Tuesday, March 18, 2014

Birthday Surprise [Past]

morrigu
This March has come in like the proverbial lion and it looks like it's going to leave that way too.  It has been a particularly harsh winter, this one, and snow lingered on the ground long into the month; it's midmonth, just past the Ides, and so there could be another blizzard yet, knowing how fickle this time of year can be.  (It is a portent, perhaps, of their year to come: there will be no real spring, not this year.)

Pen is at home by herself when her phone rings.  Nick is still at work.  When she glances down at her phone's screen it shows her a name she has only rarely seen pop up there, and never just to chat.  Anna's voice is on the other end of the line should she choose to answer.  "Hi Pen!  This is Pen, right?"

mythology
Pen is at home by herself because she is waiting for a communication from Ari on whether or not she will be able to come by with Robin, who is imminent, and she is as she often is before going out, which is to say lounging in the middle of a mess of fabric and cloth, not yet having decided what exactly she is going to put on and it will all be covered by a coat anyway until the coat comes off, and cider, last autumn's cider, bright cider with its suggestion of gold and immortality and halls under the ground in another world, underworld, its suggestion of coming back 'round again, of sweetness in the bitterness, cider is steaming, and she was about to send a text when Anna's name pops up and vibrates purrs against her thumb and she answers almost before she thinks about it and then says, "Hallo, Anna. What a pleasure."

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"Are you home?  Are you busy?  I decided to come up a little early for our birthdays.  I have Viv with me," and Anna sounds so pleased with herself that perhaps Pen can gather that she meant this, both of these things, as a surprise.  "Oh no wait you missed our turn - "

She can hear Vivienne's voice, though she cannot quite make out the words.  It is sharp.

mythology
"Oh!" But Pen is quick, remember, one jump ahead, and so not easy to dismay, although she can feel an echo in her heart-chamber, some quick thing she does not decide to examine. "Where are you now; what street or highway? Yes, I'm home. Nicholas is not; do you wish me to keep you a secret 'til he sees you?"

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"Well, sorry!  You have the GPS, look at that," and Anna's voice is a little muffled as she turns her mouth away from her phone.  "We're on 95," she says, "but we missed the exit.  I guess we'll just circle back around - yes Viv it isn't a big deal just exit and get back on the highway, I do it all the time - and yes you can keep us a secret.  Viv hasn't visited up here before.  He'll be happy."

mythology
"If he's not, I'll take a drop of your blood; if he is, a hug," Pen says, as if she doesn't think he'll be unhappy, and then: "There's a gigantic mountain of snow blocking most of the cul de sac; it is where the children from the house with the onion tower lie in wait for cars, so be forewarned. They are quite vicious. I will see you soon! And you'll get to meet our friend Rob."

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"Damn," Anna says when Pen threatens bloodletting, and laughs.  It has the high crystal sound that Nick's sometimes carries when he is surprised.  A beat.  "Oh, Nicky's told us about Rob," and she sounds chipper.  "I'll have to protect him from all you Hermetics, I guess.  All right, Penny, I'll see you soon."

mythology
"We wouldn't survive such an alliance intact," Pen says, and her good humor is easy, and her voice is touched by wistfulness, and then their phone call is terminated, and she realizes that she is quite naked and the apartment is a mess, so she springs into action as only a Flambeau can: dashing, see, daring too, ambitious as well - first she flings a thing on and then she shoves things out of sight and out of mind.

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Dashing, dashing: that is the best term for what she'll have to do.  She has a half hour by her estimation, maybe 45 minutes, before Nick's siblings arrive; she has two hours before Nick himself arrives home.  Who knows how long she has until Rob is there.

It takes longer than her estimation for them to arrive.  If she had Time she would know this; as it is, she rushes and she shoves things away and she still finds herself with nearly an extra half an hour because Nick's sisters aren't hie-ing there straightaway.  Or perhaps they only became lost again since not everyone has her ability to know exactly where they're at.  (Vivienne does and so that is not an excuse.)

Regardless, later than she expects, Anna texts her to let her know that they have arrived.

mythology
There is a truism about guests especially unexpected guests and it is not the old chestnut about strangers and kindness and angels in disguise it is to deal with cleaning and things to be done and how when one has imminent guests there is always something, something one finds, for she has shoved and hidden and straightened and tidied, and she has let her cell phone lie fallow as she goes about doing first the surface-level easy things, then the deeper clean things, and then beyond that there is the matter of washing her own hands, and then this and that, and so when she has some lounge time and still no one she does not think about texting Nicholas or about texting Robin and when she does pick up her cell phone again it is to text Ari and they talk a little while and Ari shall not be coming with Robin and then Anna texts to let her know that they have arrived and Pen texts back: come on up! and Rob does not text that he is nearly there but he is nearly there. Rob is in fact texting Nicholas. He is texting him: What alcohol is the best by your measure sacrifice to a lightning shade? Think about it and let me know later.

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Nick receives Robin's text.  Nick is working and so perhaps he does not read it until he is about to leave work; perhaps he is with a client or finishing documentation before he leaves for the day.  Maybe he does read it and he is thinking, now, about alcohol to sacrifice to a lightning shade.

Pen can hear two sets of footsteps ascending the stairs and up to their apartment.  The sisters don't have Nick's silent footfalls; Anna in fact sounds like she may have been temporarily transmogrified into a baby elephant.  Then there is a knock, three knocks, before someone (probably Anna) taps out "shave and a haircut."

mythology
There is a knock, three knocks, and then shave and a door opens hello. Pen is of course a picture of loveliness and the apartment she shares with Nicholas is a den of warmth compared to the frigid Hades-ruled world outside no katabasis to be had there only Orpheus mourning the wind kicking up ice-rimed frost on windows shivering the glass would crack for love of snow and Pen flashes a smile which does filter into her eyes embers drifting whirling up then settling an easy glow to the pale gray and, "Hello; please come in," and the door is opened. "What'll you drink with me?"

And we already know how the apartment looks, the vast open-plan sprawl of it, the two personalities braided together oh over a year now isn't it and they are settled an sifted and there's only that tower room off to the side and a widow's walk beyond and a great number of candles flickering against the blue of the windows stars 'capt and kept and a beeswax-y smell mingling with the cider smell and some trickle of water from a fountain somewhere.

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Anna lives in New York and so it is not so rare for her to visit; nevertheless Pen has not seen her for a few months.  She had invited them down to visit with her for New Year's, had offered to show them through New York during the holiday, and so perhaps that was the last time.  She is smiling when the door opens, and the ear flaps of the bright red hat she is wearing cannot contain her hair, which spirals out from beneath.  Vivienne, who has drawn strings tight around the hood of a parka and is peering through, looks decidedly more red-nosed and miserable.

"Hello!" Anna says, and then cranes her head through the door to look around.  Vivienne bumps into her as she is ascending the stairs, when Anna suddenly stops at the threshold.  "Wow, nice place.  Very old-world-charming," Anna says with a low whistle.  She doesn't move, at first.  "I have no idea how you guys don't murder each other though - "

"I'd love a warm drink," Vivienne offers from down below.

mythology
"Anna, in," Pen says, and she will pull Anna in by her own hand and squeeze Anna's had just so pressure which says pleased to see you and this way Vivienne can get into the warmth yes right and, "Thank you," she sounds pleased, "And I usually find it easy not to murder Nicholas, especially as we have finally come to an amicable arrangement about the dishes," Pen shuts the door behind them both and it is too warm for jackets and hats inside the apartment and there is almost certainly some sort of (ardent, daring) help being given to the old gas heating something Enochian-scribed somewhere but the place has a resonance unique to its occupants and, "Chocolate or cider or buttered rum? It's very good to see you both," and she offers Vivienne her hand as well and gives Vivienne's hand a squeeze to, see, a pleased crinkle at the corners of her eyes, and then she is backing away or whisking off to the kitchen area.

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Anna is more quick to discard her coat, a bit of sweeping fur-lined artistry, than Vivienne is hers.  Vivienne in fact seems reluctant to part with the parka, even once they are both inside the apartment.  "Chocolate sounds great," Anna says, and with great enthusiasm.

"What's buttered rum?" is the somewhat more cautious inquiry from the Quaesitor.  Vivienne at least has freed the hood and lowered it, and is glancing about the space: perhaps noting the way her brother has faded into the woodwork of this place, how she can't quite tell which items are his and his alone.  She takes Pen's hand when it's offered, and clasps it briefly.  One would have to look to see the corresponding crinkle at her eyes, but it's there.

Anna, meanwhile, is wandering over to the entrance of the tower.  "You guys are way more organized than I expected."

"Not everyone's house is a fire hazard, Anna," Vivienne says, and though there is a dry crackle to her voice there is no sharpness.  "Thanks for having us, Pen."

mythology
"Buttered rum is hot rum, spiced butter - I do it with brown sugar, six or so cloves, and then whipped cream. I think I've still got cream I made this morning," and as she says this, Pen, she is getting out the necessary pots to make these things: hot chocolate, maybe buttered rum, pulling from the refrigerator with efficiency. "You can have some cream on a spoon, if you like," and see, she did find a bowl of fresh-made whipped cream.

And see too - Pen with her sharp eyes, her clear eyes her lake-light contained, she is watching Anna tread close to the tower, and is debating telling the Disparate no don't go up there because after all that is where most of Pen's magickal books are and she is a Hermetic and has been taught to be private but she also does not strictly worry that Anna will take anything and she is Nick's sister and: well; there is watchfulness; that is all.

"You didn't expect us to be organized?" Pen sounds amused. "Didn't you guys bring bags; are you not spending the night?"

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"I would like," Vivienne says, and she is happy enough to take a spoonful of the offered cream.  "I'll have some of the rum, then."  She, too, is looking over toward Anna as Anna nears the tower; perhaps her gaze was carried by Pen's, mirrors her watchfulness in a way.  Maybe she has already noticed the lack of magickal books out here in the open, or maybe she just shares her brother's gift for understanding things in context.

"The bags are out in the car still," Anna says.  "Viv said we shouldn't crash here without asking."

"We can afford a hotel," Vivienne says, after swallowing a mouthful of cream.

"Anyway, no," Anna says.  "Nick's room was always a mess."  She is wandering away from the tower and over toward one of Pen's swords, which has caught her interest.  "When's your friend Rob getting here?  I don't think I've met Rob before."

mythology
"You can stay here," Pen says, hospitable, although she has not borrowed the futon from Thane yet, and there is only one bed and the couch. These are details which can be dealt with later, possibly by Nicholas.

Anna's question about Rob. "Oh, er, bring me my cell phone - it's on the trunk table, just there - and I'll let you know. He's one of the best people, Robin Anton; he is quite implacable, and stalwart, though very sharp; a rose of a man. Excellent taste in spirits and desserts."

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"Thanks," Anna says, when Pen offers the apartment to the two of them.  Vivienne, well, she glances sidelong and finishes off the remainder of cream on the spoon.

