All The Way Through

[Nathan Spriggs] Some days, he likes to wander off into the city in thoughts. No destination in mind, no idea of what he wants, the end point was unimportant, it was the journey that mattered. Today is like one of those days but not, it isn't a self-quest, or an excuse to think. It just is.

There are no reasons for his wandering, just a desire to walk around, step through the city of Chicago and learn more about it, on foot. Forthe cold, he's brought a thick denim coat with fur inner layers to insulate, and two layers of clothing underneath it just in case, matched by the denim jeans he's wearing today and the short brown work boots. Not his usual apparel, but it worked and he didn't honestly care today.

He was just glad to be alive and, yes, back here. Enough had happened in the past few days, Understanding amongst them. Even the frigid winds doesn't stop him, nor the lung-constricting freezing breaths of air that flow out as white mist into the atmosphere.

[Molly Quincannon] Molly's not exactly great at 'aimless' wandering. Her wandering tends to either have aims, or she ends up tripping over aims as she goes. Still, it's a nice day, and cold-but-not-horrifying - enough to pink the cheeks and the tip of the nose - and she's got projects and they often require shopping. And she likes looking in the windows.

All this to say, Molly's out on a wander of her own, though of a far different kind than Nathan's.

She spots him, though, as she loses interest in a window display and turns back towards the street. She'd been in a good enough mood to start with, but she does tend to light up when she spots someone she's fond of - the more she likes them, the brighter that light in her eyes and smile seems to get. In this particular case ... well, you could put it in the megawatt range. She's pleased to see him, even if it ends up being just in passing. And it shows.

She raises a hand (stripey gloves - she's in her winterwear, with Kermit hat and duffel coat and the scarf Israel made her) and waves at him. "Nathan! Hi! How's everything?"

[Molly Quincannon] [[What's new, man? Seriously? Awareness.]]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 4, 4, 4 (Botch x 3 at target 6)

[Nathan Spriggs] Truth be told, Nathan never truly expects to run into people he knows when he goes out wandering the gargantuan city, it's that litle piece of Sleeper in him that rejects the coincidences. But there are no coincidences, are there?

Too at peace with himself right now, calm, he isn't up to his usual standards of Sight or Awareness, so when the sounds of a greeting are caught by his ears, he's a tinge slower than usual to turn. A split second's delay, really.

His lips curling into a surprised, though no less pleased, smile as he waves back with a, "Hey, it's well... Really good, actually. You?"

Of course what Molly gets is something completely different, strange. Even before he's turned, before he's noticed her existence, she feels it wash upon her skin in a creeping sensation that almost threatens like a flood. It isn't just an added flavor of Dynamism to him, a little sense, it's like a dam's been broken and it's flowing out. Engulfing him. Something so Dynamic that it feels insane, is insane. Madness.

It feels like what they all describe when they call them by a title... A Marauder. Dynamic to the point of insanity, where Reality severs from the mind that only wants change and forces that change.

[Molly Quincannon] So. This is what a Marauder feels like. She's never seen one, never met one, and only heard the stories - horrific, for the most part. It's a war between curiosity and devastation - new experiences are good, but...

Not him. No. Just ... no.

The surprised, pleased smile from Nathan gets no reaction, unless you count Molly's face falling into an expression that mingles disbelief, grief, a morbid sort of curiosity, a species of horror and utter, utter denial. For the most part, Molly cannot imagine being wrong. Ever. This time, though, she's just studying him, getting a feel for that ... that feeling to him. She needs to know so she can understand (and maybe make herself believe it, or [please please please] be proven wrong). She doesn't. Say. A word.

[[C'mon, Kasheeno.]]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 10 (Success x 1 at target 7)

[Nathan Spriggs] It was an interesting question, where did the edges of Madness touch the edges of the little Reality that remained in a Marauder? Had he acknowledged and greeted Molly out of a sense of his own World or something else?

Unaware of the mental struggles of a one Molly Quincannon, Nathan can do nothing but stand there, a little bit stunned by the silence, and tilt his head just a bit to watch her carefully. Perhaps figure out what's going through her head right now.

Murky as it still is in a flood of imaginary Resonance and insanity, but she can get a faint trace of what's truly going down below. A small grasp of that new feeling, like the continuation of movement, of going with it, Momentum. But it's not massive, nor is it Maddening. Just another factor that colors his Resonance into something else, something new...

Of course, she still can't quite tell if that's true or not.

