Word Gets Out

[Israel Cohen] Perhaps there was a phone call: While it cannot be said that they ring one another up on a daily basis, still the two women do keep in touch. A chat here; arrangements for an impromptu lunch or dinner or stop-by there. But for the last week Israel's been keeping to herself. Perhaps Molly get's the 'itch' - or a moment of random intuition - and calls the blind Disciple. It would be easy to hear the tiredness in Israel's voice, laced with an edge of tightness or hoarseness. The sort that speaks of illness or someone coping with a nasty, prolonged migraine. Some kind of chronic ache: Nothing to rush about seeking aid over but much different from the usual quiet warmth in her tone. For all of it she is pleased to hear from the vivacious Cultist - with assurances that, no, it isn't so bad as it sounds - and welcomes a visit openly. Israel is not the sort to brood alone: Company - injections of friendship [life] are well welcome.

When Molly arrives this chilly Sunday afternoon it's Solomon who opens the door for her. Rather than simply letting her in and lingering with her and his cabalmate, he helps her with her coat [polite. chilvarous, perhaps? certainly, certainly traditional] before taking up his own: He has some affairs to see to and feels at better liberty to do so if someone is there with 'her'. [should Molly choose to read between the lines, this is a compliment: A statement of at least a modicum of trust.] Forgive the warning [stern-laced] in his words at the end: She's recovering from something that happened last weekend. She is recovering... but don't upset her.
The protective air in the older man [a knight - a Crusader - looms behind his eyes even here, even now when he is 'docil' and in a comfortable, home environment] is unmistakable, if all very politely spoken.

Then: She's upstairs, in the back.

'Upstairs' is the fully renovated attic, which Israel uses to house her library [truly only the greater portion of her library: Which is easily as much as one might find in the Chantry. The whole of it trumps that amount considerably. Had Molly ever asked about it Israel would have explained - with a curious mixture of pride and humility - that she'd inherited generations worth of family tomes, scrolls and works. That she was blessed in that good fortune.], a small office and - at the back of the main space - a seating nook that is bordered by dwarf fruit trees and flowering plants, no few of which are such finicky specimens as Orchids, blooming strong and fragrant despite the weather.
There are new additions since Molly last came: Some of the shelves moved to provide space for a small jack-loom and spinning wheel as well as fresh-build cabinetry and shelving to hold assorted textile goods.

Israel is curled up on the padded bench, an open Braille book on her lap, a lap covered with a soft-looking throw... despite a lingering tightness about her eyes and mouth she smiles when she hears [feels] Molly's approach; gentle if faint. "Hi, Molly... how are you? Come sit, come sit..."

[Molly Quincannon] For Solomon to help Molly with her coat, he would have had to first find her someplace to put the box and the Thermos, but that is likely easy enough. There's a smell of good strong coffee and baking (the keen-sensed might catch cardamom) from these bits Molly's brought; far be it for her to come empty-handed, particularly when Israel sounds like that.

The warning gets her biting her lower lip quite hard as she nods, and she allows Solomon to see that she has done so; he likely knows her curiosity well, and if she is controlled enough not to let her need for answers fling her asking a thousand questions of someone who's already out the door, it's likely that she can put that level of thought and consideration into her conversation with Israel. She thanks him for the help with her coat, wishes him a good day and promises to save him some of the cake. Then she goes up to find Israel.

Once in the attic, Molly takes a moment to look around even as she establishes, with the falls of her by-now distinctive big platform boots against flooring, where in the room she is. (The baking smell is another indicator, of course, but Molly likes to make sure that Israel knows where she is, what speed at which she's moving and otherwise can follow her. But she'd never say that.) "Hey, Israel," she says. "I brought an ... experiment. The website called it cardamom-crumb coffee cake. And some coffee to go with it, so you won't have to flap around playing hostess. I even brought mugs!" There is, in fact, some clinking from her laptop bag, which she sets down on the seat near Israel before sitting down herself. "You sounded a little worn out, so I thought a treat might shiny up your day a bit. So what's occurring?"

[Israel Cohen] Her smile flexes broader as she shifts slightly on the sheet, presumably to allow Molly more room [because, you know: Israel takes up so much space herself]. While Molly would have no way of knowing this, there are improvements: A few days ago even shifting about that much would have caused a marked change in her breathing. Now there's just the barest hint of a wince at the very end... easily missed.
"Oh, cardamom... it smells lovely, Molly, thank you. Most people over look cardamom these days.. and is that," She's sniffing the air slightly... "Oats? And... walnuts?" Approval in her tone: Quiet delight. Few Awakened who know her have missed the fact that she's quite the foody.

All this while she is marking her page in the book and closing it, setting it aside.. once Molly is seated she reaches out with one delicate hand emerged from the throw, finding Molly's nearest arm and squeezing there very lightly: Her hands - her touch - is sheer warmth. It radiates a welcoming, pleasant heat. That much hasn't changed. "If you look to your left there's a Cymbidium orchid - a 'boat' orchid. Yellow with orange traces at its centre I believe," She knows this because someone told her, most likely. "It's for you... a bit of colour for the winter months. There's a minor Weaving over it so it should thrive well... so long as Neil doesn't make it a play thing." The last with a clear trace of humour.