Anna retrieves Pen's phone and brings it over so that she can join the two of them there in the little kitchen area.  "Well, you make him sound very nice," she says.

"Is he the Tytalan, or the one from Bonisagus?" Vivienne asks, as she carefully sets the spoon down on the counter.

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"He is," Pen says, ardent champion, and the chocolate is heating, so too the rum, and these scents mingle with the rest. Pen leans against the counter, easy languor in the line of her, rests one hand on the counter while she scrolls through her texts to find the conversation with Rob.

"And he belongs to House Tytalus," and if she doesn't quite expect the same reaction from Vivienne as a Gryffindor being told somebody is a Slytherin (ten points to Flambeau for the reference, badum pum), she is conscious of all the politics. She has no strong care for them, but she is a good student, even if she does not work the way her mentor does.

"So what do you guys want to do while you're here? And is there anything I can do to help make your birthday better?"

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To what Pen says, Vivienne only nods.  There isn't any hatred there, no visible distaste; still, perhaps Pen is wise to be aware of the politics.  Vivienne's few interactions with House Tytalus have mainly been oriented around tribunals.

"We were thinking some kind of adventure when we thought the weather would be better," Anna says.  "I thought it might be fun to do some kind of ritual, but - "

"It might be difficult for us all to Work together," Vivienne says, and there is a shrug here.  "But if you really want that, Anna, we can try.  Or we can still - "

"Well, no matter what we do, you should come with us, Penny," Anna says.  "I heard something about an art gallery up here geared toward people who are Awakened, is that true?  Somebody said you had to do some kind of magick in order to even get in."

mythology
"Poor weather is a staple of poetically epic adventures," Pen says. "What sort of ritual would you want to do? And that's a very kind invitation, I'm touched. There is an art gallery up here you have to do some kind of magick in order to get in - but the magick you do must be creative; it must be the art, right? For display - and it's judged pretty harshly. Unless you're thinking about the Seadrift gallery, where you just need to know the right set of magickal runes to get in - it's a password which requires certain skills to push."

And into this there's a knock knock on the door and as there's a knock knock the door is opened and here's a Robin Anton, looking very Robin Anton in his very warm and very well-cut wool jacket cold nipping at him giving him a French pallor brown eyes honey warm darkness and long lashes snow-flake frosted and a beanie out of which some of his wild dark hair is visible and gloves and the whole mess a bag with some Scotch because he settled on that when Nick didn't get back to him immediately and Robin Anton is Serenesee, all measured, occulted, and he is also quick to adapt, so when he sees two other people in the apartment neither of which are Nick or Ari he lofts his eyebrows and, closing the door behind him, says, "I did not know you were having company unknown to me, Penelope. Hello."

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"I'm not sure," Anna says, of rituals.  "Something to help us stay in touch better, maybe.  Something to help our guides speak to each other.  Birthdays are pretty ideal for stuff like that, and I've wanted - "

"It might be past our skill," Vivienne says, and her arms are folded; there is a note of caution here.  A note of skepticism.  Though they are both listening and intently now to Pen talk about art galleries, and there is interest here.  And then there is a knock.

Anna, whose exuberance does not appear to have been dampened by Vivienne's commentary, brightens when she sees Robin.  She is wandering over in his direction so that she can offer to take his coat from him, or the scotch, or: well, whatever.  It isn't her house but it doesn't take very long for her to begin to take over a space.  "Hello!  You look pretty much exactly as I imagined you," she says.

Vivienne, too, is watching him from across the room through a veil of lashes.  "Hi," she says.  "We're Nick's sisters.  I'm Vivienne, that's Anna."

mythology
"Ah. Well, I try not to disappoint," Rob says, a touch dryly, but with easy enough good humor. He does not cede his coat, nor the Scotch; he peels a glove off and shakes Anna's hand with a sort of easy confidence, innate, see, as if that were the only thing she could have been coming over to do. He is observant; how observant are you? Many Hermetics wear jewelry, including the men. Robin Anton is wearing three rings: a dark, over-sized stone on his middle-finger, black as a lightless pool, a thick band around his index finger, and a third set with a tinier dark stone on his other hand still hidden by the glove. All three are occult in significance, casually masculine in appearance; one was used to secrete poisons.

"You must be the one who lives in New York." Then our good Robin takes the beanie off, running his fingers through his hair once, and - because he is at home here - goes to set the Scotch on the kitchen counter.

"And you must be the one I owe a longer introduction to," he says, to Vivienne, and then she gets it. Hermetics and their manners, yo. "I've heard a lot about you both, from Nick and Pen. Does Nick know you two are here?"

He glances toward Pen as he asks this, having come to roost beside her. Pen is still - a Classical witch, an Enchantress a la French Tradition - brooding somewhat over the three drinks going on the stove; it will be another five minutes for all, except and see Rob anticipates Pen asking him what he'll have by saying "Cider" and Pen anticipates Rob anticipating her because she is already reaching for a ladle and dipping it in and it all happens very fast and see Pen is still being thoughtful reflective over this idea of doing a ritual to allow one's avatar to speak to the avatar of someone else wondering whether she'd ever want that thinks she might if she'd been born a twin or a triplet shared a womb but she was not did not.

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Anna does not appear put off by Robin's extension of his hand; she seems a whirlwind, at times, and could change her mind partway through an action.  Maybe by the time she got to him all she was planning to do was shake his hand in return.  "I am the one who lives in New York," she says, and smiles.

She might even be a little pleased that she was not immediately pegged as the Disparate sister, or that Robin did not say such.  Sometimes it pays to have social graces.

Vivienne offers her own longer introduction in return.  "A pleasure," she says after.  "Nick doesn't know we're here yet.  Anna had it in her head to surprise him."  She leans against the kitchen counter nearby.

Anna is beginning to drift back in their direction, and she takes a chair which she pulls to face them a little; the observant would notice it still keeps her a bit apart from them, even if her smile is warm.  "Were either of your other cabalmates planning to show?"

mythology
Robin can be perfectly pleasant see how perfectly pleasant he can be unruffled an air of cool command of self-possession self-possession being a very Order of Hermes trait even Penelope is self-possessed albeit in a very different way than is Robin Anton and side by side the differences are interesting and anyway Rob he says, "What part of New York? Muralist, isn't it, and you teach others how to Work using their creative impulse?"

"Liz and Thane are at some seminar up in Maine, though they were going to come back to surprise Nick when we celebrate his birthday," Pen says, with the flash of a grin; she includes Anna and Vivienne, see, eyes meeting one's and then the other's, "We're plotting to give him an experience set of birthday gifts this year. A daisy-braid of experiences."

"I'm going to give him peace of mind," Robin says, serenely, and neither Anna nor Vivienne know Rob or Pen well enough to detect a Pen-Rob fight in its most nascent stage, but here it is.

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"Sometimes murals, yeah," Anna says, stretching her legs out in front of her.  One of her socks, thick knee socks with colorful stripes though well-worn, has a hole in the toe from which the top of her toe peeps out.  "I've done some tile work too though.  I've been sharing a condo in Williamsburg with a couple of other disparates."

Tight quarters, if one would have to guess how a few artists are trying to live: the Hydes do not come from money.  Anna smiles as Pen's eyes meet hers, when she tells of the presents the cabal is planning to give Nick this year.  "Nicky will like that, even if he doesn't know how to take it."

Peace of mind, says Rob, and Vivienne glances to him.  "Peace of mind in what way?"

mythology
Rob blows across the surface of his cider, blowing it cool. The Quaesitor has a question and of course he answers the Quaesitor's question he is good Robin Anton very good.

He says, "He won't need expect any trickery from me; I'm giving him a relaxing twenty minutes of no new experiences; he'll come, he'll stay, he'll see, we'll drink, and then - who has him after me, Pendulum?"

"Of course he won't expect any trickery from you, Songrobin; you are so very cunning, your pretend relaxing twenty minutes will be the best feint; we agreed; I will hold you to it."

"Hmm," says Robin. They are both in control of their tempers right now; they are not fighting; observe. "Maybe I'll create a trap for him to fall into," he says, generously. "And when he's in it, he'll feel nothing but bliss, and he'll - " Here; Robin is a dick. He grins. " - miss the next leg of his adventures." The grin is sublimated into courtesy: "But that kind of peace, Vivienne. Something expected."

And this is when look the hot chocolate is ready Pen brings that over in a gigantic cup for Anna see look Anna hot chocolate yay hot chocolate.

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"Making somebody miss their next few presents sounds like a mean thing to do to somebody on their birthday," Anna says, because whatever else she may be she is also sincere.  She doesn't know anything really about House Tytalus, about how its members work.

She accepts the hot chocolate from Pen with a smile and a thanks.

"Mmm," Vivienne says, with a furrow of her brow as she watches Robin.  "Nick probably could use some peace of mind more often.  Are you trying to distract him so that the others can surprise him?"

mythology
"Maybe he won't fall into my trap, and he'll have been given the satisfaction of foiling me," Robin says, and he's watching Pen as he says it.

"That's not satisfying enough for a birthday gift," Pen says, with a weary air of one who knows, because she suspects that weary air will annoy Robin; and it does. Pen has cycled back to the hot buttered rum and she is breathing deep of it and she is annoyed at Robin and it shows because Pen is clear as glass but she is not so annoyed as to interrupt him or interrupt herself and she brings the hot buttered rum in another very large mug this one taller rather than the wide saucer-cup thing that Anna is getting and she gives this over to Vivienne.

"And no, the idea is - this shan't happen on his proper birthday, because I knew Anna was coming, and I'm sure Nicholas yearns after you two," Pen says, lounging against the counter most loungily, and of course she is very sincere. "But the idea is Thane will kidnap him in the morning, then take him on an adventure, and then Liz will take him on an adventure, and then Robin, and then Ari, and eventually we'll all meet at Rob's for drinks."

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Vivienne does not know either Pen or Robin very well, but she can sense some of the trouble brewing, some of the annoyance that underlies their words.  She accepts the buttered rum gratefully; Pen can tell when she hands the mug over that Vivienne's fingertips are still very cold.  She is still wearing the parka, and once she has the mug in hand she reluctantly parts with it and leaves it hung over the back of a nearby chair.

"Well, that sounds nice, as long as Rob here doesn't make him sleep all the way through it," Anna says, with a careful sip from her mug.

"Have you two known each other for a very long time?" Vivienne asks, with a look between Penelope and Robin.  She is leaning a hip against the countertop, the mug still held between her hands and the liquid within untouched.

mythology
[Why-do-you-ask, squinty-perc-subt-roll-from-Rob]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7) ( success x 2 )

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[Psh.  Tytalans don't get to know.]

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

mythology
"He won't," Pen assures Anna, or threatens Rob; it is difficult to tell.

Robin regards Vivienne, see, blandly, and he says, "We've been in one cabal or another since Penelope joined the Order of Hermes."

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Maybe Anna is assured; maybe she is not.  The way in which she smiles back at Pen implies that she might be.  (Anna is skilled with hexes, these particularly: perhaps she plans to bestow a birthday gift of her own upon her brother.)

