Shade of the Morning Sun

[Star]

Sooner or later, everyone that lives at the theater realizes the Angel has claimed the roof as an aerie.

When the hearth needs hearthing, that's where they're told they can find the Hearthmaster. Or if anyone's wondering why the fridge is empty or if a meal is being cooked for everyone. Or maybe just wondering why the mop disappears and reappears down the hall that leads to the stairs so often until curiosity finally gets the better of them.

So of course the Post-It note stuck on Varyx' door simply said 'Roof', signed with interlocking and mirrored triangles to form a six pointed star.

A pair of plastic Adirondack chairs, thirty-five dollars on sale at home depot, face east-ish into the white and gold dazzle of the rising sun. The Angel lounges in one of them, thing, gangly limbs spilling out of the plastic like a spring-snake that's been freed from the confines of a can. He's dressed in black: black pants, black tennis shoes, and a black short sleeved shirt... topped with the white tab of the clergy. Dark sunglasses sit below the slicked-back mop and make his nose seem even larger. The morning sun sets the ring on his finger on fire as a glass full of some concoction is lifted and finished.

The murky green liquid is, oddly enough, almost the exact same shade as Avis' eyes.

A soft rush of wind carries the sound of the city, and intermittent cracks of a bat from Railly Field's morning practices. The Ziggurat and Tower Bridge rise in the distance.

[Varyx]

The thing about living with someone is that you eventually come to see them in ways no one else can. For Varyx, that meant any way other than her carefully crafted image. This morning, it meant fresh-faced and still in her pajamas - a pair of pastel plaid cotton pants and a loose-fitting t-shirt. She'd been on her way out to brush her teeth when the note caught her eye and she'd cursed softly under her breath. The hand was recognizable enough, and she wondered how long it had been there. She was not a morning person. And so, in an effort to avoid keeping him waiting longer than he probably already had, she brushed - teeth and hair both - and made her way up to the roof with the clop clop clop of flip-flops slapping against her heels as she ascended the staircase heralding her arrival.

She stayed silent as she took her place in the chair next to Star, crossing her legs, getting comfortable. Silence, still, as she took in the image of him dressed inexplicably as a priest. Though, she supposed, he had mentioned that he was ordained. It was certainly no more or less strange than much of the rest of his behaviour.

"Morning." She didn't say anything else. Whatever it was he wanted to say, she'd let him speak.

[Star]

"I know, right?"

It's equal parts wonder and disgust.

"Did you eat? Breakfast and that most important meal of the day? I can't ever eat in the morning. Just the whole, I dunno. Chewing thing. Like, gross, until it's later. Sorry about the note. It wasn't, like, whatever." A summons? "I just didn't want to be all, like, knocking. I didn't know what time you got up."

A hand mimed knocking on air.

"Anyway. I thought, you know, we should talk. You and I. Everything's Okay." We're Okay. Maybe it took Somewhere and a few Somewhen else's but the pieces still fit together. "And I also, like, owe you an apology. All the other, whatever, aside, that dancing bit was uncool."

Long fingers held the glass up, slowly turning it this way and that until a clean edge caught the light and splintered it into different colors.

"And I kinda thought you owed me one, too." He hadn't meant Avis needed that kind of friend. "But not anymore. I mean, I kinda thought about it. You. Not, like, you, but how you thought about it. For a long time I kinda wanted to, just, yell at you. Ask you if you ever bothered to tell Avis about the lives and relationships you've ruined. Warned her." Was it an assumption? Sure. But sometimes discomfort isn't from inexperience. It's the opposite. You don't look Like That and act Like That without hurting anyone ever. That's just people. "But you know what I think?"

"I think you're messed up. It's not your fault. How could you not be? I mean, wow, you were probably just a kid when people first started looking at you. And just a little while longer before you understood those looks. So you've had a whole life of knowing that what everyone really wants is just to have sex with you. So you used it. No judgment. I mean, who would get upset at a millionaire for buying stuff? For spending money?" It's when everything gets a price tag put on it. "So, all of that. Alllll of that, aside. How could I ever explain moderation to you? Win that argument? That what we choose not to do gives meaning to what we choose to do, and vice versa? I can't. Because that means I'm attacking a keystone of your life, part of your valuation metric."

The hand sent the glass sailing, shattering.