[Israel Cohen] Then, "Occurring? Mostly a lot of rest and relaxation, some of it enforced." Fondly spoken, that, with a touch of wryness. Her voice - always light, always that slightly breathy quality - is still bordering on hoarse, though. Testimony that - enforced or otherwise - the rest is needed. "Between my family and Solomon you would think me a little bird with a broken wing."
She does not mind: While she doesn't care for being 'handled' or overly cosseted on a regular basis - independence and self-sufficiency is important to her - she is perceptive enough to recognize both the well intention and the basic need.
"And you?"

[Molly Quincannon] When Israel squeezes Molly's arm (which may encounter a wide band of leather with buckle and snaps and a feel of something technological within, as laced with Molly's resonance as the Cultist herself, before it encounters skin), Molly reaches out with her free hand and places it over Israel's for a moment, after a moment of hovering just above Israel's hand, just to let her know that it is there and it will be in contact with her. Being touched when one doesn't know it's coming is always a bit of a jolt, one imagines. "Yep," she says, sounding quite pleased at the approval. "Cinnamon could be substituted, or so says the recipe, but you're right; cardamom doesn't get enough press. I'm a dare-to-be-different sort of girl, I guess."

Mention of the orchid gets a gleeful squeak-noise, reminiscent of the noise she made when gifted with the scarf (which she is in fact still wearing); she is so childlike about her delight on some things, it might be quite gratifying, or annoying, depending on the person. "Oh, it's beautiful! Thank you! Though the Life weaving is probably going to be very necessary because I'm doing okay with fauna but I dunno if my thumb is green or black or what. I've never tried. Not after I saw a friend of mine at college actually kill a cactus. I didn't think you could kill cacti with anything short of watering them with bleach. Anyway, it's not so much Neal; he's actually comparatively well-behaved. Hardison, on the other hand..." She chuckles. "I took your advice about company for Neal. Went back to the pet shop, went to look at this one that was staring at me? This second one wrapped itself around my wrist and started playful-gnawing. Then climbed me like a jungle gym on an elementary school playground. They pick me. Is there a ferret-based equivalent of 'crazy cat lady'? Because I might end up turning into one, at this rate. Anyway, Hardison's the household spaz, but I'm sure I can find a flower that pretty a home where no ferrets can turn it into the salad course. Now I just hope I don't kill the pretty thing. But my housemate was trained by a Verbena so maybe she can help me with it."

Then, she addresses the 'rest and relaxation' issue: "Well, people care about you. I dunno what happened - not that I wouldn't mind knowing, but I'm hardly going to interrogate you about it - but sounds like it took it out of you a bit. While I'm not going to mollycoddle - though I'm well-named for it if I took it into my head to be that way, I guess - I can kind of see their point. I think I'll stick to providing company, cake and coffee. And alliteration, apparently." That said, she turns her attention to cutting of cake and Israel's turning the question back on her. "My end? I finally picked up the basics of Prime, and developed the means to use what I learned. So I'm pretty proud of myself on that basis, but I'm still pushing the envelope there. Generally things have been quiet, which is sometimes good and sometimes not; gives me too much time for my overactive brain to come up with unpleasant ideas and notions. It's a thing. Here you go; cake ahead by your right hand, coffee upcoming."

[Israel Cohen] At the encounter with leather and metal and gadget-feel her touch lightens: Careful. A flicker of curiosity over her own features. She's not so technologically uninformed as, say, Solomon [once it was marveled over when someone found out he had - and used - a cell phone. once someone asked if it was a JitterBug] but certainly no where near the level of the Technomancers in the city. Not remotely. A lack of complete understanding and savvy doesn't denote a lack of fascination though: In that regard she is liberal enough. Still, the main objective is some bit of cloth-covered flesh to squeeze in welcome and companionship.... the sense of Molly's hovering hand is noted: Appreciated. Warning before contact out of pitch-darkness is always appreciated.

There is subdued [never any less genuine for it] satisfaction at Molly's exclamations of joy over the gifted orchid. And hushed strains of bemusement - a rumble in her throat, slightly rough with residual hoarseness - at Molly's continued soliloquy regarding plants, green or black thumbs, cactus death and new playmates for Neal. "I'm sure you'll do fine with the orchid. I've written out basic instructions for it but with the Weaving it should be fine unless faced with an outright assault of some sort." Reassuring, and, "A new housemate?"