Meanwhile, they can hear gravel crunching as a car is pulling up outside.  It was dubbed Asshole's Car once upon a time, but he has finally gotten a new muffler (living here and having to face the neighbors in the stairway and downstairs has helped encourage him, see.)  They can hear the door shut; they cannot hear Nick making his way up the stairs.

"That is a while," Vivienne agrees.  She takes a sip of the buttered rum now and makes a small noise; it is surprised and it is pleased.  "Well, Robin, you're welcome along on whatever we do with Nick while we're here."  A beat.  "That must be him."

There is the rasp of Nick's key in the lock at first, though it stops short of turning; perhaps it has occurred to him that Pen will be home and so he simply tries the door.  Maybe he can smell the rum and cider and chocolate outside.  He steps into the door and halts there, snow perched in his curls and on the shoulders of his wool coat.  His face is wan, but surprised and with a warmth creeping into his eyes.  The corner of one eye is bruised and will blacken, soon enough.

mythology
"Call me Rob," Robin tells Vivienne, and then Nick is home.

Nick might expect Pen who he will marry next year though do they know it yet he might expect her to meet him at the door if she is home because she has done that before likes to take him up as soon as he steps over the threshold he might just as easily expect her to be languoring about and want him to come to her he might expect anything but what he gets is Pen restraining herself because Anna and Vivienne have come a long way to see Nicholas so they should get him first and look at the snow in his hair look at the snow on his shoulders look at how and her heart's an ache a pleasurable ache and his eye is about to blacken and she is conscious of just plotting his birthday gifts and thinks he might be able to tell it by looking so she, reserved, self-contained, all that jazz, looks away from the beauty of his hair at Vivienne and Anna instead, though not without a smile hello I want to eat you up

and Rob is not so nice. He says, "My phone didn't vibrate; I brought Scotch; I hope that'll do. We were just making nice. I didn't realize you and your sisters would look so alike."

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Nick does not know yet that he will marry Pen next year, but he is expecting (hoping) she might meet him at the door.  He is hoping it today; it has been a difficult day, she can see that in the slump of his shoulders if she looks, in the eye that is swollen and painful at the corner.  He does not look disappointed though.  He wanders in the door, swats it to send it swinging shut behind him.  It is smooth now and without the creak ever since Pen knocked it off its hinges last fall.

Anna set her cup down on the side table and now is almost skipping over toward her brother on her toes, her arms held wide, and she flings them around him as though she were the one who hadn't seen him in months and not Vivienne.  "Hello Nicky!  Surprise!"

Vivienne, more sedate, wanders in beside Anna so that she too can embrace her brother and kiss both of his cheeks.  "Hello, Rob," Nick says over Vivienne's shoulder.  There is a smile for Pen, there, too, effusive warmth.  He draws back with his hands on Vivienne's shoulders.  "I'm glad we finally got you up here.  Are you frozen?"

"Yes," Vivienne says, "and I almost pulled the directions to get here from Anna's head just so I could Stride here alone, but here I am."  Her smile is a crisp thing, dry.

"What happened to your eye?"  Anna, here, leaning in between the two of them and well without the notion of personal space.

"A heroin addict didn't like being told he had to stay because he threatened suicide this morning," Nick says, and there is some of the weariness again right there creeping back in, and he reaches up to unbutton his coat as he begins to wander Penward.  Both of his sisters accompany him.

mythology
[I'm so smooth.]

Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (5, 6, 10) ( success x 2 )

mythology
Pen measures Vivienne's profile the fall of her hair measures Anna's exuberance and glances at Rob too because she feels Rob looking at her and Rob is an inscrutable cat so Pen makes a face at him a very exaggerated face and he smirks would laugh except he is too serene for that and Pen's attention is drawn back as Nick explains his bruise away and he is coming toward her and she is not thinking about surprises for Nicholas at all nope she bites the inside of her lip and decides the best way to keep that so is to look Nick's within arm's reach now she slips her hand under his coat under his sweater under his layers until she finds his skin and tugs him close and says, "What're you drinking? Chocolate, cider, buttered rum, some other thing not already bubbling on our stove," and see, a dimple. Though she examines his eye now it's close, thoughtful, marking it out.

Rob is watchful; that's all. For now. Watchful and observant, he's taking note of Nick's sister's reactions and emotions and personalities, it's another hint suggestion gleaning reason Nick is who he is now. Rob sets his cider cup down, and look, he seems amused; aloofly amused, but still, amused; it's something about the way they move.

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Both sisters wander back with Nicholas to resume their spots, helped along by the drinks that they were provided.  "We're triplets," Vivienne says to Rob, who had earlier commented on their appearance.  "Everyone always says how much we look alike."

Though she, with her straightened hair and her tattoos and the glasses she wears, has gone a ways toward differentiating herself from both of her siblings.

Nick breathes out as Pen's hand finds his skin, as though it wasn't something he had realized he had wanted until just now, and allows himself to be drawn in.  She is biting her lip, which makes him wonder if perhaps he has - well, maybe they were all talking about him before he came in.  "Cider, please," he says.  "It's still really cold outside."

"We were all talking about birthday plans, Nick," Anna says.  "Viv and I thought we could go out and do something.  A ritual, maybe, or we can all just go get drinks together and we can show Viv around New England and maybe she'll want to move up here."

"Not to this frozen hellscape," Vivienne says, with a swallow of her rum.  There was a tightness that came into her eyes there: she could have fought; she didn't.  "It's been fun to meet Rob here, though, after hearing stories.  Maybe you could introduce me to your other friends.  It's interesting how mixed a cabal you all are."

mythology
"It seems a spiritual similarity rather than a physical one," Rob says, frowning, as if struck; but it is only mild, and he is only thoughtful, and still: watchful.

Oh, Nick likes that Pen has found his side and his back and it is, she thinks, a shame his sisters are there, and even Rob, because there are things she'd do were they not here; a hip bump is not one of those things; drawn in and then she bumps her hips against his and wraps her arms around him wholly a tight hug and a deep inhale and then she separates to pour him cider,

though she laughs in sympathy when Vivienne says not to this frozen hellscape, says, "This year is more visited by Jack Frost in a temper than most years, at least this near the coast. I would like seeing you more often," and because it is Pen, she means it without agenda.

"Who do you work with, when you work with others?" Rob asks. "Are you in a cabal of your own?" A pause, and, "Either of you," to include Anna in it.

morrigu
"Spiritual similarity, huh?" Anna asks, only the upper half of her face visible around the rim of her mug of hot chocolate.  It's a nice smell to be breathing in, just now.  "Most people tell us how different we all are.  Or they comment on how ornery Viv is."

Vivienne rolls her eyes and declines comment.  "Thank you, Pen, but I don't think Connecticut is for me.  Or for mom."

Nick had parted from Pen only reluctantly, and he still stands as near to her as he can without being in her way as she works at the stove.  "You'd get used to the cold," he says.

Vivienne makes a noncommittal noise, and then glances back at Rob.  She is swirling the rum in the mug she was given, to stir the butter and redistribute it through, to create foam.  "I'm in a cabal that's for work purposes, mainly," she says.  "Not friends the way you all seem to be."

"No cabal for me," Anna says.  "Or a huge cabal, I guess, depending on how you look at it.  I hang out with a lot of Disparates down in New York.  We have our own chantry."

mythology
"It's true that I don't regard membership in a chantry to equate with one big cabal," Rob says, glancing at Pen, and Pen, she glances at Rob, and they are both thinking of people they know at the local Hermetic chantry with whom they are currently at odds and jets versus sharks all that jazz, and Pen hands Nick a mug (his mug, see) of cider, and that is all for the cider, there is no more, and she also languishes against him again staying behind so she can rest her chin on his shoulder wrap her arms around his ribs.

"But it's not unknown," Pen tells Rob. "The Apartment is a chantry and a cabal."

"Also true," Rob says, and he smiles a charming smile at Anna, in case she needs to be charmed, look at how charming he can be with his fluffy hair and his eyes crinkling at the corners and his air of measured aloofness which he can't seem to quite shake but look he's totally warm at the same time. "I forget about them. Do you know Calliope, Anna? She goes pretty often to New York. Went to a really good school, belongs to the Hollow Ones, a spoken word artist."

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Nick, too, is perhaps thinking of people at the chantry that Miles runs, the ones that he would never cabal with.  The ones who would probably never cabal with him, even were he agreeable.  Pen is languishing against his back, and he leans back a little into her: sometimes this works, as far as the laws of physics are concerned, that two things can lean and still manage to stay upright, to support each other (though what do they care for those.)

"Oh, I know her," Anna says.  "We've met and been at the same events together a couple of times.  She's got a lot of talent.  I can't do spoken word like that, I always forget what I'm saying partway through and then just make shit up for the other half.  It's never as good.  How do you know her, Rob?"

Vivienne, too, has turned to watchfulness; hers is a different sort than Nick's, see, more detached and sharper somehow.  She looks to Nick and Pen, leaned there against one another, and sips at her buttered rum, and then she reaches over toward Nick and taps his arm.  "Here, I'll go hang up your coat," she says.  Penance, perhaps, for any sharpness the last time they spoke.

mythology
"We took the same pottery class," Rob deadpans. He could be serious; he might be serious. He is probably serious? "Vivienne, how long are you in town for?"

Pen's arms tighten around Nick's ribs, nooo, don't move to take off your coat noooo, but only for a second; then her arms loosen so Nick can get comfortable.

morrigu
"Oh, did you go to some kind of fancy art school, then?"  And here Anna grins as though she too didn't go to a fancy art school (it's not the same: Anna went on scholarship.)

"I haven't decided," Vivienne says.  "Probably for four or five days.  There's a tribunal I may be asked to sit on back in Phoenix, so it probably depends on how long I can manage to stay away."  She has her arms folded, now, her mug resting against one elbow.  She hasn't moved to take a seat yet; sometimes standing is welcome after so long in the car.

Once Nick's jacket frees, though, she takes it in hand and sets her mug down so that she can take it back toward the closet.  Nick settles back in against Pen once he has shed the coat and given it over, nestling his head back against her neck and shoulder.  "Are they staying with us?" he murmurs, and is already thinking about how this is going to work out given that they have one very large room in the apartment.

mythology
"You can just hang it on the coat rack," Pen tells Vivienne, and then, quietly and in Nick's ear, "Yes. We could... sleep in the library and give them the bed, or vice versa, or Rob would probably lend us an extra bed," whisper-whisper, plot-plot, "Are you happy?" And from the outside, this is all very adorable.

Rob is unfortunately used to it by now. He has his opinions. He's polite enough to keep them off his face, except when he's making a point. He isn't right now. When the whisper-whisper starts up, his ears sharpen, but he's being conversational darn it. He says, "Art school - me? No. I have just taken a lot of lessons."

"He knows how to fly a plane and he did pretty good with that fire baton."

"Luck and Forces," Rob says.

