[Administrator] S. Ashton Winters, welcome to General Chicago (Now)
[Administrator] Alex, welcome to General Chicago (Now)
[S. Ashton Winters] Alex finds himself on a doorstep in the suburbs.
Ashton has a nice house, or at least she's squatting at a nice house. It's small, ish. It's not as big as the chantry but, presumably, she's only one woman. Why would she need anything bigger than this? There's maybe three bedrooms. An attic, a basement, and a bright red door with a little topiary tree trimmed nicely. The lawn is immaculate.
The house is cute.
The lights are on in the living room, but there's no sound from the inside. No TV, not even a radio or a person.
[Alex] Wharil had simply left him there. Muttering something about how Alex should go inside. Alex, was once again thrown into the deep end. The only name he had been given was Winters, the name seemed familiar to Alex but he couldn't quite put a face to it yet.
So he ventured, from the basement of one of his 'victims' to the neatly trimmed lawn of a house out of Better Homes and Gardens. Quite an adventure. He still wore the same clothes he had worn all day and night, his charcoal jeans and white t-shirt topped by a leather jacket. After taking a deep breath he simply walked straight up to the door and knocked three times loudly.
Surely it couldn't get any stranger than his night already had. What with talk of prophecy's and how Alex was on some road to ruin that, according to wharil, he had best step off of.
As he waited for the door to be opened by whomever was inside waiting for them, he peeked around, trying to get a better glimpse at his surroundings.
[Alex] ((waiting for him^ wharils gonskies))
[S. Ashton Winters] [WWDD? Past Lives!]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 3, 4, 8 (Success x 2 at target 8) [WP]
[S. Ashton Winters] Once upon a time, in the 1960s, she had been a teacher to end all teachers. She was good at this.
Ashton Winters was born in 1978.
This is importnat because she opens the door and looks at Alex like nothing has changed from 1960-something to 2010. She looks at him like half a century hasn't already passed. He looks at his tradition mate, who was the lovely woman whom he had missed seeing her tattoo(s). She puts her hands on her hips, and her mouth is pursed into a thin line. She takes two steps back and one away from the door.
"Do you want something to drink?"
she raises a hand to Wharil, half thanks, half whatever-the-need-be.
[Alex] He blinked when the door was opened. Well he wasn't expecting HER. But it all clicked back into place, Ashton Winters, the doctor, the woman with the cold hands. The gorgeous woman who Alex had been too late to see show her tattoos to a bunch of gay dudes.
"Ashton??" He looked slightly confused, then he remembered Nico's message that night. One of your tradition mates is taking her pants off. Oh this was all becoming a little too coincidental. Maybe he would have to start taking lines from Wharil, theres no such thing as Coincidence.
But this woman seemed different, when he had met Ashton she was bubbly, energetic, even flirtatious. Of course she had been drinking, but still. Alex cautiously stepped inside, still unsure of just what was going on here.
"Uh, no thanks I'm fine."
A pause. And then a repeat.
"Ashton??"
It was most definitely a question this time.
[S. Ashton Winters] "Pick your jaw up off the floor, Alex, and get in my house. You're letting the air conditioning out."
[Alex] He blinked and nodded his head. stepping quickly inside and allowing her to shut the door behind him.
"So....."
He felt utterly lost and confused.
[S. Ashton Winters] "I'm going to need you to go sit down, and explain to me, in painstaking, awkward detail what exactly it was that you've been doing that's made an Akashic feel it necessary to tell me and mine how to work with our own apprentices?"
This is what it's like to be Ashton winters. He steps in and she shuts the door. She is all business. He's seen her drunk, flirty, funny and open. he's seen her in a state a lot of people haven't seen in a long time- now, Alex is seeing her how the rest of the magical community sees Ashton Winters. She is severe. She is professional. She is larger than she seems and she is cold.
Not in demeanor, but the air is a few degrees cooler than it has any right to be in July.
This is her home.
There are children's toys on the floor that she has not bothered to pick up.
[Alex] He was starting to feel a little pressured, a little pushed. He could feel something familiar growing in him, annoyance.
Still, to his credit, he walked calmly into the lounge, careful to avoid stepping on any of the scattered toys left lying around and sat down on the sofa.
"Well for a start, that akashic is one crazy piece of work. I tell you that."
He paused, that was almost a joke, somehow he didn't see it softening the ice-woman.
"I don't know how to answer that question Ashton, do you want to know why the akashic left the note or do you want to know what I've been doing? They are two quite different answers."
[S. Ashton Winters] Well for a start, that Akashic is one crazy piece of work. I tell you that.
"I've lived with one, they're all crazy pieces of work."
Flat. Maybe she was joking. Maybe. Maybe not. He starts to feel annoyance abounding, and she should be much softer than she is.
"And... tell me both. Start somewhere you want to start and go from there."
She looks at him, though, and one can get the impression that she's really studying him. Her hands go from her hips to her sides and she walks to her living room. She starts picking things up and making her home presentable for company.
[Alex] Well fuck, that was it. Tell her everything. Just straight up, plain as you like. It wasn't an easy thing of her to ask him to do.
He decided to start with the worst and make his way back.
"I killed two people, one man, one woman." A pause and a slight flicker in Alex's eyes. He is past tears for his deeds however.
"I......" The next part was harder. "I failed to perform the Good Death with the man. I did not even attempt it with the woman."
That was the first time he had even said it out loud, and definitely the first time he had said it to anyone. Wharil already knew, he didn't ask Alex to explain. He asked him to move on.
"I didn't have the knowledge.. to be able to... That akashic doesn't know, or shouldn't know. I didn't tell her anything. She jumped to conclusions, perhaps they were right I cannot speak for what she thinks I have done."
[S. Ashton Winters] "Why did you kill them," she askks. It's a common question for ehr. She doesn't seem phased. she doesn't seem upset or really even concerned. Maybe she is, maybe she isn't. Maybe hse's numb, or shocked with him.
The woman walks to the couch, and she sits down. Her posture is straight. He told her everything or at least what could begin to be everything. Wharil told him to move on. Asked him to move on. Ashton asked him to explain. He failed to perform a Good Death- he didn't try the second time.
"Who's your mentor, Alex?"
[Alex] He watched her approach and sit before he answered, wary of just how inhuman the woman was acting.
"The first? I had good evidence that he was a .. a child snatcher.. I used another awakened to find him.. to confirm.. The woman.... "
A pause and the image of the daughter laying in a pool of syringes and filth flashed into his mind.