[Molly Quincannon] "..............othankgod."

With that rather uncharacteristic little exclamation (because she doesn't reference God or gods even in this kind of sense, or at least she's never been heard to do so), that expression fades to utter relief, and Nathan has a split-second to consider that before she hugs him. Tight. And she's maybe trembling a little. (But it's just the cold! Really!) Her voice sure as hell is when she says, "...Yeah, I'm a freak. You knew that. Sorry. But also not. Oh, you know what I mean. Humour me."

It's only after she's said that that she lets him go, looking a little embarrassed and taking off her glasses. To ... clean them. Yeah. Okay, we'll go with that. And if she scrubs at her eyes a little ... it's just dust or smog or exhaust from that yellow Hummer that just blew by. Really. As she does that, she clears her throat and says, "Yeah. Besides me acting like a fruitcake ... what's new? I mean, you've got shiny-new."

[[I'm tempting fate here, but ... Subterfuge. Really, it's just too much coffee, all this vague insanity from Molly. Or possibly not enough, as she seems to function on caffeine.]]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 8, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Nathan Spriggs] [Did...did I miss something? Perc + Subterfuge]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 6, 7, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Nathan Spriggs] It's one of those days, those strange days he got in this city. Where he'd either run into someone in a fight or some other awkward moment. First time this movie moment's happened to him though, and the feeble lies that Molly tells earn a small smile as she hugs him and isn't glancing at his face.

No rebuttals or questions though, nah. He just accepts it for face value rather than digging deeper. Whatever might've happened was of no importance. When she lets go, a brow's arched in amusement while she cleans her glasses.

"You know, the olden path of self-Enlightenment and the likes. Along with a whole damn load of bad memory lane walking. I'm well, though. Better than ever, I'd say." He answers with a small gesture towards a nearby bench, an invite to sit down and talk. Still, there's a small undertone of calmness to his usual paranoid habits and avoiding ways. Nathan truly does feel just fine today. Everything was well.

For now at least, the bad things came later down the road.

[Molly Quincannon] Molly takes the invitation gladly (once she's put her glasses back on and can actually see the gesture towards the bench), and sits close - it's warmer that way, and frankly, she's not ready to ... not be close just yet. She can practically still feel her heart hammering from that one moment of what can only be described as AGH! and close is good. Though there is room on the bench for him to move away, if he wants to. It's just by her choice that she sits down close enough that their shoulders brush on occasion.

"Ooooh," she says, in response to the thing about the shiny-new. "That explains the newness that I am so not entirely on the ball about today. I think I need to do some percussive maintenance on my sixth sense." Which is as close as she's going to get to admitting just how wrong she got it. "Well, you look good on it, gotta tell you. I'm kind of tempted to say 'sorry about the bad memory lane trek', but I'm also kinda not? Just because I guess we gotta, sometimes. But ... what was it like? I mean, scary, exhilirating, just plain headfucky? There are too many questions, I know. It's just been awhile since my last level-up, so it's ... not that I don't remember what it's like? But I figure it's different every time, for every person, and I'm interested." Then, another moment of, Oh, fuck it, what's the worst he can do? Laugh? Run? followed by, "I mean, it's a big deal for you, and anything that makes you 'well' makes me squeeful. It's a thing."

[Nathan Spriggs] With a sidelong glance to Molly, he listens and tries, very hard not to laugh. No, he's not gonna run, either, but still... Even used to her drumming on as he is, it feels amusing how she phrases it. Should've known it was gonna happen, it always did. So as she continues to machine gun ask, he's sitting there considering for a moment how to explain.

But he can't. So all he says is, "It was all of those and then some, horrible, insanity inducing... amazing... Well, lemme put it this way. I killed myself, at the end of it. Literally. A dagger through the heart."

A dagger that he's gonna keep as a close memento, because it was somehow transported back with him from the Dream. It was a close tie to the person who he was now, a reminder.

[Molly Quincannon] Just when Molly was starting to relax, Nathan comes out with those last three sentences and the blood drains from her face all over again. If she wasn't what she is, and thus used to riding a certain amount of sensory roller coaster, she'd probably have fainted by now. Or something equally girly and embarrassing.

She probably could restrain herself from reaching out and touching his chest at the spot just over his heart, as if she could somehow feel what he did-but-didn't-but-did, or reassure herself that his heart still beats despite three layers of clothing. She could. She doesn't. Her fingertips don't rest on the denim long, just for a second or two, but the touch is there all the same.