"Ha! J'accuse. I knew you'd cheated," Pen says, with a bright grin.

"You did, but you backed down," Robin says, and he tsks. Then, "Why might you be asked to sit?" There's emphasis on 'might.'

morrigu
Nick nods emphatically when Pen asks if he is happy, and there is a smile as he says, "Just surprised.  Let's...we can sleep in the library."  It's cold up in the library, with the door there out to the widow's walk, but they can just bring more blankets.

Vivienne does hang Nick's coat on the coat rack, and then begins the trek back to her buttered rum.  Her brother and his girlfriend are adorable, which is another word for sickening; Vivienne does not have Anna's tolerance nor appreciation for public displays of affection.  She and Rob would be of like minds, in all probability.

Once she reaches the counter she takes up her mug and then takes a seat, finally, opposite Anna and on the other side of Rob.  "Ah, a Renaissance man then," Anna says, with an appraising look over at Rob.

"My master may be otherwise occupied," Vivienne says, "and it's a high profile case.  She'd like someone to go in her stead and thinks I would be an appropriate stand-in."

mythology
Ah, a Renaissance man, and appraisal is met with: a mild nod, a faint lift of the eyebrows; slender are the balances in place.

"What case?" Rob asks Vivienne.

"If you'd like the apartment for a night, just you three together, I can stay at Rob's," Pen says, and her voice is still pitched low for intimacy; her words are still spoken into Nick's ear, the side of his neck; she is already thinking, see, of what ritual she may want to do before they retire, heat-proofing, sound-proofing, politick things.

Her eyes flick bright and with interest to Vivienne when she explains why she might be called away. "While you are here, is there anybody you'd like to meet or anywhere you'd like to go, on our end?" The our includes Rob and not Anna and Nicholas.

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"You know I can't share details," Vivienne says, with a small smile now at Rob.  "But it involves a crime done to another member of the Order.  Code breaches.  That kind of thing."

Anna, who is not and never will be especially interested in Order business, has turned her gaze back to her brother only to find him wholly absorbed in his conversation with Pen.  "I want to stay with you," he says, though it is after a pause.  It's probably rare that the three of them get time alone together as adults, and it was tempting enough.

He might have said more, but he is distracted by Anna, who has placed her chin on top of her hand and is very sloooowly fluttering her eyelashes at him.

"I suppose I'd like to see the area," Vivienne says, either ignoring or not noticing her other two siblings.  "The ocean, too.  I never have."

mythology
Small smile is met with a faint smile of his own; it is not goading, because it is too serene, and he is not goading; it is simply a touch knowing, and brash. People sometimes think Robin is up to things based on his allegiance, and his general shadowiness; they would not be incorrect.

"Maybe they'll want you. It's all right; we can talk before you go to bed by mirror glass, or I guess phone," Pen says, because she is very sensitive to the wants and desires of family members, given how often she (knows she) disappoints her own; and see: here the solemn touch of her gaze is ardent, yes, ardently invested, an invoker's gaze, invocation and she finds Nick's wrist and slips her fingers between his sleeve and skin and then - the ocean.

"We know some very good, very warm, places which overlook the sea - good seafood, too; right, Robin?"

"Mm. Anna, so you're the one in New York, have you ever tried to get Nicky to move closer to you or are you content with having crash space up North?" Robin: watchful, and curious.

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Nicholas nods because he knows they will probably want him, and he wants to see them too; he nods because he too is sensitive to the wants and desires of family members.  The kiss he places on her cheekbone is impulsive, some emotion that seizes him all at once, once her fingers close around his wrist.

"That sounds nice," Vivienne says.  There is another small smile here, similar to the one she'd given Robin but for the fact that this one touches her eyes.  "Especially the very warm part."

Anna leaves off with fluttering her eyelashes and, chin still on her fist, looks over at Robin now.  "I love New York, but sometimes it's nice to have a reason to leave," she says.  She grins, then, sudden.  "Besides, Nicky's a counselor and I doubt he could afford the rent.  I wouldn't want to pull him away from Penny here, anyway."  Another exaggerated flutter of her eyelashes back at her brother, now.

"What about you, Rob?  Have you always lived around here?  You seem like you might be more of a city guy yourself."

mythology
"He's a Willworker; I'm sure he can figure out how to afford the rent," Rob says, very dryly. Then, with interest, "When you flutter your eyelashes, are you meant to be Nick or Pen?"

"Robin, shush," Pen says, digging her chin into Nick's shoulder, probably in a manner she'd like to dig it into Robin, before easing up, hiding her mouth against Nick's neck instead; it isn't quite a kiss; it's just the promise of one. Her eyebrows are slanted, good humor-wise, and there's a lake-light dredged-up glint of - "And it's probably an amalgam."

"What?" Robin says, serenely. "I'm the only one here without siblings, no? Observation is embellished by action. And I was born in the city," by which he means New York City, because he is a New Yorker. "I've always commuted between New York and Connecticut, excepting the military school years. Are you hungry, Vivienne? Nick, did you have time for dinner?"

morrigu
"I'm both of them at once," Anna says, with a deceptive sort of dignity.  "They're just so disgustingly cute over there, I can't help it."

She leaves off, though, turns her focus back to Robin and to what Robin is saying.  Nick, who earlier in his relationship with Pen might have grown more embarrassed (did, she'll recall, last year when Anna came to stay with them briefly for Christmas) reaches around to wrap an arm around her when she presses her lips to his neck.  He, too, glints with good humor.

"You went to military school?"  Here, a glance of interest from Vivienne, something that verges on amusement.  "What did you do to earn that?"  A beat.  "I could eat.  I haven't since the airport."

"I didn't really have time to eat tonight, no," Nick says, with a touch of rue.  Such nights sometimes pass, where he works.  "Where were you thinking, Rob?"

mythology
"The Meerkonig's good this time of year," Rob says,

"Oooh, yes!" Pen says, "And it has that circular room, with the round table,"

"It does have that, but it has potato pancakes more importantly,"

"And a view of the sea; very nice, Robin! Though was the door shut? Nicholas, do you remember?"

"The door was conditionally shut," Rob says, cautiously, giving Nick a flick of a glance, and see, these are references to an adventure they all had and a door to an otherwhere.

"You could invite Jackson, or some other of your Chakravanti friends," Rob suggests, dismissively. "I feel the odd man out."

morrigu
"I do remember," Nick says, and he is not looking at Vivienne who is looking between him and Pen and Rob with an air of curiosity.  She is sharp enough to catch the references even if she may not understand what it is they are referring to.

"Hardly," Vivienne says to Rob, and with easy courtesy even if it is brisk.  "We're glad to have you.  I wouldn't mind meeting some more of your friends, though, Nick."

"I guess I could invite Jackson," Nick says.  "He'd probably be glad to get out and around people a little bit," and Nick is too kind to say that it might do him good to stop moping.  "He and Ciara just broke up though, so she's out."

"Onward to potato pancakes, then?" Anna asks, and she finally drains whatever cocoa was left in her mug and sets it aside on the end table.

mythology
"I'm just going to change," Pen says, stretching first against Nick and then disengaging from him entirely in order to complete the stretch, up and up and up on her toes and arms akimbo and grace collapsing and then, "I wasn't planning on going out tonight - it'll just be one second," with a smile in her eyes, see, bright, and she pads over to a chest of drawers all the way on the other side of the vasty ballroom third floor and inside are colors and silks and fanciful things and she rummages for a moment before grabbing something appropriate and then she pads toward not the bathroom in case a guest wants it but the stairs to the book room.

"Called that one," Rob says, re: Ciara and Jackson. Heartless, maybe. Rob acknowledges Vivienne's brisk courtesy with a flicker of expression, a touch of amusement. He snaps his fingers, "What about that friend you like, Pentagram? Giles?"

morrigu
Nick smiles as Pen stretches out full against him like a cat, and straightens up and away so that she can go and get clothes and go change.  Rob says he called it and Nick: only shrugs, because he too had perhaps known even if he never would have said or suggested.  Instead he only smiles and says, "When you bet against everyone you're bound to win some of the time."  He turns his head toward the book room.

"If we asked for Miles, we'd also get Jonas.  Dinner might overwhelm him," and Nick is delicate here because he likes Jonas but cannot imagine him being entertained by their company.

"What about your friend Ari?"  Anna asks, and then adds with a sharp smile, "As much as this is beginning to feel like a Hermetic and Chakravanti party."

mythology
Pen is out of sight, out of mind.

Rob offers Nick a faint smirk; and he is a dick. He says, "Tsh. I have a perfect record - or almost. And that's too bad."

And he looks very mild at mention of Jonas, because as much as he enjoys fucking with Pen, that enjoyment does not extend to hanging out with that clearly dangerous tool. But he is polite, see.

"Ari was going to come tonight - we should still do the thing, if we can fit it in, Nick - but she got called away on some lineage business."

morrigu
"'Do the thing'?" Vivienne asks, and she has been sitting there with her mug waiting to finish whatever is in it, and comfortable enough to let her brother and his friend do the talking.  Because she's interested in what they have to say, see, and she is interested in seeing Nick in this context.

Nick glances sidelong at her, then back at Rob.  "I did see your text," he says.  "I think something clear and bright.  Cold vodka, maybe, or gin."

"Now I feel like the only non-secretive one here," Anna says with a wave of her hand. "Penny!  Come back and save me!"

mythology
"Come help me," Pen's voice, drifting down, re: Anna's summons.

"Damn. Maybe Pen can change the Scotch into one of those things," Rob says. "Or we can swing by home. There's a situation with a missing book," he tells Vivienne, though he keeps his eyes on Nicholas, raising an eyebrow in query. And then, "So you have a cabal for work, and you work within the Order more often than not, but have you found yourself involved in any matters of diplomacy, Vivienne?"

morrigu
Anna pushes herself up out of her chair and gathers her skirt in one hand as she ascends the stairs up to the library.  She tromps up the old wooden stairs at such volume that Pen can certainly hear her coming.  "What do you need help with?"

"She might be able to do that," Nick says.  "Or we could just buy some vodka.  It doesn't have to be a whole bottle or anything, usually just the symbolic gesture or a glass or bowl of it is enough, most of the time."

Vivienne, who certainly respects her brother's opinions on such things even though she is often confused by it, continues to be watchful.  To Robin, she nods as mentions the missing book.  "Dealing with the courts often is a sort of diplomacy, more often than not.  So not diplomacy expressly, but I've started to accompany my master when she goes to visit Hermetic strongholds in the area.  Why do you ask?"

mythology
Before the Hydes appeared, Pen was un-clad, in the middle of a great number of articles of clothing, and now here we are again, except it is less articles of clothing, and she has on a blouse with a number of buttons up the back, and when Anna enters the circular tower room, books and books and nooks and books and a comfortable low dusky couch and an arm chair and books books books and a gracious glass lamp and books, Pen casts a piteous glance over her shoulder at Anna, and gestures toward the buttons, which she can only do up so far. She could've chosen something else to wear, but she did not want to, so.

