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Post by Mitchell Carr on Nov 14, 2021 23:43:01 GMT -8
Mitch had forgotten to get a mask, but Cailleagh had provided one she thought was appropriate. The Dancer hesitated for a beat, offering a polite nod to Gavin in return before Henley slid right on in with business. "...Oh! Yeah, the Contracts. Weird timing, because I was just figuring that out before things..." he shrugged, deciding that it was better just to show them. Rolling up his sleeve revealed a small burn and some mottled bruising that was mostly healed. "You channel the intent of the Season-" the marble hand flashed with prismatic light dancing along the diamond veins of his mien, "-And things seem fine at first," he explained plainly as he ran the golden light along his arm as if it were a salve. Small shoots of greenery emerge from the wounds, attempting to bloom before the light started to fade. The gold flaked off with the tangled, delicate roots dropping with it to the floor with no change to his condition. His hand twitches as shards split along the site of the Contract, but his lack of reaction indicated it was something he was used to. Maybe his mien? The Dancer snapped his fingers a few times, clearing his throat reflexively. "You get lucky, sometimes. No one's been able to figure out a fickle pattern, where you have some basic things stitch. The cordial is the most reliant, but it doesn't stay imbued for long. Usually there's a sense of elation or warmth, but it's all muted, or tired, I guess."
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Hua Yuan
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Presence 2 - Nostalgic; SL 1 - Flawless
Posts: 304
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Post by Hua Yuan on Nov 15, 2021 13:48:37 GMT -8
The worried glance that Yuan shot Gavin was covered by the shards of glass. The Razorhand was beginning to fray at the edges, but a public setting wasn’t the place to address that. Tucking that information away for a later time, he focused instead on the issue at hand
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Post by Gavin Graves on Nov 15, 2021 14:49:53 GMT -8
"Yes, a demonstration would probably help. Just a tick of preparation first, yeah." The Beast fumbled about within his costume to find a pouch of small treasures. Carefully drawing out a few down feathers, that a keen eye might recognize being from a local species of owl, before putting them into a controlled burn in the palm of his leather clad hand using a lighter. When the feathers had become a fine ash, the Razorhand delicately smeared the ashes on the lids of his eyes. It was a small wonder watching how comfortable he was maneuvering the deadly tips of his fingers around his face, and especially his eyes.
"Right." He signaled with a nod indicating readiness.
Watching the unfamiliar contract coalesce its energies in its own unique patterns, Gavin drew upon the magic he had paid a steep price for. His eyes shone like a creature of the night watching from the darkness as it unfolded before the observers. He focused the trial of his new magics on the patterns of obligations, particularly those not met, for the source of failure in Spring's usual abundant renewal.
Guided by what he learned, the raven clad figure coaxed the others to feed him the bits they each knew and reminded each other of in turn, spurring on further delving of their collective knowledge of their affinity magics. Autumn's ever-present blessing whispered secrets and hints in the peripheral of his thoughts as the group's efforts came to fruition.
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Post by Henley on Nov 16, 2021 17:42:34 GMT -8
Henley's contributions were more in the realm of the hypothetical, a discussion about Spring's relationship with the Wyrd and the cycle of seasonal turning. He was able to rule out the idea of the turning being relevant to the weakness, seizing instead on the idea that the Court seemed tired. Did it have to do with the recent weakening of people leaving in favor of Summer? Or was the drain related to something different, a more spiritual loss where desire was giving way like bathwater running out of a leaky tub?
Context was what he offered Gavin - enough knowledge of Spring to allow him to frame his assessment so that it wasn't operating in a vacuum. He compared the healing to Spring's other arts: the storm, the peace that led to sleep, the information of desire. He had mastered all of them, so he had a fair bit of context to provide based on experience. How come those things worked, but healing didn't?
But he didn't forget what he'd seen. The injuries on Mitchell's arm.
"What's happened there, Mitch? You get in a scrape?"
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Hua Yuan
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Presence 2 - Nostalgic; SL 1 - Flawless
Posts: 304
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Post by Hua Yuan on Nov 17, 2021 14:09:13 GMT -8
Yuan wasn’t an occultist. The sum of his scholarship could be resumed to one sentence - weird shit exists. So when technical terms started flying around, most went over his head.
But what the Playmate lacked in knowledge, he made up with an instinctive understanding of relationships. A few times, he pointed out the link between two seemingly unrelated topics.
Honestly, he was just happy to be included.