As the vibrant woman [Israel tends to think of Molly in terms of Dynamism, even without the addition of her Resonance] speaks about liking to know but not interrogating Israel's expression becomes a mixture of gratitude, humour and shadows; all behind that thin webwork of the tautness of some physical ache. The effort behind the Cultist restraining herself - her rampant curiosity - is not lost on the blind woman.
The answers the last bits first, taking the offered cake after the usual play of [directed] seek-and-find, "The study of Prime is immensely useful... I cannot say how well my or Solomon's paradigms would, ah, 'mesh' with yours but we are both Disciples of the Sphere - Solomon with years and years more experience than I. If ever you'd like to bandy about ideas and philosophies. And, yes, I understand.. quiet is good... except when it isn't." Though it's likely that Israel can tolerate considerable more of it than Molly: Quietude embodies much of her very nature, not to be mistaken with lack of passion. It isn't.
"As for what all happened, never fear: I need to tell you about it anyway. I'm not quite game for in depth expose' but the basics at least... it might prove to be something the whole of the Community needs to at least be aware of. That said: No... it isn't the rise of some new horrific beast or vile-Tainted being. No need to panic. But no need to keep others in the dark either."

Israel may not champion the full disclosure and access of any and all information to all as others do, but she does believe in the essentials of communication at least.

[Molly Quincannon] After pouring coffee (and placing it near Israel with a note to its placement vague enough to leave Israel self-sufficiency while still giving a general helpful idea) and taking a sip of her own, Molly gives a little snort that speaks of slight disbelieving exasperation with herself. Of course Israel wouldn't have seen the part of Molly's place walled off with pretty screens and labelled 'ELLIE'S NOOK', and wasn't so full of questions as Molly was so might not have made comment about the sudden absence of empty space in that area during her last visit. "Yeah, I found out that a local Orphan friend of mine - teenager named Ellie - was living rough, sleeping in libraries and I don't even know how she was keeping herself in food and the like, beyond a good network of street-kid friends. Came out of the foster system and it did her over like whoa. So, since I was pretty convinced that she wasn't supreme eeeeeeevil and she needed ... well, a lot of things, first of which being someone who cares, y'know? I offered to let her stay with me. I think the offer surprised her, but she's settling in wonderfully. I set her up a bedroom area - that's why that spot past the dining table feels less empty, if that's caught your attention - and we're learning to cook together. Though..." Her voice takes a turn for the slightly sheepish. "I have to admit, between Ellie and Isabel - all this responsibility, y'know? Sometimes I just feel like turning around to someone who knows more than me and asking if I'm doing right by them. Though they both seem to be blossoming, so I guess I can't be doing anything too damaging."

The bit about quiet being good except when it isn't gets a light snort of amused agreement, but that's set by the wayside for the time being. She can go over her own issues when she's heard more about this 'need to know' stuff. "Basics are good. I don't always need the camel-hair brush on things, so to speak." She uses painting metaphor. She has heard that Israel once liked to paint, so she knows that the metaphor will not be lost on her. "We are now fortified with--" Nibble at the cake, slightly surprised noise. "--Oh, this came out better than I thought it was going to. Ahem. Fortified with coffee and surprise-it's-edible! cake. Fire when ready."

[Israel Cohen] "So far as Ellie goes," comes her response after some nibbling of her own on the crumbly coffee cake, "- it is quite good - " interjected, "You nailed it from the start: Someone who cares is the greater part of the issue. Much the same with Isabel," She knows something of Molly having taken an apprentice: Once upon a time an Initiate taking on an apprentice would have had responses that ran the spectrum from bemusement to outright scorn and indignation. It changed after '99 and that much is still largely true even now, a decade later.

Besides which, given the alternative of the only Disciple Cultist available, Israel would rather see a fledgling Magi with Molly over Lara any day. Any. Day.

"An Apprentice is a huge responsibility but the first step is, also, to care. And to learn the balance between what is Teaching and what is Dictating. And when one might be needed over the other... among other things." There's a glimmer in her eyes: Some memory - or plethora of them - sliding there: Her eyes are useless for their primary function but generally highly expressive and readable. "Ashley and Solomon would be good people to speak to. Both either currently have or have had Apprentices. I would not be here today were it not for Solomon's mentoring." Hushed words never held so much conviction [and many, many more things]. "I myself haven't had a real Apprentice before. My Craft confines such things to family and, on rare occasions, fellow Kabbalists with compatible beliefs and strong commitment. I am responsible for teaching my little cousins but none of them are old enough yet for formal training."

Then a nice slow sip of the coffee, the sound she makes appreciative of its flavour and warmth; hazel eyes - almost a dark moss-green really - closing to savour it. The moment. The pause to gather her thoughts. Finally, with a sense of that kind of distance one uses to speak of events one is still trying to sort through: "On Halloween night myself, Nathan and Tom were walking together after Tom happened upon Nathan and I having a late dinner at a bar and grill. We heard a scream coming from an abandoned building... I knew of the place: It used to be an asylum back in the 40's. The kind of place that brews all sorts of ghost stories and urban legends. I knew enough to avoid it: My Grandfather and Uncle were adamant about that. I've been pouring through the library when I have the energy to try and see if there's any information about it... so far no good."

She has to pause often in speaking: Not to gather her thoughts or emotions but because speaking for prolonged bouts makes the hoarseness worse. God knows the caffeine is dehydrating, but the liquid is hot and welcome and soothes all the same.