"She was selling her fourteen year old daughter as a prostitute."
He thought for a moment, the answers didn't seem sufficient. They explained further but didn't really say why.
"They made my angry. So I shot them." another pause and a strange look took over Alex's face. "My mentor? I no longer have one. His name was Eric Voldsen. Or at least thats what he told me. He is gone now."
[S. Ashton Winters] People see her differently. AShton doesn't smile as much as she used to, or laugh as much. People remember her, occasionally, as being a witty woman. People now see her as she is. As she can be- which is to say this: Ashton can be inhuman. Not inhumane. Inhuman. There are times where she truly does not seem like she fits with the rest of society- it's astounding that she's a doctor. That she works with people, because she has the bedside manner of a grapefruit.
"They offended you," she says, "was it the people or the acts? Or are they the same? What do you believe the purpose of a good death is?"
He looks... strange. And she purses her lips, she drops her voice, and something cracks there, "that's nice, but that's not an accurate statement Alex. The correct answer is my mentor is Ashton Winters. I am her first and only student. And she is still here."
Like there wasn't any negotiation. You're my student now. Sorry, Alex.
[Alex] He frowned slightly at the first question. They offended him? Did they? Supposedly they did, according to Ashton. Perhaps she was right. Alex just thought it was anger, but anger was a spare of the moment type deal. He had planned these murders, at least to some extent. That suggest that he was offended.
"I think they were separate.. to begin with.. the people and the acts.. But I believe the lines blurred. They became what they had done. That was a struggle for me... well one of them.. I had never done something like that alone before.. My ment---" He corrected himself giving her an odd look, mixed between amusement fear and confusion. "My old mentor took me with him, to perform what I thought were good deaths. I am not so sure now... He told me that the good death is a duty that we must perform, that certain people have done so much wrong that they need to be let go, pushed on, to keep things moving."
He seemed quite perturbed by the whole concept of the Good Death. Like he had conflicting ideas about it and wasn't really sure which way to turn.
"What do you mean I'm your student now anyway Ashton? I didn't sign shit!" there was definite annoyance in his voice there, if there was anything that chewed at Alex's resolve it was feeling like he was being pushed into something or used.
[S. Ashton Winters] "You are where you are because Fate has ordained it so," she tells him, "and... I have always learned, and always remembered, the Good Death being a duty. I'm not saying that these people that you killed didn't need to die. I'm not saying that you didn't make a good judgment call- you made the call which you believed, at the time, was the appropriate decision. But a Good Death, versus any regular death, is different."
She says this, and stops. She places a frame of referene.
"When we reincarnate, we have memories of where we have been and who we have been. our physical selves might not remember, but our spirits- the part of us that moves on and travels through the cycle after our physical bodies die, does remember. The purpose of a good death is to teach someone's spirit that what they did in a past life led down a dark park, and the wrong path, and should push them closer to ascension. Nirvanha, whatever you want it to be."
A moment passes, and she lets that sink in.
"If we do not give someone a good death, then their atman, their avatar, their soul, whatever you want to call it? Might not know what went wrong last time. They don't get to move forward. They may repeat the same decisions and stagnate. Sometimes, a good death is performed to ease suffering, to let the spirit know that it's okay, they can move on now."
She waits, and inhales again. She leans back a little on the couch. her posture is good, but that's really nto what's important right now.
"But, in failing to perform a good death, or not even trying to do so, the act you committed isn't... working. It's satisfaction of a desire, and that desire may be good in intention, but it leads to a very bad place," she tells him, and it's softer there. Softer than an inhuman woman has right to be, than she even realizes she's being, "I don't need to tell you that, though. Because you already know that."
She then straightens, and grins, "I know you didn't sign any papers, Alex, but what do you have to lose?"
[Alex] Apparently he was already her student, because she began to lecture him. No that was unfair, it wasn't a lecture or a rant. She was enlightening him. She was trying to make him understand his place in all of this. What he had done, why he had done it.
He smiled, but the grin was not returned. "Well, yeah, nothing to lose I guess.. " Whats new?
His mind was racing, she had just explained or attempted to explain perhaps more than his previous mentor had done the entire time Alex had known him.
She was right about one thing though, Alex did know that killing those people had lead him to a bad place. The scary thing was that he seemed to have gotten over it rather quickly. That was the part that frightened him now.
"So wait... By giving someone the Good Death.. " A pause. "As opposed to a regular death... you stop repeats of history?" Perhaps Alex was reading too far into it, but it seemed like a logical next step for Alex. If handing out good deaths stopped people from repeating the same decisions then the future would be changed, it would become.. new...
"Is that the whole point?" In reference to his question about the good deaths.
He had more questions though, questions more personal to him. He asked them almost sheepishly, like he almost didn't want to know the answer.
"What about these... normal deaths.. these satisfactions of desires or whatever you called them... if they help the living why do they feel so wrong?" He looked almost pleading at that moment. "Can you ever do it without it feeling horrible?"
[S. Ashton Winters] ""It's not the whole point, but it's a huge part of it. By giving someone a good death, you are helping them. You are helping them not repeat history, and you are helping further the cycle. Not just further the cycle, but you're helping repair whatever damages were done to it. It's a selfless act- killing someone isn't an enjoyable experience. It's not an easy experience, and it's rarely a safe experience."
She takes a second.. he asks her these questions, and she is paying attention to him. she's listening and trying to give him some kind of feedback. In turn, the female pushes some of her dark hair back behind one of her ears, "the intentional taking of a life out of your own desire to do so, or misguided trust in an act, or even making a bad judgment call feels wrong... because it is wrong."
A beat.
"There's more to it than that. But think of it like this- if we are all fragments of the same whole, if we're all part of creation, which you might disagree with it's a vaguely Chorister concept- then we are all interconnected. If we are, in fact, part of creation, than committing an act that hurts creation hurts us. If we injure the forces of creation, it feels pain. We feel pain, and that pain manifests in various ways."
She exhales, "at least that's how I've thought about it."
"It doesn't stop being hard. Performing a good death is never easy. Performing acts that are not in accordance with our duties and our destinies does become easier, because we become numb. After awhile, it's just like taking a drink of water or breathing. It's a scary place to be."
She purses her lips, and laced her fingers together infront of her and inspected her hands. They were still there, still attached. she didn't say anything just yet. Eventually, though, she did.