---

Rob watches Anna head to the tower room, then hmms at Nick and nods.

"My fault. I see I should have clarified. I meant, do you only work internally, or do you find yourself enjoying projects that involve our law and the laws of other Traditions as well?"

morrigu
Anna grew up with a sister, even if Vivienne is not the sort of sister who often asked for Anna's help with anything.  Nevertheless, she recognizes the sort of duties that are required of her, and steps over to help Pen with her buttons when she sees the other woman glance over her shoulder.  She gently sweeps some of Pen's hair over her shoulder to keep it from getting caught in the buttons or in her fingers.

"Do you think Nicky's happy we're here, Pen?  I can't ever totally tell, with him," Anna says.  Hardly a breath goes by before she adds, "You have such pretty hair."

---

"I'm interested in Order history, actually," Vivienne says, "though that's a little bit more of a pet project to be honest.  And sometimes in the intersection of Order history and the history of other Traditions."

She finishes this statement with a smile and glances from Nick to Rob before asking, "So what sort of work do you do, Rob?"

Nick, meanwhile, becomes very very interested in the dishes and the doing of them.

mythology
"Thank you," Pen says, pleased and touched and warm, and then, "I think he misses being with you two; I know he's happy to see you." Beat. "I was thinking I'd stay at Rob's tonight and give you guys a chance to catch up; would that be okay?"

--

There are an awful lot of dishes to be done, since every hot drink known to man was made. Nick might even find where Pen hid some things as she was cleaning - explicable that this should be in the cabinet, etc.

"You might call me a career academic," Rob says.

morrigu
"Well, we don't want to kick you out," Anna says, "but it's nice of you to give us all a chance to be together.  That never really happens anymore.  Wasn't this, like, your apartment before though?  Don't you feel weird about it?"

She finishes the last button and gives Pen's shoulder a gentle pat to let her know she's done.

---

Nick does indeed find where Pen hid things, and there is a trace of fondness in his smile as he soaps and rinses cup after cup and adds it to the drying rack.  He has half an ear turned toward his sister and his friend, but make no mistake: Nick is ready to high tail it out of here if it turns into a hissing match between Hermetics.

"Oh?"  Vivienne traces her fingertips over the top of her mug, glancing up at Rob through her eyelashes.  "What does a career academic do?  Research, mainly?"

mythology
"Why would I feel weird about it? It's still our apartment," Pen says.

Thoughtful, then: "And I like coming home to Nicholas."

--

"You could say that," Rob agrees, equanimously. "But I've always been fond of House Bonisagus and their way of doing things. How did Shaea let you slip out of their fingers?"

morrigu
Anna laughs, at that.  "Well, to each her own then.  But yeah, it would be nice to just get some time with the two of them.  That's really nice of you, Penny."

---

"Pen asked me that too," Vivienne says.  "The mentor I chose early on was from House Quaesitor, and sometimes that outweighs any particular house.  Why not Bonisagus for you, then?"

mythology
"I've been meaning to raid Rob's liquor cabinet again, thoroughly, anyway. That's easiest to do while he's sleeping," Pen says, with a (rake's) grin.

Blouse on and buttoned, and now she shimmies into something else fashionable as fuck which will be hidden by wait for it a very warm modern-day perfect-ly cut cloak and hat. "I'll be down in a minute," she tells Anna, releasing her back to Nick and Viv and Rob.

--

"Too much focus on theory, not enough on practical application," Rob says. "I like to keep my head out of the clouds." He glances toward the door, as if expecting Ari to swan in at just that moment and make a smart ass remark. No Ari appears. Alas.

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"Well, now you're making me wish we were going to Rob's too," Anna says, her own grin sharp.  "All right.  Thanks again, Pen."  And Anna tromps her way back down the stairs and into the great common room, where she takes stock of the conversation.

The very, very boring conversation, with her brother god save him bored into doing the dishes.

"Mmm," Vivienne (who is not bored in the slightest, you see) says, and then, "I feel a little similarly about Shaea in some ways.  Theory and study for the sake of study is all very fine as a hobby, but that's not why I joined the Order of Hermes.  So what are your primary areas of study?"

Nick glances up at Anna from over the sink.  Anna meets his eyes and shakes her head, and then lets out a great sigh and flits over in his direction to lean over the sink while he works.

mythology
"Social dynamics," Robin says, and he smiles, and it is a reserved smile. "Though I'd like to get to a Horizon Realm one day, and understand what goes into maintaining one. I feel Nick would be on board for that trip. What about you, Anna; do you have any interest in exploring other worlds?"



morrigu
"Social dynamics," Vivienne echoes, with a sort of thoughtfulness, a deliberation in how she rolls each syllable off of her tongue.  "So, sociology?  Psychology?  Neither?"

"I would love to visit a Horizon Realm one day," Nick says, and Rob can tell by the way his eyes have flicked over, by the way he is suddenly present in the conversation, that he really would.  But Rob knew that, didn't he?  Nick adds, as the corner of his mouth snicks upward, "Better get to studying Spirit, Rob.  It'll take more than just me to get us to one."

Anna looks between both of her siblings, then to Rob, and shrugs, her shoulders sharp little knobs as they rise and fall.  It's an awkward movement, with her leaned against the counter as she is.  "It's hard to be interested in others when this one has a lot of unexplored possibilities.  But if the opportunity presented itself, I don't think I'd say no."  A smile from her too, here.  "Why, are you inviting me?"

mythology
"What would social dynamics be defined by if not sociology, psychology?" Rob asks, and he sounds curious. Not ardently curious, not passionately curious; no; he is mild, and mild-mannered, and sharp behind the mild manner, though he half-smiles at Nicholas' suggestion in a very guileless way. The half-smile becomes a full-flick of a smile, and he says, "Yes. I'll let you know when plans are solidifying." The smile fades away, and he says, "Nick, just visit or understand the construction of?"

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"I don't know, you tell me," Vivienne says, though without any sharpness; she too is mild today, or at least mild with Rob.  She leans a hip back into the counter, watching Rob while idly listening to the discussion of Horizon Realms.

Nick scrubs off a plate left over from this morning, working at a bit of dried-on sauce with the sponge.  "I'm not planning to build one anytime soon, so I'd rather just look.  There are so many.  You could spend your entire life exploring different realms and you wouldn't get to them all."

mythology
[Pen has an opportunity to sneak up on Nick! Yay, sneakery!]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 8, 9) ( success x 2 )

morrigu
[Sneakery?  No!]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 4, 7, 9) ( success x 2 )

mythology
[Yes!]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (5, 6, 6, 10) ( success x 3 )

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[Nooo!]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 6, 8, 9) ( success x 3 )

mythology
[-_-]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 3, 8) ( success x 1 )

morrigu
[>.>]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 4, 5, 6, 7) ( success x 2 )

mythology
I don't know, you tell me, earns a faint lift of Rob's shoulders, an echo of the sentiment. "You could spend your entire life exploring this one," Rob says, with a faint nod toward Anna, like she was the originator of that line of thought (isn't he polite), "and you wouldn't get to any. What's the point in looking?"

Speaking of looking, don't look here! Look away! Nothing to see! Pen sneaks down stairs, out of the tower of books, and since Nick is at work in the dishes and the sink, she sneaksneaksneaks up over by his side putting a finger to her lips when Rob meets her eyes (he casts his heavenward), ditto the sisters, and she is totally absolutely LOOK ANYWHERE BUT HERE going to just happen to be right where Nick will reach for the next dish and then she'll smile and kiss him and say 'boo' and maybe he'll splash water everywhere and it will be very worth it and that is her plan though of course anybody could ruin it (but why would they: Pen is a beguiler; you want to do it).

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"Realms crumble," Nick says, though the sidelong glance and the little smile seems to imply that he is saying this in part to be contrary, "so what's the point of building or in understanding one's construction?  We could play that game endlessly."

He rinses the dish away, though a creak of a board brings his head around, a (hopeful) glance toward the library see, where Pen is no longer.  She's managed to get behind him and he looks over toward that other side too but no no she's too quick, and then Anna, the betrayer, looks in her direction and it is all over.  Nick sees her too just before she can reach him at the dishes.

He smiles, though, and leans in to give her a kiss nonetheless.  He does not bring his hands with him; they're still wet.

At which point Vivienne says, "I'm getting kind of hungry.  What about you all?"

mythology
"When they're poorly built," Rob says, re: Realms crumble. He is serene.

Even when and as Pen's sneakery is revealed, and Nick leans in. Pen: her smile is intimate, and it rises like mist from a lake to touch her eyes; lend them an air of shared secrecy; and this is how she is when she kisses Nick, a Hello-You-Are-Here, I-Want-You, I-Will-Give-You-Up-(For-the-Night) kiss.

"Yes, let's go. The beer garden can fill up this time of evening," Rob says, and see, he bestirs himself collects his coat. "I'll be one of the drivers."

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Nick's retort, his next question, is swallowed by a kiss: one that out of politeness does not linger overlong though his eyes make up for that.  His eyes are hearthfires, are warm coals.  He looks away only when Rob gets up to take his coat; water and suds scatter like spring rain at the edges of the sink as Nick shakes his hand and reaches up to rinse his hands under the tap and shake them dry again.

"Nick, you're the other," Vivienne says.  "I've earned not driving any more today."

"I could drive," Anna says.

"Not while the car is insured under my name," Vivienne says, swooping her parka off the chair and sliding her arms into it as though it were a garment she wore more often than perhaps a week out of every year.

Anna rolls her eyes and wanders over to the coatrack to retrieve her coat and hat.  "I'll probably go pick up Jackson, anyway," Nick says.  "You two and Pen can go with Rob, if you want."

Assortment
Meanwhile,

Nick washes his hands, Pen wanders Rob-ward, and,

"Can I crash at your place tonight?"

"Sure, but Martin and Fausto might be coming over,"

"Together? I thought they weren't dealing any longer, on pain of owing a portion of their alchemy cabinet's,"

"Together, and they're each going to give up part of their cabinet - "

Pen laughs, and, "Well, I shan't bother them. I'll read."

"Oh? You're bringing your own books?"

"Damn it, Robin,"

"'Damn it, Penny,"

"You're such a dick. Fine, I guess I could bring my copy of Dame Victoria's Anathomical Philosophy of Asphodel and Mercury, but I rather think I - "

"You do not have that book."

"Hmm."

"Penelope."

"Hmm?"

At which point Penelope says, "I can pick up Jackson, Nicholas."

morrigu
Nick watches the exchange between Pen and Robin, and lingers a moment there by the sink before he goes to retrieve his coat.  He is not regretful; Pen offered and he knows he should spend time with his sisters who have driven all this way to see him.  Yet: she will be alone at Rob's, won't she, with Fausto and Martin arguing there and without Rob offering to loan her books to read.

