The Definition of Euthanatos

Shoshannah Mitchell
The house is large, and sprawling, and not at all unlike the one that Shoshannah told Kalen was like her father's - lots of glass, lots of wood.  See that description up there?  It says it all.  Inside, there's a Shoshannah . . . who's pacing a bit nervously, clearly waiting for someone.  Or maybe a couple someones.  She's dressed nicely, as she always is (her wardrobe is slowly growing, now that she's living somewhere with a closet instead of out of her bike's saddlebags and a backpack); her skirt is shorter than most she wears but still relatively modest where (it seems like) most eighteen year olds are concerned these days - poofy and ivory, with a brown waistband or maybe belt, and a denim shirt.  The arm covers, today (and most days, unless she's going for clashing contrast) are in the colors of her outfit - which is to say denim-y blue, brown and ivory.  There are cute little ankle-high cowboy boots, too, and she makes quite the picture with her long not-quite-black hair and summer tan.

Sid Rhodes
Saturday evening the weekend before Labor Day and there's no place Sid would rather be than in the Chantry's library.  Well that's not true, there are plenty of places that the quiet red-haired Orphan would rather be, but that's where Sid is, at least for a few minutes longer.

Over the last couple of weekends or so, she's been spending more of her time at the chantry holed up in the bedroom that she claimed, taking a tome or three from the library up to read in solitude.  Tonight, though, she's been out in the open.  Sitting at the table in the dining room, text books stacked to one side, one flipped open to a page with scientific figures, a notebook just under her left hand.  The pen in her right hand hovers over a worksheet.

Footsteps moving constantly in the other room catches her attention.  Lifting her head, Sid tries to peer through a doorway to wherever Shoshannah is pacing.  Setting down that pen, she pushes back from the table and rises.  She's dressed in jeans and a green tank top that fits snugly to her torso, emphasizing the swell of her bustline and exposing quite a bit of that pale ivory skin.  Her red hair is twisted up into a clip, her glasses are black-rimmed, old, the kind someone's dad wore in movies of the fifties or sixties.  Her feet are bare.

"Shoshannah?" she asks, peering in toward the girl.

Sid Rhodes
[and now I have to run get food but I should be home soon (my brother said "get your pants on" hah like i need pants for Taco Bell)]

Kalen
[Before I forget-Nightmares]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (3, 6, 7, 8, 9) ( success x 4 )

Kalen
Kalen walks, very deliberately up to the house.  It isn't just that he has a flair for the dramatic; certainly, he leans too heavily on his cane, favors his right side too much for walking to be anything but deliberate.  Of course, even before that was true, he'd have been if not deliberate, definitely dramatic.  He knocks on the door, with enough force to be clear but not enough to qualify as overkill, three sharp knocks with just enough space between them to sever them into distinct sounds more than a pattern.

And then he waits, trying not to look impatient, for someone to come to the door.  He's wearing black jeans and a plain black tee-shirt, which make his pale green eyes and paler blonde hair seem even more dramatic.  At least his skin has color, not dark by any means but Kalen definitely spends time out in the sun.

Shoshannah Mitchell
Sid is (was) in the dining room and Shoshannah's in the foyer - she's actually cracking her knuckles, something Sid's never seen her do, when the Orphan moves to where she is.  This turns into fidgeting with her arm covers, arranging her skirt - anything, really.  Sid's seen Shoshannah with people before - knows she's prickly, angry, the first to pick a fight.

This is something completely different.

"Yes?"  She stills when Sid comes in and it's a lot like how she calms when Pan is around . . . up until there's a knock on the door and she jumps.  There's a visible five count before she moves to answer it, all trying to be casual and coming of as sullen, impatient, irritated.  It's a thing she can't really help, this girl for whom the bulk of social interaction tends to be unpleasant.  It's not quite a scowl that greets Kalen at the door, but not terribly far from it, either.

"Hello," she says, and that long, lean girl is so full of prickly awkward, it's almost painful for the one in the room who knows her best.  "It's hard to find, this place.  Good that you did."

Legs flash when she moves to let him in and close the door behind Kalen - when no one's looking she takes a deep breath and tries to settle, but it doesn't help much.

"That's Sid.  Sid, this is Kalen - I said I'd show him around."  It's almost defensive, that.  Nothing to see here, folks, just doing my job.

Eleanor Yates
[Not-Nightmares]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 6, 7, 9, 9, 10) ( success x 5 )

Kalen
"Your map was remarkably clear about where I should be going, dove," Kalen says, seeming largely unruffled by all the prickliness.  Sid gets a very slight dip of his head, but he's too far away to offer a hand and there is really no smooth way to close the distance between them with anything like an acceptable delay, so he does not reach out to offer Sid a hand.

Instead, after a quick glance over Sid, he looks around the chantry curiously, eyes lingering here and there as he tries to orient himself to it.  It's been, a long time since he set foot in a chantry, and this one is nothing like the one he most clearly remembers.