"What we are and what we do and why we are here is not always choice. We're Euthanatoi because we are meant to be Euthanatoi. We turn the wheel because it is what we were made to do. It's not easy, and it's easy to be bogged down with despair and the feeling that what we are doing is wrong by virtue of conventional morality. What we are isn't just killing, it's satisfaction of living. Actually living, not existing. We walk a balance between the austerity of duty and passion. It's why we historically have butted heads with Akashics and confided in Ecstatics."
[Administrator] Wharil Choc, welcome to General Chicago (Now)
[Alex] He tilted his head and sighed, slumping into the couch and resting his chin upon his outstretched arm. Would he ever truly understand any of this? Every statement brought forth more questions, every minute spent explaining only lead to more. But what did he expect? A simple check list of things to do in the morning and a pat on the back? No, here was a real teacher. Someone who not only had the knowledge but also the desire and the motivation to get a message across.
"We're all interconnected... we all share each others suffering? And we have this duty to perform?" He let out a slightly saddened smirk. "It's all a bit depressing isn't it Ashton."
The thought of becoming numb, becoming immune to the feelings he had experienced over the last week was more frightening to Alex than the prospect of feeling like that again. "I don't ever want to feel like that Ashton, numb, I don't think I could live like that."
His ears perked up at the mention of butting heads with Akashics, he had learnt very little about the two traditions arguments with each other.
"What is with Akashics anyway? Daiyu was all smiles and banter and then just flipped shit on me. Are all akashics like that? Do we always 'butt heads'?"
[Wharil Choc] Once again Wharil proves himself incapable of or unconcerned with stealth. There's a trudging sound just outside the front door, then a series of clicks, followed by the sound of opening and closing. It suggested a sort of familiarity, that he could just walk in the house like that and join them in the living room, same dark everything except for his shirt. Then again, it suggests a sort of familiarity that he would pick up the wayward apprentice and just leave him there.
He doesn't look happy either, not the relieved happy that he was before. He just stands there for a moment. Quiet, observing, his hands in his pockets and his elbows sweeping back the jacket again to reveal the lack of a gun. Finally he sighs, makes a sucking sound and says:
"I couldn't find Rene. Anyway, what did I miss?"
[S. Ashton Winters] "At first, it's depressing. And it can be depressing if you look at it that way. The world is suffering, things are falling apart, and we push forward while the world stagnates. It's overwhelming. If fact, I might venture into saying it fucking sucks. But, if we are interconnected, if we share in each other's suffering, we share in each other's joys and triumphs."
I don't think I could live like that, he tells her.
"I wouldn't let that hapen," she tells him. In other aspects, one could consider it a threat. A promise, something dangerous or ominous. But it was what it was. She asserts this, and her confidence and conviction is unshakable. She lived her magical existence like an AA sponsor- I've lived this road, I know where it leads, I won't let you get there.
Wharil couldn't find Rene, "she freaks Marcelle out... hope she's okay. Anyway, we've been having a discussion- purpose of a good death, cycle of creation, and what's the deal with Akashics. Do you want ot field this? My experiences aren't rose colored."
A beat.
"Do you want something to drink?" she scoots over on the couch so there's room for wharil.
[Wharil Choc] He gives Ashton a wan smile, wave off her offer for something to drink with a polite 'no thanks.' A hand ruffles his own hair, then both hands smooth it back again as he turns to Alex. That way that his gaze makes him seem as if he's just itching to catch you doing something wrong; that never fades.
"Can I see your gun?" He says to Alex. Simple. Polite.
[Alex] The entrance of wharil came as almost a relief to Alex. It wasn't that ashton was scaring him or boring him or anything like that. It was more to do with the fact that the pair of them seemed almost like polar opposites. He felt balanced having them both there.
"Hi.." This was directed at wharil and he also shunted himself over a bit to allow him more room.
"Who's Rene?" Complete innocence in the question. It was the first time heh ad heard the name.
Then wharil was turning towards him, staring at him and asking to see his gun. The room suddenly felt very very small.
"Uh.." He blinked. Fuck it.
He opened his jacket to the man, showing him the weapon carefully concealed in a makeshift holster on the inner left side. It had happened before of course, in the basement. But Alex was in his element there, wharil had come to him without threat. Alex was being polite then, now it was something different. He cast a quick glance at Ashton, remembering a certain night in the not so distance past where he was thrown into the street by a girl for bringing a gun into her house.
That was just a girl... Ashton is definitely not just a girl...
[Wharil Choc] He comes a little closer, navigating his way about the couches and coffee tables, and holds out his hand for it. He wouldn't take it, obviously. He wanted it to be surrendered.
"Chela Rene, to you. She's another Euthanatos, and a prime example of what you could have become. She commited too many deaths before she was fully ready. And now she's paying for it. Consequences, Alex. There's always consequences."
[Alex] This was definitely something new. Wharil had his hand out and seemed to be asking for Alex's gun. The thought of handing it over sat very very wrong with Alex. But what choice did he have?
He reached into his jacket and pulled out the .45, dropping the clip into his lap and popping out the chamber round into his hand. Only then did he hand the weapon to Wharil.
"What sort of consequences would I be looking at if I didn't just hand you my gun?" There was almost a bit of anger in the statement, the tiniest hint frustration at the whole situation.
[S. Ashton Winters] "Wharil could be upset, he might take it. In turn, I might be frustrated or dissapointed... or possibly confused for the entire altercation. Or, conversely, words could get heated and you could wake up the toddler in the other room," she says this all very evenly, "which is not advisable should all parties in this room wish for me to continue being civil."
A beat.
"Or, he couldn't trust you anymore... if you didn't hand it over, you could have piece of mind, but Wharil would be standing there with doubt. Make the uphill battle longer, as it were. Handing someone a weapon, in this situation, is only subtly symbolic. You're looking for a guarantee that what just happened won't happen again," she only half asks wharil that last question.
[Wharil Choc] Alex handed him the gun. Alex handed him the gun, but first made sure no one would shoot him with the gun. Wharil smiled. Hell, he damn near chuckled.
He nods to Ashton's answer and after a brief inspection of the sights, the chamber, and the trigger housing, he sits next to Alex and begins taking it apart. The parts, he lines up on the coffee table.
"Only partly." He says to Ashton. "I'm less inclined to think that it actually would have now, but I can't take the decision away. You can relax, Alex. No one's going to do anything to you here. Chela Winters keeps a lovely home, and her child is in the next room. For us to try anything on you would be stupid and rude.
"Can I call you Alex, by the way? I'm sorry, I assumed all this while without asking.