Instead of machine-gunning, she asks a single question; one that could mean a dozen different things depending on how the question is parsed by its intended recipient. Perhaps she just means all the possible interpretations, condensed into one three-word question: "Was it good?"

[Nathan Spriggs] Nathan's left stunned for a moment over Molly's touch, he should have expected her to act on her thoughts before anything else, should have but didn't. So when she does, his eyes just dart over to her with a curious gaze, wondering what she's going to do or say next.

With a deep sigh, not as tired as prior days but still some weariness rests upon it in the calm, he says, "Dying wasn't, it's an experience I never to repeat. Being stabbed through the heart hurts like blaze.."

A beat then, as his lips curl to a wry smile and a chuckle escapes them. "But I think the experience, ultimately, was... Maybe not in the moment, but learning to... well... let go, was." Lessons learned through pain and adversity are not easily forgotten, after all.

[Molly Quincannon] The bit about not wanting to repeat that particular experience gets a bit of a sideways smile. "Well, not to rain on your parade, but I think you're probably going to experience that one at least once more. Not a lot of people get to talk about the experience after, though, so ... I dunno if that's a silver lining or not. But ... yeah. Learning to let go is good, though I admit I didn't learn that one quite as ... viscerally ... as you did. Glad you're okay, though. Really." Deep breath, and then a sigh with a bit of a low chuckle in it. "I mean, really-really." Remarkably, she is not blushing.

She is, however, curious. She may or may not act on it (it may depend on the answer to her next question), but she is curious. "If, during the whole me acting like a freak and then hugging you like I was afraid you were going to vanish on me if I let go, I had kissed you. What would you have done?"

[Nathan Spriggs] With a shake of his head, he responds to the first comment and says, "Who knows, maybe some of us won't. The Awakened life is a strange one. Death in dreams that don't feel like, and maybe aren't, really dreams." With a wave of his hand though, he shrugs it off. Who knows, and right now he doesn't really care.

He's had enough of death for a lifetime as far as he's concerned.

To the last part, it's a slow, wry smirk, a little uncertain but otherwise a mixture of amused and serious. "Well, if given my state of mind and thought process in that moment already being thrown off? I'd have probably been confused as hell," a grin, "If it's what you're expecting though, no I wouldn't say I'd have leveled a whole lot of complaints."

[Molly Quincannon] Okay, that one gets a blush. And a small smile. "Good to know. I'll remember that. But for the record, you've got one of the more attractive confused looks I've encountered."

She doesn't kiss him. Perhaps she means to leave it until it's a surprise. What she does is ask, "So ... what now? In Freakangels parlance, the package just unpacked a little more for you. When you're done basking - and make no mistake, basking is awesome and deserved - what're you gonna do?"

[Nathan Spriggs] To this day, there hasn't been a single conversation with Molly in which he could pick out all of the references and words, the little bits of lingo. Some, sure, or most, maybe some times. But never all of it.

So when she mentions 'Freakangels', his eyes just... stay on her with an arch of a brow, like asking what the hell that even is. "Right... I dunno, I think I'm gonna move on to the next level of understandings, in Magic I mean. Stop, at least for now, polishing what I know and focus on advancement before I return to that. It'd be a waste not to."

[Molly Quincannon] "Online comic strip written by Warren Ellis." Yes, Molly replies to the look. She knows that look. Way too many people give her that look for her to miss it by now. "Think Village of the Damned meets Waterworld-without-the-suck meets Transmetropolitan meets Misfits. I have hard copies if you want to borrow." He may not understand all of that either, but she's tried, anyway.

The rest? That gets laughter - good-natured laughter, mostly at herself. "Oh, I know that, even if it seems a bit counterintuitive because if you learn new and then refine the old, don't you have to practically start all over again refining the advanced stuff instead of working from a solid platform from the get-go? But I figure you know what you're doing; you always seem to. I just meant where are you going to start? You've practically got the whole set, so ... y'know, of all these things you know that you can advance ... how are you going to choose which to focus on?"

[Nathan Spriggs] "...Man, ou lost me at Transmetropolitan. I remember Village of the Damnd and Waterworld though, not that I can imagine how you merge the concepts... unless, like... the kids succeeded in their goal rather than were stopped?" He answers her example jokingly, more to show that he wasn't as far gone as she might expect than in any other serious capacity.

