Fuck-ups know best (Attn: William, Margot, Doc)
Thus far, he had been content to sit there and take it, and this seemed to be testament to the fledgling bits of self-control that he had. William had enough to not interrupt, not ruffle when he was interrupted, to wear the face of someone who wasn't taking things personally until-

"Fucking Christ," he rolled his eyes, "I did not almost kill Sepúlveda and it'll take five minutes to prove. "

The actual accusations came to the forefront and the prosecution was the only one that came to the case. It would seem William would be representing himself in this particular matter.
"Proof I'll be far more receptive too once we sort this out first."

Ned's jawbone re-aligns under his nose, settling molar to molar and lips to a thin line. He's staring at William with both brows raised and a certain level of projection: there is a line here. You are on it.
An explanation she demands, and reliably enough Ned delivers.  She could count on him to not be coy, at least, he had a history of cutting direct to the point.  Margot stood with one hip cocked to the side and her arms crossed over her ribs, listening intently as she always did.  Her eyes had flicked to Will initially, when reminded how close she'd skirted to threats of true danger with him (and still to this day, if she was honest with herself, on rather a regular schedule).

Then the clap of hands, and resolve to 'do something'.  It carried an echo that felt like it came from a stone dropped down a well.  She tensed visibly to the room, arms flexing tighter about her chest and lips pressing to a thin line.  Her heavy brow hunkered down and eyes focused sharp on Ned, and for a moment she seemed much like an owl on the verge of dropping from its branch to swoop talons first.  Except instead of talons, it was likely to be an outburst of angry screeches before stomping out of the house.

That moment passed, though, like a flame smothered out by a blanket.  Memory of the circumstance surrounding the flash of anguish tempered the reaction.  It didn't kill the stinging upset lingering in her heart, though, and so she swallowed hard and chewed on her lower lip and squeezed her ribs to smother the ache of unpleasant memory.

"Look at him."

She said this in a voice that wanted to be even, but wavered and sizzled as water would in a frying pan.  She was speaking to Ned, keeping her hazel gaze upon him, and dipping her head in Will's direction for indication of the 'him' she was referencing.  She swallowed the lump in her throat and her nails bit into her arm for the next piece.

"He's nothing like Luke."

Her eyes narrowed and she leaned forward on the balls of her bare feet, a subtle change in angle more than intentional movement, as though it would give the point she was stabbing home with her gaze more impact.  Were a beat allowed to pass, she exhaled purposefully through her nostrils and made a conscious effort to relax her posture (though it did little to ebb her intensity overall).

"I want him in our Cabal.  What I don't want is to hear plans to kill our fucking own, okay?"


Margot @ 5:34PM
[Willpower: Keep Cool & Use Ur Words]
Roll: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 3, 6, 8) ( success x 2 )

Doc @ 5:36PM
"I'd never purposefully try to hurt either of you." Not sentimental. Frank and a little bit dismissive. The emphasis seemed to linger on the 'purposefully though because-

"But that doesn't stop you and I from contacting strange otherworldly beings that could snuff us out of existence in the blink of an eye because we got curious about the Spirit world-" He says the last two words with a flip of his hands in the air and a wishy washy sort of 'whatever the fuck that means' embedded.

"It doesn't stop the Doc's past coming back and melting his wrists together while you and I run around screaming murder or curling up into a defensive ball." Ned flicks a glance at the good Doctor.

"It doesn't stop Luke showing up, except when we make the active choice to do so." He tucks his lips between his teeth, hand moving to scrub at the back of his neck. Some memories were hard. Awkward. Weird.

"...And he's nothing like Luke. He's potentially worse. Just like you with your Blood child god thing or the Doc with his explosions and unknown past or me and my big mouth. We don't just do things, things happen to us. All of us and it fucks us up as much as we fuck up. We're fuck ups. We fuck. Up."

He jabs a finger in Will's direction without looking at him.

"So's he. He belongs here and so long as he's here, he gets the same immunity and help sorting out his fuck-ups as each of us do. Same right or wrongs. Same bad metaphors. Same intoxicating avoidance." A pause. His jaw skirts to the side again, unsure it all came together the way he intended. He's staring between his Cabalmates, trying to gauge reactions. Obviously, Ned's hit his limit of things to offer to this conversation.
Out comes his smartphone, whose buttons he taps with the pad of his left middle finger rather than his thumbs. That's some millennial wizardry he only attempts when he's not in a hurry. There's a reason he tends to use emojis instead of full sentences: he treats everything as if he's in a mighty damn hurry 99% of the time.

For all the kids can tell, he's playing Flappy Jacks or Angry Pokes or whatever the newest mobile nonsense is. Really he's just trying to refresh his memory. Who is Luke and why is--

Doc's past... something something... curling up into a defensive ball...

