The Roaring Age (nWoD)

Page 30--Object Lesson

Sympathy. Such a strange word. And even with all of the education on the concept in the world, it still seemed like it was just so hard to quantify, hard to clarify. And yet it apparently worked. "Why…" Miriam said, frowning over the book Jack had given her in liue of an explanation, "Is it even...like, why does sympathy exist?"

"Why does Life exist when all of life is so variable?" Jack asked with a shrug, "Either way, connections sort of...rub off. Which means that you have to be careful about who you know and what you leave lying around. So that's the first lesson. You need to keep away from allowing them to be used against you, and in a similar note, because you're able to create or destroy connections, it means that even if people know better…"

"What? You could destroy someone's love for another?" Miriam asked, horrified.

"Yes, though it could be repaired. Think of, say, a couple whose bond of love, whose sympathetic connection, you sever. What if they talk it out, what if they reforge their bonds based on who they are and what made them fall in love in the first place. I mean, if you can understand--"

"If I can understand?" Miriam asked, confused.

"Nothing," Jack said, "So, your baseball, your books, they have connections that are sorta weak, though maybe the baseball has a little more. If someone gets one of those, they might be able to do something. Might. So, there are two things you can do with such a connection. First, you can use it to target you. This is harder the weaker the connection. A book you read once might not even be connected with you a week or two after you give it back to me, and so using it to affect you is very difficult. On the other hand, severing or altering the link you have to the book is easy, because it has very little weight. I can make you not really care about the book, or suddenly care a little more about it relatively easily."

"So, a strong connection, like a loved one, is harder to effect but…"

"Can be used more easily to hurt you, or to at least get at you with other magic. So you have to watch out for your friends, for your objects, for anything that matters to you, or else someone else will use it. You learn to be a little paranoid, even if you're not a Guardian."

His voice was a little scornful.

"What do you have against the Guardians?" Miriam asked.

"The Guardians of the Veil are...an interesting group. I don't know how much I want to tell you, but they serve as spies, sometimes as assassins. What they do is necessary, and at best they protect people from the Supernal...at worst they hide it away from everyone. At worst they...do a lot of very, very questionable things."

Miriam frowned, "For what they see as the good?"

"Yes. Utilitarianism wasn't a new concept to them at all," Jack said, smiling a little wryly, "The needs of the many, and the willingness to do everything to save the world, even evil: they're not a group I get along with. But they serve an important role."

"You said that twice," Miriam said.

"I say it twice because I need to remind myself of it sometimes, considering everything else," Jack said.

Miriam wasn't sure whether or not this was fair or not, and so she held her tongue.

Jack finally nodded when he saw that she wasn't bringing it up again and said, "So, all things have sympathy, but at a low level there's only so much you can do with it. It's only by seeing sympathy in all of its glory that you can really begin to do more. And you can cast this spell on yourself, so let's take out your mirror and get started."

She did so, and looked at him.

"Now, what you need to do is focus on yourself. What you care about, what you see, what matters to you? It's not going to actually tell you much you didn't know, because of course you know what matters to you, but imagine the links of your mind as sort of floating light in front of you, light whose colors indicates what you want."

Miriam nodded, and tried to focus on it. It was a hard spell to imagine, and several times her Uncle had to tell her that there was no hurry. She kept it up, trying to force her mind to do it right, and finally she got it. In the mirror, written in lovely gilt writing, she could see 'Her father' hovering above her head. The writing was thick, and particularly elaborate, which seemed to indicate to her that it was a very, very strong connection.

"Though, anyone could know that," Miriam said.

"Oh, of course. But you can learn it about anyone."

"Anyone?" Miriam asked, her smile widening. She wanted to learn so much. There was so much she could see if she was able to look.

"Yes, but I'd like to tell you to be careful of what you get into, and that curiosity kills cats. I'd like to tell you that, but I don't tell you things that I know you won't listen to."

"Uncle," Miriam said, "I always listen to you."

"You do. And then you do what you think best," Jack said, waving his hand, "But if you're going to do it, then there's a little more that you can look at. Specifically, why is it hard for Life to control the human body?"

"I...don't know." Miriam frowned, a little accusingly, "You talked about not getting into the details of how Space works, but you want to talk about how Life works?"

