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Post by Uriel on Dec 30, 2021 18:14:38 GMT -8
The workshop space was large enough to accommodate more than one tradesperson on the floor, whether it was metal or wood, or a few of the local artists using the kiln to fill the shared gallery next door. Downtown was neutral territory for the Freeholders, with the expectation that many of its courtiers would prefer that no particular Season absorbed its institutions. The population was also dense enough with tourists and locals trying to escape the chaos of the Strip that it was rarer to run into one of the Lost, and hardening the Mask was always an option if one needed the break.
Today wasn't going to be one of those days. Wayland was going over some simple repairs with one of the hobbyist armourers they knew through SCA, while he was encouraging her to meet with one of his friends in the costuming department. It was a goddamn tragedy that her work wasn't being featured in film, and she would make a decent paycheck if she could get into the union. Between the elderly woman welding a large iron horse in the corner, and a frazzled artist trying something elaborate with a slow motion camera, a hammer, and flowers in liquid nitrogen, the Maker didn't immediately think twice as some stray rose petals bruised under her heel.
The Iron Queen leaned against one of the steel beams as she texted with neutral acrylics with a lace pattern on her nails. The hood of her workout gear was up, drawing attention to elongated legs that looked like they could sever a head. She appeared to be in no rush, not looking to interrupt the other Summer with whatever business she had with the mundie.
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Post by Wayland on Dec 30, 2021 21:32:46 GMT -8
Wayland’s worked in film before. In fact, working in film might be dangerous for her. The ‘before’ that she worked in film was Before. The life she left behind. The life some Fetch might be living for her in Oregon, for all she knows, she’s never really looked. Nevada’s not that far from Oregon, and she’s already taking chances by being involved in the local SCA barony. So she’s deflecting the hobbyist’s offers with her usual reserved demeanor, that she’s doing fine on her own and likes being able to choose her own projects, when she notices something. Not the scent of smoke and ash, that’s pretty common in the workshop. Likewise the flash of metal, and even the sound of an impact. But the way this impact rings. The way it resonates. The way it hangs in the air and becomes almost musical. Even having only seen her Queen at a distance, Wayland recognizes her mantle.
“Listen, Maurice, I appreciate the offer, but I’m not interested.” Put it in plain terms so they can’t misunderstand you. Though she might be being a bit more blunt than Maurice deserves. “Excuse me, I’ve got someone waiting,” she adds to make it final, managing to give him a small smile. They’re members of the same community after all, colleagues if not friends, with a shared interest. And really, it’s nice when people try to support local businesses. But he just shot to the bottom of her list of priorities. She grabs his hand and gives it a quick shake to really put a period on the end of this conversation, before quickly disentangling herself and striding over towards Uriel.
For a moment she twists herself in knots. Has the Queen somehow become aware of her oath to Isla? Even if Eis or Blaze hadn’t talked, she wouldn't put it past Uriel and her councilors to have some means of learning secrets. Is this an execution? Not here, in public, where people could see of course. But maybe an invitation to meet in private, an unmarked van, a bag going over her head, a video on everyone’s phone of a traitor being dealt with. She mustn't let her thoughts show, and her stride slows as she searches for something else to focus on. Which is when she notices Uriel’s legs.
Oh yes. That’s something to focus on. Her heart gives a thump as she more closely admires the Queen’s pose. There’s a blink as she fights off a wave of gay panic, and then her pace resumes, mentally giving herself a pat on the back for not stopping to moon like a fool at the sight of such beauty and aesthetic. Her tongue flicks out as she wets her lips, an involuntary motion that she regrets immediately as she comes to a stop in front of the fae sovereign.
“Shereen. This is a surprise.” Another pat on the back, she managed to get those words out without sounding too thrown.
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Post by Uriel on Dec 30, 2021 22:32:13 GMT -8
Uriel's eyebrows went up, with the ghost of antennae only just starting to tease at the ends no matter how much she trimmed or waxed. She opened her mouth to return the greeting, the name getting stuck for a second. This shouldn't be hard.
She was literally the Queen of the smallest Court.
Of course she knew Wayland's name, just not what she went by in public.
"Ramona!" She forgot to smile in the frantic recall, straightening her posture and tilting her head as to not be looking down her nose at the Ogre. "I do that sometimes. I didn't mean to spring this on you..." The dark compound eyes roved, looking like vinyl and glass as ripples caught the harsh lighting; it was always nice to get a snapshot of what her court did in their downtime.
"Thank you, by the way. For helping with the supplies. And with the chaos last fall." She nodded to the others moving in the background, "If this isn't a good place to chat, I think there's a vendor up the street. This isn't an emergency either, by the way," she mentioned, remembering herself.