Sid Rhodes
[percept+awarepathy on Shoshannah]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9) ( success x 4 )

Eleanor Yates
[Perception + Awareness / general read]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 2, 2, 3, 9) ( success x 1 )

Grace Evans
Grace has need of books. Of information, really, in whatever form that might take. Book, person, file, it makes little difference. But right now, she's in need of that library, and even has a book picked out in her mind.

Too bad there's so many people to get in her way. But she doesn't know that yet, and gleefully marches herself up to the door and gives a courtesy knock before just opening the door and walking in.

She's dressed in her usual uniform of jeans, tee (brown, with an intravenous coffee design printed on the front) sneakers, and laptop bag. Like she'd go anywhere without the latter...

She hears Shoshannah down the hall, and figures its best to go thataway, and beg to be allowed access to the hallowed vault of knowledge. But probably not in those terms, really.

Sid Rhodes
Shoshannah stills, and Sid gives her a look, brows lifted, eyes wide, a wordless query of You okay?  The wordless question is answered when the door opens and a young man enters.  Sid's eyes are sharp on him, taking him in.  If he wanted, he could hold out his hand to her and expect her to cross the distance to claim it in greeting.  What with that cane and the way he leans into it, most people might be expected to close that gap.  It's a good thing he doesn't try that with this one, however.  Sid Rhodes is not 'most people.'  She returns his nod with a slight one of her own.

Stepping forward just one step, her hands slipping into the pockets of her jeans, doesn't bring her right beside Shoshannah.  She does not slide into a posture of overbearing protectiveness, but there's something about the way she looks at this young man that is appraising.  Before she can think to say a word, however, the door behind him opens again and in steps someone she recognizes.

"Hi," she says to Grace, and her voice is quiet and low, but there is the slightest of shifts and the other women in the room, those who know her a little better, who have spent a little more time with her, get the sense that she's pleased to see her.  Sid has been a little quieter lately, not in the fearful way she was when Shoshannah first met her, just...reserved.

Shoshannah Mitchell
And there's Grace, and Shoshannah is . . . well, Shoshannah doesn't retreat.  She either fights (as Sid has seen) in one way or another, or she chooses to be somewhere else (as Grace has witnessed).  She's already leaning towards the latter, and given that expressive face of hers, it's not difficult for anyone to read.

"I . . . hi, Grace."  It's a distraction - sure, she's only met the other woman once, but she'd been a bright spot in that otherwise irksome experience.  "Have you met Kalen?  He's about to get a tour - I was going to . . . - but one of you can if you want.  Or if you'd prefer,  Kalen."  See?  She can be polite, even through the prickles.  There are Manners and Privilege that are an oddly juxtaposed part of her, and even her current level of awkward anxiety can't cancel them out.

Eleanor Yates
A car no one inside has ever seen before pulls up.  It's quite nice, a white BMW X3 so new it gleams and so new to the owner that the tag is just a piece of paper in the rear windshield.  Its driver pauses before getting out of the car, noting a vehicle or two she isn't familiar with.  A strange feeling settles over her at the thought.
She reaches into the glove compartment for something, closes it again, then slips out of the car, adjusting her light blazer as she does.  The woman is slender, of average height, with blonde hair that is normally hippie-long and careless but is today up in an arrangement of twists and braids and knots that makes for a messy, somewhat retro updo that makes her seem, from the neck up, as though she is not quite of this time.

Depending on their sensitivities, those inside may sense her out there, and sense her strength. They may find their thoughts filling with images of a winter's night, the stars clear overhead, the ground endlessly white, glistening like crushed diamonds, the air held still and timeless, a frozen moment.  They may briefly flash to a broken sword like something out of Tolkien, or a book with the pages torn out, a hubcap spinning and clattering on the road after a collision, a shattered vase of painted clay from another, more ancient era.  Something whole, broken now, torn from its other pieces.  They may feel

like someone is holding them under water.

--

Her chin lifting, the woman walks, unhurried, up to the door, takes the handle, and if she finds it locked she's surprised.  If it's not, she just opens it and walks right in.

Shoshannah Mitchell
[oh yeah, everyone else did this already, didn't they?  per + aware]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 3, 3, 5, 10) ( success x 1 )

Kalen
[Except me.  Because I am lame. Per+ Aware]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (5, 5, 7, 7, 8, 9) ( success x 4 )

Grace Evans
[Nope, not everyone did! per+aware]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 4, 9) ( success x 1 )

Sid Rhodes
[i wanna join the party!: percept+aware-as-awareness]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 4, 5, 5, 8, 9) ( success x 2 )

Kalen
[And then, logically, WP - so many dice!]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (3, 5, 5, 6, 7) ( success x 2 )

Kalen
Grace gets a casual wave.  "Hello, kit," Kalen says to her, perfectly calm and only slightly less distant than his default settings.  That answers that question.