"Well, it's interesting, because the brain is physical, right? And yet, metaphysically, all of those dualists are right even though they're wrong when it comes to the purely physical," Jack said, "It always interested me more than the exact details of how Space worked when it came to sympathy. I have a few thoughts about it, but I think that it has to do with the patterns in the higher world."

She thought about it. She knew that pattern scouring was a thing, and since it wasn't a physical thing, not entirely, it spoke to some higher form of the body. A platonic world, or a heavenly one, or...something?

His idea was hard to grasp, but it seemed to flow from what she was given to read by him, and what she was reading of the Rotes in the book. Examining life was the start to understanding it, and it seemed that while the differences were subtle, humans were different than dogs in more than pure biology. They had souls, and perhaps that was the start of things?

Miriam had always known that, but even the existence of 'Patterns' that she could scour for Mana seemed to indicate that there was more, and the fact, given grudgingly and quietly, that human sacrifices could get one Mana, and that it gathered more mana to sacrifice a person than it did to sacrifice an animal, all meant that there was something beyond mere physicality, just like there was something beyond mentality. You could control a body with magic, control a mind with magic, could even do both at the same time, and yet it was all part of some larger whole.

But an interesting fact about Life magic was that it was, even more than Mind, a field that benefitted from a non-mystical understanding of things. You didn't need to understand the philosophy of choice to use Fate, being a historian helped only a little with Time, but an experienced doctor or studier of the human mind both had an advantage.

Which explained why she spent the next two days reading more and more and more, yes, as she grasped that the Rotes in the book were about checking, healing, and then improving the human form. All of that appealed to her, and the description of it emphasized that these were meant to be used by an athlete.

It talked about how the strongest wills could overcome every bodily weakness, and it seemed to almost belabor the point in general about the power and importance of the physical form in a way that Miriam wasn't sure about.

On the one hand, she hardly neglected her body, on the other hand, it wasn't as if she was going to grow up to be an athlete. Keeping healthy was one thing, but--

Either way, she was so busy over the next few days, just exploring and slowly working on her understanding of Space and Life, that she entirely forgot that she'd invited Dickens over for dinner on Wednesday.

******

"Mom, why didn't you remind me?" Miriam asked, aware that she was whining.

"Shush, now," Eliza said, looking amused as she worked on basting the chicken. Chicken, potatoes, a vegetable, it wasn't hard to make simple food that anyone could like, and she had a cake in the oven for dessert. She was busy at work, and the only way Miriam was able to talk to her was by helping out. There was something familiar and soothing about work in the kitchen. She didn't like it that much, but she'd been neglecting her mother for a while. Too busy, and that was never a good thing, because if you were too busy for family and friends, then…

It almost disturbed her, in a way, and made her wonder whether she'd fall away from people if she spent too long obsessing over the details of magic. So she helped out, moving this way and that, mouth watering from the smell of the chicken. "Sorry, mama," Miriam said, "I know that it's my fault for forgetting."

"Don't know what you're doing with that Uncle of yours, but it's got your head in the clouds. Good thing it's summer, or it'd get in the way of your schooling."

"I dunno, mama," Miriam said, knowing better than to defend Jack, but not wanting to just agree.

Eliza's voice was weary when she said, "I know you aren't gonna stop it, child. But just be careful. Wish you'd talk to your poor mother about any of this. And now you're inviting a boy over." She smiled a little, her features softening even more, and she rapped her spoon on the edge of the counter, as if she were striking up a tune. "This friend of yours, Richard, he's that boy I always see around who comes to read our books, right?"

"Yes, mama." Miriam frowned and said, "But call him Dickens. Everyone does."

"Well, I'm sure that's not all the reason he comes around." Her mother sounded amused, and Miriam frowned, trying to figure out what she meant.

"Oh, Miriam," Eliza said, "Just books?"

"I've been to his apartment. It's very small, and," Miriam frowned, "I can see why he would want to be somewhere other than there."

"Oh," Eliza said, her voice soft and concerned, "Why did you go?"

"I was going with some people from that new church my Uncle had me go to, just to see something new, they were giving food and clothing ot the poor."

