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Post by Krakenbox on Dec 9, 2021 19:33:55 GMT -8
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Post by Wayland on Dec 10, 2021 22:55:29 GMT -8
'Lan-yap? The fuck is a lan-yap?' Wayland has just a moment to ponder this as they walk away from the table before she returns her attention to the conversation. Behind her driftwood mask, she frowns at his mention of the civil war. The history at issue here clearly runs deep. Maybe she should talk to Mary about that. Maybe she needs more lessons than just the occult procedures she’s been walked through so far.
Sparks and smoke do not trouble her after her countless hours at the forge and anvil, the edges of Sweeney’s sparking exhalation brush past her without flinch or comment. “Tune-ups I can do. I don’t have any connection to the bad blood in the armory, and both groups sound like they’re well worth the effort to support. All I need to know is where to start.”
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Post by Sweeney on Dec 11, 2021 20:21:37 GMT -8
Sweeney nodded along to Wayland's words like they were attached to an unheard rhythm, thumbing through a fistful of greased and bloodied business cards as he walked alongside her. He flicked the cardboard in front of her nose with what appeared to be a punch card pattern,
"Just burn that into a door you don't need no more. Shouldn't be a problem if you got the right vibe; clean hands and no longstanding vengeance with your courtmates. If that's a thing, I'd swear up on being Good Neighbours before kicking it open."
Taking another drag, he cocked an eyebrow at her,
"You need supplies? I can get channels rolling for you if you're hard up. I'll give you the Chapter contacts for both Entitlements and you can square business on your own time. Most of my hours go towards shit like making sure our people don't fall between the cracks. If you can make Narcan or purify narcotics, having another pair of hands is app-re-ci-ated.
Jobs aren't really a problem—with finding better outlets. None of that bodyguard shit dressed up in a Mentorship Pledge, though. Just another trap of servitude where their benefactor only benefits when the heat keeps the forge, yeah?
You can still give Kai Rose supplies if you want—I'm not stopping you—I'm a gun guy, when Loki's more of the smith. Kind of a dumbass, but quicker on the draw than the rest of us; I don't know why he's different from the rest of the fiery War Elementals," he chuckled through his chatter, having tracked all the Ifrits with similar patterns of PTSD trickling in Vegas while the Knight Commander wasn't that. "I'm not really sure what you folks need for that artistry when I can just make it happen with running the Jewels. My talent's in networking and keeping people seen."
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Post by Wayland on Dec 12, 2021 0:17:11 GMT -8
The card is too close to her face, Wayland leans back a little bit. It’s not Sweeney’s toxic presence, just the invasion of her personal space. She reaches up and plucks the card out of his hands, pausing a moment to examine it from an angle her eyes can actually make sense of. She’s mindful of his warning, but she’s almost an outsider among her own court, no history of anything except maybe making Riley’s gauntlet and trying (unsuccessfully) to stop Loki from beating the shit out of Archie in a public place. And if anybody has a problem with either of those things, they can see her and she’ll correct them.
The mention of narcotics makes her brows come together slightly. “Chemistry. No, I don’t know much about that except the basics.” She can use acid to etch metal, but making homebrew Narcan? No way. She tucks the card away in a pouch on her belt, “But I’ll see if it’s something I can do.” She’s not quite sure how the relationship between certain Summer Courtiers and the criminal underworld works, but the mention of purifying narcotics makes her uneasy, however much she tries to avoid prejudgment absent the facts.
She’s not sure what he’s talking about when he mentions mentorship pledges and servitude, but he has her attention when the talk turns to Loki. She glances back the way she came, towards where she saw him getting chewed out by Mary, wondering if both are still there. “Ivory mentioned that I should get to know Loki. She seems to think we’d be friends. We kind of met under strained circumstances though, it doesn’t seem like tonight’s the best night to talk with him.”
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Post by Sweeney on Dec 12, 2021 0:33:23 GMT -8
"Yeah, he's a weird one. But I guess we all are," Sweeney laughed. "Don't worry about the chems; it's keeping our addicts from dying in a ditch. There's so much cut into what the desperate are willing to gamble with, and we don't have enough therapists to dig into the why, so this is the best I can do right now."
He wasn't sure how much experience Wayland had with that world, but many of the Lost struggled with one thing or another just like any human veteran.
The Blightbent whistled, "You're talking about Beltane, yeah? My motley's settled things since with Afterparty, from our mutual understanding. There were a lot of rumours flying around and tensions were pretty high. Archie's explained since our mandatory get-together that altering my mind to try and get me to work against my motleymate was a byproduct of him being scared of the Freehold," he watched Wayland's reaction with detached interested.
"I was scrambled for a bit, after. I mean, more than usual." His laugh was a little more strained this time, smile tight around the eyes. "But I guess being told No wasn't landing, and a few people were looking to Loki to set an example. He spotted," Sweeney gestured to the eye where Loki's eyepatch would be, "With that magic eye of his as Archie used the same magic on the Bishop of Blackbirds. From my understanding, with Eurydice being former Sage and all, that's a high crime among the Emeralds... I'm getting the sense that situation made you real uncomfortable?"
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Post by Wayland on Dec 15, 2021 13:02:53 GMT -8
Sweeney’s words about the drugs are reassuring, even if she’s not sure how much credit she should place in the words of a cartel member about such things. It’s dangerous to trust too quickly, but it can also be unwise to doubt without cause. Chemicals aren’t really her specialty (except in the broadest sense of the word, with which pedants will loudly explain that everything is a chemical, as if technical correctness was the height of wit) but she might have to take a look at this problem and see what she can do.