"At any rate, we went in after I sussessed out a strange - Twisting and Mutable and, currently, scared - Resonance to the place and noted eight life patterns within. It's hard to accurately describe what happened, Molly, and, like I said - as I know you understand - I'm not ready to speak of all the details. Int he course of the night - a very, very long night - I was able to work out some idea of what was going on. I think - and Nathan confirmed - that there is an old Node there that has, for some reason," She has theories on that but she doesn't go into them now. "Begun to Well up again: Re-establish itself. Given it's Mutable, Dynamic nature it was ceasing on the... 'spirit' of that one night of the year. Samhain. Halloween. And all the superstitions attached to it... all the beliefs. And we know how powerful beliefs are when they are fed by a large portion of the population. Using that 'Power' - that inherent Resonance of the night and event itself - it was churning up the cult-horror-esq torments of the former patients of the asylum."
There she stops again, this time longer. Some pallor to her complexion; tight lines of pain briefly increased before she firmly pushes it back. But it's probably enough to give Molly a good indication of why Israel is 'recovering'. There's no missing how empathic she is - too much so many would argue - and one can only think that being exposed to the torment, suffering, madness and anguish of patience in a mental institution back in those days was... well...
...it probably explains much.

"Nathan and I are pretty sure there were Technocrats there as well. One of them Awakened.." Another pause, a barely suppressed shudder. "I can't be certain: I know she was Awakened and a doctor of some sort who had gone in to investigate with a team of three or four soldiers of some sort. But... she lost her mind in there. Violently. So this part is pure conjecture. But given that we've seen signs that the Technocracy is taking an interest in the city, well.... we've been expecting it."

Absently she picks at a bit of cake, some of her appetite diminished, her expression... well, Sorrow is strong today,- right now. Pensive, wary Sorrow. Remembering herself she attempts a bit of a smile - largely it fails but the attempt was there. "That's the gist of it. Come dawn the Magic that was causing such strange 'Twists' in that place - redolent of Prime, Correspondence, Mind and Time predominantly - ceased. We think the Node succeeded in re-forming itself. I'm also sure that the Resonance of the Node itself is not evil but highly, highly unstable. Strong elements of Entropy but Dynamism at its core. And if Nathan and I are right and those were Technocrats there then... well. You can see why I think it's something we'll all need to address."

[Molly Quincannon] Conversation about Ellie and Isabel and apprenticeships can definitely wait, in the face of all that Israel has to say about how she, Nathan and Thomas spent their Halloween. While she really enjoyed her own Halloween night (about which she now feels maybe a liiittle bit guilty), "...I wish I'd been there. Or, given the ... um, nature of the place, and what it sounds like it did, I probably shouldn't wish that at all. I still do, though." While a part of it is the experience she missed - the sort of thing she craves no matter how ill-advised it might sound - the rest of it, as her tone of voice makes clear, is that she wishes she had been there to help.

That voiced, she moves on to the practical aspects. "I can probably find out more details about the place, if you want; sometimes the history buffs on the internet can pull up more than the books can. Or old Tribune articles; I've got a friend there. If all else fails, I can have a look back at the place itself. Knowledge is power, they say, so ... y'know, if you want me to dive in and take a look at some details, let me know. And Mirrorshades ... hell." Fortifying swig of coffee. "That's just what we need. Any details on any of them? Names, military branch, anything? I..." She winces, all unseen, and schools herself. "Sorry. I don't want to push, I really don't. I just ... there's a couple of worries I have with any of us getting their attention right now. Some more than others." There's a lot of weight to that last; a nervousness that touches deeper than her personal history as far as Israel knows it might suggest. "Getting a bit of intel - carefully, and if only so we can keep an eye out - might not be a bad idea. Plus keeping an eye on things like this is sort of ... um, cabal remit." Which means she's going to go hunting anyway, more than likely. Hopefully with something resembling backup.

[Israel Cohen] Again she reaches out - after some shifting of cake and coffee - to pat the other woman's arm, after she apologizes and reiterates not wanting to push. "It's alright. One of the reasons I've told you is I know you have means to suss out information that are not available to me. I've said it before and I'll say it again: You are one of the few Magi in the city with a knack for the modern and Technomancy that, well... has visibly put out much useful, truly helpful effort in your areas of expertise." Israel does not speak ill of people lightly but it's true that much of the 'Technomages' in the community are rather lacking in the element of drive and cohesive helpfulness. Molly, at least, has proven otherwise of herself. "And, frankly, I'm glad you weren't there: Honestly there wasn't much more to do that night except survive with sanity intact... it's not an experience I would have wished on anyone."
The way she says it it's clear this doesn't have to do with some idea of what Molly - or others - are or aren't capable of 'handling' [mentally, emotionally or magically and practically]. It is the part of her that is all care giver. It's the part of her that would have fared far worse did she know she was unable to protect even more than the two men who went in there with her.
"I have some names. Of the Doctor at least and some of the last names of the men with her. I don't think they belonged to a formal military branch." These she gives, drawing up what she remembers while doing a truly admirable job of not letting the 'invocations' churn up any more demons. "I think for now some peripheral, subtle research is best. I don't doubt your skills at all but given it may be the Technocracy I like the err on the side of assuming they guard the technological and scientific avenues more closely than we tend to. I'll ask that you not go into the place yet, please... not until Solomon or I can check out the state of the Node itself, not to mention determining what, if any, Technocratic activity has gone on there since. I'd even advise against Scrying, not unless you are capable of masking your Resonance."

