyond just trying to survive to make sure I could keep doing the things that matter."

The other questions Ned asks him: well, they're personal, and Nicholas is less comfortable talking about himself than he is with making other people talk.  It shows when one looks, in his subtle shifts of his weight on the bench and how his gaze wanders from here to there.

"The Technocratic Union is full of people, and they're as human as we are," or as human as they're not: these unspoken words.  Ned made his thoughts last time clear enough to Nick, it seems.  "Most are well intended, some aren't.  My understanding of the Ascension War is that it goes back a long time, like most wars do, because they were trying to make the world safer."

A beat, and there is a thoughtful furrow of his brows.  "And maybe they have, for some people.  I wouldn't be happy there, so I'm not there."

There is another soft exhale and he lifts the bottle of beer by the neck and takes a quick swallow.  It's an afterthought, then, but he leans down to reach into the bag next to his foot and retrieve a second, which he extends to Ned with a raised eyebrow.  Then, after Ned takes it or declines, "Marauders are what happens when you...well, you have to make your own rules to some extent, to do magick at all.  Marauders happen when your rules are all you see.  I've never encountered one, that I know of.  What do you know already, about the Fallen?"

Ned
Ned declines. A quick, swift wave of his hand that might be a bit telling in it's abrupt and suddeness. Ned doesn't drink, but he doesn't say anything or frown to suggest offense. Just a hard line.

"Technocrats sound like they have Tunnelvision. They imagine the world in a particular way and expect everyone to follow along, despite the fact...well...not everyone writes Poetry, plays Bach or fucks the same sex..." Ned shrugs apologetically.

"I don't know anything about the Nephandi. The Doc's explained a very straight forward, clear cut avenue about what and who they are and meeting one is apparently like..." He scratches his chin again. "Like if all those old cartoons where the hero meets their exact opposite. Bizarro Superman or Evil Ned...something similar with entirely the wrong moral code and standard. Purposeful evil, even if they don't recognize it." Ned's frowning throughout this explanation, as if he doesn't quite believe the 'cartoonish' quality of it.

"I expect that coming through an Awakening, not everyone is ready for it. Not everyone can handle it and sometimes those who can handle it, aren't the people reality wants handling it, but they do anyway."

Nick Hyde
That swift wave of his hand is indeed telling, and without a word Nick tucks the bottle away again.  He offers no apology (he does not make them when no offense was given), but there is a sort of understanding in the look he gives over; perhaps that is enough.

"I think some of them probably do have tunnel vision.  I think the Technocracy suffers from the same thing most large organizations suffer from.  When you are surrounded only by people who do the same things you do and think the same things, that becomes your normal."  There is a smile there that suggests that the apologetic shrug was not needed, and Nick adds, "I've seen plenty of Hermetics who have only ever worked with other Hermetics act the same way.  And Chakravanti.  It's how people are."

The explanation of Nephandi makes Nick draw in another breath.  His hand comes to light on his journal again, momentarily.  "I think some are obvious that way, or...so far beyond the pale in what they're willing to do that it becomes that way, like dark caricature.  Not always."

A beat, and Nick's jaw firms, relaxes.  "A friend of mine Fell.  An old cabalmate.  Her perspective made a lot of sense, when she explained it to me.  I didn't even realize, until...I don't know when it happened.  It's not always obvious.  But it's not always easy, to stay hopeful, even if you are ready and seem like you can handle it.  Liz was a good Chorister.  She was...if she Fell, anyone can."

Ned
"Falling's not impossible. It's not even difficult. The best comparisons to when I was human, I've found is addiction."

He pauses, turning away from Nick and back to the River agian.

"Margot's Brother was an addict. Drugs, possibly alcohol. Before the whole killing thing, before even Awakening, he was into it. It's how-" Ned shakes his head, moving past the tangent before it has a chance to emerge "Luke was a problem but from his perspective, it's what needed to be done to deal with what he was dealing with. From inside the bubble, you're as good or as bad as you make it and those who agree they are bad and do bad anyway. Sure. Caricature. Twirling mustache and 'I want to see it burn', Joker styles. For most others though, it's just this circumstance they are in that says, I can't be the normal or the beautiful or the fierce or the brave because...Reality says me, specifically me, has to deal with this combination of things in this particular way and I belong to this particular avenue so this is all I can really do. Addiction thin's you down into this moment where..." He chuckles slightly.

"It's an addict wandering into the hostpial with a glass shard, cutting someone they don't know because they're in pain and don't know how else to handle it. The expectation weighs on them that they are responsible for making themselves better and they have the power to do so if only they just..." Ned's hands shake in front of him, emphatic and nebulous. If only they just...what?

"Nephandi sound like the sports team you want to hate because they beat your sports team all the time. As a collective, you just don't want anything to do with them. As individuals, they have jobs, wives, husbands, relationships and all that sort of stuff they are dealing with...they just happen to want what you hate with their own rational in place." Ned's scratching the back of his neck, lips tucked between his teeth for a moment.

