symposium! [attn: margot/ned/nicholas/pen]

[Kenna]

Perhaps later in the evening Margot would look back on this moment of First Impressions and kick herself for being so curious about Penelope without showing such same awe for Nick.  It wasn't anybody's fault, really, it was just consequence of who they were, and What they were.  Swashbuckler was well-described, she ensnared attention and held onto it well.  Plus Margot, though polite, was not necessarily the most socially graceful person.  She seemed bashful and smart but not the most confident-- almost like she was an Apprentice or something.

"I've--," she started, but then The Doc arrived with Ned being hauled along by the elbow, holding onto his wine glass in a way that made her think of holding an umbrella (for shelter?).  Greetings were enthused and full of kissed cheeks, and Margot was glad that she and Ned had dodged that particular greeting whenever they came through his front door.

As they were ushered back to the kitchen, Margot fell into step beside Ned.  It was there, not far from her fellow Apprentice's elbow, that she remained.  She didn't look nearly as uncomfortable as him, necessarily, but was watchful and curious and, for the time being, sipped her wine in observant quiet.

She could only imagine what initiated Mages spoke about at dinner parties, and was about to find out.

[Andrew]

Sepulveda is probably not aware of how irrevocably he just associated himself with maternal family gatherings in Nick's mind. He can almost hear Anna hiss "Incoming!" in his ear the moment Sepulveda grabs him by the elbows, and his return of the greeting, his hands clapping on the back of the other man's arms, is purely reflexive. When Andres pulls away and asks how he is, Nick says, "I'm good," and his expression is for an instant the one of a mildly shellshocked teenager at Christmas. If he knew how rare it was to unbalance Nick, Sepulveda might even treasure the moment.

He recovers quickly. "We've just met Margot," he says, and "Hello, Ned." There is a smile for Ned, some rueful and apologetic acknowledgement perhaps of his discomfort, before he begins to move after Andres into the kitchen.

He smiles at the Etherite's next question, regarding their marriage. "For a little while now," he says. "Pen tells me you knew each other from a while back." A glance back to Pen, inviting her to elaborate. Nick, it should be noted, also slows his pace if necessary to keep Margot and Ned either beside or slightly in front of him - not excluding them from the conversation, even if they aren't its direct subjects.

[Quither]

Ned offers a quick, lip-pressed smile and a nod toward Nick, the wine glass indeed clutched like some barricade against awkwardness, an object to fuss over or plink with fingertips, accompanying the carefully constructed reply to the man's greeting.

"Hello."

Perhaps Ned was being careful to avoid the stringent layer of potential jokes or humour that had occurred to him wrapped around calling someone 'Mr. Hyde'. Regardless, it is left off the greeting and 'Nick' was much to familiar a taste in the mouth for Ned to warrant it's use. His attention lifted toward Penelope for a moment, offering a nod and a similar greeting.

"Hello."

Before the entire party is underway and they are retreating toward the kitchen with it's plentiful other objects of distraction from awkwardness (Chairs! And Cutlery!) that will occupy Ned's hands. Margot falls in line with him and he glances at her as well, a more familiar, maybe even apologetic half-smile delivered as they trail the Disciples.

[tithe]

Pen studied Margot for a longer beat (delaying tactic because she needs must marshall her reaction to Sepúlveda and she still does not know what it will be tonight though he is come down the hallway), but Nicholas's I'm good had the corner of her mouth hooking up. Turns out her reaction to Sepúlveda is sheathed (Inquisitive, and a touch careful), but the vibrant hint of a smile in her eyes is sincere and she clasps (Companionship [Soldier]) his upper left arm with her right hand.

During the introductions, Penelope's attention rests on Ned -- he's the newest and the quietest and so curiosity like a cat beelining for the person who likes cats least wants to spend time with him. The Hello gets an incline of her head and Nick (not to mention Andrés) also gets a " - but I go by Pen for short."