The last part earns a long silence, like he wasn't going to answer it. Uncertain, maybe? Then finally, Nathan speaks with a laugh, "I'm gonna start with what I've got on hands, in people and resources. Most likely advanced studies of Prime." He was, after all, the one member of the Guardians who didn't know the Discipline levels of Prime.

Probably be the only skill he shared with them in a general Disciple view after a while.

"Next after that might be continuing in Matter, it has so many uses and interesting applications that I can consider. I can't figure out why I wouldn't want to advance it, maybe go back to the Cult classic though," a self-derisive snort at the pun before elaborating, "Work on continuing with Time again."

[Molly Quincannon] "Something like that, yeah." He may be joking. She's not. "I will lend it to you. I think you'll appreciate it, somehow."

She matches the silence, just waiting for the answer - curious, of course - and the pun gets a laugh once he's finally answered the question. "Oh, man, various of my interests aside, Time's the first one I'm going for. Not out of Trad loyalty but because ... oh, the ideas. But that might not be for awhile yet. But I figured you'd go for Prime. Seems to be a favourite of yours. Going Chorus?" It's not really a loaded question, but it's not light or joking either. It's just another one of those 'Things Molly Is Curious About And Does Not Judge'.

[Nathan Spriggs] This is a question he was expecting to come, some day, from someone. His answer, though, has never really been properly considered for all he expected the question. It's not been at the forefront of his thoughts until recently, and even now when he's asked, Nathan only replies with the first thing that comes to mind. The most honest thoughs are usually the first reactions, after all.

"I don't know. Don't think so. I'm caught in between everything, honestly. I can't say I hate the thought of the Chorus, but I enjoy my current freedom too. Not to mention I don't know if I can follow the strict doctrines to the Orders, it doesn't feel all that... well, me."

[Molly Quincannon] Just as the question contained no judgement, neither does her reply to his answer. "It's good to know yourself well enough to be able to say that, I think. Still, nice to have options, isn't it?"

Another moment's thought, and then she reaches for her laptop bag. What she brings out is not her laptop but a somewhat battered hardcover notebook, the navy blue cover faded and frayed, the edges of pages he can see yellowed. This book is old, by the standards of a notebook (though it doesn't hold a candle to the age of most of the books Nathan's used to, of course). "I want to show you something," she tells him as she pulls a photograph from between a couple of pages in the middle and hands it to him.

The photograph is as old as the book, more or less, and just as battered. It's a girl, maybe seventeen. Longish brownish hair, narrow sort of face, glasses, dark clothes, wary expression. It takes a moment of scrutiny to recognise that this was Molly a decade or so ago. There are almost no resemblances. "You were talking about letting go. Behold the 'before' to my 'before and after' story," she tells him, once she sees the recognition there. There's a short pause, and while she doesn't blush, her voice is very quiet when she tells him, "You're only the fifth person to ever see that picture. One's me, and two are my parents, who took the damn thing."

Which says a lot, really.

[Nathan Spriggs] He takes a long glance at the book, wondering it's origins and information. To some extent, yes, Nathan does wish she'd given it to him for a moment to check and look over, but he accepts justthe photograph she takes out. A token of her personal trust in him, perhaps? Of their exchange?

With a small grin, he looks at it carefully, checks it over. It's with a small glance to Molly that he answers her comments with an honest-to-God smile of thankfulness and appreciation. "I'm honored. There's a difference like from Heaven to Hell though, like... wow. Man, what happened?"

Meanwhile, his thoughts idly cross over to his own past, pictures of it or proof of the passage of time. They'd spoken about it before, how he'd never looked back. It's now that he also considers the lack of any real pictures or anything, really, from those days... An almost entirely different life. If he did, though, it'd probably be of a much younger, and better looking guy. Before age began to kick in, worsened by the weathering of bad experiences and a hard life. "I'd return the favor, but unfortunately I have no pictures of my self as a ripe, handsome young teenager."

[Molly Quincannon] The book, for now, is left alone, kept in her hands, though she doesn't put it away yet. She answers the question, though, very simply. "I got away, to put it simply. Away from those parents, that town, that life I was supposed to have. It was a hard fight - I had no concept of ... friendship, companionship, anything. How the hell I didn't turn out a sociopath, I just have no clue. I mean, I literally didn't talk to anyone beyond answering questions in class, trading insults with classmates and parents alike and occasionally blackmailing or browbeating authority figures until I was eighteen. No positive connections or help at all. Anywhere, with anyone. But then I got into my car and drove off towards college and I stopped at this little all-night diner and I thought ... I had a choice. I could keep going the way I knew, and be ... I dunno, unhappy but safe. Or ... I could do the other thing. Start over. Kill the snarky, defensive little wretch I was and be reborn however I wanted." She touches her scarf, then - Israel chose well when she gave Molly the symbol of the phoenix to wear. "I guess you know which way I chose. I also guess you know why the Cult decided to ring my alarm clock, when they saw me."