"Why would I want someone else to give me a tour?"  He starts to smile, but his expression freezes when Eleanor comes up behind him.  Not as though he is curious, or as though he is wary of approaching footsteps.  He shudders and steps away from her, as quickly as he can which makes the movement clumsy.  For once, he doesn't seem to care.

Shoshannah Mitchell
[Hah, yes, loads of dice for a social scene.  Also WP, probably (maybe) for different reasons.]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 5, 6, 6, 10) ( success x 3 )

Grace Evans
"Oh, hi Sid, Shoshannah, and hey... um," she pauses, as if to remember something. "Kalen! Fancy meeting you again today," she greets them all in turn, seemingly happy. And this is born of practice. People are happy with you when you are happy to meet them.

And they might be happy enough to give you library access. Yes.

"I have met Kalen, he was on campus today. We had coffee. And it rained." Not in that order, and of course more went on than that. And then, there was someone at the door. Someone new.

It's almost as if she doesn't want to feel that much today, her still so very new sixth sense not quite so sharp as it might be. But she picks up on the hint of snow and broken, frozen things. And she turns to the new face.
Still so new herself, she just figures this is yet another in a slew of people she just hasn't met yet, and tries for a smile that ends up looking rather smirk-ish from the onslaught... it feels like she can't quite... breathe.

Sid Rhodes
Sid's head tilts slightly into Shoshannah's direction, and then very very slightly angles another way.  There is amusement in her dark brown eyes, which are usually warm despite her quiet but which lately are more than a little distant.  "He's here to see you, Shoshannah," she says quietly, and stills at about the same time Kalen freezes.  There is another combination of resonances approaching that door, which isn't really all that surprising.  Sid does not know who the others might have told about this place, who might have been given a map by Pan or Jim or Sera or even Justin before he left.  But the feeling is unfamiliar to her.  She almost expects the hall to fill with water, or to suddenly find the air turned to water, a double dose hydrogen added without notice to the oxygen in the house.

Those with their senses opened for it feel this from the quiet redhead: desperation, a frantic grasping clawing to get somewhere or away from something.  To do and to act and to work as quickly as possible before the doom comes.  And: euphoria, an upward lifting of the spirit, a sensory high one might get from a drug, or from breaking through the craked, frozen ice over a lake to breath the crisp cold air again.

Kalen tenses and moves aside.  Grace offers a smile.  Sid regards the newcomer levelly, brows tight, mouth pressed nearly to a line.

Shoshannah Mitchell
Shoshannah's face pales slightly at that feeling of drowning though she stands her ground (and, from the look on that suddenly paled face, may soon try to take more) as she generally does.  She got significantly more fight instinct than that for flight when such things were being doled out, the Dreamspeaker did, which always makes situations like this interesting.

Often in the Chinese sense.

"The Library was going to be the last stop, but we can start there so you can get in.  Unless Sid and . . . oh."
There's a pause, and yes there are Manners but there are also Reasons, and a brief scowl of impatience (with herself, but only Sid's likely to know that) crosses the youngest mage's face.

"I'm Shoshannah.  Dreamspeaker.  Initiate."  It's the first time (that Shoshannah's player can recall) anyone's gotten it all at once, and it's largely because of this new woman who makes the girl recall things she'd really rather not just now.

It's notable, perhaps, that she doesn't freeze - just as it's notable that now she's the one standing protectively, between Eleanor and everyone else.  Not blocking vision, mind, just a tall, not quite waif-ish (in the way runway models are so) barrier.

Kalen
So many people would not hesitate to mention that you cannot drown where there is no water.  Kalen knows how wrong those people are.  That first deep breath, he seems almost surprised he could take.  The second is deeper, less shaky.  The third is deliberate.  By the fourth, he seems not to have to think about breathing at all.  But, perhaps tellingly, he does not move to stand with Shoshannah; instead, he remains still and watchful.

"We can most certainly take whatever path through the house you wish," he says, as though they were not all a little unnerved by Eleanor's entrance.  Mostly, at least.  There is a tension in his voice that wasn't so much there before.

Sid Rhodes
[Clarification: Sid is tense-ish because I-don't-know-this-person, but isn't in any kind of overly defensive posture.  Just wary I-don't-know-you.]

Eleanor Yates
Every face she sees is a new one to her, and Eleanor's brows tug together as she steps into the entry.  The look is pensive, more than wary, but there's traces of that, too.  She stays where she is, hand on the door handle still.  Though the feel of her is the middle of January, the dead of winter, the air coming in around her body from outside is warm, even this late in summer-almost-fall.