She doesn't presume to order or dictate: But if her opinion and requests hold any weight for Molly it's obvious she wants to be cautious for the sake of everyone safety.

Then, one eyebrow arching slightly as she leans back against the seat cushions -- the simple telling of it all has taken some of the energy out of her -- "The way you said 'a couple of worries' and what all... is there something on your mind? Something you know?"

[Molly Quincannon] Molly doesn't write down the names or the details Israel gives; she doesn't have to. She also doesn't commit to not scrying, though there's a noise she makes (a quiet sort of agreeable hum) that inidicates that she's taking Israel's comments to heart. She just doesn't want to lie, and sometimes ... well, things happen, and way leads ever on to way where the gathering of information is concerned. What she says is, "I'll look into it and let you know. And don't worry; I'll be as careful and cautious as I know how, and I've had good teachers in that regard the last few months."

The bit about things she knows gets a sigh. "I think that's actually part and parcel of worrying about being careful and cautious, the ... edginess, I guess is the best word. It's just ... okay, you remember when it was Lara with the soul-shard bits and pieces and I manned up and basically told everyone everything I knew because I knew it was dangerous? Well ... now I'm in the position where I have bits of information that are adding up worrisome and each taken as a component piece they're pretty innocent but all together, particularly with possible Mirrorshades in town, I don't know what to say to whom because it's all bits and pieces and suspicions and..."

She makes herself calm down. Frantic fits her like a glove, of course, so it's a difficult thing to do, and the fact that she drowns that run-on sentence with a swig of strong coffee probably shouldn't help as much as it does. However, she does at least manage to wind down enough to remember that she requires oxygen to live. "Okay. I don't know how much to make of this? But ... say you've got someone with, like, no past. Well, okay, a vague past. Talks about family fondly but always in the past tense, like they're loved but never seen, never visited, only checked on from a distance. Talks about having had ... problems, because of projects. Talks about having had CIA-style training until 'stuff happened' ... and oh great Google I promised I wouldn't talk about this but I can't just not; not now. I--" Deep breath, and she starts again. "Taking all that into account ... does that sound like someone may have a pretty extensive history that in some way involves Mirrorshade? Or am I being entirely paranoid?"

[Israel Cohen] That Molly doesn't actually comment regarding Israel's cautions regarding the Asylum itself - even scrying - does not go unnoticed, but neither does Israel comment on it herself. She's made her choice in so far as what information to give to whom and will now have to leave the rest to... well, yes, Faith. Whether or not Molly sees these confidences as just one 'Emissary' informing another or, rather, one friend trusting another is up to the Ecstatic herself to decipher.

While the conversation shifts, the small woman settles herself more comfortably on the cushioned seat; a small wince here and there; careful easing motions at the last of it but in the end seated as comfortably as can be while she sips coffee and listens...

...certainly listens attentively. By the end of it her brow is slightly furrowed in somber thought while she nods just slightly, just to indicate that she's heard. After a moment she shifts the coffee mug to one hand and reaches out the other to find some bit of Molly to squeeze gently - her forearm most likely as it would be easiest to locate.

"I can definitely understand the sensitivity of your position, Molly. And I fully trust you wouldn't be talking to me - or anyone - about it unless it was potentially very important." Compassionate reassurances first and foremost... then she makes a small sound in her throat, her blind eyes closing: Little indicators that she has more to say, she's just letting the thoughts settle and clear first.

After another several moments pause, "Once, about - oh... three years ago? Solomon and I were in another city. Like in our situation here and now, there was every evidence that the Union was about to cement its hold there. By and large Magi went underground... some tightened up defenses and resistance plans. A few though... well, rumours began to circulate about this Mage or another who had former ties to the Union or had once been captured by them and possibly 'conditioned' and..." She sighs then, shaking her head. "I'm sure you can imagine. It turned into its own Witch-hunt and it was our own people who were leading it. And in the end a couple of good people could find none to help them when the 'Mirrorshades' came after them... they were thrown to the wolves. In one case it was even rumoured that one death of a Traditionalist was at his own fellows hands, not the Tech's at all."

Sorrow fills her countenance [her aura], then she sips her coffee and it quells... "Which is only to illustrate the importance of caution and care in these kinds of things. Imagine what it must have been like for the Factions and Traditions that came to the Nine but originated with the Union? All the doubts and suspicions. We can't be naive about this kind of thing but..."