She shrugs and takes the picture back, tucking it not into the book again but just into the front zipper pocket of her laptop bag. "I keep it to remind me of what I was, and by contrast what I am. Not ... with the what we are, but who and what I am, as a person; how I've grown. Ever onward, y'know? Sort of a reminder not to look back."

The mention of pictures of his own youth, or lack thereof, gets a laugh ... and somewhere as that laugh starts to die down, that's when she kisses him. It's not long, it's not deep, but it's more than a peck, if only by a little. Pulling away as if it's no big deal, that, she speaks up. "I'll spare you the fine wine analogy and point out that you were probably underripe, then. Everyone needs time in the sun to grow."

[Nathan Spriggs] Before the kiss, he's considering her story and how to answer. It wasn't one he could honestly sympathize, strangely opposite of his own escape from the old life. A life long left behind. Then she kisses him and, no, he doesn't struggle against it, in fact he goes with it for a moment before she's pulling away.

With a grin, he throws a sideway glance to her as his hands dip into the coat pockets from the cold, a shiver passing, "So this was all a carefully strategized plan to sneak a kiss in, huh?" A beat and a laugh before he says, "Before I snowball back to that, lemme just finish my thoughts on your, elaborated, story... Well, didn't know you back then, can't comment, blah blah blah. Right choice, blah blah blah. My situation was different though, blah blah. There. Done. So what now? You gonna sneak in any more kisses, and should I look away or?"

[Molly Quincannon] Laughter is a good thing, really, even when it comes with blushes. "Well, at least someone credits me with the brains for strategy. No, it just seemed like a good moment. As to whether I'm going to sneak in any more kisses, I think that entirely depends on if you like them sneaky or not. There's something to be said for the direct approach, but sneaky can be fun too, so ... I guess we'll see how it goes."

As to the rest, she waves a hand. "Everyone's situation is different, I know. I just ... wanted you to know mine, that's all. Probably not hugely important taken by itself, but I always figure who we are has a lot to do with who we were, whether it's a matter of overcoming shit or the support of a stable life or some combination of the two. I ... want you to know who I am. All the way through." She doesn't ask for the same of him. Curious as hell she may be, but the fonder she is of someone, the harder she curbs her curiosity if she thinks the questions won't be well-received. Maybe she'll earn that answer one day. For now, she's content with that sort of thing only going one way.

Then she gets that slightly faraway look that most who know her well know is her 'checking her watch', metaphorically speaking. "And you're shivering and I have a couple of hours of troll-stomping to get in tonight. Metaphorically," she hastens to add to the dragon-slayer. "Side gig moderating a pay site. Anyway, it all means a return to the wandering, I think. Oh, and here." She grins a little at him and hands over the notebook. "I know you and books. I don't think you'll find it that interesting - I wasn't one of those girls who wrote moody depressive poetry or anything like that - but I know how you are for books. Plus, on the subject of my carefully strategised plans, means we'll have to meet up for me to get it back. It's my turn to cook for you, if I remember right."

[Nathan Spriggs] With a mischievous grin, he takes the book and nods quietly. Taking a moment to wrap his coat up tighter, completely redundant but mentally helpful, he stands and pivots to turn and face Molly. "I accept your challenge and look forward to it, you'll find I'm a hard person to sneak up on! Declare the day and time, if you will." He says, with all the over-the-topness of a knight accepting a foe's duel.

"On a just slightly more serious note, I'm a bit sad I don't get to see another side of you then. I figured you might have been the Poe fangirl type, all moody poetry and stories of how gray life feels. But I'll look over it tonight, then, until then... good luck with your work and take care. I need some coffee to warm myself up." With those words, he'll wait for her to say something like a date and then be off on a search for cover.

[Molly Quincannon] "Likewise," she says ... probably to the lot of it. Well, except for the acceptance of challenge, at which she chuckles and names a date and a time, then leans forward...

...bops his nose lightly with a fingertip and heads off into the freezy Chicago evening.