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Post by Mitchell Carr on Nov 20, 2021 20:01:20 GMT -8
Mitchell's Seasonal favour sang through him, his voice layered with something more as light danced around the budding hope of rebellion—against entropy and acceptance. He referred to his own Entitlement, with an unwillingness that has taken hold of the flock; to offer up weakness and transition to something higher. The Freehold was consuming without sowing, seeking to fill a void without indulging in the gifts of their freedom, and what today had to offer. His eyes were a kaleidoscope of stained glass, bird song syncing with his voice as he thrummed the displeasure of the Antler Crown, where the wealth awarded to its people was questioned by those who didn't believe in a future. Determined fates were antithetical to the Season's worship.
As he spoke with his hands, the movements were enrapturing and flickering between reality, painting a picture they couldn't immediately put words to; but Mitchell knew better than to put glamour to his movements, walking the edge of two kinds of channeling. It was inspiring enough to drag them into a heated conversation they were woefully underqualified to be this confident about.
As Gavin watched the weaving of Spring's Power, the story of the Bargain unfolded in the abstract. The gathered shuffled as they felt the height of an unseen mountain on which they stood, hunching their shoulders as the Beast's Autumn Mantle reminded them of just how small they were in a feud between Gods. One thing was immediately clear to Gavin's insight; Blood for blood—the collective rebirth requires an equivalent exchange. The Fae cannot create, but the Lost can with their mortal flesh, feeding the Unseen Element that explained the unexplainable. It was returning energy back to the earth so something new could come from it.
Gavin grimaced as he saw images he couldn't quite focus on, as the Rites of Spring remained elusive even as his Season walked him through spells and enchantments like a hailstorm of ideas that slipped through the fingers of his keen awareness. There was a reason and method to the madness, indeed, than simply offering mortal blood to the fields of green. The harder he focused, the more his mind reared against the fate of a madman.
He needed to talk to an entity that could wield reality like a pen to paper, so the sentence in the story could be slightly reworded. He only had to deliver Apollo's gift of prophecy with his Leaden tongue.
Gavin's eyes snapped to the Autumn King.
Coming down from the high of his Mantle and the mad energy of their conversation, Mitch smoothed his hair and slowly registered Henley pointing out his condition.
"Oh," he glanced back at his arm, like it was something strange, "I don't really remember, actually. They're defensive so I think someone just tried to... the burn's from a cigarette, I'd think." He flushed a bit, not looking at anyone in particular as his marble eyes had long dampened from his Season's light. How resigned he was wasn't being hidden at this point, like he didn't take concern at face value and no longer felt the need to pretend.
"I've got some severe memory problems and extended blackouts I'll eventually...stop." The statement was blunt, his tone unchanging from the friendly demeanor he carried. Being a Spring courtier, Henley knew that Carr wasn't known to overshare or have an issue, well, ever. Dropping it on three acquaintances seemed even more out of character, or perhaps highlighted just how serious the situation had gotten.
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Post by Gavin Graves on Nov 20, 2021 23:36:48 GMT -8
"We're gonna need a bigger boat."The Beast joked cryptically as he tried to hold onto the secrets as they flew by and through him at the wild heights of Olympus he was experiencing. He'd hoped he'd come to some breakthrough upon witnessing the weave beneath the surface of the world. The awe of it was overwhelming. With only his knowledge steeped overmuch in the mundane and metaphorical he was not prepared to parse the fabric of reality in its more raw state, especially without the specific foreknowledge of the ritual magics he was examining up close.
Until now, he had only seen the shadows on the wall of the cave. Through training and study he knew there was more to it, but had no concept of the shape it would take. Others less versed than he would see the shadows to be the complete truth of their world. He thought he knew something of what cast the shadows, but was wholly wrong. The eldritch truth was raw and new and tore at the mind. The sheer weight of that truth seemingly landed on his neck and shoulders forcing a stooped posture and a pained expression.
Gavin did not have the words and necessary understanding to convey what he'd witnessed to those that could do something about it. He would need an intermediary and perhaps a teacher.
"Your middle nobility, they didn't end up paying the power bill." He summarized.Gavin knew what had happened. He had even had a hand in the outcome. "I have a concept of what needs to happen to fix it, and it's going to be involved. Please, please, don't ask me to explain it. Please. I'm feeling crazy enough just having seen it." He held up his hands near his shoulders and shook them slightly indicating a sincere symbolic surrender. "I promise, if I told you, you wouldn't feel any more informed.""Best way I can put it, we now have the answers to questions we don't know how to ask."