"What exactly are you expecting from me if I manage to get into your Club?"

Nick Hyde
"As individuals, their Avatar still shifts and changes.  Becoming a Nephandus isn't just...it isn't just having a different perspective on life.  Your soul becomes saturated with destruction, with destructive tendencies and impulses.  It doesn't come back.  We can't offer them the same blank slate or starting point we can offer other life, when we return them to the Wheel."

Nick's eyes are unfocused as he watches the water make its way over rock and reed, thoughtful and distant.  "Most of them believe - at least, Liz believed and I believe others believe the same - in helping things to their ending.  Some because they believe that's a natural state, and in Liz's case because she believed it was the...that it was God.  That there was purity in Nothingness and it was the only way to attain that purity.  To not have any more questions."

Inhale.  "But she won't...I killed her, and whatever she comes back as, if she Awakens it'll be the same.  If people keep Falling, eventually that is how the world will end because there won't be anything left.  So it isn't enough just to kill as a means of tending the Wheel.  It's balance.  Do you understand?"

Ned
"Yeah. You can't change or get rid of someone who falls, so you do your best to ensure those who haven't fallen? Don't and those who have Fallen? Stick around for as short a time as possible to ensure those who haven't Fallen? Don't."

Ned's roundabout sentence comes across with clarity. At least to him. His hands rise to collect beneath his chin, fingers curling over his mouth and cheeks until the tips are tapping gently under either eye. Elbows to knees and regarding the River, working over some thought like it was gristle between his teeth.

"It isn't easy noticing. You had a friend, a Cabalmate who fell and you didn't realize she had been and was. Are there any warning signs? Indicators? Common ones, that is. Sensory input or particular-" One hand releases his face, snapping his fingers "-the hell did Margot call the- [i]Rotes[/i], rotes that can be used to ferret them out? Or maybe that's too easy."

Nick Hyde
"Yes.  But it applies to more than just the Fallen.  If we're talking on a larger scale, or...a more abstract one, maybe, despair is what makes them alluring.  It gives them power, because it's more believable if it...that kind of perspective that Liz was talking about only makes sense if it has an echo in you, you know?"

There is a flutter of his eyelashes as he realizes he was staring too long at the water, and drawing in another breath he straightens up.  "So I...Pen and I have talked about it, a little.  About fostering what's...what's good in the world.  Nothing else needs the help.  That's what I do for the Chakravanti.  If you were initiated your role could be different.  There are a lot of roles."

There is another glance to Ned, and no confusion there: evidently the roundabout sentence was clear enough to him as well.  It's straightforward, at least.

"There are ways to tell, sometimes.  The feel of their magick changes and warps along with the Avatar.  But all of that can be hidden by someone with sufficient skill.  And sometimes some of us don't feel all that great either.  It's relative."

Ned
"Helpful."

Sarcasm without the bite to make it unpleasant. Just another fact. Ned might have been hopeful there would be an easy way, but hope didn't equal delusion.

"Right now I'm more concerned with those who have active intentions toward flipping the table. Inspiring Despair's a lot harder to do when you can pinpoint those who are pursuing it, for whatever means or ends." Ned's jaw grits and it's the first moment of genuine agitation in this meeting that comes to him.

"I come back to all the folks I've run into. The hospital, since Awakening...Margot's Brother. Everyone of them had some sob story or moment that just handed them over to that feeling and emptiness and ugly. Except, it wasn't just a moment, there were people behind it too. Circumstances from the bullying on the playground that one time, to the shitty boyfriend or girlfriend to that active participant who wanted nothing but to do you harm enough to make a mark. Make it permanent and then...you spiral out on your own, from that one trauma. That one realization they imprinted on."

Ned snaps his fingers.

"I want those people. Those scar-makers. Wounders and harmers. I want those who think it's ok to deliver and hand out pain and think it's easy. Who decided they were monsters...and then went and decided that the best way to be...Not the only way but the best way to be, was to make other monsters too." A pause, his hands settling, dangling between his legs, elbows on knees in a hunched position had him staring at the River.

"Everyone else has a chance, but only when those chances aren't getting snuffed out. Forcefully crushed and broken. Technocrat, Nephandi or otherwise, you don't get a say in the matter if you think your Best is when others are at their worst."

Nick Hyde
Ned's sarcasm is met with another smile, something that is half wry and perhaps tinged with wistfulness.  Sympathy for the desire for an easier answer.  "Things are complicated," he says.

And then he listens.  He is slightly leaned forward, head bowed and his eyes on the ground for the time being; it gives him an intensity.  (More appropriately: it gives the intensity of Ned's words their due.)  "My acarya thinks that way.  One of my mentors.  I think you'd....you'd find a lot of what he has to say to be interesting.  He's someone I would call here, if we decided to have you initiated."