"As for the Akashics, I can bore you for hours with that story. I'll give you the abridged version. Thousands of years ago there were a group of monks and a group of mystics living on a mountain. The mystics didn't have a name. They were there because they'd always been there, and they were all thinking the same thoughts, but thinking them separately. The monks had a name, but they spoke a completely different language than any of the mystics. They communicated through hand gestures, mostly, and were all about defending their territory, as if they hadn't just arrived there. And so they were called 'The Warring Hands.'
"So these Warring Hands spent all their time focusing inward, on their own enlightenment. They separated themselves from the masses, forming their own civilization and leaving all else to fend for themselves. The mystics wanted to show them what they were missing. So they instilled a bit of suffering, and made the warring hands watch. That started a war. That war lasted...oh...about five hundred years. People were born into it, died from it, and reborn just to fight in that war. The scars from it carry down even to some souls today. And most people don't even know why.
"If you get the chance, its important that you study more about this war. In a lot of ways its tied into everything we do. You see, when the war was over, those monks became the Akashics. And the only way those mystics could survive was to unite. They later became a prime part of the Euthanatos and what's today called the Cult of Ecstasy. Most Akashics and Euthanatos haven't forgotten about it, even if they don't know about it.
[Alex] He almost let out a protest as Wharil began to disassemble his weapon right in front of him. He bit his tongue though, what was broken could always be fixed.
"What? What are you guys even talking about? Less inclined to believe what would have happened?" He looked questioningly from Wharil to Ashton.
Then his mind was swept up with a grand tale, of monks and mystics, of forgotten wars and advice for Alex to study up on the subject.
"Wait, so these mystics are us? Why did we create suffering for the monks to see? What would that prove? Surely the monks were already aware of suffering?" The story was seemingly straight forward apart from this point, which seemed to be the crucial part of the whole thing. The reason for the war to begin with.
He eyed the pieces of his gun nervously in their neat little row on the coffee table.
[S. Ashton Winters] "I called Wharil paranoid," she said, offhand.
She takes a moment, and she speaks up, "there's a chance that they weren't aware, or those who wanted to make them aware weren't satisfied with their awareness. Wharil honestly does better with history past the eighteen hundreds than I do."
She doesn't remember that far back.
[Wharil Choc] "Well...your first two questions are a matter of semantics. The mystics, the ones who survived, became that Chakravanti, who are only a small but very influential portion of us. That prophecy that I told you about? It came from a Chakravanti marabout in Greece. A Marabout, thats...sort of a boarding school for Euthanatos.
"As for why we created suffering? Hmm...some say we didn't. There was a plague that we could have stopped, and we didn't. Is that creation of suffering? In that case, what about the monks who sat on their cliff sides for years eating nothing but a single ginko leaf every day, while below and safely out of sight people starved. People fought of farmlands and crops. People killed for simple things that the Warring Hands had found solutions too and could stop?
"The point was simple: Hiding from suffering didn't make it go away. Anyway, the point is, even if the Akashics didn't learn it, we certainly had. And it continues to be a part of who we are. You could argue for years about whether what they did was right or wrong. Its not gonna change the fact that it happened. All you can do is work for the future.
"Let me ask you something, Alex. How many people came back when you killed those people? How much suffering was undone?"
[Alex] It had all been fun and games for Alex this evening that was for sure. He was just getting into mat-time story mode when Wharil did a complete 180 and questioned him about his killings.
"I dont...." He paused. "None." In fact he may have caused additional suffering for that poor girl.
"But I mean, yeah I guess I see what you are trying to say."
"So is that what Akashics are like now? hiding from the suffering in the world? Because Daiyu said some fucke--" He paused, lowering his voice and casting a glance at Ashton. It felt wrong swearing now that he knew there was a child in the house. "She said some strange stuff man, about how im one with the rain or something I dont know.. "
"It all sounded like bull to me."
[Wharil Choc] "Not all of them. And that's the best we can say about anybody."
He sighs, turning now to Ashton.
"So what do we do about our boy here? I'll have to let the Albireo know. And a couple other people. They're going to want to know about punishment."
[S. Ashton Winters] "I don't see a need," she says, "in order for punishment to be effective it has to be immediate, proportional, and severe. The time has passed, and any act that would be seen as effective punishment wouldn't undo the act, nor would it actually help those involved. In short, we'd be punishing Alex to make ourselves feel better."
A beat.
"If the Albireo ask after you've told them, say his mentor has handled the situation accordingly and if they're howling for blood they can come talk to her."
She inhales.
"What we'll do... or what you'll do, Alex, is you'll look into these people, and understand them. Completely. Understand those around them, and understand what impact your actions have had. Then, you'll start repairing the damages they've done. You'll make sure that girl gets treatment, gets therapy, make sure that she heals. You'll make sure the families of the man's victims are cared for, you'll find out why he did the things he did. Then, you'll come back to us, and we'll discuss what to do from there."
A beat
"Wharil, do you think this is appropriate?"
[Alex] ((sorry net died, got posts though on refresh.))
[Alex] He simply sat in silence, he had heard the word Albireo before. Usually shouted in the middle of incredibly rude sentences by his previous mentor.
He nodded his head when Ashton instructed him on what he was to do. It was only right, he most likely would have tracked down the girl at least anyway. Made sure she was ok. He wasn't sure how he would go about the rest of her requests but the way she said it told Alex that it wasn't something he should argue. Wasn't even something he should want to argue.
"I will find a way."
[Wharil Choc] "Absolutely." Wharil says without hesitation. Though his right leg does tremble a bit, three short bounces before tapering off and calming.
"I'll talk to my guy in homicide while I'm at it. Though, I'll owe him a favor."
And turning again to Alex.
"Which means you'll owe me a favor. But that shouldn't be a problem. Remember the conditions I gave you in the factory? Humility. That was the most important one."
And then a hand clasps over the young man's shoulder, coupled with a smile.
"I think you're gonna be alright, kid."
He stands, buttoning his jacket and regarding the disassembled gun on the coffee table.
"I'm off then."
[S. Ashton Winters] "Wharil, get your ass and Rene's creepy one to dinner this weekend," she instructs him, "she is too skinny."
[Wharil Choc] And there it is, finally, an indication that this might not be the Ashton Winters he's used to seeing. Wharil's head tilts to one side and his eyes regard her suspiciously.
"Um...Alright. I'll do that. I'll be in touch later."