"We need an expert in your seasonal rites, preferably the most mystically minded, oh, and uh, probably your Queen as well--at the very least as a courtesy and for permission to change things. On my end we need King Samedi and maybe Dame Chunhua." He briefly felt awkward about asking for access to the upper nobility before the raw glare of his new truth winnowed it down with a pressing imperative. Clasping his hands to his head and closing his eyes, internally he grasped around wildly for a stable symbol to hold onto. The equilibrium he sought was not readily in reach. Even his concept of self was unstable at the moment in the aftermath of the Ashen Hunt. Disquieted, he pressed forward anyway, becoming the sole person laughing at a joke no one else heard. He wasn't entirely sure about the necessity of everything he was asking for, but wanted to make sure the scope of the task was broad enough in the others' minds from the outset. It was possible there was some overlap between the knowledge and some parties could be superfluous. The Ashen Notary might be useful for what her entitlement was renowned for: Memory. He wanted to convey what he knew to Samedi in as complete and accurate a form as possible for their best chance at success.
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Post by Henley on Nov 21, 2021 23:51:09 GMT -8
Henley heard Gavin, he did; the mention of the power bill earned a glance and a frown paired with a nod that suggested he was listening and concerned. It was a lot, some high-end Autumn shit coming down the pipe that would absolutely confuse him. Still. A roadmap had been laid, and they could work from it. "We can work on that. You start on your end, we'll start on ours. Meet in the middle, with some nobility in hand, yes...? Unless you'd like me to attend King Saturday's Court with you?"
The rest of his attention, though, was on Mitchell Carr. This actually struck him as more urgent. Severe memory loss and blackouts on a Changeling weren't exactly good among their people. Someone as strong in the Season as him, that was where shit got complex.
"That's... significant." He glanced to Yuan, to Gavin. He didn't know Mitch from Adam, but the man was dropping reality on them. Things couldn't be good. "I take it you didn't hit your head or anything. How does one fix the situation you find yourself in, do you know? Is there anything we could do to help?"
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Post by Mitchell Carr on Nov 22, 2021 21:54:38 GMT -8
Mitchell slowly nodded to Gavin, lip ghosting a sneer meant for a baffled 'huh?'
"That'll be tense," the Fairest mused with an obvious wince. "Papa Saturday is publicly a proper ally, but Queen Phillicia is rumoured to have helped Uriel kill the last Summer King. And she openly opposes the old regime's traditions?"
He crossed his arms as Henley spoke, quietly clearing his clenched throat as one of his hands snapped. Carr didn't sound affronted, despite his defensive posture. Did he hit his head? "Metaphorically speaking," he chuckled. "Yeah, actually-"
I think-
"-I know I've recommended similar cases seek talismans that restore lost parts of themselves. They're hidden amongst the Thorns," he offered an apologetic, long suffering smile to the Hedge Expert; assuming he would understand that the Dancer would be at a lethal disadvantage with the state of his mind. "But it's not really worth it right now with the Gentry on the Trods. I'll take the dive once I figure there's enough fires under control before I just fuck off like that."
His tone was casual enough that Gavin almost believed that the Spring noble was that naïve and overconfident that he wouldn't be absolutely annihilated; when attempting to recover personal artifacts from the Hedge by himself in his shattered state. Carr seemed more focused on the potential damage he could cause if he were to go missing?
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Post by Gavin Graves on Nov 22, 2021 22:56:35 GMT -8
It was always political. Nothing was ever straight forward.
"Alright." Gavin dropped heavily and laughed almost crestfallen, but the imperative prevailed for the moment. "How do you suggest we proceed? Brass tacks, I need a Spring Rite Occultist or someone to teach me your rites and the political cover to not become a pariah for fixing it in a manner your Queen doesn't approve of." He did not stop talking long enough for a word to get in edgewise.
The implication for the work itself spurred another thought that threatened to derail him, "Yeah, Saturday will likely have his own version of a solution that would not be as accommodating to the new Spring idealism. Hmmm." His mania channeled further tilting him toward the edge.
The Beast was frustrated by all these divergent political tethers tying up the glorious forward momentum that could be had. His head was already full of new ideas and ways of thinking. The added layer of social minutia was tedious. The animal urge to simply run toward what he wanted had become overwhelming.
Just as Mitch was about to respond in the brief lull, a realization cut through the welling static in Gavin's head like a sword. "Icarus!" he proclaimed with sudden exclamation. "We go to him and see if he knows the right angle of approach. He knows both our courts well." His energy settled markedly, but not so much that the others couldn't push him back into the welcoming arms of anxiety.