...her smile is tenderly apologetic, "Sorry. I know a 'witch-hunt' isn't at all what you have in mind or what you would want at all. It just brought it all to my mind again and I've worried about her now that we're worried about the Union here in Chicago." Rolling her shoulders gingerly - cautiously, "I think your concerns are valid, but I wouldn't jump to conclusions. I also ask this: Do you trust this person? What does your intuition tell you? If you trust them: Then talk to them. Directly. Honestly. Voice your concerns. It's a gamble, of course... but when you do it, listen and watch as closely as you can to gauge the response. In most cases it'll give you a good idea of the right course to take."

She's about to take another sip of coffee only to realize it's gone and the slight look of disappointment that passes over her features is... well, endearing. As endearing as the look of renewed contentment when she remembers she still has cake left. "Could they be a mole - whether knowingly or unwittingly? I've certainly heard of such things, sadly. But to me.... if we start acting on the impulse of suspicion first, trust later - if at all - then we're doing the Unions job for them. Make sense?"

[Molly Quincannon] There's certainly time, in amidst the mulling over of everything that Israel has said, to note the slight disappointed look. To recall that there's at least another cup apiece in Molly's Thermos, and to pour Israel a fresh cup of coffee. Israel won't see it, but the renewed-contentment look gets a pleased little smile coupled with a light bite of her lower lip. There are things to be discussed, of course, but that doesn't mean that Molly can't take a little pride in her treats being appreciated.

When Israel's cup of coffee is fixed to her satisfaction, Molly takes another minute to think about all that's been said, and to marshall her thoughts into some semblance of order. It's the last that gets addressed first, and it's in the kind of frustrated, sad and nearly horrified tone that suggests that whoever Molly's talking about, it is not just anyone. This person matters to Molly a great deal. This quite possibly narrows down the list of people she might be talking about - Molly's warm-hearted, but there are people who matter and there are people who matter. "I ... don't know," she says. "I mean, a mole would probably get more ... involved, wouldn't they? There's only so far an affable demeanour will get you, info-wise, if you're not engaging with people in ... I guess 'getting shit done' instead of just ... social stuff."

Then she sighs and rubs a hand over her face, fingers slipping under the glasses to get her eyes. "I don't want a witch-hunt either, believe me. It's part of why I'm being so cagey, and why I haven't said anything until now; contrary to the beliefs of some, I can keep a secret unless it seems like a bad idea to do so. I just keep getting little snippets of information and while I don't think they point to 'mole', I do think they point to a situation that looks a bit more like the Lara thing than anything else. I think this individual got on the Mirrorshade radar in a very bad way, cut all ties with family and friends and everything out of necessity, maybe even faked their own death ... at least in part because the Mirrorshades burned their house down. I could be wrong, but I figured if the 'Shades are pulling anything that overt, they've been pissed off in a serious way." Brief pause while she sips coffee, and then an admission of, "Now, I don't know if all that's true, but that's the information I have to work with and some of it was blurted so I'm going with it for now. Anyway, with the working hypothesis that it's a hiding thing rather than a plant thing, I figure they'd still have this person on file somewhere. They find that person, and they and anyone with whom they associate is going to get it in the neck. On that basis, it might be better if there was more disclosure than 'stuff happened' - if not so that we can help this person stay off-radar if Mirrorshades come sniffing around, then at least so that crossfire doesn't come as a total surprise if this person gets spotted and the assassination train picks up where it left of however long ago."

After a fortifying swig of her own coffee, she sighs and goes on. "Having said that, the reason I'm not completely throwing out the mole hypothesis, or at least the 'running from previous Technocrat training and now marked for death' hypothesis, is because some of the ideas this person comes up with freak me out. The concept of magically-induced anhedonia comes up and it's just an intellectual exercise, nothing more. Everything needs to be regimented and nothing should be done unless the outcome is certain and it sounds so ... V for Vendetta, with that computer, Fate. Or the damn Matrix, as the Agents wanted it. This individual did not think that we should have taken down the Labyrinth until we could have found a way to do it without actually going in, and had the nerve to give me a dirty look for taking down the mundane security for the duration because apparently, security trumps all. Up to and including pulling someone he supposedly cares about out of a freakin'--"

Molly stops there. Israel can likely feel the tension as Molly struggles with herself about how much to say. But she gives Israel credit for empathy and perception and can't imagine that Israel hasn't figured out who she means by now. She's talking about Chuck. She hasn't said his name, and maybe she won't - she did say she'd promised she wouldn't tell anyone about this, and this is the best she can do to maintain it while trying to let some part of this potential threat out where the information might do some good without totally breaking that promise - but it's pretty obvious. Besides ... it does one good to vent.

So, after a deep breath, Molly mutters, "You asked me if I trust this person. When the man with whom you touch the Divine on a semi-regular basis more or less says to your face that he would have left you to be tortured until he could find a way to save you that wouldn't risk him at all? Could you trust someone like that entirely?" She sighs. "I love him, so I'm biased. But I'm well aware that I probably don't even know his real name. I don't know if that answers your question, but I'm constantly torn between wanting to save him from whatever Mirrorshade-related muck might get stirred if they're really coming to play in Chicago and find out he's here, and just wanting to throttle him until truth comes out and then dump his avoidant, passionless, hypocritical ass. Though I guess," she muses, "those two things aren't mutually exclusive."