He does not linger overlong, though, and by the time he has made his way over to the closet Anna has pulled his coat down off the coat rack and is holding it out to him.  Nick slides his arms into it.  "Oh," he says, and he is not surprised necessarily, but there is some lingering discomfort perhaps or embarrassment, some fear that he is inconveniencing Pen.  "If you're sure.  Rob, I guess the three of us can go with you, then."

Assortment
"Your enthusiasm, as always, bowls me over. Penelope, how can you stand it," Rob deadpans, without so much as a blink.

In deference to Nick's sisters, Pen does not say the first quippy response that comes to mind, but she gives Rob a Look and he gets the point, sort-of wincing in a way he has when avoiding rolling his eyes.

"Did you already ask Jackson if he wanted to come?" Pen says, and yes, a coat is thrown over the fashionable whatever she has decided to wear with the buttons up the back, and she grabs her keys and a little clutch purse both of which are found look at that behind a pillow on the couch what fortuitous coincidence she would look right there she didn't shove things there when cleaning nope it was a perfectly natural place to put everything.

morrigu
"I texted him earlier to ask if he wanted go out, and he just got back to me," Nick says, and if there is a lift of his chin while he takes the high road and ignores Robin, so much the better.  He is buttoning up his coat, a thick wool affair the color of a crescent moon night.

Anna and Vivienne, remember, are both watchful in their own ways and if Pen looks she will see that they have both noticed that she pulled the purse out, and both have drawn their own likely accurate conclusions, to judge by the smirk on Anna's face and the way Vivienne makes a polite glance to the side as though she hasn't noticed.  She can be courteous, the Quaesitor.

"This way doesn't leave me the lone non-Hermetic," Anna says, bright as a shimmer of starlight, and she pulls her cap down over her hair.  "Let's stop talking and go, I'm hungry."

And so they go.

Thursday, November 7, 2013

Disney Princess Tears [Past]

Nick
They're coming up on their second winter together, Nicholas Hyde and Penelope Mars.  The trees went bare a few weeks ago, and even the last few desperate clingers-on are earthbound now, scattered across carpets of grass that have withered in the subsequent frosts.  The world has gone brown; soon it will go grey and white as ash and bone.

When they are both home, they are nearly always in constant sight of one another: they moved into Pen's apartment which is vast, open kitchen and open living room and their bed in the back corner.  Anyone who steps in will be able to see the whole of their lives here, illuminated by the light that slants in from the west as the sun sets.

Nick is not in this cavernous expanse of the apartment today.  Today, Nick is up in the tower because he is doing some reading, which is rare for him but occasionally does occur.  It typically happens when he wants to peruse old lore and histories, and Vivienne surprised him by sending him a book she'd purchased from the saguaro library.  Who knows how much (or with what) she paid for it.

He is thinking: it would be nice to return a gift to his sister, but he does not know what to send and he is afraid of how such a gift would be received.  Their relationship is a complicated one.

Regardless, he is up in the tower and the apartment is quiet.  There is the faint scent of tea left lingering throughout, from when he made himself a pot of it earlier and retreated upstairs.

Elaine
[Hmm. An intimidation, for the road.]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 2, 6, 6, 9) ( success x 3 )

Elaine
[Pft whatever.]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (4, 5, 5, 7, 7) ( success x 2 )

Elaine
There are retreats and there are advances. Nicholas retreated upstairs, into the tower. He might be able to get to the widow's walk from the tower, if he braved the cold, the open window, the weathered wooden shingles, corrosion from season after season, decade after decade. The weather is fickle today: rain has promised to attend, but it seems to be forsworn; the clouds scud, a visible pallor, across a star-spangled sky. They scud swiftly, though: they move with purpose. There are retreats; there are advances. Outside the leaves go rattling across the street in a line which spreads out as it goes, becomes diffuse, re-groups the next time the wind draws back and punches forward.

And the door opens. The door slams shut.

Voices. Both are familiar to Nicholas. The first one he hears is probably the least welcome. Here: the combative tones of Aidan Siddal, talking so fast that it's difficult to distinguish one word from the other at first. Then, slipping beneath Aidan's words like a letter opener will slip beneath sealing wax, Elaine Siddan's clear, self-assured voice, and Aidan's words trip, and then there's a query. A thump. An expansive, "FUCK ALL," and then - both the Siddals are easy enough to hear, "Why the fuck do you have a cock-sucking piece of rock in your apartment with fucking water?"

Nick's phone receives a text about this time. Are you home? Aidan's coming over and

"The rock has never to my knowledge sucked any cock," Elaine, as dryly as she is capable of,

"To your knowledge," Aidan says, insinuatingly,

P: Whoops, sorry!!!!

"And it is a fountain. I like it; it's like having a sliver of wilderness; check it out, Aidan. It makes a good mirror glass to gaze in, romantically."

Aidan's response is too low to be heard, but Pen laughs.

"Now you imagine the future as your present."

"I hate the word 'present.' It's like... Penny they just pop a squat over your mouth all the time and expect you to thank them for shit because it's the same color as chocolate."

P: Aidan's coming over and I don't think he's planning on staying very long. If you're out, can you pick up some more onions?

P: I had a thought earlier about divine numbers not my forte rlly I only wsh I was musical and ivy, which you know I imagine a crown for you.

"I'm sorry, Ay. How visceral! Who is - "

The refrigerator door opens, and then a cabinet. Another sound, something falling; breaking.

Elaine, and her voice is the flicker of white-lightning: "Aidan."

"It was ugly. I'm sorry, Elaine. I'll buy you a new one."

"It's Nicholas's, and you needn't concern yourself. I'll fix it."

"Oh." Aidan's Unenthusiastic tone of voice can only be rivaled by the enthusiasm Nick probably feels at the idea of engaging with his girlfriend's little brother again.

Another text. Nick, you might want to stay out for a little bit.

"Is that who you've been texting this whole time?"

"Mm… yes, just letting him know you're here."

"Why? He making you ask permission to have your family over in your own fucking apartment that you had first?"

There's a measured beat. And then, "Of course not."

Aidan's voice sounds louder to Nick now; he's coming closer to the stairs which spiral up into the tower and the library. He doesn't come up, though; he loiters on the threshold. "Heh. You know what, okay. I bet he's too much of a delicate flower. He looks like he's going to burst into Disney Princess tears every time I fucking look at him."

Whatever Pen says is muted by the tinny version of Who Let The Dogs Out which starts playing from Aidan's cellphone.

Nick
The door opens, and the door slams shut: Nick startles, draws himself up in his chair as he is snapped out of reverie.  He'd been staring out the window after a bird, after a leaf drifting in the fall winds, waiting for rain and perhaps thinking about venturing over the widow's walk to finish his reading.  His stomach is full of tea and sloshes at the sudden movement; he has left himself wishing he hadn't drunk it down so quickly.

His phone vibrates against his thigh and Nick doesn't even have to look at it, see, because he can already hear the two familiar voices downstairs.  He knows that Aidan is here.

Nick presses his palms to his eyes and sucks in a breath.  He is preparing himself to go downstairs despite his distinct lack of enthusiasm at seeing his girlfriend's brother again when -

and -

crash.  shatter.  Disney Princess tears.

Nick has risen from his chair, and though he is pacing back and forth see his footsteps are soundless and so it might as well be as if he isn't really here at all.  He had thought about descending the staircase: he doesn't.  He is too angry, and whatever he says will be angry, and he absolutely cannot lose his temper with Aidan in front of Pen.  Or at all.

He thinks about just going to the widow's walk after all to let them finish their conversation, but his feet won't carry him there, for whatever reason.

Elaine
On the tail end of the ring tone and whatever it is she said, there's this brief up-swing of sound - what?

"Like that, huh?" Aidan says. Nick can hear the flash of a grin in the young man's voice. There's a certain similar dazzle to the two siblings, something which goes a little deeper than skin. "I've got more." Pause, then almost hastily: "Look. I'm just saying, why would you hook up with some sneaky emotional little shit head who looks like he doesn't know how to grip himself to piss in a straight line like he's fucking afraid of his own shadow, I'm pretty sure I actually saw him jump once when he moved his hand and his shadow fucking god also moved, so why would you hook up with him when you could get with anybody."

There's a muted thump; Pen's voice is louder and weary. "I don't know." Beat.

Aidan: "OKAY, SHIT, ELAINE, NOW WE'RE GETTING - "

Pen's voice seems less loud; less directed toward the tower; less as though she were sitting on the lowest step, flopped out and letting her head tip back, as she sometimes does, because she is dramatic. Still: it is assured enough to cut into Aidan's enthusiastic approbation.

"Who was calling? Do you need to take that?"

Nick
Things have been a little uneasy between them recently, remember: growing pains happen with all couples, and the fights they've had (or haven't had, in the case of the one that hung over them in Arizona) may strengthen them in the long term but in the meantime, growth is uncomfortable.  Growth is painful.

And for Nicholas, it has left him with a seed of uncertainty there in the pit of his stomach, waiting to flower.  It does that now, opens up inside him and threatens to burst out his mouth, through his fingertips, out of his eyes.

His restraint as he closes his book is very intentional, because the last thing he wants is to talk to Aidan right now; he shuts it, stands there a moment with his fingertips on the cover and then spins so that he can retreat up to the widow's walk.  He might have left, but he cannot; for the time being he is trapped in the house.

November is warm sometimes but today is not one of those days; it has been cloudy and overcast and so there's a bite in the air, especially out on the walk, as he makes the few strides over to the doorway.  It slams in the wind and because he threw it open perhaps harder than he intended, and then bangs shut.

He sits and he stares out the window and does not know what else to do other than seethe: and so.

Elaine
The widow's walk gives Nicholas a view of other roof tops, of spare trees, of winter-limned (this is going to be a bad winter) streets. November, but already there's frost some nights. Maybe later this night. Right now the cold just makes everything clear, including the cold stars between the clouds: there are less and less stars. Atmosphere. The moonlight is a smear of silver polish.

The widow's walk also blessedly removes Nick from hearing anything else the Siddals say to one another about him.

Pen and Aidan both hear the door bang shut from up above. Pen casts a startled look up the stairs, tipping her head back; Aidan makes a disparaging remark about Nick's ability to fix things, and then apologizes for the sexism. He is quick to blame Jeff for it.

Minutes pass, and then the door opens, and the window, and the way to the widow's walk. Elaine says, questingly: "Nicholas?"

Nick
Nick has still not checked his phone.  Where it might ordinarily have occurred to him to do so, the vibrations he felt in his pocket while the two were talking downstairs were a fleeting detail.  He has no thoughts now for anything but the ones that rear up at him again and again no matter how many times he counters them.

Minutes pass.  The door opens.  Nick's back is to the door, and there is moonlight in his hair.  His hands are twisted together in his lap.

"What?"

His voice is a polished stone, smooth and hard and waiting in hand to be cast.  A moment later and there is a flutter of his hand as he waves her away.  "Don't let me interrupt time with your brother.  It sounded like a productive conversation."