"Your father's church does that as well. You've been distant, lately," her mother said, with prim asperity. Of course she had been. She had all sorts of somewhat distant friends at church, and she'd been ignoring that too.

She really felt bad about what kind of friend she'd been lately, and yet there were only so many hours in a day, and none of the magic she'd learned so far would actually change that fact. She moved about the small kitchen, helping to clean up a little as she thought about what she'd wearing. She had no idea what her mother was really getting on about with Dickens. "Sorry, mama," Miriam said, flushing a little. And it was true, her father's choice did plenty of charity work, and there were bible studies to go to, and group activities meant to make sure people kept out of trouble, and--

Well, church was a social place, and Miriam had neglected it, had been too busy looking up at the magical to look down at her life. She wondered what kind of person that made her. She still believed, she still prayed, but community mattered. She wasn't a hermit on a lonely pole, or in a barren desert. A community of believers was central to what made her faith so strong. If one person's faith could move mountains, than the faith of many could move continents.[1]

"It's okay, Miriam." Her mother patted her on the shoulder and said, "You should go get dressed."

"But I am dressed," Miriam said.

"Better than that."

She had on one of her old skirts, and a blouse without sleeves, and, oh. She wasn't wearing stockings. She'd spent the whole day inside, and so she hadn't even thought about it, which was unusual. Unusual enough that she wondered whether she'd intentionally not even thought about it. A person could do that sometimes, could be willful in ways that they didn't even realize. Of course, Miriam thought, she had magic. She could examine her mind all she wanted, in truth. There were all sorts of things she could do with magic, and the more she thought about it, the more curious she got.

So up she went, changing as fast as she could. She brushed her hair a hundred times, she put on her black stockings, she wore her nicest skirt and a good blouse, and only then started worrying about whether this was too much. After all, Dickens didn't have a lot of money, so wasn't it rude in a way to show up dressed up too much? But after a moment of frowning over it she shrugged and made sure to brush her teeth a second time that day, looking in the mirror for a moment.

She looked presentable, she supposed, and that was that.

He arrived at a little past five, dressed up in a nice, but old, pair of pants and a button-down shirt that made him look as if he were years younger than he was. It seemed too grown up for him, and that only made him look younger, she thought. She really should tell him that sometimes. He normally didn't dress up like this, though.

She supposed that she wasn't the only person who wanted to be polite.

"Hey, Miriam, how's it going? Haven't seen you in a bit, what have you been reading?"

"Oh," Miriam said with a smile, trying not to sound as nervous as she was. Because of course she couldn't tell the truth. "Just some books on biology, psychology. I guess I don't stop studying just because school is out."

Dickens was shorter than her by a little bit, not much, but he seemed to be almost vibrating with curiosity and interest, "Oh? Biology? I'd love to read whatever you're reading sometime." Then he paused, blushing for some reason, "If that's okay?"

Miriam nodded, "Why wouldn't it be?" And then she realized, he must be embarassed because of what had happened. And of course he didn't want to impose on her, it only made sense. She smiled and clapped him on the shoulder, "Take a seat. I think there's something you could read, I suppose."

She hurried upstairs and grabbed one of the books, this one on the types of animals and their classification. It had been a little boring, so she looked around and grabbed the dream book Virginia had gotten her.

She raced downstairs, and then squeezed in next to Dickens and put down the two books. "This one is a bit boring, and I haven't started reading this one yet, but I plan to."

She opened up the dream book, and Dickens smiled, glancing at the pages. "Huh, psychology? Freud?"

"No reading at the table, you don't want to get anything on those books, now do you?" Mama asked.

Her father opened the door, right on time, stepping in and taking off his hat, wiping his brow, "Eliza, I'm home." He said it even though it was pretty obvious, adjusting his tie and moving towards his seat. Her father looked tired, slouching just a little bit as he sank into the chair. Tired after a long day.

"Well, the food's just about ready. And we have a guest, today."

"Good evening, Mr. Green," Dickens said, his voice cracking and a little nervous.

"Evening...Dickens, was it?"

"I suppose everyone calls me that, sir," Dickens said, "I'm fine with being called it. It's an honor, in a way."

"A good author," her father confirmed with a quiet, authoritative nod, "You've read all his works?"