Then she winces. She promised Solomon she'd be gentle, and now this. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be dumping on you when you just got to recovering from ... y'know, doom. I should have stuck with the Joe Friday shtick. 'Just the facts, ma'am', y'know?"

[Israel Cohen] At no point does Israel break in to speak. There are no interruptions, but that doesn't mean that she isn't paying attention or engaged in the subject matter. It is, admittedly, a lot to process and as the deeper levels of its importance [for better or worse] and impact on Molly herself comes to light Israel simply let's the other woman have her 'vent' - her talk-out. Without judgment or annoyance: Did Israel have to deal with all that she would certainly want and need someone to let it all pour out with. And all too well does she know how difficult it is when the object of the distress is the person with whom you are usually the most comfortable and intimate. Let it not be said that she and Solomon have never had their share of spats and differences, some of them fairly volatile.

Her expression is speculative, thoughtful and concerned when Molly speaks further about this 'nameless others' [yes, if she hadn't already had an idea who Molly was talking about it is long since confirmed by the time Molly is done] possible run-in with the Technocrats and the levels to which it escalated [Sorrowful empathy piques again, of course, when Molly reiterates this persons possibly needing to cast off all ties with family and loved ones]. Her brow furrows when the words turn to reasons to refrain from dismissing the 'mole' or 'Union-Trained' theory entirely -- she looks downright taken aback [not scandalized or shocked, just caught by surprise at the notion] at the mention of 'magically-induced anhedonia'. Sympathetic when Molly speaks of the difficulties of dealing with someone who sounds so... passionless? Removed? Apathetic? One eyebrow arches when mention of the Labyrinth is made, in terms of the man's supposed disapproval of their actions and her involvement... alright, yes, there's a bit of a snort when she speaks of his displeasure regarding how she shut down the mundane security for them. It is about as close as Israel gets to an impulse sound of vexation, mingled with simple incredulity. The incredulous aspect increases when the Ecstatic reveals the Adept's unwillingness to risk himself when she was being held in that wretched, blasphemous, horrible...
...it may be the only time that Molly has seen Israel glower. It passes: She doesn't let that impulse of anger and protectiveness rule her, but it exists, even if it does so on the same plane as heartache: For Molly. For Chuck if he indeed lives a life so devoid of devotion to someone not himself.

Molly asks if Israel could trust someone like that and she grimaces, licking her lips slightly before releasing her breath slowly. It is all a lot to process.
It's the last she responds to first, with a small shake of her head: "Don't apologize, Molly. Feeling of use and need in the world - even if just to a few people or one person - is strengthening and healing in its own way."

Again she takes her time in answering to the rest: In mulling through her personal feelings as they differ from what she's learned from experience and simply what intuition tells hers. And yes, she's just the sort of person who - in these moments - genuinely seems to be listening or waiting or sensing for something. Whether from within or without or both.

"I think the matter of his possible past connection to or run-ins with the Union is something you must speak to him about irregardless of the other quandaries of your relationship. Because he is someone you care about - love - no matter the other uncertainties. Because he is one of us; he is human; he is very likely not an enemy and so shouldn't be treated as one. And because it's potentially a situation that could endanger many of us. I would do my best to explain my concerns and why they are increased now, given events in the city. Beyond that..." Her lips curve, not quite a smile, not quite a grimace. "If he balks and refuses to tell you the whole truth of the matter then it will be up to you to decide whether that is enough: For you as a woman and as a proactive Mage. If he tells you and it's the 'worst-case-scenario' well..." now a grimace in earnest. "Again, I have every faith you'll know what to do, difficult though it would be."

A sip of the fresh-fixed cup of coffee from the thermos and then into the even more trick-some elements of this conversation, "So far as trust and could I trust someone like that? Well, to some degree: Yes. If it was his true nature and I knew it then I usually try to accept people as they come. Trustworthy and dependable in some ways - perhaps not so much in others. God knows we're all flawed. Could I have a relationship with someone like that?"

Israel's fear if she was ever in a situation like Molly had been isn't that Solomon wouldn't dare to risk his own safety to come after her...it's that Solomon Ward would become a force of nature, a whirlwind, a Reaper, stopping at nothing save his own death to get her back, distinguishing not between friend or foe but simply: 'In my way or not.' Some might feel smug about such a high level of devotion: Israel is terrified of what it would do to him - and others - if matters ever took such a turn.

"If I went in with eyes wide open and fully aware of how he felt, then perhaps." She sounds... doubtful, though. "Likely not anything truly intimate. But that's me. And I don't know just what level or extent of relationship you want with him. From what I've experienced and witnessed though... while relationships often flourish if the two involved have many differences that largely compliment one another," certainly many have observed this to be the case with Israel and Solomon, "It's a lot harder to manage when both have very different fundamental beliefs not just in order but practice as well, see? If your passion is tempered by his logic and he is brought to recognize the merits of being proactive and vigorous then both of you can benefit... but if the difference lack that sympathetic - as in corresponding - or understanding element then it could be frustrating and dissatisfying for both of you, no matter the feelings involved."
Then she smiles, somewhat tiredly, but genuine - mingled with both self-directed humour and a touch of shyness, "That being said, while I'm pretty good with people, I have to admit: My actual romantic relationship experience is very limited. So, you know: Take or leave my observations for what they are."