She inhales deeply, pauses a moment, then exhales without opening her mouth.  The first to speak to her is the youngest -- at least in terms of chronological age -- and the one who stands in between her and the others.  Eleanor fixes her eyes on Shoshannah, looking thoughtful for a moment that is surprisingly long and surprisingly quiet and indicates that she is quite comfortable with extended silences.  Used to them, even.
The woman steps in, closes the door behind her quietly, and returns her attention to the collection of people in front of her.  She does not offer her hand to anyone.  Not just yet.

"My name is Eleanor Yates.  I am a Euthanatos and referred to as a Disciple in common parlance.  Who," she says, scanning the other three, "are all of you, and where is Jai Khan?"

Sid Rhodes
Given their locations, Sid can only see a portion of Shoshannah's self-directed scowl, but she doesn't move to wrap a protective arm around the young woman.  She doesn't move into defense at all when Eleanor enters the room.

Instead she moves forward when Shoshannah stands at the door protectively, becoming the guardian of the gate.  Bare feet padding quietly across the rug in the foyer, when she comes along side the slightly taller woman she rests her hand upon her shoulder.  Immediately, a gentle warmth seeps through the fabric of her shirt.  The look she gives her and the slight squeeze of her hand express the same subtle thing: It's okay.  This woman is at the chantry.  She used the door instead of blowing a hole through the roof to get in.

And, unfortunately, she knows the name of one of the chantry's previous residents.

"I'm Sid.  Rhodes.  Orphan, I guess.  And, ah," she stops.  Her lips purse, and she takes a step back, gestures into the living room which she and Shoshannah turned into a rec room a little while back.  "You might want to sit down."

Grace Evans
Euthanatos, there, that word again with the tones of good death, of euthanasia, and Grace doesn't know quite what that means yet. Nor Disciple, really, but she can make a guess. Powerful. More so than her.

So, since she doesn't actually have problems breathing, and knows it's just the feeling of snow filling her lungs (yike) she waves awkwardly to the woman. "I'm Grace. Evans. Grace Evans. And I'm a..." she pauses, unsure whether she really is entitled to the title yet, "Sort-of Virtual Adept. And I'm new. I think you call me an Apprentice. And I don't know who Jai Khan is?"

And if it weren't for the interruption, Grace would vote that the tour of the place go straight to the library and stay there for a few hours, but it seems like this is going to be a roadblock...

Shoshannah Mitchell
The feelings of anger and defensiveness that resonate from Shoshannah match the currently strongest resonances in the Chantry's wards - the feeling of Jai Khan is all but buried, as are those of his cabal-mates.  Sid is polite, and delicate, but Shoshannah's eyebrow raises and she doesn't move - she's a guardian of the gate, yes, but this uppity Initiate is also currently named Chantry Guardian.

"Jai Khan's dead."

Yes, she says that even with Sid's hand on her shoulder, though it may be interesting for all to note the effect Sid has on the girl; it's not complete, the relaxation, but there's instantly less antagonism in her frame.  And then,  "Sid can tell you, if that's okay.  But first, I'll say Annie's the one who brought us here.  Well, me anyway."

Yes, that's standing down.  Not because she's backing away, now, but because believe it or not, sometimes Shoshannah knows when to do so.  "Kalen, Grace?  We can go to the Library now if you're ready."  Or they can stay.  Really, Shoshannah's indifferent - but she's not good at keeping her tension to herself, and sometimes it's infectious.

Kalen
Kalen continues to watch the response to Eleanor unfolding.  He still does not move, but if it comes to it, which it doesn't seem about to, he doesn't have to move.  Still, with the sensation of drowning lingering at the edges of his conscious thoughts there are words ready to spill onto his tongue.

But those are not the words he speaks.  Instead he turns his attention to Shoshannah.  "We can go to the library," he says after a second to banish the other words.  "There is only so much we could do here, I think."

Eleanor Yates
You might want to sit down.

A lot of names are coming at Eleanor, but she's not looking overwhelmed or bewildered yet.  Shoshannah, Sid Rhodes, Grace Evans, some guy who is doing his best to ignore the fact that any of this is happening and keeps saying they should have a tour of the house.  Eleanor flicks her eyes at him, and this is after Shoshannah blurts out that Jai Khan is dead, and that is before Shoshannah says 'Sid can tell you', as though Shoshannah didn't just do it herself.

Eleanor lets out a brief sigh, like someone who found out the post office just closed a few minutes before she got there.  She looks at the floor, then at Sid, the only one who doesn't look like they're itching to just move their day along, thank  you.

She doesn't stomp in and demand answers.  She doesn't pull a gun on anyone.  She doesn't start asking who the hell any of them are.  What she does is say, in the same polite tone she began with:

"If you don't mind, I would like to know how he died, and what became of his apprentice."

Sid Rhodes
Sid tries to be tactful, though it's not really her strong suit.  Sid is tactful through her quietness, through the fact that she doesn't talk much, doesn't offer much.  There was a time when this wasn't the case, but those days are long, long gone.  When Shoshannah blurts out the truth, that Jai Khan has died, Sid's eyes lower briefly.