"Three times," Dickens said, with a nod, "I'm...not sure what I'd read next, if I wasn't rereading them."

"You should write reflections on each book," Dad said, smiling a little and rubbing his chin, "Literary criticism, or commentary."

"Aww, shucks sir, I don't know if I'd be up for that," Dickens said.

Miriam blinked, that's how surprised she was as her mother began to dish out the food. Dickens was many things, but particularly humble wasn't one of them. He was smart, he knew it, and he was enthusiastically happy about that fact.

Still, she had food in front of her, and so she tried to eat as she sat at the fourth chair that they usually kept in a corner and enjoyed the food. It was all easy to enjoy, and Miriam loved eating a lot more than she loved making the food. And there was enough for seconds, though she knew that Virginia would probably talk about how it wasn't good for her diet, or something like that. That girl got all sorts of strange ideas from magazines and the like, some of which were just plain weird.

But Miriam was just fine, and she exercised enough that of course she ate plenty when she was hungry. So she had seconds, and ate as fast as she could while being polite. The chicken was delicious, the potatoes melted in her mouth with enough butter, and Dickens talked about school and Charles Dickens and things he'd learned and Charles Dickens, and so overall it was clear that he was in a good mood too, even with Miriam staying out of the conversation.

"So, Dickens, do you go to church?" her father asked him, towards the end of the dinner.

"I do, sir. When my Mom can take me. I should go on my own, perhaps, but--"

"I understand," her father said, his voice soft, "Though it is very important."

"You're right, sir," Dickens said.

"Well," Eliza said, "The cake'll be ready in a few."

Miriam glanced over at her mother, "Could we each take a slice upstairs? And read?"

"If you clean up after yourselves, sure," her mother said after a thoughtful moment.

******

The mirror rested so that it showed both of them, and the cake as well. It was white cake, with frosting that her mother had made quite carefully, and each bite reminded Miriam of just how much she had to learn, if she was going to get married one day. And of course she was, because that's what people did when they grew up, they married people and had babies. She was decent at housework, but she could be better, and cooking?

"Mmmmhh," Miriam said, her voice almost a moan, "Man, Mom makes good food."

"Y-yeah, your mother's a really good cook," he said, taking a bite of the cake as he flipped through the dream book that Virginia had gotten her. And then he cleared his throat, a little uncertainly. They were both huddled on the floor, turning in on each other, close enough that she was planning on maybe seeing something about him and her? She wasn't sure, but she had the idea to see his bonds.

So she let him keep reading as she kept eating. He was flipping through fast enough that it was clear he wasn't reading all of it, just skimming, until he froze, confused, "What's...this? It's nonsense."

Miriam looked over his shoulder, and her heart stopped beating. What? It was a rune of some kind, a symbol that her vague understanding of high speech, instinctual, thought said something about 'Dream' or 'Summoning.' The two were remarkably similar, for some odd reason, when laid out that particular way, and the symbol stretched across the middle of the page. It was sort of in the background, actually, with words overlaying it, making it even harder to read.

"Some sort of typographical error," Miriam lied, smoothly, "It's sort of weird, but I can still read it, so I suppose it's fine."

"It's frustrating to read around," he admitted.

"I'm sorry," Miriam said, "I could get another book."

"It's fine, don't worry. What's that mirror doing there, and the pen."

"Oh, they're gifts my uncle gave me," Miriam said, a little nervously, as if sure that someone would say something. She tapped the pen against the glass, at the point where it showed his worried, soft face, and then tapped him on the shoulder and tried to imagine it all coming together.

There were a lot of details she had to get right. She was using the mirror to show him, and the pen to designate him, trying to hold it all together, and she also wanted to know what sort of bond it was. Since it'd really be pretty useless just to learn that he was her friend. Of course he was her friend. Why wouldn't he be? She wasn't that doubtful that she had to confirm that much, or that there was a bond of some power, but...of course there was. But bonds could mean different things. The bond between two enemies might be as strong as the bond between two friends, and that's how it'd show up, a strong bond. And she was curious, and suspicious.