((Thanks for the scene folks! But I gotta go to work!))
[Administrator] Alex, welcome to General Chicago (Now)
[S. Ashton Winters] Alex finds himself on a doorstep in the suburbs.
Ashton has a nice house, or at least she's squatting at a nice house. It's small, ish. It's not as big as the chantry but, presumably, she's only one woman. Why would she need anything bigger than this? There's maybe three bedrooms. An attic, a basement, and a bright red door with a little topiary tree trimmed nicely. The lawn is immaculate.
The house is cute.
The lights are on in the living room, but there's no sound from the inside. No TV, not even a radio or a person.
[Alex] Wharil had simply left him there. Muttering something about how Alex should go inside. Alex, was once again thrown into the deep end. The only name he had been given was Winters, the name seemed familiar to Alex but he couldn't quite put a face to it yet.
So he ventured, from the basement of one of his 'victims' to the neatly trimmed lawn of a house out of Better Homes and Gardens. Quite an adventure. He still wore the same clothes he had worn all day and night, his charcoal jeans and white t-shirt topped by a leather jacket. After taking a deep breath he simply walked straight up to the door and knocked three times loudly.
Surely it couldn't get any stranger than his night already had. What with talk of prophecy's and how Alex was on some road to ruin that, according to wharil, he had best step off of.
As he waited for the door to be opened by whomever was inside waiting for them, he peeked around, trying to get a better glimpse at his surroundings.
[Alex] ((waiting for him^ wharils gonskies))
[S. Ashton Winters] [WWDD? Past Lives!]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 3, 4, 8 (Success x 2 at target 8) [WP]
[S. Ashton Winters] Once upon a time, in the 1960s, she had been a teacher to end all teachers. She was good at this.
Ashton Winters was born in 1978.
This is importnat because she opens the door and looks at Alex like nothing has changed from 1960-something to 2010. She looks at him like half a century hasn't already passed. He looks at his tradition mate, who was the lovely woman whom he had missed seeing her tattoo(s). She puts her hands on her hips, and her mouth is pursed into a thin line. She takes two steps back and one away from the door.
"Do you want something to drink?"
she raises a hand to Wharil, half thanks, half whatever-the-need-be.
[Alex] He blinked when the door was opened. Well he wasn't expecting HER. But it all clicked back into place, Ashton Winters, the doctor, the woman with the cold hands. The gorgeous woman who Alex had been too late to see show her tattoos to a bunch of gay dudes.
"Ashton??" He looked slightly confused, then he remembered Nico's message that night. One of your tradition mates is taking her pants off. Oh this was all becoming a little too coincidental. Maybe he would have to start taking lines from Wharil, theres no such thing as Coincidence.
But this woman seemed different, when he had met Ashton she was bubbly, energetic, even flirtatious. Of course she had been drinking, but still. Alex cautiously stepped inside, still unsure of just what was going on here.
"Uh, no thanks I'm fine."
A pause. And then a repeat.
"Ashton??"
It was most definitely a question this time.
[S. Ashton Winters] "Pick your jaw up off the floor, Alex, and get in my house. You're letting the air conditioning out."
[Alex] He blinked and nodded his head. stepping quickly inside and allowing her to shut the door behind him.
"So....."
He felt utterly lost and confused.
[S. Ashton Winters] "I'm going to need you to go sit down, and explain to me, in painstaking, awkward detail what exactly it was that you've been doing that's made an Akashic feel it necessary to tell me and mine how to work with our own apprentices?"
This is what it's like to be Ashton winters. He steps in and she shuts the door. She is all business. He's seen her drunk, flirty, funny and open. he's seen her in a state a lot of people haven't seen in a long time- now, Alex is seeing her how the rest of the magical community sees Ashton Winters. She is severe. She is professional. She is larger than she seems and she is cold.
Not in demeanor, but the air is a few degrees cooler than it has any right to be in July.
This is her home.
There are children's toys on the floor that she has not bothered to pick up.
[Alex] He was starting to feel a little pressured, a little pushed. He could feel something familiar growing in him, annoyance.
Still, to his credit, he walked calmly into the lounge, careful to avoid stepping on any of the scattered toys left lying around and sat down on the sofa.
"Well for a start, that akashic is one crazy piece of work. I tell you that."
He paused, that was almost a joke, somehow he didn't see it softening the ice-woman.
"I don't know how to answer that question Ashton, do you want to know why the akashic left the note or do you want to know what I've been doing? They are two quite different answers."
[S. Ashton Winters] Well for a start, that Akashic is one crazy piece of work. I tell you that.
"I've lived with one, they're all crazy pieces of work."
Flat. Maybe she was joking. Maybe. Maybe not. He starts to feel annoyance abounding, and she should be much softer than she is.
"And... tell me both. Start somewhere you want to start and go from there."
She looks at him, though, and one can get the impression that she's really studying him. Her hands go from her hips to her sides and she walks to her living room. She starts picking things up and making her home presentable for company.
[Alex] Well fuck, that was it. Tell her everything. Just straight up, plain as you like. It wasn't an easy thing of her to ask him to do.
He decided to start with the worst and make his way back.
"I killed two people, one man, one woman." A pause and a slight flicker in Alex's eyes. He is past tears for his deeds however.
"I......" The next part was harder. "I failed to perform the Good Death with the man. I did not even attempt it with the woman."
That was the first time he had even said it out loud, and definitely the first time he had said it to anyone. Wharil already knew, he didn't ask Alex to explain. He asked him to move on.
"I didn't have the knowledge.. to be able to... That akashic doesn't know, or shouldn't know. I didn't tell her anything. She jumped to conclusions, perhaps they were right I cannot speak for what she thinks I have done."
[S. Ashton Winters] "Why did you kill them," she askks. It's a common question for ehr. She doesn't seem phased. she doesn't seem upset or really even concerned. Maybe she is, maybe she isn't. Maybe hse's numb, or shocked with him.
The woman walks to the couch, and she sits down. Her posture is straight. He told her everything or at least what could begin to be everything. Wharil told him to move on. Asked him to move on. Ashton asked him to explain. He failed to perform a Good Death- he didn't try the second time.
"Who's your mentor, Alex?"
[Alex] He watched her approach and sit before he answered, wary of just how inhuman the woman was acting.
"The first? I had good evidence that he was a .. a child snatcher.. I used another awakened to find him.. to confirm.. The woman.... "
A pause and the image of the daughter laying in a pool of syringes and filth flashed into his mind.