Chunhua would be a good follow-up approach after whomever Icarus suggested within Spring, he decided. She could easily be the filter for correctly presenting the ideas to Saturday in a manner that served the greater good rather than becoming something divisive. She had made such particular note of Gavin's community focus previously; it made sense she could smooth their path out a bit.
Mitch's lack of concern for himself was disconcerting to say the least. It was going to be problematic if he did decide to go off on his own to try to fix things.
"Work with me here on this, and we'll call it payment for a guide on a Hedge expedition to look for what you need." When the predictable dismissal started to form in Carr's body language and on his lips, Gavin interrupted with a final statement. "I need to keep working or I'll get rusty. Everyone is just going to Aftermath these days, and they don't need a guide to get to Chinatown and back, yeah?"
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Post by Mitchell Carr on Nov 23, 2021 7:54:07 GMT -8
The grey that flushed his face deepened as Gavin offered tit for tat, picking at the crystals that were forming on his arms. "Oh! Gosh, I'm sorry I wasn't meaning to come off that I expected any-"
His expression twitched as the Beast explained he needed to keep working, likely missing some of the context and intent as his mind was on fire. The Fairest fumbled fulfilling his requested duties, reaching for his phone and gasping in a discordant hum before Gavin was finished,
"I can call Icarus. I don't need to be bribed to help the Freehold, seriously it's not like that."
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Hua Yuan
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Presence 2 - Nostalgic; SL 1 - Flawless
Posts: 304
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Post by Hua Yuan on Nov 23, 2021 9:51:09 GMT -8
The shards of Yuan’s mask shifted slightly to follow the focus of his attention, reflecting Mitch in a myriad facets. He offered a gentle touch should the Dancer accept it, in recognition of what he had just shared. It was a change from the usual deflection, and a welcome one. He was also grateful for Henley’s concern, showing that people really did care about Carr. He gave the Ogre an appreciative nod.
“How about we revisit Hedge diving after we pull this off?” he ventured.
The list of people to speak with and to put in contact kept growing by the minute, and the Playmate made the ego-fed assumption that he was going to have to do most of the legwork on this. He groaned internally. There had to be an easier way, one that involved less volatile politics and less actors in a rapidly overcrowded play.
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Post by Krakenbox on Nov 23, 2021 10:04:25 GMT -8
Yuan recognizes that Phillicia as a Queen and a Wizened rebelling against the old monarchy likely would have already consulted with her occult experts on replacing the old monarch's rituals.
It's the Archivist's job to update and foster new rituals with Spring.
Asking the source (King Samedi) will likely be the fastest route, and adapt once they have some guidance.
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Post by Henley on Nov 23, 2021 10:32:28 GMT -8
"...no, Yuan? Let's get our priorities straight. One of our middle nobility is clearly in a bad way. Finding a Icon for him is a matter of Hedgespinning, acquiring and escaping. That's a night's work."
The Ogre's temper was flaring, the polished socialite mien giving way to some extent to the Terrible within. He took a breath, calming himself and putting the edge away.
"What we're talking about here sounds like something foundational. Likely months of work. Carr gets his Icon first. It's the right thing to do, but even if we're in a mercantile mind on this, it's helping him be in good shape to be able to help. Right?"
If it had to be a matter of tit for tat, Carr wasn't going to be at his best right now. His need had to come first. He looked to Graves.
"You and me, we know our way about the Hedge, Mr. Graves. I can move through the space between realities if it's unsafe. You're a Razorhand. Your photograph appears in The Bad Guy's Dictionary next to the definition of the word 'unsafe'. No Fae is going to expect us to be blitzing the Hedge on Samhain. Let's do our duty here and then go. Tonight. You, me, and Mr. Carr. Speed run. While nobody is expecting it, while nobody else knows we're going, while he's not having a memory gap. The rituals of Samhain are probably already causing disruption in the Hedge, eh? An auspicious night? Gives us some cover, no?"
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Post by Gavin Graves on Nov 23, 2021 16:50:32 GMT -8
"I mean, I love stomping around in the Hedge. I am a professional at it. I'm always happy to do it. Well almost always. If you want to push that to the top of the agenda, we're going to have to press forward with these politics first. I have to pass on what I learned before going off and taking a risk. It's your court, you all can decide the approach, but, please just make sure I'm not left holding the bag if it goes tits up. Otherwise, I'm just happy to help." His discordant laughter and apparent headache seemed to have been tamed enough to take a breath.
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