Elaine
His back is to the door and to her. He doesn't turn around. Orpheus, my heart is yours. The cold street is cold. Another scatter of brown leaves go skittering, go sweeping across the street. They eddy, they fall apart. The waltz is not a fairy waltz, to last forever; it is disordered. Pen pads over to Nick and, floompf, wraps her arms around him and rests her chin on his shoulder.

As she floompfs, which is to say drapes over Nicholas, languorous as any half-mad woman carved out of a poem - although she is less fashionably turned out than usual, having borrowed one of Nick's old man sweaters, anyway, as she drapes, she says, "I don't know why it did. Nick, it's as cold as the ring around the moon. Have you been up here hiding? He's leaving now; you can come back inside."

Nick
There is a moment where Nick's eyes flutter shut as Pen comes and drapes herself over him.  She'll find his muscles rigid and unyielding beneath her, bereft of their usual warmth, though: it is quite cold up here on the widow's walk and he did not bring his coat with him.

"I haven't been hiding," he says, and whatever illusion his voice had of composure, of smoothness, threatens to slip: beneath it there are dark waves, treacherous stone.  He pulls back, not entirely away from her, but now he can look her in the eye and regard her: she can see the whites of his, there at the edges.  "But if you were going to talk about me, you could have had the courtesy to fucking leave."

His voice is still carefully measured: it too is a lie.  "I could hear everything you both said."

Elaine
Her arms are wrapped around, her hands clasp before, and her chin - when he begins to shift - moves to the edge of his shoulder. Her head is canted at an angle, the better for them to be eye to eye. Her hold had loosened when he'd pulled away; she lifts her chin from his shoulder entirely when it's clear he wants to regard her.

Her brows had pulled together at the emphasis when he echoes 'hiding,' but her brow smooths just after: see, Pen's eyes widen (gray as November or a sea-grave or lake-light) and stay wide, she is that surprised at his tone of voice and feels that unhappy sharp-pang up through her ribs that he'd hear what Aidan said about him. Also: another word, to act as a snag; both.

"I didn't know you were here."

"And I didn't mean hiding like... well, I just didn't think you two... I'm sorry whatever you heard has roiled up your spirit."

Nick
"So if you had known I was here, you would have saved it for when I wasn't?"

Beat.  His jaw works for a split second, and so do the muscles of his throat; it's his tongue moving, wanting to give voice to words on the tip of it though his lips remain stubbornly shut.  Maybe that's for the better.

Nick stands up, surges to his feet, and paces: still soundlessly.  There is a flush around his collar even though he has been up here a while, and he must be cold.  "Do you agree with what he said?  Because it sure sounded like it.  But fine.  I'm not going to - I don't need to cry to you about it.  He said that shit and you didn't even say anything other than I don't know."

His words are rapid; even if she wanted to speak she wouldn't find the space to do so.  "If you're tired of - why didn't you just say something to me?"

Elaine
[you would have saved it for when I]
"Of course that's not what I meant."
[wasn't?]  Beat.

Her arms begin to tighten when Nick surges to his feet, and paces. He leaves her arms to do it; Elaine doesn't try to hold him; she [he paces once] has her hands up, swivels so her hips find the widow's walk rail [he paces again], almost she folds her arms, but instead her hands drift down to the rail. First one hand hits; then the other; her fingers curl with great deliberation, and look, [he paces a third time] her head is canted (lowered) at an angle, and if her eyes are still wide (concerned and astonished) she is quick to adapt or one to be whipped-up by the flow and carried by a current.

[Do you agree with -- ] "Agree with what?"
[--what he said? Because it sure]

And on, and on. Pen covers her mouth with one hand [don't need to cry to you] and her eyes glitter and she drags the hand down over her throat and it stays at her breastbone and she pales [didn't even say anything but I don't] and her eyes get even bigger; they dominate. The moon would drown.

[Why didn't you just]

Pen: flings both arms out, palms up. A loose, careless gesture; borderless, though it is coupled by her shoulders rising up. "Tired of what?"

[say something to me?]

"Hell! About what? If I'm tired of - I mean, I can think of a thing or two I'm really tired of right now, but I don't know why you're - I don't … Agree with him about what? Nicholas, I'm so sorry you thought I didn't defend you properly, I just..."

Nick
When Pen's eyes widen far enough that the glittering of them can be seen clearly, when it can be taken in with a sweep of his gaze in her direction, when they reflect back the moon and stars, Nick makes the mistake of looking twice.  His tongue turns to a block of wood, and sits there heavily in his mouth.

While she speaks he just stares back at her, and it would be hard to give a word to his expression other than that it is miserable.  It is too full, it is overflowing; and he blinks once or twice and sucks in a breath to fortify himself.  "I don't need you to defend me," he says, and if he is arguing irrationally, purely out of reflex, well.

"Don't - I know you know what he said.  All that - he calls me delicate and fine, I don't fucking care, I don't have to explain myself to your brother, he calls me a cocksucker and - look, that doesn't, it shouldn't matter because that's not - "  He stops: strangles.  "I don't care about that.  I'm pissed because he's a dick, but I don't care.  I just - he asks why you're with me and you say I don't know?  What am I supposed to think about that?"

Elaine
[I shall not be crying.]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (2, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9) ( success x 3 )

Elaine
Pen is distraught; stricken.

"I do - " Pen bites her tongue; doesn't finish that phrase.

Ardent: "Maybe you're supposed to think that I don't always want to explain my feelings to my little brother; especially when he already knows them; when he has already heard - ; I don't owe Aidan an answer. Maybe you should have thought - well no you shouldn't have, you don't know him very well. Maybe if you're going to listen into other peoples' conversations you're supposed to listen carefully. Maybe you should have thought," she snaps her fingers, "shucks, hey, this alleged description doesn't really match; then wonder why I would ever engage with it as if it were true. Maybe you're supposed to think it's nobody's business except ours why we - "

Her voice falters; it doesn't break. Hitches; a caesura. It is difficult not to cry, but she is Elaine Siddal, Penelope Mercury Mars, and she does not want to cry; she chooses not to cry; she does not cry. She doesn't want to be a Disney Princess, either. She already feels far more wrong-footed than she likes; she does not know what to say, and it is uncomfortable: this sense of giving injury.

"I'm not hooking up with the man Aidan described. Ash and oak. Maybe you're supposed to - Christ, don't you know why I'm with you? Do I not show you enough?"

Nick
Mere seconds ago it would have been a struggle to imagine Nick's expression more miserable than it was then: but yes, as it turns out, it could get worse.  He is watching Pen, listening to her voice falter and watching the deep pond-shimmer in her eyes.  The flush at his collar is spreading, deep bloody red, up his throat and to the underside of his chin, and when it reaches his face it is there all at once, darkening his cheeks as though they've been struck.

He, too, is feeling wrong-footed; moreover, he knows he is wrong-footed.  Whatever grips him is the part of him convinced, however foolish he knows it is, that strength means hiding his weaknesses.  "I didn't mean to listen in," he says before he can stop himself.  "I wouldn't have, if I had been able to leave the apartment."

His eyes flick away from her and toward the floorboards, dusty with blown and crumpled leaves from autumns past and beyond counting.  "You show me.  I just - "

The tightness in his throat and chest stops his breath: he has to fight to get sound out.  It's paradoxical, this, since they are so tight because it is how he is keeping himself from screaming, from acting out, from things that he knows (believes?) would be unacceptable.  When the words come, they are ragged.  "If you're going to leave me, just do it.  Don't talk to your brother about it where I can hear you.  Christ."

Elaine
His eyes flick away and toward the floorboards, and perhaps that is a good thing. Because Elaine rolls her eyes, and her head drops back again and she casts her gaze up toward the weather-beaten eaves, and then out at the clouds. There's only one star, and the clouds sweep across it so she's not even certain the star is really there.

The next thing Nick says doesn't make her want to snap at him (self control) and roll her eyes (only so much self control). The next thing Nick says -- first have a picture: Her hands have come together again, fallen out of that loose open-armed expression of helpless what-the-Hell, and she has them folded at her collar bone, then at her neck, and she stills and stares, mouth slack expression unnamable, and then he tells her to just do it, etcetera, and Pen looks like she wants to shake him. This sharp, savage look; something lightning-laced, something that could burn for 199 miles across the heavens - and just like the flicker of lightning would be on a night like this if it did try to arc across the heavens, it's quickly subsumed by the darkness around it.

"I wasn't talking about leaving you! I didn't know - I'm s-sorry, you were, that you. heard. nofuckthat's - don't you dare take that as I don't mean it to be taken, but why don't you believe me? I'm sorry he says things like that, in that venomous, and I should have … but I, you could too have left the apartment. You just had to walk by us. Hell! What do you want me to do? I don't believe I do show you. What do you want me to fucking do?"

Nick
He is looking at her again, in enough time to have missed the lightning; perhaps this too is for the best.  Or perhaps not: a sort of paralysis of the throat and tongue seems to have come over him like a wave.  He flexes his hands a few times, and if she were to look she could see the bone clearly defined for a half a heartbeat, the bones and tendons in his forearms moving like piano wire.

"I don't know," he finally says.  "I feel - I'm an asshole.  I know you didn't - you weren't the one who said those things."

The fingers of one hand finally stop flexing and he rubs his palm along the back of his neck, twisting his head toward the window.  The flush has reached his ears, his forehead, the dark roots of his hair.  "I'm sorry.  I shouldn't - I shouldn't have let what he said upset me so much.  As much as it did.  It's not your fault."

Elaine
[I'm still in control.]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 2, 3, 5, 7) ( success x 1 )

Elaine
For an instant Pen's eyelashes flutter; she doesn't quite blink. Her pupils are huge; it is the dark, and the storm; she is self-collected and self-possessed even with wild energy evident in her frame; ardent is not an easy thing though to be ardent is as easy for Pen, and as inevitable, as to burn is for a wick given some (life) spark. When Nick looks out the window, Pen crosses the walk and flings her arms around him Nick again. The choose-your-own-adventure follow-up is:

(page 7) she kisses his temple if he keeps his head turned, if he won't look at her, and rests her forehead against his skull and speaks in his ear; (continue on page--)

(page 8) or she covers his mouth with hers and kisses him deeply, her brow furrowed, and she leaves off speaking for now in order to concentrate on this: how angry she is; how much she wants him to know that she loves him; how much she wants him to feel it: fucking feel it you asshole!;

(continue on the next page!)

or (page 11) Nick keeps her at arm's length (see Nick's version of this choose your own adventure for how! 9.99 at appropriate outlets) and she reaches out for his hand and speaks.

(continue on page)

Nick
[I'm cool.  It's cool.]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 4, 7, 9, 10) ( success x 3 )

Nick
See: suspension.  Nicholas keeps his head turned, if only because he does not know how to react or rather cannot decide on which feeling to act on.  He wants her, see, and he wants her right now so badly it is blinding, and he also wants her to be angry at him, and he wants a more advanced understanding of Time so that he can go back and undo the past forty-five minutes of his life.