And they all shall troop into the kitchen, and Scotch will light the way. Or the Mage will who feels like an oncoming fate, wintering, ominous or auspicious and who's to say which way the coin will fall when it's no longer in movement. 

Effusive, huh.

--

Are there seats in the kitchen, or an island devoid of cooking goods? Are there any unusual in appearance apparatus? Penelope composes herself against the island or takes a seat or considers an unusual in appearance apparatus with skeptical interest.

Forgive me, Penelope and Nicholas, but, and her heart gives a little leap and her eyebrows echo the sentiment. (Congratulations are) Pen glances at Nicholas, touching her left earlobe with the thumb and index finger of her left hand. The black crystal earring she is wearing sparks, dim radiance. The back of her thumb brushes against the side of her neck, the pulse-point, and she adjusts so is holding her earlobe between middle finger and index, and her thumb swipes upward. (in order, yes?) She'd leave him alone and palely loitering on a fairy hill and come back. She'd palely loiter herself, and his resonance'd be what was left. Hand drops back to her side. For a while now, and hard on the heels of that comment, "Thank you."

Fuck. Doesn't feel like the exact moment to express condolences over the loss of his wife. Pen can wait. Like a kid playing double-dutch waiting for the moment to jump in, except it's social games. Nick's glance back comes after she's done gazing at him with intent and wonder (though god help anybody who describes her so).

"And I was just asking Margot how long she'd been your apprentice, but I'm sorry you prefer the term 'intern'?" She sounds as if she's testing the word 'intern'; perhaps because in Pen's mind 'intern' is a direct analog to 'consor,' unpaid hopefuls who help with the grunt-work but don't get to do any work themselves. "How do you three know one another?"

[jamie]

One day he will have to indulge his students with stories about the symposiums his mentor brought him to when he was their age. Thereabouts.

Pen knows how he is at parties. About the same as he is in any other social situation except for he can drink and smoke and curse which are all things he tends to try to avoid doing in polite company. For a given value of 'polite.'

Pen tells Nick they knew each other from a while back.

"Yeah," Sepúlveda says and frowns as he tries to remember specifics. "When was that? The early aughts? I think the shrub was still president. Those were dark days, eh?"

To the kitchen.

---

If the members of the congregation wish to sit they're going to have to go into the dining room. Its spacious layout and modern design don't seem to speak to his tastes at all. He had had another in mind when he bought this fucking place and she will never see it. The dining table is blocky and dark-stained and can seat six.

That's one way to avoid having to talk about the dead. Talk about the living. Brilliant, Doctor.

So she was asking Margot. He bounces on the balls of his feet while he adjusts to standing still and takes a quick swallow of wine as she's asking how they know each other and maybe the kids think they're going to get away with not talking he talking as much as he tends to talk but:

"Ah, shit, that's... no, I don't know about 'prefer,' but that's a funny story. Actually." He scratches his beard with his free hand then pockets it and uses the index finger of the hand holding his wine glass to point back-and-forth between the apprentices. Eyebrows aloft. "You two wanna tell it, or should I?"

[Kenna]

( So we worked on this a little in chat but not by much-- until we can schedule things out to continue in chat, here's the transcript from what we did chip out )

Margot
A wine glass waggled between the two of them and a perk of eyebrows invited the apprentices to tell the story of how they met their mentor.  You two wanna tell it or should I?

After a quick glance between Ned and the Doc, Margot spoke up to bite the bullet of attention for her anxious friend.

"Well Ned and I are both pretty new to this.  We just figured out how to sense the resonances of others like us.  I was at work and Ned came in to my shop and--"  She paused because she hadn't yet thought of a way to describe the impact of Ned's resonance without it sounding painfully shmaltzy.  Everything boiled down to some approximation of having your breath taken away.

"Well, you know."  She waved a hand to get through that part and continued on.  "We hadn't really met many Others before so we exchanged numbers.  Few days later Ned calls me saying he'd found somebody else, and we went to the hospital and found The Doc."