"She was selling her fourteen year old daughter as a prostitute."
He thought for a moment, the answers didn't seem sufficient. They explained further but didn't really say why.
"They made my angry. So I shot them." another pause and a strange look took over Alex's face. "My mentor? I no longer have one. His name was Eric Voldsen. Or at least thats what he told me. He is gone now."
[S. Ashton Winters] People see her differently. AShton doesn't smile as much as she used to, or laugh as much. People remember her, occasionally, as being a witty woman. People now see her as she is. As she can be- which is to say this: Ashton can be inhuman. Not inhumane. Inhuman. There are times where she truly does not seem like she fits with the rest of society- it's astounding that she's a doctor. That she works with people, because she has the bedside manner of a grapefruit.
"They offended you," she says, "was it the people or the acts? Or are they the same? What do you believe the purpose of a good death is?"
He looks... strange. And she purses her lips, she drops her voice, and something cracks there, "that's nice, but that's not an accurate statement Alex. The correct answer is my mentor is Ashton Winters. I am her first and only student. And she is still here."
Like there wasn't any negotiation. You're my student now. Sorry, Alex.
[Alex] He frowned slightly at the first question. They offended him? Did they? Supposedly they did, according to Ashton. Perhaps she was right. Alex just thought it was anger, but anger was a spare of the moment type deal. He had planned these murders, at least to some extent. That suggest that he was offended.
"I think they were separate.. to begin with.. the people and the acts.. But I believe the lines blurred. They became what they had done. That was a struggle for me... well one of them.. I had never done something like that alone before.. My ment---" He corrected himself giving her an odd look, mixed between amusement fear and confusion. "My old mentor took me with him, to perform what I thought were good deaths. I am not so sure now... He told me that the good death is a duty that we must perform, that certain people have done so much wrong that they need to be let go, pushed on, to keep things moving."
He seemed quite perturbed by the whole concept of the Good Death. Like he had conflicting ideas about it and wasn't really sure which way to turn.
"What do you mean I'm your student now anyway Ashton? I didn't sign shit!" there was definite annoyance in his voice there, if there was anything that chewed at Alex's resolve it was feeling like he was being pushed into something or used.
[S. Ashton Winters] "You are where you are because Fate has ordained it so," she tells him, "and... I have always learned, and always remembered, the Good Death being a duty. I'm not saying that these people that you killed didn't need to die. I'm not saying that you didn't make a good judgment call- you made the call which you believed, at the time, was the appropriate decision. But a Good Death, versus any regular death, is different."
She says this, and stops. She places a frame of referene.
"When we reincarnate, we have memories of where we have been and who we have been. our physical selves might not remember, but our spirits- the part of us that moves on and travels through the cycle after our physical bodies die, does remember. The purpose of a good death is to teach someone's spirit that what they did in a past life led down a dark park, and the wrong path, and should push them closer to ascension. Nirvanha, whatever you want it to be."
A moment passes, and she lets that sink in.
"If we do not give someone a good death, then their atman, their avatar, their soul, whatever you want to call it? Might not know what went wrong last time. They don't get to move forward. They may repeat the same decisions and stagnate. Sometimes, a good death is performed to ease suffering, to let the spirit know that it's okay, they can move on now."
She waits, and inhales again. She leans back a little on the couch. her posture is good, but that's really nto what's important right now.
"But, in failing to perform a good death, or not even trying to do so, the act you committed isn't... working. It's satisfaction of a desire, and that desire may be good in intention, but it leads to a very bad place," she tells him, and it's softer there. Softer than an inhuman woman has right to be, than she even realizes she's being, "I don't need to tell you that, though. Because you already know that."
She then straightens, and grins, "I know you didn't sign any papers, Alex, but what do you have to lose?"
[Alex] Apparently he was already her student, because she began to lecture him. No that was unfair, it wasn't a lecture or a rant. She was enlightening him. She was trying to make him understand his place in all of this. What he had done, why he had done it.
He smiled, but the grin was not returned. "Well, yeah, nothing to lose I guess.. " Whats new?
His mind was racing, she had just explained or attempted to explain perhaps more than his previous mentor had done the entire time Alex had known him.
She was right about one thing though, Alex did know that killing those people had lead him to a bad place. The scary thing was that he seemed to have gotten over it rather quickly. That was the part that frightened him now.
"So wait... By giving someone the Good Death.. " A pause. "As opposed to a regular death... you stop repeats of history?" Perhaps Alex was reading too far into it, but it seemed like a logical next step for Alex. If handing out good deaths stopped people from repeating the same decisions then the future would be changed, it would become.. new...
"Is that the whole point?" In reference to his question about the good deaths.
He had more questions though, questions more personal to him. He asked them almost sheepishly, like he almost didn't want to know the answer.
"What about these... normal deaths.. these satisfactions of desires or whatever you called them... if they help the living why do they feel so wrong?" He looked almost pleading at that moment. "Can you ever do it without it feeling horrible?"
[S. Ashton Winters] ""It's not the whole point, but it's a huge part of it. By giving someone a good death, you are helping them. You are helping them not repeat history, and you are helping further the cycle. Not just further the cycle, but you're helping repair whatever damages were done to it. It's a selfless act- killing someone isn't an enjoyable experience. It's not an easy experience, and it's rarely a safe experience."
She takes a second.. he asks her these questions, and she is paying attention to him. she's listening and trying to give him some kind of feedback. In turn, the female pushes some of her dark hair back behind one of her ears, "the intentional taking of a life out of your own desire to do so, or misguided trust in an act, or even making a bad judgment call feels wrong... because it is wrong."
A beat.
"There's more to it than that. But think of it like this- if we are all fragments of the same whole, if we're all part of creation, which you might disagree with it's a vaguely Chorister concept- then we are all interconnected. If we are, in fact, part of creation, than committing an act that hurts creation hurts us. If we injure the forces of creation, it feels pain. We feel pain, and that pain manifests in various ways."
She exhales, "at least that's how I've thought about it."
"It doesn't stop being hard. Performing a good death is never easy. Performing acts that are not in accordance with our duties and our destinies does become easier, because we become numb. After awhile, it's just like taking a drink of water or breathing. It's a scary place to be."
She purses her lips, and laced her fingers together infront of her and inspected her hands. They were still there, still attached. she didn't say anything just yet. Eventually, though, she did.