The 'we' is not exclusive to Ned, though it is subtle enough that it could go missed: it is a mutual decision.  Nicholas recognizes that.

"What will you do to keep yourself from Falling, Ned?"

Ned
"Margot. The Doc. My Cabal...even if the Doc's reluctant to call it that."

He lifts a hand, three fingers already shown on it to indicate those three elements he's already named. He hasn't turned to look at Nick, merely regards the water.

"Something to be recognized in knowing there are others like me out there, who don't care that I'm the Supernatural me, just me. They don't care much how I think, beyond pointing out when I'm wrong or right. They don't care that I have agendas or secrets, but will respond when I don't follow through with good things, proper things, correct things, because of those agendas and secrets."

Another finger flicks up.

"Put as many of those who aren't supposed to be here and are ruining it for the rest of us, in the ground."

And a fifth finger goes up.

"Learn what I can about how this new reality we're all in and how it affects us and keep asking questions."

He finally turns toward Nick, a brow arched.

"And hopefully join a Tradition that knows how to put me down if that's not enough."

Nick Hyde
Nick nods, and his head is still bowed, see, his brow still furrowed in thought.  And now he turns his gaze back to Ned: more directly perhaps than he has so far tonight.  "You know that the Chakravanti will do that if it's not enough, right?  I'll do it myself, if it becomes my responsibility to do so.  And I would expect the same from you, if it were me.  I just...I want to make sure you really understand what you're entering into."

Ned
"Nick. Really understanding seems to be the entire point of all this."

He flaps his hands around them, as if the air itself held the answer to what 'this' is.

"I don't get why I have these abilities or you or Margot or the Doc or half the other people out there that do. I don't get why the Wheel turns or how it came to get so complicated. I don't get how finding a bow and arrow or crossing a bridge or seeing Margot during my seeking was meant to make me understand it better but it does. Did....does." A frown. Head shaking. Moving on.

"But the one thing I'm certain of, is if I knew? I'd be where I was supposed to be. That part where Reality says I should be or the Wheel says I'm meant to be or Big Brother just doesn't want me to do. If I knew. But I don't. So I have to start making decisions for myself and by my own measurements of how this life has treated me and I've treated it, to learn more. Get more. Be more and right now, the best parts of me and the bigger parts tell me the Euthanatos is where I belong. Either to do some good or learn how to do good better than I currently am."

Ned
"....And if you or someone else around you falls, I'll be the knife. Plain and simple."

A nod. Firm. Unflinching. Maybe a bit too staunch, but there it is.

Nick Hyde
He listens to the rest of this, and he's looking past Ned then and then turning his head to look back out toward the river.  The sun is sinking low now, lower, and the edge of the horizon has begun to turn pink.  The beginning of a sunset: of a threshold.

Not so long from now he will go Seeking, and he will sit alone at this hour.

But not now.  Nick takes the last swallow from his bottle of beer and then tucks the empty bottle away in the back pocket of his bag, and then braces a hand on his knee to push himself to his feet.  "All right.  We'll have to talk more soon."

He turns his head to glance down the dirt trail that twists along the river's edge.  "Do you walk much?"

Ned
"All the time. Hate driving and biking in the city is a death sentence."

He gets to his feet, hands stuffing in his pockets, regarding the river for a moment, before turning and nodding toward the East.

"After you."

The pair head out into the Parklands, enjoying a bit of the landscape and normalcy.

(In)Humanity

Ned
Ned's arrival at Nick's office was quick. Abrupt. The sort of thing that usually came with a knock on the door to interrupt some pertinent work. Today though, Ned had arrived and Nick hadn't been around. The young orderly was dressed casually, as if he'd gotten off work or had yet to start his shift. Converse, black jeans and a gray t-shirt beneath a red and blue plaid short sleeve. His hair was gel'd, slicked back to affect some semblance of cool while his face carried a faraway sort of calm that suggested Ned was elsewhere than the world around him.

People seemed to pass him by, not offering much in the way of hellos or waves or even notice. If anything it was like Ned wasn't even present and only the cursory drift of carts, doctors and nurses around where he was standing up against the wall, ever seemed to make mention of Ned existing in the same world as they were.

His phone is pulled, the time checked and he's flicking his thumb across the screen to open Candy Crush. That damnable level 75 could be won yet.

Nick
Hospitals are busy places.  On certain floors that's of course the expectation: the emergency department, while not full of rushing gurneys and constant sirens the way TV depicts, still has humming equipment and wandering patients and purposeful staff.  The psych unit is much the same.  The hospice floor is the one people expect to be calmer; after all, the dying don't often do much more than sleep.

There's a smell there that is not found anywhere else, this mixture of decay and chemicals and urine and 409 and the animal tang, beneath it, of blood.  Ned knows it now.  Maybe he knows it now in a way he didn't before.