"You guys can go," she says, nodding to Shoshannah and Kalen.  They had a plan for their night, a plan Sid can guess at, at least on behalf of the Dreamspeaker.  And part of her is always encouraging Shoshannah to go.  Be young.  Reclaim that youth you seem to have been denied.  Whether it's getting the younger woman to drink 40s on the roof of the chantry, legs swinging over the edge, or letting the younger woman go off and spend time alone with a boy, Sid wants to help with that.

She looks to Grace, because she's not sure if Grace is going to go with them, or go into the living room with Sid and Eleanor, or go into the kitchen to make herself a sandwich.  Whichever path the sort-of Virtual Adept takes, Sid will accept.  Then those dark eyes move to Eleanor, and she nods again to the living room before stepping off in that direction.  "I don't know everything, but I'll tell you what I can."

Once there, she settles onto one of the plethora of couches, some place where Eleanor can sit at the other end or across in another chair, whichever.

Grace Evans
This is a little beyond what Grace had wanted to deal with tonight. The newcomer isn't actually new is she? And there are dead people that she knows nothing of, and suddenly the ability to figure out how to emote is lost. What goes here? Sympathy? Confusion? So her face ends up blank, almost robotic.

But she does kind of want to know these things. Who was Jai Khan? What happened here? She is obviously lacking in her history. "You guys go on ahead," she says to Shoshannah and Kalen. "I kind of want to know this too."

And thus, wonder of wonders, Grace skips out on a trip to the library. There's more than one source of information, though. And they (whoever they are) keep leaving her out of such conversations. She follows the women into the living room, unless told to leave.

Shoshannah Mitchell
There's thought for a moment, and then for Eleanor before Shoshannah disappears with Kalen (and maybe Grace, or maybe not), "I'm a Guardian, and here pretty much all the time.  We can talk whenever."  And in a fit of impulsivity?  Her hand's fitting into Kalen's free one with surprising gentleness and care (she knows, after all, how much and why Kalen relies on that cane, favors his right side) and it's no different than the one other time he'd found himself in contact with her.  That Death-chill is intensified, sure, but that prickly wall she has around herself expands nicely.  It feels safe, inside.

"That's the dining room, and the kitchen past it," she says on the way, pointing, and one imagine the tour goes on similarly.

(And, to be fair, Shoshannah has no plans beyond the tour.  Considering her limited experience with pleasant social interaction, it's amazing she's gotten this far.)

Kalen
Kalen glances down at Shoshannah's hand, one eyebrow raising.  Hand-holding is most certainly not something he is used to.  But, with a very faint sigh he allows it, letting Shoshannah pull him along on a tour.
Eleanor gets the same greeting that Sid did, a slight dip of his head.  And, for just a second, there is something apologetic in his expression.  It's gone even before he turns.

Eleanor Yates
The two younger ones leave.  The one who feels like death and gravedirt and what-have-you, which -- perhaps not surprisingly, though Sid and Grace both seem unschooled in the nature of Eleanor's tradition -- does not overmuch disturb her, with the young man who has the cane.  He gives Eleanor a glance as he leaves, and she can simply enough read the apology in that glance, but she doesn't understand what it's for.  She just gives them both a nod of farewell, then returns her attention to Grace and Sid, walking with them into the living room.

She sits on a chair somewhere, finding it moved to an unfamiliar location but sitting in it like she's sat in that exact chair before, leaning back and resting her elbow on the armrest.  There's no awkward shifting, just a smooth recline and a crossing of her legs as she regards the two of them.

"Tell me what you know," she says to Sid, which is the most open-ended question in her arsenal, and for that reason: rarely used.

Grace Evans
Grace doesn't live up to her name. No, she finds a chair in the living room, slips off her shoes, and does something rather ungraceful with her legs, which end up curled partly beneath her. It's a good thing she never wears a dress.

But once arrayed, she listens, head in her hands, eyes off.. somewhere. But she listens.

Sid Rhodes
Sid sits, both feet planted on the floor before her, her upper body leaned a little forward, her hands folded atop her knees.  There's a nod for Grace and the slightest of smiles when she follows after them, when she takes a seat with them.

She frowns then, thinking over the events from a few months back, and she focuses her thoughts, organizing them to better keep things simple and concise.

[I'ma gloss because I am terrible at PCs-sharing-information]

She tells Eleanor everything she knows about what the woman (and Grace) wants to know.  Jai Khan and his cabal found a girl, Sid forgets the word used to describe her, but she was wrong, off (widderslainte).  The Seekers took this girl in, to protect her from Technocrats and Nephandi alike.  But they were found, anyway, and in a warehouse near downtown this girl, Leah, Awakened.  And in her Awakening she obliterated every other living creature in that warehouse, leaving nothing but ash and dust behind.

