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comment_fic's Inception, Ariadne +/ any, after the inception she wants a permanent mentor
The past few months, Cobb had settled back in to civilian life: from the jobs he'd done in the past three years, he had enough money saved to cover the bills and groceries for the three of them for a while. Even still, he'd taken up teaching drawing classes at a community college offering night courses for adults, just for something to do while trying to land a legit job dreamsharing, even if that meant more corporate espionage. There were companies that used it to keep order in the ranks, and he hoped Arthur could come up with something among his contacts.
The next job came, but it wasn't what he expected.
It was an ordinary Saturday morning, making crepes with Philippa hanging at his side, watching him flip the paper-thin pancake juust right, James in the living room watching Redwall, when the doorbell rang.
"Just a moment!" he called, switching off the stove and, with Philippa trailing him and the skillet still in his hand, going to the door.
"Maybe it's Uncle Arthur," Philippa said.
When he opened the door, he found Ariadne standing there, a suitcase on the step beside her, a rucksack over one shoulder and a portfolio in the other hand. "Hey... Cobb, if this isn't a good time," she faltered.
"No, no, not at all: I was just making breakfast," he said, stepping aside to let her step inside. She'd seen the worst corners of his mind and what lurked in it, he wasn't embarrassed to let her see him in pyjama bottoms and a worn UCLA tee-shirt.
"Who's this?" Philippa asked, looking from Ariadne to him as the girl stepped into the entryway.
"This is Ariadne Cabot, she's a student of mine," he said.
"That's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about, Cobb," Ariadne said, once they were in the kitchen and he was making up another plate of crepes for the guest, while Philippa brought another plate to her brother. "Being a student, I mean... Unless you're busy."
He snerked gently, "I'm teaching drawing classes at a community college: not the most stimulating job. It's the artistic equivalent of bagging groceries.
"What do you have in mind?"
She glanced around. "I need one of those...machines: I can make the designs in the waking world, but it's not the same as making them *real*, in the dream, I mean."
"I could hook you up with one, or let you use mine while you're here," he said.
"I transferred to UCLA's school of design," she said. "I...wanted to be closer to you. If that's okay. Miles told me there's dream-sharers there, but I want to study with you. I trust you."
"You sure you want to continue working with me, after what happened in the Fischer job?" he asked, setting a plate before her.
"Well, it was like learning to swim by getting thrown in at the deep end," she said, dropping her gaze a bit. "But I think, after that, I could still learn a lot from you."
"This time, I promise you won't get in over your head," he says. "You...helped me clear out some of the levels in my mind. I owe you for that, for helping me when I didn't think I needed help."
She blushed. "I saw you as a friend who needed help. I don't think you owe me..."
He looked to the kids in the den. "I got my life back, I got back what really mattered to me. You helped me get that."
"They look like sweet kids," she said, following his gaze. Then she looked up at him, smiling awkwardly. "I guess it would be a fair trade that way."
"One way to pick up the thread that was started..."
comment_fic's Inception, Ariadne +/ any, after the inception she wants a permanent mentorThe past few months, Cobb had settled back in to civilian life: from the jobs he'd done in the past three years, he had enough money saved to cover the bills and groceries for the three of them for a while. Even still, he'd taken up teaching drawing classes at a community college offering night courses for adults, just for something to do while trying to land a legit job dreamsharing, even if that meant more corporate espionage. There were companies that used it to keep order in the ranks, and he hoped Arthur could come up with something among his contacts.
The next job came, but it wasn't what he expected.
It was an ordinary Saturday morning, making crepes with Philippa hanging at his side, watching him flip the paper-thin pancake juust right, James in the living room watching Redwall, when the doorbell rang.
"Just a moment!" he called, switching off the stove and, with Philippa trailing him and the skillet still in his hand, going to the door.
"Maybe it's Uncle Arthur," Philippa said.
When he opened the door, he found Ariadne standing there, a suitcase on the step beside her, a rucksack over one shoulder and a portfolio in the other hand. "Hey... Cobb, if this isn't a good time," she faltered.
"No, no, not at all: I was just making breakfast," he said, stepping aside to let her step inside. She'd seen the worst corners of his mind and what lurked in it, he wasn't embarrassed to let her see him in pyjama bottoms and a worn UCLA tee-shirt.
"Who's this?" Philippa asked, looking from Ariadne to him as the girl stepped into the entryway.
"This is Ariadne Cabot, she's a student of mine," he said.
"That's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about, Cobb," Ariadne said, once they were in the kitchen and he was making up another plate of crepes for the guest, while Philippa brought another plate to her brother. "Being a student, I mean... Unless you're busy."
He snerked gently, "I'm teaching drawing classes at a community college: not the most stimulating job. It's the artistic equivalent of bagging groceries.
"What do you have in mind?"
She glanced around. "I need one of those...machines: I can make the designs in the waking world, but it's not the same as making them *real*, in the dream, I mean."
"I could hook you up with one, or let you use mine while you're here," he said.
"I transferred to UCLA's school of design," she said. "I...wanted to be closer to you. If that's okay. Miles told me there's dream-sharers there, but I want to study with you. I trust you."
"You sure you want to continue working with me, after what happened in the Fischer job?" he asked, setting a plate before her.
"Well, it was like learning to swim by getting thrown in at the deep end," she said, dropping her gaze a bit. "But I think, after that, I could still learn a lot from you."
"This time, I promise you won't get in over your head," he says. "You...helped me clear out some of the levels in my mind. I owe you for that, for helping me when I didn't think I needed help."
She blushed. "I saw you as a friend who needed help. I don't think you owe me..."
He looked to the kids in the den. "I got my life back, I got back what really mattered to me. You helped me get that."
"They look like sweet kids," she said, following his gaze. Then she looked up at him, smiling awkwardly. "I guess it would be a fair trade that way."
"One way to pick up the thread that was started..."