Regardless, Nicholas is not in his office when Ned comes by.  He's not always seen by patients in his office, see; sometimes he goes to their rooms when they aren't well enough to come to him, which is often, and sometimes he even ventures out into their homes when someone is fortunate enough to have billable insurance.  He is Not Here, but if Ned waits around long enough the Chakravanti will eventually come wandering back.  Maybe by then he's beaten level 75.

Nick's hair has been freshly cut, its coarse black curls swept back and somewhat weighed down with oil.  It makes him look older, a little; more professional, certainly.

His steps slow only slightly as he sees Ned there in front of his door waiting for him, but if the sight of the young man gives him pause it's a brief thing.  "Hello, Ned," he says, and there is a faint note of warmth that can be detected there.  "How are you?  Come on in," and he gestures Ned into his office ahead of him.

Ned
"....Hey Nick."

The warmth is not so much refused as it is left to push the chill of the hospital down. A lot of the orderly staff had this working theory that the AC was so active in the hospital as to lower the chance for bacteria increase, keeping things at a significantly cooler temperature than the outside summer heat might have demanded. Ned never gave into listening to those conversations.

He pushed into Nick's office when the door was opened, head forward and gaze locking on one of the chairs infront of the desk Nick called 'work'. Ned took a seat with a careful sort of settling and turned to glance back at the door and Nick upon entering to ensure the man closed the door behind him. Ned's lips were pressed between his teeth and then he was following Nick's movements around the desk to wherever the man called a seat.

When Nick is finally comfortable, perhaps halfway through or all the way through asking how Ned is doing, the young Mage leans back in his chair hands plucked from his pockets, the phone left in his lap and he stares Nick in the eye with a pinched sort of calm.

"About a week and a bit ago, I killed someone. Horribly broken, drug addict, tried to kill Margot and I and...I put a knife under his chin." He paused, to gauge Nick's immediate and momentary reaction...only to think better on it a second later and push through.

"...He wasn't himself. Had this thing coming out of his shoulder where his arm used to be. All teeth and muscle. Hit me in the chest-" Ned taps where the bulb of teeth and fury had struck him, just below where the heart sat "-broke some ribs. Punctured a lung. Margot and I fought him to a stand still and he started to unravel during the fight. Eventually tried to pull away and I put the knife under his chin and in as far as it would go."

Ned offers this with a steadiness that might suggest shock. Or at least, disassociation. He's regarding Nick or more accurately, the man's reactions, hands folded over the phone in his lap, a slender piece of gauze decorating one of his thumbs.

Nick
Nick does indeed close the door behind him.  There is no particular intent in the gesture; his eyes are distant and unfocused and somewhat directed toward the window behind Ned as he steps into the office, pulling the door closed behind him.  It's a reflex; he sees a lot of people discussing very personal things.

The Chakravat seats himself then behind his desk.  It's a casual posture, the one he adopts, leaned slightly back and slightly slouched with one leg stretched out in front of him.  It isn't affected: he is not playing at calm.  But he's aware of body language, and we know that.

Ned is backlit by the afternoon light filtering in through the window.  It's warmer in here than the rest of the floor; Nick is lucky enough to have a room with a window overlooking the city and the river, and there are a few plants that share space with him in the office.  They have unfurled their leaves to bask in the sunlight, and the slight earthiness of the potting soil (wet, the plants were recently watered) underlies the reek of the hospice floor in here.

Is Nick surprised, when Ned tells him he killed someone a week ago?  Maybe: he lifts a hand and rubs at his mouth a heartbeat after Ned finishes his first few sentences.  "There are times when the circumstances force us to kill," he says.

A beat.  "How is Margot doing?"

Ned
"She seems to be weathering it. First few days were difficult. She stayed at home and poured herself out onto her pillow. I imagine it's going to take her some time to get her head back on properly if fully..."

Ned seems to register Nick's 'matter of fact' interaction as a gauge for something. What that something is, isn't immediately known but Ned's eyes finally drop from Nick to his phone, checking the time again before stuffing the piece of tech back into his pocket with a negligent push from his thumb. His inhale is steadying, as if he'd been braced for something that was no longer necessary and the brittleness that was there, that he wasn't aware he was carrying seemed to shake free.

"I think it ultimately gave her an excuse to start looking at her existence...this existence we're now in as a firm reality. Not some harry potter attempt but a genuine 'no going back' sort of deal. Can't say whether that's a good or bad thing but..." Ned half shrugs. One shoulder shrugs.

"I'm glad you said that though. Sometimes it's necessary. Makes it not as..." And Ned struggles for a word, frowning at the lack of one that presents itself. A hand reaches up to scratch at his brow, gaze falling to the top of Nick's desk while he thinks.