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Post by Wayland on Dec 31, 2021 15:04:51 GMT -8
The Ogre’s head tilts slightly as she watches Uriel struggle with her mortal-facing name for a moment. It’s nice to know she’s not the only one who can be awkward. Looking into Uriel’s eyes is both alien and familiar; alien due to their compound nature, familiar because if there wasn’t something weird going on it wouldn’t be fae.
She shrugs as she’s thanked, “We’re all on the same team, right? Just trying to do my part.” Which is naive and incorrect and oh god Wayland wants it to be true. Wayland wants the Freehold to all be on the same team so much that maybe she’s a little bit blind to how that’s not really the case.
“There’s an office,” she explains as Uriel makes an indirect request for privacy, “I think it’s empty right now,” she gestures for the Queen to follow with a tilt of her head before turning to walk towards the front of the shop space, where a small room has been set aside as a place to meet with clients, sketch out projects, do some admin work, or take a break. After confirming the office is empty, she gestures Uriel in and closes the door behind them, latching the lock.
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Post by Uriel on Jan 2, 2022 13:17:39 GMT -8
"There's layers to that, when you get a group as big as ours," Uriel sighed, watching the Ogre's gestures and ducking a bit to avoid hitting her head on the hanging light fixture before taking a seat.
"Working with Dame Mary must be interesting," the Beast mentioned, crossing her legs and adjusting her jacket when she remembered her hood was still up. The aura around her head flashed momentarily, with a muted quality of the Winter Sun holding power. "You would think she's mellowed a bit in her later years, but-" her teeth are white as she dryly chuckles. The Witchtooth had only moved closer to the stereotype of her Kith and Seeming with time. "I'm confident she could still put most of us on our asses."
She watched Wayland with interest, "Do you like fighting? Not violence, really, the question's more nuanced than that I think. Some learn how to defend themselves with knowledge and spears but there's always the question if it's just necessity..." she popped her lips, off in her head for a moment as she considered the myriad of Summer connections that roared through the crown.
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Post by Wayland on Jan 2, 2022 13:56:28 GMT -8
She waits until Uriel has taken her seat, before pulling out a chair at the adjacent corner of the table and lowering herself down into it, facing the Queen. Her eyes flick up towards the flash of Mantle where the Crown of Summer once manifested, would manifest again eventually. Royalty. Who decided the Courts need monarchs? The Wyrd? The seasons? Or is it something the humanity of Changelings brought to their society?
As the subject of Dame Mary arises, one corner of Wayland’s mouth twitches upward. “She does me when she feels like it,” she replies, at the mention of her Knight knocking folk on their asses. “I try not to give her a reason to. But it’s been… good. I’ve been learning.” When she can. Sometimes she just has to do what Mary says, without knowing the reasons why.
The question about fighting makes her arch an eyebrow up. Then it comes down, her face going pensive as she considers. As the Queen had said of a different subject, there are layers to this one. Multiple compounding meanings. She takes a moment, trying to compose her reply, before slowly starting to answer; “Someone once said… ‘anger against oppression is a clean-burning fuel’. It’s fuel I have plenty of.”
She raises one silver hand and scratches the back of her head, a sheepish look passing over her face, “Sorry, maybe that’s not what you mean. You’re right, there’s a lot of nuance. And there’s things I like, and things I don’t like. Maybe we could be more specific?”
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Post by Uriel on Jan 2, 2022 14:09:17 GMT -8
"It's specific enough," the Queen said, grinning to herself. "Around here is when you ask me what I want, or think it. But the truth is that wanting something is an excellent excuse to actually meet with other Freeholders."
She ran a pair of fingers along her brow, looking up as she messaged her temple. "A lot of us find it difficult because—well, until recently—we're a Court of War in perpetual peacetime. I think everyone's going through a bit of shock; whether they're guilty for being thankful that they have something to do, or devastated for everyone else that the fight's finally here." Or, at least, that's what Solomon's branch had expressed. Uriel wasn't the best at picking up people's cues unless it was one on one and she knew them well.
"I'd like to know what you like and don't like. About Summer in Vegas."
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Post by Wayland on Jan 2, 2022 14:27:13 GMT -8
‘Devastated for everyone else that the fight’s finally here.’ Something about that phrase rings with truth and poetry. It’s a tragedy that people who don’t want to fight may soon find themselves drawn into one. She’d help them avoid it if she could. But she knows, as Uriel knows, the fight will come whether they like it or not.
The Queen is right, Wayland is curious about the reason for this visit. She should be reassured when that reason is expressed simply and directly, and she would be, if that reason weren’t bewildering in and of itself. After a moment of stunned silence, “Why me?” she blurts out. Then she blinks, and elaborates.