So she cast it, and she felt it go right. The words above his head, in the mirror, formed. 'Miriam--' and there was this odd red gilting to go with the gold, and after a moment she realized what it was. She pushed on the power deep in her, feeling the spell start to fight, knowing she'd done so much at once her head was hurting, and then she felt her power lash out. It was like holding a dog with too small of a leash.

She recoiled, horrified, feeling her power doing something to Dickens, and he looked at her, confused, "Is anything…" he trailed off, his face flushing a bit. For some reason his voice was oddly breathy, and he said, "Wrong?"

"N-no, nothing's wrong," Miriam lied. Lied horribly. Lied as her hands began to shake. She needed...she needed to do something. "We should probably get going, though. I mean, you wouldn't want to be late getting home."

He stood up, and the look on his face was odd. He was staring at her, and yet now she...could guess why? But she also knew that her magic had done something to him, had sideswiped him like an angry cat on the way to doing what she wanted it to do. She should have done more, she could have played it safer, she'd used her power as carefully as she could, but...but that wasn't carefully enough.

"Sure, sure," he said.

'Miriam--Crush.'

*******

She wished she had a way to talk to her uncle. She didn't get it. He had a crush on her? Why? When? How? And she'd messed up her magic and she needed it fixed, but she didn't know how and why, and so she just sat and stewed. Was her uncle going to come, tonight?

She stayed up, looking out at the lights. At people going to and from nights out drinking, or worse. But then, why was she judging them, she thought, her thoughts bitter and confused. She'd misused her magic and done something to him. She had no idea what, exactly, or it seemed weird or something, and she didn't even know how long it'd last.

Just that it was. Just that she'd gotten him out as fast as she could and used unseemly haste to do so.

And that's when she heard a knock on her door. It was past ten, her parents were asleep, and yet there was a knock. She opened it, and there was her Uncle.

"Sorry I'm late, but...Valkyrie said that now's the time for the meeting, and--"

He paused, his face knitting itself into concern, "What is it?"

Maybe she'd been crying a little. It was all a little confusing. All a lot confusing, in fact. "I...Dickens has a crush on me."

"Oh?" Jack asked, "Which one was that? The small kid?"

"Yes," Miriam said, quietly, "I used the spell you showed me to look at his link because I was curious, and it said so, but I pushed too hard with the spell, and it did something to him."

"What?"

"I don't know. He was blushing a little," Miriam admitted, frowning uncertainly. She had no idea what all of that could mean, honestly. "Maybe it made his crush on me worse, or--"

Jack sighed. "I'm not your father. I really shouldn't be talking to you about this sort of thing. So, first off, do you have a crush on him back?"

"Uh...I don't think so?" Miriam said, and it came out as far too much of a question. "What's a crush like."

She'd never had a crush on anyone before, she didn't think? It was, like, butterflies in your stomach or something like that, and she'd never had that, except that one time she had a stomachache.

"Of course, of course," Jack said, "This is…" He looked somewhere between laughing and crying, "The emotions you imposed on him should fade eventually, within a day or so. I have an idea of what it is, but--"

He kept on trailing around the truth, and she was frustrated and tired. "What is it?"

"I don't know how to show you," Jack said, "Without perhaps just using magic. But why don't I try something simple, first? What attracts you in a guy?"

"What?"

"You're going to get married one day, right? You've said that before."

"Why wouldn't I?" Miriam asked, suspicious of this line of questioning.

"Well, then tell me. Your ideal man, what is he like? Strong jawline, tall, short? Piercing dark eyes?"

Miriam drew a blank. And then she drew more of a blank, until finally she had an answer!

It even seemed, to her, to be a very good one, all things considered.

Her ideal husband or whatnot!

[] Well, if he smiled a lot that'd be good because someone happy and in a good mood is always nice to be around.
[] Someone smart who can talk to her and respect her intelligence.
[] Someone religious, who shares her faith. God is important, after all.
[] Someone kind and of good moral character.
[] All write-ins must be approved by me.

[1] Ironically, if this is oMage she'd be literally, metaphysically correct. And not just in some symbolic or emotional sense.

*****

A/N: I'll hand out XP for the training when the week ends. It's still ongoing. And yep. This is your life now.

...that Paradox fail there wasn't part of my plan, but it actually fit together perfectly. So, confused still?