"So what I'm also saying, in a super bad way I think, is that... we filter things. And maybe some day you're going to, like, question what you See. And, well. Just wanted you to know? We can talk about that. That we're still Cool, and can still talk. Because you've probably got a super short list of people who aren't filtering everything you say with wanting or trying to sleep with you."

Was there a club? There should totally be a club. A commemorative coin, or tea set.

"Anway, uh. Sorry for Monologuing like A Villain. Just wanted to get it all out there."

[Varyx]

Watching the sun continue it's creeping ascent into the sky, she listened. She let him say everything he needed to, finding it a little amusing when he apologized for monologuing, as if she had been giving any indication of being annoyed by his speech or its length. There was only one faint twitch, one small reaction to what he was saying: the casual, flippant implication that there was something wrong with her.

Well, that and the comment about breaking relationships. Because that part was truer than she liked to admit, and it stung. Under all her excuses and her self-assurances that it wasn't really her fault, it stung.

"Have you ever considered the possibility that I might be right?" The question was soft. It didn't carry any accusations, nor even the implication that she really was right (and thus, Star was wrong). Just the question.

It was easier, often, to just let people believe what they desired. She could wrap them up in their assumptions and use them to her advantage, including the assumption that her looks and her life made her broken. And hell, maybe she was, but that wasn't going to stop her from using it in the same way. But that was the thing about actually liking somebody, wasn't it? Using them wasn't the point, anymore. Star wasn't just some stepping stone in her pursuit of some new desired power - another layer for her security blanket.

She wanted him to understand. And she wanted to understand him.

"That sex isn't inherently this heavy thing. It can be, but it doesn't have to be." She turned to look at him, finally, blinking as the shadow of the sun danced before her eyes, darkening his face. "That dancing thing you did? That was because you'd danced with Avis, wasn't it? Because it was an act you'd shared with her. It was uncool, but I understand why you did it. You were hurting, and you needed to try to explain how you felt." She shook her head. "But it wasn't uncool because it was dancing. I don't care about that. It was uncool because you did it to hurt Avis. You gave it the meaning in that moment that it needed to become a weapon so you could hurt her the way you felt she'd hurt you. Without that meaning, it's just an act. And that's just it, isn't it? Sex is just an act. You can lend it meaning if you want, but otherwise it's just an act, like dancing. Society places all kinds of limitations around sex, but they're all Lies."

A hand came up to run fingers through her hair. She felt like she was chastising him somehow, and that wasn't what she meant either.

"So I suppose what I still don't understand is why. Why does it have to be something different? Why does it have to be infused with inherent meaning that nothing else does?"

[Star]

"Have you ever considered the possibility I'm not just talking about sex?"

He'd said moderation, not monogamy.

"Maybe I'd feel the same way about doing a ritual with you? Because, absolutely, we give meaning to things. Like the dancing. But here's the thing. You think you're in control of the meaning. And you're not. You can't control how the other person feels. Or the body. We have chemical reactions to skin contact, imprints with other kinds of contacts. You and I both know the old thing about hookers not kissing -- but we also both know that's Bee Ess. A hooker will kiss, but the last thing she wants to do is make eye contact during an orgasm."

This priest is a former med student, yo. And apparently a connoisseur of hookers.

"Biology just isn't on your side. But, okay, The Lie, blah blah. Now why is it that a Mastigos," the jury is still out on whether Varyx was a Warlock, "Is acting like sex isn't a big thing when we also both know it's great for Sympathy? Why would a Mastigos totally ignore that, yes, it has metaphysical weight?"

Even George Michael knew.

"But don't you have to make it meaningless? That's what I was saying. Because anything else means that every person who has ever looked at you like that is a vampiric jerk. I mean, you have a better chance of convincing me that sex is actually meaningless than convincing me that wouldn't warp someone's world-view. Just like rich kids get messed up so bad they don't even really really understand that a ten dollar bill is worth more than an hour in most people's lives."

That's the world's secret. Everyone's messed up. Everyone has their own Illusions.

"But, okay. Maybe you are right. But you gotta sell me. I mean, right now all you've got is, Because-I-Want-To-Be-Right. What's the actual Idea here? That sex isn't, what was it you said, this heavy thing? So do 'heavy things' exist at all, or is every action equal? Until we give it meaning. Are there things that you would only do with someone you loved? Wait."