"That was ONE TIME."

Aside from that outburst, the Etherite is content to stay the hell out of this. As a demonstration thereof, he boosts himself onto a nearby table, folds himself cross-legged, and takes another belt out of his flask. Like he's settling in to watch Game of Thrones and not participate.

Denver @ 6:24PM

Enter Dedicated Dicing Den at your own peril, kenna-witness, past the bolted door, where impossible things may happen that the world has never seen before!
Denver @ 6:24PM

For the Dedicated Dicing Den is dark and full of Docs
Doc @ 6:25PM

[mind 2: lol who the fuck is luke? coincidental, i'm not playing with modifiers.]
Roll: 3 d10 TN5 (1, 6, 9) ( success x 2 )
Doc @ 6:26PM

[i don't think this needs more successes but here's an extension for the lulz]
Roll: 3 d10 TN6 (1, 4, 9) ( success x 1 )
Doc @ 6:40PM

[kenner's having technical difficulties, but she totally witnessed this roll thanks kenner <3]
Look. I have school. And RP. And all my other time is taken up by sheer, unreasoning panic. I don't have time for Reddit.
-- ixphaelaeon
There was this awkward moment that comes when you realize people are talking about you like you aren't there, that moment that feels remarkably similar to your parents arguing except instead of getting a divorce one of them is going to literally murder you. There was admonishment, yes, and the subtle reminders that he is there to sit and keep his mouth shut. Will ran his tongue across his teeth before making that sound that kids with braces make when they're trying to get a popcorn kernel out from between their brackets.

William leaned over to his bag and dug through before finding a flask. He took a quick pull before hearing the That was ONE TIME from the Doctor. Who also has a flask. It makes him pause before deciding that, nope, he was not putting his back. They were talking about killing him (or not) and whether or not they were going to let him into a cabal in lieu of murdering him- which seemed to be something that only one other person in the room seemed vehemently opposed to.

"... I like the option that doesn't involve Ned murdering me," he took another drink, "just saying."
When Andrés sighs, it is a full-body exercise. Said sigh, the longest of long-suffering exhalations, rustles his hair and reaches his feet. He does not come close to falling off the table, but he's been drunk enough to trip over objects bigger than he is before. Don't put it past him.

"I wasn't going to murder him," he says, pointing at Margot with his flask-holding hand. "I was just going to bury him in the backyard a little. Let's take murdering off the table for a second and get back to the part where--" He frowns and looks back over at Will. "Does your parole office know you're here?"

He means Henry.
Look. I have school. And RP. And all my other time is taken up by sheer, unreasoning panic. I don't have time for Reddit.
-- ixphaelaeon
"I don't leave Colorado without attempting to tell him first, extraplanar travel included." Because that is sometimes something that is on the table, not staying stuck in their current plane of existence.

"I'm watching his house in Aurora, last time I checked in Henry was in Bucharest."
He listens, or at least has the appearance as one who is listening.

Then he pushes his glasses higher up on his nose and turns to Margot.

"It was a 'yes or no' question..."

Talk about free will all you want, but in a deep dark place he is in no rush to reveal to the rest of them, Andrés will no sooner divorce himself from the cabal than he will attempt to dissuade Ned from making a decision and discussing it with Margot. Aside from that aside, he doesn't have anything to add.

[OOC: I'm done I swear.]
Look. I have school. And RP. And all my other time is taken up by sheer, unreasoning panic. I don't have time for Reddit.
-- ixphaelaeon
The petite witch shifted her weight on her bare feet and scowled uncomfortably as the conversation continued. Memories and less-than-proud moments were pulled from the past. She glanced quickly to Will (the Keeper, she thought) when talk of the 'spirit world' came up, then down to her toes when Ned tucked his hand to the back of his neck and the moment hung awkward and uncomfortable.

That passed, and she breathed a breath she hoped to be cleansing and dusted her fingertips off on the denim hips of her shorts. She'd parted her lips to say something at last, but it was a half-beat after Doc had already started talking so she quieted and glanced between him and Will now instead. Scolded and told that he wasn't really going to murder by the good Doc, Margot flicked her gaze down and twisted the hem of her shirt between her knuckles.

The moment passed, and she looked around between the lot again before realizing the moment was waiting on her. Part of her, the part born of flesh and earth, was a little bothered by the sense that much weight in this decision seemed to ride on her shoulders. Another part, the one born of flame and blood, swelled pleased with the thought-- a Goddess of Victory hummed reminders of past lives and places at battlefronts and skull-adorned thrones, and all of them liked recognition and calling the shots.

Margot wasn't any of them (yet). She cleared her throat and blushed uncomfortably and wrinkled her nose.

"I said I'm okay with it. Just wish you would've gone about it another, less abrupt way...."

Forum Jump:

Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)