Nick
As Ned tells him about Margot's reaction, Nick's eyes are level and unblinking and steady as the waters of some deep slow river.  Muddy that way too, their pale brown somehow darker in the light that filters through the window.  Ned tells him that, and Nick draws in a breath and glances down and to the side: as though Ned's words were at once a confirmation and a reassurance.

"I think sooner or later, we all hit that point.  Where you see the savagery in this kind of life that exists alongside the beauty and wonder that's there too," Nick says.  It is difficult to say whether he is speaking of Margot, or Ned, or both of them.

Nick has a keen awareness about him, always.  Maybe he's noticed that Ned feels different to him.

Whatever he is, he is patient, and as Ned trails off he only regards him quietly, curling one of his hands around the arm of his chair and then allowing it to relax moments later.  "How are you feeling?"

Ned
"...Was wondering when we'd get there."

He chuckles. It's not forced but it isn't genuine. Somewhere in the realm of 'distant honesty', like the sound didn't matter but made everything seem more normal. An excuse of mirth. Ned settles back into the chair to regard Nick, brow furrowing in that pinched and thoughtful sort of way. He seems ready to answer and then, that same tick of re-consideration has him opting instead for another avenue.

"I'd like you to tell me what I need to do to become part of the Euthanatos." Nick had used the name 'Chakravat' around Ned before so it wans't a mistake. More like...an affirmation of intent. As if Nick represented something in particular about the Tradition and this other name represented....something else.

Nick
[Huh.]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8) ( success x 3 )

Ned
(Perception 3 + Subterfuge 2: Don't be cagey now...)

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (3, 3, 5, 7, 8) ( success x 2 )

Nick
There is this pause that follows, after Ned speaks.  Nick looks at him for a moment: his hand has moved away from his mouth and now he is leaning his jaw on his knuckles instead.  He's thoughtful, see, as though he is considering what indeed Ned would have to do to become part of the Euthanatos.

When his hand falls away it drops back onto the armrest, and he swivels from one side to the other in the chair for a moment.  His curls are oiled enough today to remain stationary.  It's windy outside; maybe this was a calculated decision.

Then, "Ultimately, you need to die."  A beat.  "Do you understand why I asked you how you're feeling?"

Ned
"I understand your need to ask. I understand the quality of the question, maybe. Part of me wants to say because you want to sort out how stable I am."

Ned holds his hand up for Nick to gauge the shake in it, without breaking eye contact.

"Anything more than that and the answer is no. I don't understand."

A pause, his hand falling back into his lap, both now sliding up to settle on either knee, face taking on a frank sort of delivery.

"I was in a car crash when I awakened. Have I told you this already?" A bit of confusion. A frank sort of memory recall that he ultimately dismisses because the story, repeated or not, is relevant to the moment. "Three different eye witnesses said that the Car was more intact than I was. I don't remember much of the crash itself." A pause, tongue clucking. "I was drunk behind the wheel."

He leaned back against the chair, inhaling slowly again.

"I remember waking up and seeing colours. My avatar. I remember babbling at the Doctors about them while they tried to calm me down. I also remember the struggle and my body rejecting several of their attempts to sedate me...which explains why the Alcohol wasn't present in my blood stream when I woke up. Burned right out with whatever I'd done during awakening to put myself back together."

Another pause. This one longer. A thumb rose, plucking on the inside of his mouth at some errant piece of food. Then, abruptly-

"I'm pretty sure I died. If I had access to Mind, I get the feeling going through the memories of that moment would be less than ideal and full of DMT flashes of my life. I died once already." Blinking. "That good enough or do I need something more profound?"

Nick
Ned's confusion is met with another look and a shake of Nick's head.  He's still watching the younger man, see, and it's never easy to tell what he's thinking; there's just an air of quiet reflection.  Maybe of empathy, too: Ned is talking about trauma, regardless of his delivery.

"The initiation is ritualized death.  I was drowned, and if I chose to initiate you I would drown you.  I died too - arguably before my Awakening, or my Awakening happened early.  I'm not sure which.  But the purpose of the ritual is to reach understanding."

He hasn't broken eye contact.  Ordinarily he might, if only so his gaze might wander elsewhere, but Ned has a stare about him, doesn't he?  And Nick meets it.

"I asked you how you're feeling because you're a cerebral person, and talking about it is challenging for you.  But if you're initiated - especially if you're initiated - it's going to be important for you to understand how you feel."

Ned
"Ahhhh. Well then..."

Ned seems to shake off what was, a moment ago. His elbows settle on his knees, which spread just enough to support his weight. His head leans forward and tilts to one side and his attention focuses, a little sharper then before. He catches his upper lip between his teeth, trying to parse away the words that don't fit this particular moment. His eyes flick back up to the ever watchful Nick, lip snapping free of his teeth.