...

"Have you ever been in love before?"

[Varyx]

To be honest? No, she hadn't actually considered that he wasn't just talking about sex. The act was a preoccupation for her. She rarely saw other couples in any other context. Sex was the lens through which she viewed all romantic relationships. It was strangely startling to her that he wasn't. But his point about the ritual began to unlock a moment of understanding about where he was coming from.

She let him speak, closing her eyes in an attempt to keep her mind open. She wanted to shut, to listen only with one ear while she began to devise her answers because what mattered was winning and not being right. Except that wasn't right. Not here. Not now. Star was not a stepping stone. Not someone she had to seek to control. She had to remind herself of that.

And then... that last question. There was something in his voice when he asked. Was it surprise? Maybe sympathy? Or perhaps disgust. Hard to say, really. Or maybe all of that was the projection of her own feelings onto him.

"No."

There wasn't another answer. No other words. Not for a long time. She sat in silence, wondering what that meant to him. Wondering whether everything she'd say next would be disregarded, because what did she know?

"No, I don't think 'heavy things' exist at all," she answered finally. "They're part of the Lie. All that you said, about chemical reactions to skin contact? That's all true, but it doesn't have to carry all this weight you're giving it." Her eyes opened and she turned to look at him, her gaze steady. "Your point assumes that intimacy and connection of a certain level should, by definition, belong to one person. Why shouldn't I want to make eye-contact during an orgasm? Why wouldn't I desire real intimacy with my clients? Because I'm not in love with them? Because I'm only supposed to do that with my One True Love? Why? Who declared that intimacy must be reserved for one person at a time?"

She looks back out towards the sun, her gaze sweeping over the city below, watching the long shadows creeping across the landscape. "Sex creates Sympathy. But all that says to me is that sex is something to be done with someone you trust." Or someone you can control. "Same way I wouldn't want to bleed with someone I don't trust to watch my back. But there's nothing that says I must only have one person in my life that I trust."

[Star]

"Did you know?"

He turned towards her, leaning a thin forearm on the armrest for support. Long fingers plucked the sunglasses off to reveal bluish-green eyes that were half-laughing, half in wonder.

"Did you know that if you pull the wings off of a fly, or even just one, a frog won't eat it? Take a dozen flies, put them in a glass case with a frog one at a time, and he'll eat the ones that fly around. But do anything, anything like pull it's wings off, anything so that it doesn't move like a fly, and the frog will ignore it. Even starve. Can't see them. Won't see them." Eyes widened in amazement. He raised his hands and 'exploded' them out from his head. "Isn't that mind-blowing? How crazy is that?"

She wasn't wrong. He knew it didn't just have to be Two. Somewhen, We had been Three. She just assumed he wanted to twine his light --or wanted Avis to twine hers-- with all the possibilities the conversation had represented. And, yeah. Baggage. But that was already claimed. Baggage check on aisle Angel.

"But, whatever. Would you feel better if I said, 'Fine, you win'? Because I'm not really trying to have that argument. If we all want to put that whole... thing... on me? On my insecurities? I'm okay with that. Totally. But that, that whole debate, doesn't mean I'm wrong about you." Long legs spun around, sitting sideways to face her. "I'm just trying to tell you, that when you're ready to challenge your own world-view? To See the rest of the world? You can talk to me about it. I'ts not an indictment. Everyone does it. Look at me. I just, kinda-sorta, assume everyone's lying. All the time. To me. To themselves."

Have some pearly whites. Hopefully without any, you know, green chunks stuck in them.

"You know why? I think you know why. Control. We build ideas and heuristics to define our environment, to control the chaos. But the problem is, it also narrows and blinds us. You say heavy things don't exist to define and control and rationalize. And you're so wrong. Just look at Spells and 'dox. You're not always in control, you cannot define the weight of actions with your own rationalization. And until you get that? You're on a super-slippery slope. I mean, look at what you just did. You just kinda-sorted suggested to me that you trust everyone you've slept with. Is that actually True?"

Maybe it's gentle advice from her friendly neighborhood priest. Or friendly neighborhood Interfector.

"You know, I had a dream." Lids closed. "Really messed up. I haven't even told Avis about it. You'll be the only one." Long fingers slowly flexed, rippling elegantly in a wave that flowed through each knuckle in perfect synchronicity. "I killed her. Avis. In my dream. I can still feel the memory of her neck in my hands. See her eyes."