They were all there, and they all died, those Seekers of Truth.  And later Annie went to Texas, leaving this place to a member of the Celestial Chorus named Pan, who made Shoshannah Guardian.

Grace Evans
Grace's eyes occasionally flit to Sid's as she talks, telling at least part of the history of the place. Grace had thought that the ones living here and frequenting this place had been here since forever. Only no, the real owners had been obliterated a few months back, and no one told her.

She would say something, but somehow it seems best to keep silent. Eleanor knew these people. And Grace doesn't trust herself not to put her foot firmly in her mouth. So.

But still, the body cringes and her eyes widen at spots, when she thinks, for example, that a couple months ago, instead of Awakening, she could have just blown up. Of course, just the one unlucky electrician guy would have gone with her.

Eleanor Yates
Eleanor has a motionless quality about her, a silence and stillness that -- at times -- makes one feel like they are looking at a portrait of someone, not a living creature across the room.  Her fingers are long and manicured, though her nails are kept rather short and blunt, rounded at the tips.  Her eyes seldom blink as she watches Sid.

The look is scrutinizing, as though she is waiting for the tell, the signal, that she is hearing a lie.  It isn't suspicion.  It isn't paranoia.  It's how she listens: absorbing, parsing, analyzing.

Widderslainte is the word Eleanor thinks of, but she doesn't supply it.  That would be leading.  She raises a brow to hear that they took the girl in to protect her, but that is one of the only visible reactions given to Sid's retelling.  The entire cabal died.  Annie went to Texas.  Some Choirister owns the place.  Some Dreamspeaker is its Guardian.

For some time after that, Eleanor says nothing.  She absorbs, parses, and analyzes for a little while, then takes a deep breath with her lips sealed, holds it for a beat, then opens her mouth and exhales.  The length of the inhale and exhale match precisely, for a count of six and six, one in the middle.  The exhale is slightly audible.

Beneath her stillness, and her calm, there is a steady thrum of some other emotion beneath the surface, like the engines of some great ocean liner churning away.

"That is unfortunate," Eleanor finally says, in the end.  "And what happened to the widderslainte?  The girl they were 'protecting'?"

Sid Rhodes
Eleanor is still while Sid talks.  This does not appear to unnerve or unsettle Sid - because it doesn't.  So she talks, and there are gaps because it's true what she said.  Sid doesn't know everything.  Jim or Sera would be the ones to talk to for the full scoop, but neither of them are here.  And one of them is, well.

Anyway.  Eleanor is still and Sid stills when she finishes, falling into what is for her a comfortable silence.  Her brows lift and her chin comes up when the word widderslainte is supplied, like, Ah, that's right.

"She was reborn, I guess.  Shoshannah, another friend of ours, and I...we...were somehow taken into her mind.  And when we found her inside, she and her Avatar burned and were reborn.  Like a phoenix.  After that, Annie took her with her to Texas."

Grace Evans
At this, Grace's eyes are like freaking cue balls. "You what? The what now?" Apparently, trips inside other people's minds, where their Avatars proceed to burn up are enough for Grace to forget how to speak. "Wow. I mean, I believe you Sid, just..." Her eyebrows raise, and she nods her head, as if to say, 'sounds a little out there'.

But man, aren't we all...

Grace, after all that, appears a little drained. Denver's a lot more complicated than she thought.

Eleanor Yates
The girl was 'reborn'.  And now she's in Texas.

Eleanor's eyes are as wintry as snow, reflecting moonlight with a faint blue shimmer.  "How nice for her."
That's what that emotion is, growling away deep beneath the sea.  That's anger.  That's low and heavy anger, but it is a non-violent anger, neither burning nor consuming or lashing out but merely there, as static and as filled with gravitas as the rest of her.

--

Grace is stunned, open-mouthed, and though for a moment Eleanor's eyes are lowered, contemplating her fury, a moment later she lifts her chin a bit, eyes flicking over at the apprentice with something like amusement.  It doesn't erase the anger.  It just coexists with it.

"You are new," she comments, with a thin but genuine smile.  Her head tips.  "How are you finding it?"

Sid Rhodes
Truth be told, Sid isn't much better off than Grace.  She knows a few things, has picked up some things, has gleaned information from an angle, but though some would call her an Initiate, she is largely self-taught.
She sees the anger and she makes assumptions about its target or its cause.  But she doesn't ask, because that's not her place.

Her mouth quirks into something that resembles a smile but lacks either warmth or humor.  "I don't know how.  We were just...there."  She doesn't tell the rest, about the trek and the trials she and the others face.
That's personal.