"I feel like this should be a lot worse than it is. Like I should have more of a reaction to the death. Not as intensely as Margot but at least something that wasn't just..."So this happened today". Part of that is me wondering if I lost it somewhere along the way, but that would more suggest you, the Doc and Margot are all a fever dream and I'm imagining all this Willworker stuff. Which, if I've gone that far off the bend? I might as well stay here 'cause you don't come back from that level of clinical."

His cheeks puff out. Absorbing what he's saying as he says it. Something in his expression said that last eventuality was a load of hogwash.

"There's another part of me I've been staring at for the last week, a seciton in my head. I've Life scanned it, Matter scanned it and Forces scanned it and just recently, Entropy scanned it or a combination of several other things and it doesn't show up. I think I need Mind?" Unsure, briefly then pressing onward. "I feels like concern but isn't big enough or....substantial enough to warrant a sensation of grief or upset or displeasure. Mostly just a vague sense of restlessness like there's something to get on with. What that something is though...." He claps, shrugs then leans back onto his knees.

"Makes me think I'm missing the necessary terminology, training or...process." Another pause. Another puff of cheeks.

"Are you qualified enough to be drowning people?"

Nick
Whatever he thinks about what Ned says, perhaps he needs to parse through it.  Enough so that when he replies it's to the easiest question to answer: whether he's qualified.  "No," he says.  "I haven't attained that rank, and I don't have enough skill with Life to help you if your drowning were to go badly.  I would call in some of the other Chakravanti I know."

Here he draws in a breath, lets it swell in his chest and holds it there before letting it out in a measured exhale.  He has broken eye contact at last; his eyes have fallen somewhere across the top of his desk.

"That's not a promise to initiate you.  We're going to need to spend more time together."

Here he lifts his gaze again, and it finds Ned's once more: and his eyes are still muddy, and there is a stitch there just between his brows.  "What do you know about Quiet, Ned?"

Ned
"....The Doc hates it." Before that has a chance to settle in as a possible nod to the actuality of 'Quiet' though-

"-S'why he never stops talking unless he's knee-deep in an experiment."

Ned leans back into his chair, scrubbing a hand across his chin. More Chakravanti meant more mages in his future. More workers, with higher understanding. There was an unease that translated into a vague frown on his face, considering the potential for that...and the problem.

"How many others?"

Nick
"One or two of them.  Both of them were present at my initiation."  Perhaps he noticed the frown; perhaps he is drawing parallels between things that Ned has said earlier and what he knows, or thinks he knows, about the younger man.  "I think it's important for you to meet others anyway, before you really decide if this is something that you want."

There's gravity there in his tone.  Though don't most Traditions think that theirs is selective, that it is demanding of what it requests from its initiates?

"Quiet can take a few forms, depending on the kind of magick you're using and your own disposition.  The kind that comes from death magick - and I mean that in a broader sense, the kind to do with endings or with nothingness or destruction or however you want to think of it - we call Jhor.  Most of us who are part of the Tradition tend to enter it at least once, sometime between initiation and death."  He folds his hands.  Regards them for a moment, and is still thoughtful.

"Being Chakravanti is a responsibility.  We don't do it for power, or to find meaning, or because it gives us joy.  People find those things, sometimes, but they aren't the reason we exist as a Tradition."

Ned
"....Responsibility."

Ned mouths the word once or twice, chuckling in a way that is more genuine than...well anything had been for the last week and a half. He leans back, with a regard for Nick that is both telling of a truth and suggesting there's more.

"I was wondering when someone would mention that word. Everyone I've talked to so far has said 'Ascension' this and 'Enlightenment' that. Vague little flowers I'm meant to pluck and sniff and allow to exist within me. Something I'll 'eventually' get to but for now, remains elusive." He's shaking his head. What few people, the Doc, Penelope, Margot, Grace...each has had a variation on that. Each time he's asked after a purpose. It's been something grand. Something unique and touched with that hint of suggested 'Destiny'.

"Responsibility is being the first one to chase down Crack addicts before they can take a swing at a Nurse. Or picking up spare shifts so Jose can see his kids on the weekends, since I've got nothing better to do. Shit, blood, piss and worse, up to my elbows and I kept coming back because...." And he loses the smile. Abruptly. Staring at...or through Nick for a second. Blinking.

"...Because it felt better than doing nothing at all and I didn't have the sort of things most others thought they needed, weighing me down." He re-focuses, jaw clenched slightly around that bit of a morsel. Something unpleasant veering that he chomps down on.

"So now I'm awakened. This life is promising something but...nothing I can grab or hold or clutch or point me at and you're telling me, being this Tradition is about a Responsibility?"

A half-grin. Head tilting.

"Call the others and tell me what you and I need to talk about to get this done."

A pause. Abruptness, again-

"You think I'm in Quiet- Sorry...in Jhor?" It sounds weird coming out of his mouth. He forms it on his lips and tongue a few more times, mostly to himself just to try and get used to it.