"What we are and what we do and why we are here is not always choice. We're Euthanatoi because we are meant to be Euthanatoi. We turn the wheel because it is what we were made to do. It's not easy, and it's easy to be bogged down with despair and the feeling that what we are doing is wrong by virtue of conventional morality. What we are isn't just killing, it's satisfaction of living. Actually living, not existing. We walk a balance between the austerity of duty and passion. It's why we historically have butted heads with Akashics and confided in Ecstatics."
[Administrator] Wharil Choc, welcome to General Chicago (Now)
[Alex] He tilted his head and sighed, slumping into the couch and resting his chin upon his outstretched arm. Would he ever truly understand any of this? Every statement brought forth more questions, every minute spent explaining only lead to more. But what did he expect? A simple check list of things to do in the morning and a pat on the back? No, here was a real teacher. Someone who not only had the knowledge but also the desire and the motivation to get a message across.
"We're all interconnected... we all share each others suffering? And we have this duty to perform?" He let out a slightly saddened smirk. "It's all a bit depressing isn't it Ashton."
The thought of becoming numb, becoming immune to the feelings he had experienced over the last week was more frightening to Alex than the prospect of feeling like that again. "I don't ever want to feel like that Ashton, numb, I don't think I could live like that."
His ears perked up at the mention of butting heads with Akashics, he had learnt very little about the two traditions arguments with each other.
"What is with Akashics anyway? Daiyu was all smiles and banter and then just flipped shit on me. Are all akashics like that? Do we always 'butt heads'?"
[Wharil Choc] Once again Wharil proves himself incapable of or unconcerned with stealth. There's a trudging sound just outside the front door, then a series of clicks, followed by the sound of opening and closing. It suggested a sort of familiarity, that he could just walk in the house like that and join them in the living room, same dark everything except for his shirt. Then again, it suggests a sort of familiarity that he would pick up the wayward apprentice and just leave him there.
He doesn't look happy either, not the relieved happy that he was before. He just stands there for a moment. Quiet, observing, his hands in his pockets and his elbows sweeping back the jacket again to reveal the lack of a gun. Finally he sighs, makes a sucking sound and says:
"I couldn't find Rene. Anyway, what did I miss?"
[S. Ashton Winters] "At first, it's depressing. And it can be depressing if you look at it that way. The world is suffering, things are falling apart, and we push forward while the world stagnates. It's overwhelming. If fact, I might venture into saying it fucking sucks. But, if we are interconnected, if we share in each other's suffering, we share in each other's joys and triumphs."
I don't think I could live like that, he tells her.
"I wouldn't let that hapen," she tells him. In other aspects, one could consider it a threat. A promise, something dangerous or ominous. But it was what it was. She asserts this, and her confidence and conviction is unshakable. She lived her magical existence like an AA sponsor- I've lived this road, I know where it leads, I won't let you get there.
Wharil couldn't find Rene, "she freaks Marcelle out... hope she's okay. Anyway, we've been having a discussion- purpose of a good death, cycle of creation, and what's the deal with Akashics. Do you want ot field this? My experiences aren't rose colored."
A beat.
"Do you want something to drink?" she scoots over on the couch so there's room for wharil.
[Wharil Choc] He gives Ashton a wan smile, wave off her offer for something to drink with a polite 'no thanks.' A hand ruffles his own hair, then both hands smooth it back again as he turns to Alex. That way that his gaze makes him seem as if he's just itching to catch you doing something wrong; that never fades.
"Can I see your gun?" He says to Alex. Simple. Polite.
[Alex] The entrance of wharil came as almost a relief to Alex. It wasn't that ashton was scaring him or boring him or anything like that. It was more to do with the fact that the pair of them seemed almost like polar opposites. He felt balanced having them both there.
"Hi.." This was directed at wharil and he also shunted himself over a bit to allow him more room.
"Who's Rene?" Complete innocence in the question. It was the first time heh ad heard the name.
Then wharil was turning towards him, staring at him and asking to see his gun. The room suddenly felt very very small.
"Uh.." He blinked. Fuck it.
He opened his jacket to the man, showing him the weapon carefully concealed in a makeshift holster on the inner left side. It had happened before of course, in the basement. But Alex was in his element there, wharil had come to him without threat. Alex was being polite then, now it was something different. He cast a quick glance at Ashton, remembering a certain night in the not so distance past where he was thrown into the street by a girl for bringing a gun into her house.
That was just a girl... Ashton is definitely not just a girl...
[Wharil Choc] He comes a little closer, navigating his way about the couches and coffee tables, and holds out his hand for it. He wouldn't take it, obviously. He wanted it to be surrendered.
"Chela Rene, to you. She's another Euthanatos, and a prime example of what you could have become. She commited too many deaths before she was fully ready. And now she's paying for it. Consequences, Alex. There's always consequences."
[Alex] This was definitely something new. Wharil had his hand out and seemed to be asking for Alex's gun. The thought of handing it over sat very very wrong with Alex. But what choice did he have?
He reached into his jacket and pulled out the .45, dropping the clip into his lap and popping out the chamber round into his hand. Only then did he hand the weapon to Wharil.
"What sort of consequences would I be looking at if I didn't just hand you my gun?" There was almost a bit of anger in the statement, the tiniest hint frustration at the whole situation.
[S. Ashton Winters] "Wharil could be upset, he might take it. In turn, I might be frustrated or dissapointed... or possibly confused for the entire altercation. Or, conversely, words could get heated and you could wake up the toddler in the other room," she says this all very evenly, "which is not advisable should all parties in this room wish for me to continue being civil."
A beat.
"Or, he couldn't trust you anymore... if you didn't hand it over, you could have piece of mind, but Wharil would be standing there with doubt. Make the uphill battle longer, as it were. Handing someone a weapon, in this situation, is only subtly symbolic. You're looking for a guarantee that what just happened won't happen again," she only half asks wharil that last question.
[Wharil Choc] Alex handed him the gun. Alex handed him the gun, but first made sure no one would shoot him with the gun. Wharil smiled. Hell, he damn near chuckled.
He nods to Ashton's answer and after a brief inspection of the sights, the chamber, and the trigger housing, he sits next to Alex and begins taking it apart. The parts, he lines up on the coffee table.
"Only partly." He says to Ashton. "I'm less inclined to think that it actually would have now, but I can't take the decision away. You can relax, Alex. No one's going to do anything to you here. Chela Winters keeps a lovely home, and her child is in the next room. For us to try anything on you would be stupid and rude.
"Can I call you Alex, by the way? I'm sorry, I assumed all this while without asking.