She leans back a little on the couch, relaxing a touch.  And she looks to Grace when Eleanor asks how she's finding it, this, everything.  Her head tips slightly, curious herself.  The last time she saw Grace was under less than fantastic circumstances.  There is the faintest hint of chagrin in that expression that she wears, that she hasn't tried to contact or check up on the woman since then.  See how she's doing or what she may or may not have run across in the meantime.

Grace Evans
Sid's explanation of 'well, it just happened, see' seems to be good enough for Grace. One day, she was lost and trying to get back to Denver, and well, it just happened, see. She knows what that's like. Her eyes flit over to Eleanor, not quite as wide by now. She seems to take some time in answering, trying to come up with a good one.

"It's amazing. Sometimes frightening. Sometimes intriguing. Always exciting. Words are so inadequate to describe how I'm finding it, really. Like the whole world split open, and there was another one underneath." And she just wants to figure it out, to find out all its secrets...

Eleanor Yates
Eleanor gives a nod.  Talking about Grace's introduction and growth as a mage seems much more comfortable and far less fraught with anger-stirring facts than anything else.  Not even just comfortable but natural, as though this makes her even forget that everyone she knew here is dead and the person responsible is 'reborn' in fucking Texas, tra-la-la.

"What are you doing to further your exploration?" she asks then, and that's when Sid, at least, and possibly Grace, will know the three options for what Eleanor does for a living:

therapist,lawyer,or teacher.

Grace Evans
"I've got a friend. Says he's going to teach me some things. But, he's not always so... responsive." Yeah. To Gadfly, it sometimes seems as if time doesn't matter. He'll continue a conversation three days later like nothing happened, or flit from one conversation to another, mid sentence. He's probably busy with Ginger. His lady-love. And with that thought, she does smile, almost affectionately in remembrance.

"And, there's the library... Which I did want to visit, but you know... Ah..." and she doesn't really want to bring that up again. It's nice to know, probably not so nice to dwell on. "I thought this would be good to know too."

Sid Rhodes
Grace tries to describe her new life, and there, just there, light and warmth seem to reappear in the Orphan.  Her look, complete with a slight smile, is understanding.  That look says Same.

At mention of 'furthering exploration' Sid's head comes up as if she were some canine creature instead of a woman, and some noise only she could hear has drawn her attention.  This is not the case, of course, Sid's senses are not so enhanced as that, but she has remembered something.

She starts to rise, but stops, as though remembering belatedly that she's not alone in this room, when really it's because she's sometimes very like Shoshannah.  Years avoiding contact with others has left her sometimes forgetful of social norms.

"Excuse me, I have some work I have to get back to.  I'll be in the dining room if needed."  This last said perhaps to both of them, though she doubts seriously that either of them will need her for anything.  Eleanor has been here before.  Grace has, too.

And with that, she finishes that rise.  She does not say farewells because she'll only be in the next room.

Eleanor Yates
Another small nod to Grace.  "I agree," she says, simply enough, and then Sid is perking up, rising instantly, which garners Eleanor's attention entirely in that moment.  "All right," she says.  "It was a pleasure to meet you, Sid.  Thank you for taking the time to tell me what happened here."

As formal as her speech is, she does mean it.  She does believe Sid should be thanked for her time.  Time is precious, and fleeting, and not everyone she met tonight was willing to give it.

Sid departs, and Eleanor turns to Grace.  "The library is considerable," she says, perhaps in agreement.  "We'll see if we can get into it in a bit.  I'll have to find out if I still have access."  Eleanor takes a breath.  "In the meantime, though: who is this friend?"

Grace Evans
"Gadfly. He's a good guy. A little spacey... Um, a lot spacey, actually. But he kind of coached me through my first... Well, I don't know what you'd call it. He made a wormhole in my apartment, and then told me to find it. So I did," she said, and looked up at the ceiling while she did.

"He's been kind of a fan of mine since before I even woke up. He likes my writing, see. And now that I'm Awake, we're... good friends."

Good enough friends to go off together in her car and do the extremely illegal, but no... she doesn't go there. Friends are those whom you can trust enough to go off and commit crimes with, right?

Eleanor Yates
"Gadfly," Eleanor repeats thoughtfully, but doesn't nod.  She doesn't know him, but when Grace says 'spacey' it doesn't surprise her: Virtual Adepts.  They're never quite all there because they're always a bit everywhere, aren't they?

"You're a writer?" she asks, tipping her head to the side.  "What do you write, if you don't mind my asking?"
This, because Grace doesn't discuss going off to do illegal things, even extremely illegal things, with her new friend.  This, because Grace does not discover that yes, Euthanatos has a lot to do with euthanasia.  That the illegal things Grace has done go pale and swoon in comparison to some of the illegal things that Eleanor
knows of.  And has perhaps done.

Grace Evans
"Ohh, heh. Some pretty hardcore science fiction. Some not quite so fiction, though I didn't know it at the time," she smirks a bit at that. "Gadfly calls it clairvoyance. Like I was seeing the truth for what it was, you know?"