Nick
"So you want to join the Chakravanti because you believe it is going to give you purpose?  You feel purposeless right now, without what we have to offer you?"

His voice is soft, and there is something searching in his eyes as they sweep over Ned's face.  He takes in what he sees there: the half-grin, the start-stop abruptness of Ned's words.  When his jaw clenches.  The way he has to speak around the words as though he is trying to swallow a stone.

And here he hesitates: blunt speech is not a strength of Nick's, but there are times when it is necessary, when personal comfort does not matter.  The Chakravanti know that better than most.  "I don't know whether you're in Quiet or not.  I'd need magick to tell me for sure.  But regardless of whether you are or not, detachment from death and tunnel vision are the two fastest ways I know to make a Jhor episode worse.  That is my biggest concern for you, in thinking about whether to initiate you or not."

Ned
"Purposeless? No, Nick."

Ned's attention focuses in return, narrowing to something sharp.

"The Doc told us that there's someone in Colorado springs taking out Initiates. New workers fresh to the life. Five so far, apparently. A few months ago an apprentice was snatched up by the Technocracy and some of them-..." A pause. "Some of us went in to retrieve him. The Doc had a visitor that tied his hands, literally his hands behind a pipe, at the wrist. Your wife mentioned War and I'd be lying if I said I didn't hear bells and battle standards when she talked."

His hands folded together, brows knitting into a cluster of...something.

"This life has enough purpose in it to choke you, me and this entire city. What I need is information. What I need is knowledge and the means to use it to make sure that sort of thing is safe. For the people I care about the idiots among them who still think 'Enlightenment' is something they can wait for. Responsibility isn't purpose...it's a means of following what you know is already right. Otherwise, it's just a hobby."

"As far as I can tell, we're not human anymore. You, me, Margot, the Doc, Penelope. None of us. That's not to say we don't have feelings or the pressure of humanity weighing inside of us but it's foolish to think things like Money, Shame, Horror or Giving up are..." Ned pulls a face. It isn't quite disgust but there's a genuine layer of something unpleasant in it.

"I'm done pretending that a job is necessary to define this. That there are goods, bads and laws to obey. I don't want chaos. I don't want hatred. I don't want the Dark Side or whatever people are calling it. I want answers so I don't have to keep scrounging around in the dark on my own, coming to half-assed conclusions about how to do this whole new lifestyle and Inhuman interaction properly."

He sucks in a breath. Slightly shaky, a bit perturbed perhaps that the emotion present was as intense as it was. No screaming or flipping desks or tantrums, but the honesty came through like a sledgehammer and he glanced down at his hands. Watched them shake a bit and turned them over into fists.

"....It was her Brother." Still eyeing his hands, waiting for it to subside. "Margot's. He was threatening her over the voicemail. For what she did to him. For getting him put in jail and taking his arm. He was coming here and she was scared."

Nick
"I know who it was," Nick says.

He is not quite impassive while he listens to Ned: it is like casting stones into a lake, how there will be ripples where it is struck while the rest remains undisturbed.  He will occasionally flex his fingers or shift his legs or feet, and otherwise: he is still.

For a moment he says nothing.  He has caught the inside of his lower lip between his teeth, and he is not looking at Ned but somewhere past him, out the window.  When he refocuses his attention it's palpable, is the point: Ned can tell when he leaves and when he returns.  "What if I - or the Chakravanti - can't give you the answers you want?  What then?"

Ned
"Then I think you're not high enough on the Enlightenment scale, you, them or anyone else for me to give up as easily on the answers I will want. People are still going to die. Bodies are still going to decay. Hospitals will still be here..."

Ned's hands have settled. The revelation that Nick knows is in turn not much of a revelation. Ned simply nods to it and the pair share a distant glance away from one another. Lost in their own moment. When he returns, so does Ned, bouncing back into this reality with those words. Then these-

"I do know that when I went to deal with him, with Luke that I didn't even know about the answer that I did find. I knew she wasn't going to be able to do it. Lack of ability. She couldn't even hold a knife properly or swing a bat without breaking her wrists but...well more than that." He pauses, inhaling again. "I thought if I braced myself I'd be able to live with it. Deal with the guilty and the shame and the potential for her hating me. If I was strong enough I could manage it and martyr that moment for the rest of my life."

His pause this time is internal. Going over the events and the moment.

"....When it happened, I figured out...I had planned for the wrong event. Planned for still reacting like humans do. Like every life is precious and deserves to be saved or preserved or defined in the brightest way and that you're scum for deciding otherwise." He stares at Nick again, elbows to knees. "Sometimes the circumstances force us to kill."

"Do you feel that way when you take a life that needs taking? Needs...taking?" Re-emphasizing as if to ensure the proper word was defined between them.