[Molly Quincannon] When Israel says not to apologise, and the healing power of feeling of use, Molly (who, like a lot of Cultists, rides an emotional roller coaster the way she would a literal one - with some twisted blend of "WHOO-HOO!" and "Oh shit...") smiles a little through the jumble of disappointment, frustration and pain of the issue at hand. She knows that one well, after all; her version is just more 'risk-taker' than 'caregiver'. She doesn't go into that, though Israel may sense the singular relief that comes from being understood. She just murmurs, "Thanks, Israel."

She listens to the rest as carefully as Israel has listened to her vent, not interrupting. There are nods she knows will go unseen but are nearly automatic, particularly when Israel speaks of the necessity of talking to Chuck about whatever run-ins he may or may not have had with the Technocracy, but nothing spoken, and certainly no impatience. She hasn't spoken of this to anyone else ... well, not with full disclosure, at any rate. Not getting the advice of someone who makes up for what she claims to lack in terms of romantic entanglements in sheer empathy and in-depth understanding of people would just be stupid. The only audible reaction comes when Israel winces and says that Molly would be able to do the necessary if it was a 'worst case scenario'; a sharp intake of breath that speaks less of surprise than a metaphorical knife in the heart. So many ways that could be taken, and none of them pretty.

So that's the bit she addresses first, of course; the one where the pain cuts deepest and most overall threatening. "I ... knew I'd have to confront him about it eventually. He must know it too, the hints he's been dropping, intentionally or not. I mean, he knows who he's dealing with, after all. The really heavy freak-out over it only came recently, though; I mean, there's been niggling, yes, but nothing as directed as the 'let's have a computer programme to dictate every move we ever make in response to danger instead of opening a dialogue' ... um ... debate. With Mirrorshades probably in town, the timetable's just moved up. But ... I'm not the most careful person in the world, and this is one conversation that can't happen with backup because if it's worst case, then he'll know something's up before I want him to and if it isn't worst case ... well, the fewer people who know details that are painful for him, the better he'll feel. That being the case, though ... someone has to know what I'm doing in case it is the worst case and it goes bad, and someone else needs to put the rest of the community in the know." She gives a mirthless chuckle and adds, "I don't think it will? And am pretty sure I could handle it if it did? But I think that anything bad happening to me on an at-home date night after I said I was going to bring this up? Would be pretty damning evidence. Anyway, you'll know the day I bring it to him; before and as soon after as I can manage."

The thought she cannot entirely stifle: Man, if this turns into the Riveira mess all over again, I may as well just wear hooks for jewellery and start calling myself Fly-Lure.

The business-side done, she addresses the rest, and there's a shade of bitter in her voice, along with the sadness. "You know, if he'd said 'I wanted to go after you but I knew logically that my skill set isn't geared for combat', I wouldn't be having this problem. It's not the not-going. It's the fact that he didn't care what happened to me except in a 'poor Molly but maybe she kind of asked for it, doing what she did without the backup I withdrew from her while telling her to do the fieldwork' kind of way. Didn't matter about the ending of what I was going through - and he entirely ignored the ... other people..." She still hesitates about going into much detail about the poor twisted not-quite-dead 'artwork' on the walls; they were the first things she saw when she was dragged down there, and as a possible indicator as to her eventual fate, that particular image just sucked, to put it mildly. "Just so long as it was all done in the way he thought was ... appropriate, I guess? I guess the question I really need to ask is how much of that detachment is to do with the stuff he won't talk about, and whether he's willing to let go of his issues and re-engage with ... well, everything beyond the surface level he seems to prefer. Because he seems like Mister Empathy until it involves anything heavy, so ... anyway, all that to say that your advice is pretty sound for someone who claims to so little experience, which I knew it would be because you get people way better than most, and it has given me much food for thought. Maybe not quite as tasty as baked goods, but nourishing of the brainpan anyway. I guess it boils down to not being able to make a decision until I have that capital-c Conversation with him. I'm sick of making all the effort. I guess it's time to tell him that a, the time for caps-locked secrets is over and b, he has to go big or go home."

After all that, she gives another chuckle, this one a bit rueful. "Man. This got way heavy and I actually wanted to cheer you up. I feel bad now. I should move the subject on to something else. Like I got a basic apprentice-level understanding of Prime - I know you have different words for the Spheres, kind of like the Hermetics but not, with Neshamah for Mind and Yechidah for Correspondence; what's your word for Prime?" She asks, of course, out of curiosity. "Ashley calls it Ars Vis. Anyway, there was going to be cheerful yammering about that and the Mad Ferret Pair and advice on where I should go for an extra quilt or two for the wintertime because your taste in textiles is awesome and everybody loves the scarf you made me..." She clears her throat. "You know. Cheerful stuff!"