And maybe that is the case. Maybe that's why she did Awaken. The stories prepped her mind for the real truth, in that metaphorical moment of being.

Eleanor Yates
"There are prophets and oracles among us," she says with a small nod.  She's more relaxed now, focusing her gaze on Grace with mingled curiosity and interest.  Interest in what she's going through, who she is, what she's saying.  What she's learning and how.  It's obvious enough that she's a Learner.

Rarer than you'd think.

"I'm afraid that my reading for pleasure goes very, very slowly and has for a long time.  You should send me one of your works; I'd like to read it if you wouldn't feel awkward about it.  I find Awakened writing, even produced before awakening, to be very illuminating."

Grace Evans
She doesn't seem to react to the 'prophets and oracles' thing. But she does see futures. All science fiction is like that, in some way. The objective is not to predict the future, so much as it is to use the future as a tool, to pick apart the current day. But it's always there, isn't it? Some level of prophetic sense... The flip-open communicator of 70's Trek becomes the flip-phone of decades hence. And multiple others predict the Big Brother of today. Like oracles.

"Mmm I could do that. Email you something short? It's not awkward or anything. I like sharing." Really, she has only short stories, and one massive undertaking of an unfinished novel. And that one needs some rewriting, now.

Eleanor Yates
"I would enjoy that," Eleanor says with a smile.  She uncrosses her legs and recrosses them, watching Grace for a moment.  "If you have any questions," she goes on, consideringly, "you should ask them.  It's good to hear that you have someone of your own intended tradition to help guide you, but I want you to know that I'm available to you, if you want to hear other perspectives or seek information that your friend Gadfly may not have."

Grace Evans
"Okay, sure." Her eyes wander for a bit, thinking, before she does come up with a question, which she blurts out. "What's a Euthanatos?"

And she's showing her newness. And she doesn't care. She really wants to know this one, it bugs her. Its a bigger question than Eleanor was likely expecting, but it's not like the woman gave her a limit or anything.

Eleanor Yates
What's a Euthanatos?

Eleanor smiles.  "That is a very big question, Ms. Evans," she says.  "The shortest answer is that a Euthanatos -- plural, Euthanatoi -- is a member of one of the nine major traditions of awakened mages.

"A more detailed answer is one that includes what many others, outside of the tradition, would call us: death mages.  Or what we call ourselves at times: wheel-turners.  It might include mention of our sanskrit name, chakravanti.  Some call us killers, necrophiliacs, ghost whisperers, a host of other things.  Many of these descriptions, even though they are more detailed, are roughly as accurate, in-depth, or respectful as describing a Virtual Adept as a 'computer nerd on crack'."

Her humor can be very dry.  That is an example of it.

"I will tell you for now, under the hope that you will come to me and learn more in detail, perhaps after looking for more information in the library about my tradition and creating more focused questions, that I have loaded nine millimeter beneath my jacket because I didn't recognize some of the cars outside, and that when I heard Jai Khan and the Seekers of Truth had died I felt no true sorrow, and not because of any personal feeling I had for any of them."

There's a pause.  "Death is not an end.  It is only a transition."

Eleanor unfolds her legs and rises, watching Grace as she stands.  "I am going to mediate on the things I have learned today.  I will leave my card on the fridge if you would like to contact me.  I look forward to reading your story."

Grace Evans
Traditions, or Traddies (Gadfly's terminology) she's heard. That there's 9, she has not. That Euthanatos has something to do with death she had figured out from the name. But as the story continues, Grace feels that cold water in her lungs again and has to remind herself -- forcefully -- that it's just a feeling.

Eleanor swears that she never felt any true sorrow over the deaths of Jai Khan and the Seekers of Truth, but there is a hidden lie in that. She felt anger. Toward what now must be a newborn. And Grace does not say to the woman what she wants to say, does not say 'But you want a baby to suffer because of it. Would killing a little girl make you feel better about what happened?' because respect comes in many forms, and one of those forms is a loaded nine millimeter.

She also doesn't say that, well, 'computer nerd on crack' isn't much of an insult, really. Nerd? Of course. Computers? Love. Crack? Never tried, but the metaphor is accurate. Perhaps Eleanor means that it's too simplistic, too short, leaves too much out. And that Grace can understand.

When the woman says that death is not an end, Grace responds with "Well that's... good to know," using the same verbiage as she did for learning about the utter destruction of a cabal.

And when the woman gets up to leave, she just curls up in the chair a bit more, and tells her that it was nice to meet her. Grace, you see, considers the social dance a second language -- one she wasn't born with. She just knows that when you meet someone, it's good to say 'nice to meet you' even though in this case, she had to fight the urge to hold her breath, and was threatened with a gun. It wasn't so much nice. Illuminating, perhaps.

Now she knows a definition of 'Euthanatos'.