Nick
He has fallen to listen again because Ned is telling him: what it was like for Margot.  That in the end, Ned swallowed his very human feelings and tried to brace himself to kill Margot's brother.  There is something there, some sort of gentle regard that he cannot quite suppress; Nick empathizes with others so readily that he cannot help it.

When Ned reaches his conclusion though, there is a sharp shake of his head.  "Every life is precious.  Every death is precious.  Valuing life doesn't mean that we must force it to endure past its time.  Sometimes it's better that we return things to the Wheel so they can start over again with a blank slate."

And there's a thoughtfulness again in how he regards Ned, here.  He lifts his hand so he can rest his chin on his knuckles once more.

"Most of my work focuses more on helping other people accept death as part of life, so that they can pass on more readily.  When I have returned life to the Wheel, I've done it with the understanding that the pain is temporary and they'll be born again.  I've killed out of mercy on battlefields and I've killed out of self-defense and I've killed to help maintain balance in the Wheel.  I've killed so that others don't have to soil their hands.  But the Wheel isn't just death.  That's why it's a Wheel.  Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

Ned
"Every death is precious."

Ned agrees. Overlaps it onto Nick's own phrasing, but doesn't say more than that. Nick continues, working through a list of his own defined by the various ways and methods in which the common denominator, has come about. Ned nods along with each, seeing inside his own head every moment described could be found.

"I understand that the two sides of it aren't different. That sparing a life in suffering isn't a mercy and that in this existence...There are those who've gone so far beyond that the best way to help them is to ensure the suffering's done." There's a bloom of something in his eyes just then. A moment of clarity.

Scalpel in the tumor. The restlessness settles. He inhales again.

"The wheel you're talking about...it's a puzzle. Pieces fitting into various sections and segments. Angles and shapes and colours-" He scrubs at his face, blinking through the moment "-Except sometimes you have to take the puzzle apart. Re-do it and get a fresh perspective...."

"...I don't know if he was Blank where I sent him..." A frown. A genuine one now. Clenched jaw and working fingers. "...Is there a way to tell?"

Nick
Nick has glanced away again: this time because that little point between his brows has deepened, has pulled them together and down into furrows, the muscles at the corners of his eyes tight.  Pained, or perhaps he is simply troubled by something in what Ned has said to him.

Still, he exhales and he looks up in time to see that moment of clarity, in time to reflect something that stops short of approval but might be pleased nonetheless. "That's another way to think of it.  But it wasn't the whole of what I was trying to get across.  Do you know why the Wheel is conceptualized that way, as a cycle or a circle?"

He exhales again; this is audible where the inhale was not.  The frown, see, he can meet Ned's eyes here and say: "No.  Not now that he's dead.  A blank slate might have been a poor metaphor, though.  People remember, from one life to the next.  But most of the time they'll start over without conscious memory of what came before, and they'll have another chance."

Ned
"....Wheels turn, without a beginning or an end. Continuous and progressive. Life to death and back again. I studied a bit of buddhism..."

There's something in the way Ned's concern has suddenly grown. The description he'd given of Luke had been...rudimentary. A visual explanation at best. There had been something intensely wrong there, something viciously unpleasant. It pushes his fingertips together and his attention firmly. Thoughts roiling over into the other encounters with the dead. How this new existence of theirs is...thoroughly unsimple.

"The puzzle's no different though. You don't solve it. You fit the pieces into place. Everyone's taking part in fitting their own pieces and if you're lucky you have sections that can help others achieve the colour, the angle and the shape they need....and if you're really lucky, you get the chance to take the pieces apart, so someone else or others get a chance to put theirs back together properly. The wheel is easy. Simple. Direct...Very human."

And we all know Ned's current thoughts on being human these days. He stands abruptly. Not sharply, but with something like purpose, eyeing Nick behind his desk.

"I put in my two weeks notice a while ago. Last shift is on Friday. Wanted to say thanks. For your time and the talks. I appreciate you listening and at least considering my request. I need to do some....re-evaluating." A pause, something like reassurance in his next words. "We'll talk again soon."

Nick
"You're welcome," Nick says, and though his foot pushes his rolling chair back a little farther away from his desk he does not move to stand up.  Doing so would feel overly formal: this is his office, and as Ned said they will see each other again soon.

He reaches over to pick up a pad of paper from the corner of his desk and writes down a phone number, and then tearing it away extends it in Ned's direction.  "That's my cell phone.  I don't remember if I gave it to you before or not.  So that you can contact me outside of work."

So that perhaps they can meet somewhere outside of Nick's office.

"Keep thinking about it.  If books are helpful to you, one of my past mentors probably would have a few good recommendations and I can ask him."  Though he can't imagine what Jonas Allard would make of Ned: he truly cannot, and Nick is a perceptive man and knows Jonas well.

He reaches over to turn the knob on his door to let Ned out.  "Give me a call when you're ready to talk more."

He, too, has a lot to consider.