She stopped there for a short length of time, like that was the end of the story and it should be as simple as that.  Soon blushed just a little and wrapped it up more appropriately.

"He figured out pretty easily that we're new and offered to show us the ropes while we get things sorted."

N. Hyde
Nick wanders along with the rest of them into the dining room.  The word wanders is especially appropriate here; the Chakravanti gives the impression of someone who might just linger by himself or flit along to anywhere in the house were it not for the saving grace of herd mentality.  He is paying attention to the conversation, yes, but also to little details in the environment: whatever Sepulveda has chosen to hang up on his walls, whether doors to other rooms in the house are closed, objects of interest that may happen to be lying about.

The dining room seems to have been designed to suit modern tastes.  He does not yet know Sepulveda well, and it does not clash with any preconceived expectations he has; it just is.

Nick takes one of the seats.  A glass of wine somehow appeared in one of his hands; he looks at it as though he doesn't really remember having picked it up (he doesn't.)  It is more clear that he is focused on what Margot is saying, now.  We hadn't met many Others before - 

Yes.  He remembers that.  But he waits until she finishes, gently swirling his wine in its glass and taking the first sip from it before he says anything.

"You must both have a lot of questions, still."

Margot
The room felt oddly still, and perhaps this was nudged along by the overall resonance banging around in the room together (Pen a different kind of force altogether, though).  But, in truth, everybody else was quiet and looking at her and waiting for her to talk.  She'd already agreed to step up to the plate and serve as the mouthpiece for The Apprentices, so there was no backing down now.

The little witch's eyes turned to Nick and she pressed her lips into an ironic twist of a grin.

"So many that I haven't even narrowed down all the groups of questions that I'm wanting to ask yet.  I'm not a philosophy student, but all I ever think or worry or work for now has to do with the Meaning of Existance, so to speak.  That question's so absurdly huge that I'm still breaking it down into smaller questions to start."

N. Hyde
Nick, now that he is seated, typifies a sort of casual languor, one leg stretched out in front of him under the table.  He is slouched slightly to the side, resting his chin on his thumb; two fingers curve around in front of his mouth as he listens, muddling whatever expression might have been there.  Her ironic grin seems to have pulled at the corners of his eyes and mouth though, a mirroring of sorts.

His hand falls slightly to the side as he straightens himself just slightly to reply.  "I don't think that's uncommon, early on.  So have your smaller questions gotten answered?  Not," he is still amused, if sympathetic, "to put you on the spot.  I just find it interesting how early experiences differ so greatly."

He has set his wine glass back on the table.  There is a brief glance toward the other three, mainly to ensure that they haven't been lost, and that Ned hasn't grown too uncomfortable with the topic.

P. Mercury
"I believe both Nicholas and I took time to find our Traditions," Pen says, and she doesn't look at Nicholas when she says that. The Hermetic's attention, once everybody's arrayed themselves around the table, is rather firmly on those she's come to visit (Visitation), which does not exclude Ned or Andrés. Thoughtfully responsive, see, and it seems like this is going to be the kind of dinner party where everybody listens and is engaged in the same topic.

"I know I, at least, had no one at all in the beginning; and after the beginning there was no one I would listen to."

Then an up-tilt of her chin, like: back to you, Margot (or Ned, who her glance snags on on its way to Andrés), tell us about the small questions. 

Sepúlveda
Not to put you on the spot.

Sepúlveda grits his teeth to keep his knee-jerk reaction from leaving his mouth. Amusement in it. Takes a glug of wine to further stopper his speech. Then Pen is speaking of hers and Nicholas's.

"Iona found me," he says. "Before I had enrolled in the university. Based on my, eh... extracurriculars. Slipped me the Kitab al-Alacir." A beat. He isn't telling them plenty. "I am trying to answer their smaller questions, but, eh..."

Wine. Shit. He needs a refill. Time to disappear.

[Quither]

"...How do you trust anyone?"