"As for the Akashics, I can bore you for hours with that story. I'll give you the abridged version. Thousands of years ago there were a group of monks and a group of mystics living on a mountain. The mystics didn't have a name. They were there because they'd always been there, and they were all thinking the same thoughts, but thinking them separately. The monks had a name, but they spoke a completely different language than any of the mystics. They communicated through hand gestures, mostly, and were all about defending their territory, as if they hadn't just arrived there. And so they were called 'The Warring Hands.'
"So these Warring Hands spent all their time focusing inward, on their own enlightenment. They separated themselves from the masses, forming their own civilization and leaving all else to fend for themselves. The mystics wanted to show them what they were missing. So they instilled a bit of suffering, and made the warring hands watch. That started a war. That war lasted...oh...about five hundred years. People were born into it, died from it, and reborn just to fight in that war. The scars from it carry down even to some souls today. And most people don't even know why.
"If you get the chance, its important that you study more about this war. In a lot of ways its tied into everything we do. You see, when the war was over, those monks became the Akashics. And the only way those mystics could survive was to unite. They later became a prime part of the Euthanatos and what's today called the Cult of Ecstasy. Most Akashics and Euthanatos haven't forgotten about it, even if they don't know about it.
[Alex] He almost let out a protest as Wharil began to disassemble his weapon right in front of him. He bit his tongue though, what was broken could always be fixed.
"What? What are you guys even talking about? Less inclined to believe what would have happened?" He looked questioningly from Wharil to Ashton.
Then his mind was swept up with a grand tale, of monks and mystics, of forgotten wars and advice for Alex to study up on the subject.
"Wait, so these mystics are us? Why did we create suffering for the monks to see? What would that prove? Surely the monks were already aware of suffering?" The story was seemingly straight forward apart from this point, which seemed to be the crucial part of the whole thing. The reason for the war to begin with.
He eyed the pieces of his gun nervously in their neat little row on the coffee table.
[S. Ashton Winters] "I called Wharil paranoid," she said, offhand.
She takes a moment, and she speaks up, "there's a chance that they weren't aware, or those who wanted to make them aware weren't satisfied with their awareness. Wharil honestly does better with history past the eighteen hundreds than I do."
She doesn't remember that far back.
[Wharil Choc] "Well...your first two questions are a matter of semantics. The mystics, the ones who survived, became that Chakravanti, who are only a small but very influential portion of us. That prophecy that I told you about? It came from a Chakravanti marabout in Greece. A Marabout, thats...sort of a boarding school for Euthanatos.
"As for why we created suffering? Hmm...some say we didn't. There was a plague that we could have stopped, and we didn't. Is that creation of suffering? In that case, what about the monks who sat on their cliff sides for years eating nothing but a single ginko leaf every day, while below and safely out of sight people starved. People fought of farmlands and crops. People killed for simple things that the Warring Hands had found solutions too and could stop?
"The point was simple: Hiding from suffering didn't make it go away. Anyway, the point is, even if the Akashics didn't learn it, we certainly had. And it continues to be a part of who we are. You could argue for years about whether what they did was right or wrong. Its not gonna change the fact that it happened. All you can do is work for the future.
"Let me ask you something, Alex. How many people came back when you killed those people? How much suffering was undone?"
[Alex] It had all been fun and games for Alex this evening that was for sure. He was just getting into mat-time story mode when Wharil did a complete 180 and questioned him about his killings.
"I dont...." He paused. "None." In fact he may have caused additional suffering for that poor girl.
"But I mean, yeah I guess I see what you are trying to say."
"So is that what Akashics are like now? hiding from the suffering in the world? Because Daiyu said some fucke--" He paused, lowering his voice and casting a glance at Ashton. It felt wrong swearing now that he knew there was a child in the house. "She said some strange stuff man, about how im one with the rain or something I dont know.. "
"It all sounded like bull to me."
[Wharil Choc] "Not all of them. And that's the best we can say about anybody."
He sighs, turning now to Ashton.
"So what do we do about our boy here? I'll have to let the Albireo know. And a couple other people. They're going to want to know about punishment."
[S. Ashton Winters] "I don't see a need," she says, "in order for punishment to be effective it has to be immediate, proportional, and severe. The time has passed, and any act that would be seen as effective punishment wouldn't undo the act, nor would it actually help those involved. In short, we'd be punishing Alex to make ourselves feel better."
A beat.
"If the Albireo ask after you've told them, say his mentor has handled the situation accordingly and if they're howling for blood they can come talk to her."
She inhales.
"What we'll do... or what you'll do, Alex, is you'll look into these people, and understand them. Completely. Understand those around them, and understand what impact your actions have had. Then, you'll start repairing the damages they've done. You'll make sure that girl gets treatment, gets therapy, make sure that she heals. You'll make sure the families of the man's victims are cared for, you'll find out why he did the things he did. Then, you'll come back to us, and we'll discuss what to do from there."
A beat
"Wharil, do you think this is appropriate?"
[Alex] ((sorry net died, got posts though on refresh.))
[Alex] He simply sat in silence, he had heard the word Albireo before. Usually shouted in the middle of incredibly rude sentences by his previous mentor.
He nodded his head when Ashton instructed him on what he was to do. It was only right, he most likely would have tracked down the girl at least anyway. Made sure she was ok. He wasn't sure how he would go about the rest of her requests but the way she said it told Alex that it wasn't something he should argue. Wasn't even something he should want to argue.
"I will find a way."
[Wharil Choc] "Absolutely." Wharil says without hesitation. Though his right leg does tremble a bit, three short bounces before tapering off and calming.
"I'll talk to my guy in homicide while I'm at it. Though, I'll owe him a favor."
And turning again to Alex.
"Which means you'll owe me a favor. But that shouldn't be a problem. Remember the conditions I gave you in the factory? Humility. That was the most important one."
And then a hand clasps over the young man's shoulder, coupled with a smile.
"I think you're gonna be alright, kid."
He stands, buttoning his jacket and regarding the disassembled gun on the coffee table.
"I'm off then."
[S. Ashton Winters] "Wharil, get your ass and Rene's creepy one to dinner this weekend," she instructs him, "she is too skinny."
[Wharil Choc] And there it is, finally, an indication that this might not be the Ashton Winters he's used to seeing. Wharil's head tilts to one side and his eyes regard her suspiciously.
"Um...Alright. I'll do that. I'll be in touch later."
((Thanks for the scene folks! But I gotta go to work!))
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