When the talk turns to Beltane her expression becomes closed, guarded. There have been some intense emotions, and some consequences both physical and social, surrounding this issue. It would be natural for these injuries to still be a little… tender. She’s not keen to pick at any scabs.
Being scared of the Freehold is at least an idea she can relate to. Her eyes flick downward at those words, before returning her attention to Sweeney’s face as he continues to explain, and finally ask what her reaction was.
“To be honest, I didn’t really know what was going on. I never knew what Hartman had done until weeks after Beltane. All I saw was someone giving a beating to a guy who’d been friendly to me, unprompted as far as I could tell, in the middle of a crowded party with way too many eyes on us.” She shrugs, “I just wanted the violence to stop. Or better yet, for the whole thing to be moved somewhere private and sorted out there.”
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Post by Sweeney on Dec 15, 2021 14:03:10 GMT -8
"Makes sense." He didn't disagree, but also didn't offer his own thoughts without any signal for an invitation. Torrents tended to take over and direct conversations, and he was the one who asked for Wayland's perspective in the first place.
"How do you feel about other Spears?" If violence was a sensitive area for her, he didn't see her spending much time with the local hair-triggers. He flicked the embers off the edge of the cigar, blinking to himself as a random tangent swirled in his mind. "Oh, shoot. Yeah. You can talk to some of the Onyx too—my motleymate almost got cooked from the inside from this rotting hellspawn. Some of them get some dangerous missions during clean up."
He wasn't maintaining eye contact anymore, though the source of his discomfort was hard to pinpoint.
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Post by Wayland on Dec 15, 2021 14:42:26 GMT -8
Did things just get awkward? It feels like things just got awkward. Shit, maybe this whole thing was a bad idea. Maybe her thing was a bad idea. If what Sweeney’s been saying is true, the Freehold might not have much use for another armorer right now. But if that’s the case, why have people been going out into the Hedge so shockingly ill-prepared?
“I haven’t really met much of the court yet,” she confesses to Sweeney. “I spent a long time working on myself, and not really interested in getting to know people. That was a mistake. I’ve been trying to correct it.” She pauses, looking into the distance, “... Linden and I were friends, I think. We weren’t especially close, but we were friends.” There’s a slight shake of her head as she brings herself back closer to the present, “And I’ve hung out with Alecto a few times, and Firebringer, and Kai. I met Cinder at that little get-together she organized about vassalage, but I didn’t talk to her much. And I had a chance to ride with Loki and Aster on the Hunt, which went really well.” She shrugs, “And I’m learning under Mary. How do I feel about all them? Pretty good. A little bit mixed in places, but isn’t everybody a little bit mixed?”
Mention of being ‘cooked up from the inside’ makes the smith bring a silver finger up to tap her own chin in thought. “That’s exactly the sort of thing I’d like to start helping with, honestly. I'd need to understand more about the nature of the attack though, to design protection against it. Physical armor might not be the best solve.”
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Post by Sweeney on Dec 15, 2021 15:49:23 GMT -8
"Guess you could use an extrovert," he chuckled, offering a sad nod at the mention of Linden. "Honestly sounds like you've made some ties. From my understanding, Alecto's locked down with protecting her family with the invasion. Haven't seen her much, either..."
He ran a hand through his hair lost in thought. "Oh, the- Fawkes said something like, 'the Greeks had it wrong. Chaos is not nothingness, and that nothing hurts beings of boundless chaos worse than iron.'" He grinned without humour, teeth blackened, "Physical armour doesn't help people who can't help themselves, cher. If people aren't asking for things, we can't manifest and slap them over the head to remember their flack jacket and call their Knight. And when it comes to magic, all we got is our charms, loopholes, and creativity. Ogres who pick the Sword can shrug off an element they have an affinity with, and lots of warriors learn the Cunning, too. What killed Linden and almost killed my best friend got past all that and burned their glamour to ash."
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Post by Wayland on Dec 15, 2021 21:53:25 GMT -8
The comment about needing an extrovert earns a soft exhalation from Wayland, sort of amused, sort of exasperated, but very much agreeing, along with a soft, “Yeah,” in a sort of forlorn ‘what you gonna do?’ way. The explanation of Alecto’s recent isolation is met with a nod, she’d heard that from the Beast herself. It’s understandable. Wayland hardly has any right to judge someone for keeping to themselves.
She listens carefully while Sweeney describes the attack that Fawkes suffered. Though honestly it’s not very helpful. Might be something to ask Mary about. She frowns slightly (though not in displeasure) as he goes on to describe the myriad of challenges they’re faced with and nods slightly. “I know.” She looks like she wants to say something else, but it gets stuck in her throat. After a moment, she shrugs helplessly. “This is what I can do. A layered defense is better than one that relies on any single aspect.”
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Post by Sweeney on Dec 18, 2021 22:40:12 GMT -8
"I gave you access to the Concord," Sweeney said, blinking as Wayland sounded like she might have thought the opposite. "I wasn't looking to argue or discourage. Or are you just wanting a number of people to make flak jackets and swords for? I can send you a report later that'll answer questions about the court's population."
He decided to be quiet, seeing if the Ogre wanted to continue their conversation or not.
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