It's the first thing out of his mouth as the Doc makes his way into the Kitchen (perhaps catching Ned's indication before had stepped out of earshot). The other apprentice has been quiet up until now, gaze firmly averted into his wine glass as if the arterial liquid contained all the answers he could ever really hope for. When they begin to talk of little questions surrounding the larger, his lips quirk slightly. An expression that doesn't last long (amused to somber in .3 seconds). Then of course, Penelope makes her statement. About beginning and not listening.

"All of you are so different and fractious and proud, from the way the Doc says it. From what I've heard about you and from what I've seen..." His eyes flick upward, narrowed slightly. Not accusatory but...not far from it either. "There's no real way to accurately 'find' anyone either. It's different each time. Some of us just wake up one day and it's all brand new...seems to be a common thing at that. Others maybe wake up and go searching for a cure." He exhales, eyes falling into his wineglass, a murmur crossing his lips. "Or a bullet."

"So what got you to where you are? Strong enough opinion to work or solve or craft or whatever word you like to use? But careful enough to recognize when you need to listen? More importantly, who you need to listen to?" That was accusatory. Scrutinizing between the married pair with a clumsy, but forcefully unspoken question.

Who are you to listen to?

[Andrew]

These are poignant questions that Ned asks: out of the mouths of babes.  And Nick, who would perhaps still be a Disparate had a wandering Chakravanti not laid hands on his fractured self and persuaded him to shoulder the heavy burden of responsibility to a larger world - well, Nick is perhaps not the best person to give Ned a response.  There is this way in which he appraises the apprentice, see, with eyes that look more amber than brown in the dimmer light of the dining room.

"I don't think we - or, at least, many of us - ever stop searching or doubting ourselves.  I fear the day that I do."

He has let his chin come to rest on his thumb again, his index finger curled over his mouth; this is as he thinks.  Ned asked them a few questions, and Nick has not yet decided which ones to answer; there are some answers that can and should be given, and other questions that beg for more questions.  "How did you decide who to trust before you Woke?"

[Quither]

"That implies trust is something wholesale. Complete handover or complete retraction." Ned snorts. Maybe he doesn't mean to be so blunt with Nick, but this situation has him anxious and anxiety breeds...defensiveness. Or at least, a willingness to defend in earnest.

"Trust is a measure of degrees. I trust Margot enough to share information with her and interact with her, because she's going through the same thing. I trust the Doc to share my experiences with and believe what he has to say because...well-" He pauses. Uncertainty. "I honestly don't have any other options. But that's as equal a task as knowing he's shooting straight with me when he talks. Or as straight as he can."

"By the same token, I don't trust either of them to know enough to satisfy my own search for answers. Not entirely. Because their trek is different. Because searching and doubting ourselves seems to be part of the cure." An eye at Nick. "Unless I'm mistaking your meaning."

"So how did I decide to trust? I didn't. I just invest the time I have in the least possible chances of harm and detriment until I know better. Better enough to warrant further degrees of trust, but there is no absolute. That would be as silly as lacking doubt."

[Andrew]

That implies trust is something wholesale, says Ned, and Nick's eyebrows lift just a fraction.  Expressions can be eloquent, and perhaps his says: Does it?  His eyes are still fixed, in this earnest manner which implies nothing other than interest in what Ned is saying: he does not appear to have been offended.

That expression is maintained as Ned describes the manner in which he arrives at trust, the degrees of trust he has developed for both Margot and Andrés.  "Everything you described sounds completely reasonable," he says, "and it sounds as though you already have a way in which you understand how to trust others - to whatever degree you trust them."  Read between the lines: Ned doesn't.  "Granted, I've only just met you, but I get the impression that you're a skeptic - rightfully so.  In which case I'm not sure any answers I can offer would satisfy you."

A beat.  "So, when you're asking us how we trust anyone, are you asking because you want to find a way to change this system you've developed for yourself, or," and a flicker of a smile here, something only a little arch, "because you want some reassurance that we're trustworthy?"