He also wants to burrow beneath blankets and shut the world out, as he might once have done a long time ago.  Those parts of us are never gone.

So, he keeps his head turned and he won't look at her and he doesn't move, because she is giving him exactly what he wants and also nothing of what he wants or thinks he wants.  She speaks in his ear.

Elaine
"No Nicholas you should, I mean you shouldn't have, you should though because, well because, I hate that you think I agree with Aidan about you I don't agree with Aidan I hate that you think I'd leave you I'm an asshole, I'm, I'm not fucking good at, it is my fault I should have told Aidan to shut up in our house, I'm so s-sorry, Crow, but," a quick sharp breath; she is angry at him as much as she is heart-broken and sad and feeling guilty as if she'd done wrong, "it's your fault too for, why don't you believe me it's like sometimes you want me around but you don't want around to be around or, but you can be around, and you want me to do whatever there is, just and it's because you think that - " and Pen, she kisses his cheekbone; she kisses his ear " - I don't care for you, that I can't or I won't and I just want you to fuckingknow."

Nick
She kisses his cheekbone, and his ear.  She is near enough that she can hear how short and shallow his breaths are, can hear them crackle with moisture.  "I always want you around," he says.  "I don't - I don't want you to ever agree with him.  I don't want you to see me like he sees me.  I'm just - I'm afraid that - "

He sniffs, quick.  It could go unnoticed.  "This is my problem.  It's not - it's not something you have to - "  He loops an arm around her, finally, and it does not take long to tighten and hold her there.  "You didn't do anything wrong."

Elaine
want you to see me like he sees you. I'm just - I'm afraid that -

"He doesn't even see you," Pen, she is leaning hard - nearly painfully so - into Nicholas, and her brow creases, and she (This is my problem) kisses the side of his neck, (not something you have) and his jaw. When he loops an arm around her, finally, she exhales sudden enough it sounds like a gasp.

"But it's the around, Nick, it's the around you don't, like with your sister, you didn't want me to talk to her you didn't, and you thought I was going to, that she'd change my, and I'm just sorry, I'm sorry you I don't feel for you so strong what do you think Aidan said that could even be, I don't want you to tell me I didn't do anything wrong and then be miserable because you feel like your f-feelings aren't, or are wrong, or- " Here: restrained violence (of emotion, naturally) in her tone; fierce, fierce, fierce; Tempest-fierce. " - what do you think I'm going to see you as!"

Nick
The pressure of her body against his is a welcome one, even if her shoulder is bumping against his collarbone; right now he wants that weight against him, he wants to be weighed down so he won't drift away.  He can hear her exhale, and he can feel it too against his skin, and it prompts him to put the second arm around her.

"It wasn't that I didn't want you to talk to her," he says.  "I just didn't want her to - I didn't want, I didn't want all of that to make you think it was just too much.  That I was...more trouble than I'm worth."  Whatever misery was in his expression before is leaking into his voice, now.  For a moment when she asks him what he thinks she will see him as, he is silent: perhaps he hopes the question is rhetorical.

"I don't - I don't want you to see me as weak, or as a coward, or as a fucking burden.  I want to deserve you," he says, and she can feel his muscles twitch as though he will pull back; he sustains a conscious effort, perhaps, to not do so.  "I don't want you to think that I - that I just hurt people, that I'm some false messiah who - I'm not what people think I am, they trust me and then I hurt them because I can't hold my shit together.  I don't want you to see me that way."

Elaine
[Such control. So good at it.]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 2, 5, 6, 7) ( success x 2 )

Elaine
Pen: she flung her arms around Nick. Nick: has - tentatively; hesitatingly - put one arm around her. And then the other. But Pen: she isn't still. She is yearning. Her body is yearning. Her voice is yearning. Her eyes, did he look at them, is yearning; yearning here is a synonym for imploring, for wanting. She isn't still: first her arms are tight; are fast; then her hand is pulling on his shirt; sliding around his waist; slipping up to find his shoulder blades; her other hand is at his throat; no, at his neck; the back of his neck; his shoulder; his arms. When he does put both arms around her, she becomes heavier; lets herself sag even more entirely; languish completely. If he did step back, she'd fall - well. She'd probably catch herself, but she'd have to catch herself.

"I don't," she says, still fierce, "I wouldn't. Aidan doesn't see you that way either. Stop it stop it stop it, maybe I want to deserve you, I hate it when you say that like this, I hate it you're worth any trouble anytrouble at all."

Nick
It would be easy for a person to look at the line of Nick's body, how it is tensed, to examine how hesitant he was in putting his arms around her and take from that the impression that he doesn't want, or yearn.  His fingertips curl into the small of her back, and he turns his face first toward her and then bumps his forehead against hers.  His eyes are closed.

There is a soft snort, humor (the sardonic kind: he is capable of it) when she says that she doesn't think Aidan sees him that way.  "It only matters to me what you think," he says.  "Not Aidan.  I..."  He opens his eyes, pulls back enough that he can look into hers.  "I know this is - I know it's not good, Pen.  It's why I don't talk about it."

Elaine
Pen searches Nick's face when he finally turns it to her. One might think she'd immediately kiss him, as she might have moments earlier if he hadn't turned his head away; she does not. She searches; searching becomes tracing the curve of his eyelashes over his cheeks, though their quarters are so close it is almost a strain to do so.

It only matters to me what you think; she touches her nose to his cheek, nuzzles up; hard. When he pulls back, look, she's just looking at him with such strength of sentiment, with such a care, and her open expression is forlorn and intent with an undercurrent (besotted, angry).

"Don't you, I mean aren't you supposed to talk about the not good stuff? You can, you can rage. And you... I mean, Nicholas, you aren't... Fuck."

Pen closes her eyes.

Nick
It is cold up here, and they have been standing up here for a while, and nevertheless Nick is still too warm: there is still a damp heat around the collar of his sweater from sweat, his cheek is still burning when she presses her nose against it.  One might think Pen would immediately kiss him, and Nick: after he pulls back and sees her expression, after she speaks and closes her eyes, he beats her to it.  It's helpless, magnetic, and over too soon.

"It doesn't make me feel better to talk about it.  It just makes the people around me worry," he says, once he has pulled back again.  "I don't...I don't like feeling this way.  I know you don't like hearing it.  I just want to be better so I don't put the people around me through it along with me."

Elaine
Her eyes open when Nick covers her mouth with his own. They close again as she pulls him into her, one hand in his hair, the other significantly lower but near enough his waist for folk music. Pen doesn't want to stop kissing him, so when he pulls back to speak she is breathless and shivery. She meets his eyes, though, smooths both hands up and over his chest. Twists his shirt in one hand. Her chin firms, don't cry, for a flicker; the flicker passes, and she drops her head and leans forward (falls; and falls) again. "It just sucks knowing that I can't help you. I like - like is a strong word, perhaps; need? - I like being pushed, no let's go with need, I need to be pushed about things I'd rather not talk about when they're there and relevant. Because keeping things silent from - well from you, other people I care for, it only depresses me; makes me feel like a half-person; the other half of me is dissolving like foam on the sand. Are you still mad at me? Do you want, did you want, to leave?"

Nick
"You do help me," he says.  "Every time you - the longer I'm with you, the more it feels ridiculous to think things like that.  I...I think I need to be pushed to talk about things too.  I just...I hate thinking that talking about it will push you away, or - " His brow furrows as he looks down at her, at the part in her hair at the top of her head.  "I never wanted to leave.  It was never - I thought you might, I guess I heard wrong, I thought maybe you were thinking about it and I feel like we've fought a lot recently and I thought - I just wanted it over with, if it was going to happen.  That's all."

Elaine
[So Hermetic, so self-possessed.]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 2, 4, 6, 9) ( success x 2 )

Elaine
He guesses he heard wrong. Pen's breath hitches. He just wanted it over with. Pen's breath stops. That's all.

Pen is quiet for a spell. She does not raise her head. She does open her eyes, and stares at her hands on Nick's chest, the folds of his shirt, the sharpness of her knuckles, their rings, the texture of his sweater (the one she's wearing) against everything, the lumpy perl-stitches and knit-stitches, once she is light-headed she swallows, breathes again.

Nick
Pen is quiet; she is holding her breath though it takes him a moment to realize that this might be intentional.  Pen is passionate, and so he could be forgiven perhaps for at first thinking that it was emotional, that this was all.

"Pen?"  His voice is tentative, now.  "Did I - "  Beat.  He swallows; the muscles in his throat work.  "I don't, I can't see myself ever wanting to leave.  I thought you should know that."

Elaine
"What can you see then? Are you still mad at me?" Pen looks up; her voice is soft; it barely crests the sound of November's winds, unleashed and hungry through the streets of their New England town. The leaves, the leaves. The shadows, too, and a scattering of droplets as rain begins to come down; handfuls, thrown-pearls, almost nothing to notice at all; rain that wants to be snow, but isn't quite; slush, sleet. Before he answers: she kisses him hard and deep; it is one of those nights: where her passion wicks bright and demanding; she'd like to keep kissing him. She'd like (of course she wouldn't, but she would) to keep him from answering her; maybe he'll think it was a rhetorical question. And that will make her angry; and she'll kiss him with more fervor, but it will have a copper-dark undercurrent of anger. Maybe it isn't cold at all: the wind that whisks through the widow's walk and, intent on joining their play, rakes their hair and whips through their clothes.

Nick
Her second question has him shaking his head just before she kisses him.  Wind cuts through the wooden slats that frame the widow's walk and slices through the perl knit of his sweater, and it has the bite of winter in it; he has to catch his breath.  He does not answer her, though whether or not he thinks the question is rhetorical: this is left unsaid.  But he at least can match her fervor.

His mouth has found its way to her jaw by the time he glances up and out into the sleet that is scattering across the rooftop like a handful of stars.  "Do you want to go back in?"

Elaine
They talk a lot. Now; in the past; in the future, too. They talk about things they'd rather not talk about and they talk about silly things and they talk about important things. They talk about philosophy and games and music and food. They talk and they talk and they're good at it. They're good at falling into a rhythm, they're good at complementing one another's thoughts at bouncing ideas at spinning plans, they're good at disagreement and agreement, they're good at idealistic talk, at learned talk, at fair-minded talk, at dirty talk. They're good at talking.

He wants to know if she wants to go back in. Where his mouth has gone her skin feels flushed, candescent. And she has pulled the neckline of his t-shirt awry, and it doesn't want to loose its new shape - the long oval, a yearning collar. He wants to know - and Pen does not look at the sleet or the dark sky; Pen stares at Nick's profile, and she is angry that he doesn't answer, and she wants him more than she wants the answer, and the way she looks at him: drop a stone; it would be swallowed; it would never be seen again.

This isn't going to be a moment for talk. Magnetism: fisher, siren, lure; Pen catches and keeps his gaze again. The body has its own language; she uses that. She wants to know what he wants. She wants -

They don't stay out in the cold and the sleet.

And they do not speak; and the wind shakes the house.