A rose in bloom

The room was cool, the gentle hum of air conditioning revealing that the cold air around them was artificial rather than the chill that naturally came to old religious structures that used more stone than brick in their construction. The place had been set up for varied worship, which largely meant that it wasn’t ideally suited to anything besides sitting in quiet contemplation on wooden benches that looked like they’d been carved when Ashcroft was founded, with an altar that groaned under the weight of assorted religious icons and paraphernalia.

Moira settled onto one of the benches, and after a moment’s hesitation, John joined her. The redhead stared at the altar, at her hands and finally at John before she began to speak, “My father…” then she paused, shaking her head. “To understand what I want to talk to you about, I should begin with some backstory. How much do you know about me?”

John internally winced at that. Given Observe, he could probably know a whole lot about her if she considered him close enough to allow his ability to get over the level difference - but he felt that letting her know he had potent scrying magic could well add at least one ‘possibly evil’ note to whatever mental files the Warden was holding about him. Especially if she saw all the information his ability could let him see… With that in mind, he opted for the safest option available. “You’re the Warden - although I’m not entirely sure what that is - and part of the Order and umm… that’s about it?”

The redhead sighed. “I suppose I should have expected as much. Well… it would take too long to explain everything about what the Wardens are, but suffice to say our Order revolves around them. The specifics of my branch here are… somewhat related to what I wanted to talk to you about. I understand that you yourself moved to Springfield only in the past few years, is that correct?” At John’s answering nod, she continued. “Well, that is something we share - neither of us was born here. In my case, I was born on the other side of the Atlantic. We moved, which is to say my father moved us here shortly after the death of my mother. I am… not sure of the specifics of why he made that decision, only that it was in a rush.”

She paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I was very young. To be honest, I remember very little from my early childhood apart from my father’s face the day we left. He seemed angry, angrier than I’ve ever seen him. It’s odd - I don’t even remember him looking that angry the day my mother died, but the day we left sticks in my memory…” For a moment, the Warden paused and John began trying to formulate a reply to the childhood trauma she’d just shared before she spoke again.

“But since we arrived here he has been insistent on my learning to take my place as the head of the Order. Like many powers, mine came into full bloom on my eighteenth, although there were hints of it far earlier. I had assumed that the development of my abilities would allow me to take a more active role in directing the Order’s actions… which brings me to why I wished to speak with you away from the mansion.” She smiled at John as she finished, although the gesture never quite reached her eyes.

John leaned forward. “Something you want to not have to run past your father?” he asked, dreading the answer. If Moira and the rest of the Order answered to him, just how powerful could the elder Brighton be? Getting on the bad side of someone that strong seemed like a really bad idea. To his increasing discomfort, she nodded.

“His view of the Order is… insular, to say the least. He won’t even…” she paused, then shook her head. “Internal politics. I do not know you well enough yet to trust you with those, I am afraid. To the matter at hand, however, while he is more than happy to authorize strike forces to handle some of the threats to the surrounding community, any suggestion of further outreach - of establishing ourselves as anything more than a warrior cadre tackling immediate danger - is met with skepticism at best. Despite claiming to wish for me to take command, the direction we follow remains his even now.”

As she finished speaking, she grinned at John - a genuine smile, unlike her earlier one. “But yesterday, I gained an outside force to work with - one that can funnel me the information I need in exchange for what support I am able to mobilize on my own.”

That was the trap he’d expected. John ran through a few answers, then shook his head. “I don’t have a choice in this, do I? If my flock - when I actually figure out all the details on how to get one - if they are in trouble, then I’d have to ask for help to fight, I’m just one cleric after all. And you’ve already got Rebecca working as a liaison, so what, I keep you updated, like a spy or something?”

Moira shook her head rapidly. “No. Not at all like a spy. I do not intend for you to breach anyone’s trust, just… keep me informed about the situation out there. Rebecca will do most of the work in that regard - or at least she will once I’ve talked to her about it. I don’t fully believe nor trust that my father is letting me see the whole picture of what surrounds us. And if you spot anything untoward or unusual, then obviously let me know so I can prepare in case you need additional support.”

With their meeting done, John had debated just leaving Ashcroft immediately to avoid any risks of running into Frank again. However, he really did need to do some work; although he’d done what he could in the evenings, with all the running around at the end of the day over the past week, he was behind on more than one class’s projects. With that in mind, he headed for the library, politely refused an invitation from an optimistic Wesley for yet another rematch, and slipped into one of the quiet computer rooms.

His mind drifted as he worked, his focus divided between his current task (putting together and sending over his menu for home economics) and his ongoing thoughts regarding the temple and the request Moira had made. Hitting send on the email, he leaned back in his chair. ”I’m going to have to talk to people in the Abyss that aren’t part of the Order either way… I am so glad I opted to put those points into Charisma last night. But… where do people like that hang out? I can’t just sit around the park Barrier and hope someone turns up…” he mused, idly drumming his fingers before leaning forward again and opening up his next set of notes.

Time blurred, projects slowly coming together as he pulled his spiraling workload back into a more reasonable state. John hadn’t really recognized just how much extra work there was to do at Ashcroft outside of class before - mostly because he’d gotten it done as soon as it arrived, or at least within a day or two. He’d never let an entire week’s worth pile up, and now he was most definitely regretting it. Eventually, he rolled his shoulders and sat back. “I think that’s everything,” he mumbled to himself, before standing stiffly. Glancing at the clock, he winced. The quiet rooms were exactly what they said - the final bell must have gone half an hour prior and he hadn’t heard it. Grabbing his stuff he ran from the room - his mom had asked to spend time with him that evening, and even if he ran for the next bus and allowed for her working late, he’d still probably be getting home after her.

On the way out of the building, he was surprised to see he wasn’t the only one leaving Ashcroft after hours. Emily was standing outside one of the gyms, talking yet again with the strange suited man John had seen previously. If he’d had time, he’d have tried to find out more about what was going on there, some kind of weird meetings going on would be an easy win as far as information sharing with Moira went, but right now family came first. He did note idly that he wasn’t alone in spotting the pair, however. As he skidded sideways towards the gates, sprinting flat out to try and make the approaching bus, he spotted someone he recognised in an upper window watching the pair.

”I wonder if the history teacher will do something about unauthorized people being on campus?” John mused a short time later as the bus pulled away, his lungs still burning from the sprint. On the plus side, the boost to his Endurance had paid off - where before he’d have ended up running out of stamina just in time to watch the bus glide past the stop, this time he’d been able to keep up his pace until he scrambled onto the ride home. ”Guess I could mention that I’d seen that guy in a suit before to her in class next Monday and ask what I should do about it or who I should report it to and see what she says…”