Eyes opened, and he offered a humorless smile.

"Don't worry. It wasn't about all that. Totally different stuff. You know, like a different life? Or maybe just an impression. Remember the first time we met? At Home Depot? You were chatting up that clerk. That was my first impression of you."

Because a fly flew in front of her.

"You ever have weird dreams?"

[Varyx]

It wasn't True. At all.

She didn't trust everyone she'd ever slept with. She didn't even like everyone she'd ever slept with. But her words were careful. "Sex is something to be to be done..." Because she didn't trust them, and she wasn't going to claim she did. It was stupid to know what she did about Sympathy and to ignore it, and she knew that, but that was her life. It was what she did, and maybe she didn't know how to do anything else. It was the part of her life from Before she still clung to, because letting go, becoming a Mage and only a Mage was terrifying. Because in this world, she wasn't special, or powerful, or... anything, really. In that world, she had power. She could have anyone and everyone wrapped around her little finger and it made her feel safe.

And it made her feel sick.

"That clerk was chatting me up," she corrected, but her smile said maybe she knew she was doing it. This time. That it was a joke, sort of, at her own expense. At her inclination to seize control of the conversation, of her image, of her life. It was hard, because the weight of her terror was still rolling around in the pit of her stomach, but it was eased, maybe, a little, by the knowledge that he was still sitting there. Sharing his secrets with her.

He asked her about her dreams. Her eyes closed, and she wondered why she'd felt like she'd somehow gotten away with it - with pretending she hadn't had any.

"Everyone has." She laughed, shaking her head. "Some of them were announcing them to the world, or at least to the rest of us, at Consilium. I can't imagine just announcing my deepest secrets to strangers like that. And we were strangers. Several of them were brand new." She was getting away from the point. Maybe subconsciously trying to change the subject.

A long, low sigh. "I have. Two. Half memories, half dreams." Long fingers raked through blonde hair, and if you looked close enough, they were trembling. Just a little. "One of them, I never Awakened. My mother was still alive, and so I'd never gotten into escorting. I was married to a perfect man, living in a perfect house, about to have my perfect baby." The shadows were getting shorter. Only a little, but it was still noticeable enough. Blue eyes lifted from them to Star, to the pearly whites with no green chunks at all. "I was bored out of my mind. It's the only thing that stuck out really clearly to me. Suffocating in contentment."

Another laugh. This one bitter. "What does that say about me?"

[Star]

"Were you? Bored. In the dream?"

Long fingers slowly fell still. A perfect baby. It still hurt, everything, everything then, everything after. Just a little.

"Or are you just saying that now?"

Defining it. Controlling it. Dismissing it? People had talked about them? Openly? Holy Shrink Session, Missing Man. Didn't care. Consilium had been a mess ever since Nous. Then July. Before that, Avalon. See a pattern? File under, What Is It With Guardians In Sacramento And Consilium.

Lips parted, ready to point out that her omission wasn't unnoticed, then closed.

Because, really, wasn't there something So Much More Interesting there?

Much.

More.

Interesting.

"Is it because you were in love?"

[Varyx]

"I don't know."

The admission was soft. Sad, even. Fingers tugged aimlessly at golden strands of hair, maybe a nervous tick, maybe just something to distract her from her own thoughts. "I don't even know if I was in love. I know that I'd been infatuated with him, once, and that the feeling of that had faded to something else. But it was just an impression. A moment in time. I know that I wouldn't have fallen in love with him. Not me. Not this me, I mean. But I can't say what I would be like in that life. It was so different, I have to question whether the woman was even really me at all." Well. That wasn't true. Just a platitude to make herself feel better about the other dream. Because if the Good Avery wasn't really her, then the Bad Varyx wasn't really her either.

Her gaze flickered over to him, because the fact that he asked the question at all struck her as unexpected, and interesting in its own right. "Why would you ask me that?" She wanted to continue, to ask why he'd equate love with boredom, but that would make it sound like an accusation. A deflection to put him on the defensive so she would stop having to answer his questions. That's not what she wants.

She's never asked someone what it means to be in love, at least, not someone she'd expect to answer truthfully. Or their version of the Truth. "What is love?"