“I kept my head down for three years dealing with my personal issues. I only decided to… stop isolating, start getting involved, in spring.” She doesn’t exactly have a lot of experience to draw from, even regarding her own court. She’s still a relative newcomer here.
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Post by Uriel on Jan 2, 2022 22:14:12 GMT -8
Uriel had picked up a stray pencil and started twirling it in the gap of silence, teeth flashing in a silent chuckle before she could stop herself at Wayland's bemusement.
"...Well, why not?" The Summer Queen shrugged, acknowledging how ridiculous the premise was. "When Lost are isolating, I assume it means they want to be left alone. You stopped, so that means you offer an experience that's different from others. I think it matters to ask when I can find the time and someone's willing to talk to me."
She thought for a moment; not having an issue with running her mouth, but recognizing that her position built quite the wall she now had to chip through. It had only taken a few rounds of sanitized answers, and her finally realizing that her courtiers were telling her what she wanted to hear.
"Let's be real. I had a fire Elemental who enthusiastically volunteered for just about anything turn on a dime with her Court's core values. She's not a bad person for doing that...it's a symptom of a greater problem. I'm trying to wrap my head around it."
The Queen appeared to be referring to Firebringer, which that Season had stripped its favour for lifting up an Oathbreaker while enacting a sacred Summer Rite.
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Post by Wayland on Jan 5, 2022 14:00:14 GMT -8
Wayland is silent for a moment as her thoughts swirl. It’s like someone asking you your favorite book, and your brain sputtering to remember if you’ve ever even read a book in your life. Has she liked anything? Has she disliked something? Her experiences with the Court have been just that, experiences, she hasn’t actually done much in the way of categorizing or evaluating them. Which kind of makes sense; all Changelings are traumatized, and for the traumatized mind sometimes just getting through the day is enough to occupy all your processing power. And regular human trauma is bad enough without tying it to the Fae.
Her thoughts play across her face, her narrowed brows, her pensive expression, her lips forming a thin line as she stares for a moment at the table. Bang-bang pounds her heart in her chest, with it’s ever-present half-imagined metallic quality. Finally, she brings her gaze back to the Queen’s face. “Okay.” A single word, firm, an agreement. “I’m willing to talk. I’m just… not sure where to start.”
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Post by Uriel on Jan 8, 2022 16:04:47 GMT -8
Uriel frowned; not for Wayland's admission, but having the lead of the topic tossed right back to her. She knew Changelings could feel put on the spot when speaking of their Seasonal allegiance, let alone coming from a sovereign. Most questions would feel like an interrogation, or some sort of interview for a progress report. She didn't really care why Wayland identified as Summer? The Beast was more concerned why everything seemed like her people were on fire—some Mud Grunt or incredible artist wasn't going to be able to tell her either!
The monarch's stare was stern, momentarily vacant and forgetting her glare that went above and beyond the Ogre in front of her. The ends of her hair crackled and started to wisp with smoke, and her skin seemed to ripple with tiny flexing scales.
"Do you have any beer?"
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Post by Wayland on Jan 12, 2022 13:33:02 GMT -8
The question is entirely unexpected, and makes Wayland pause and tilt her head. She didn’t exactly have a script for this surprise encounter, but if she did, that wouldn’t have been on it. The Ogre licks her lips, then crosses the office space to a mini-fridge tucked into one corner, resting on the ground. She pulls the door open and bends down to reach within, emerging with two bottles. It’s an unfamiliar label, someone’s home brew, an SCA connection.
She straightens, kicking the fridge’s door closed behind her, and steps back towards Uriel. Both bottles are clutched in one hand while she raises the other to the caps, silver contorting as effortlessly pops open one, and then the other. She drops the caps onto a desk, and offers the Queen a bottle, taking a swig from her own the moment after it’s accepted.
Again Wayland’s gaze goes distant, pensive. For a moment her lips form a thin line, and then, with an unsure but curious tone, suggests, “Maybe that’s part of the problem.” A beat goes by, and she straightens, as if realizing she just said that out loud, and throws a glance at the Queen. “Not the beer. Although… booze does seem to play maybe a bigger role in the Freehold than it needs to. But no, I mean…”
Her eyes narrow to squint as she searches for words, articulation having never been her strong suit. “We talked about how I… isolated. And I was kind of left alone. Which, yeah, I can see the argument for that. You can’t really push people into these kinds of things.” Another swallow of beer, in part because her mouth is dry, and in part to buy her time to find her next words.
“But once I started trying to get involved… it was kind of like trying to jump onto a moving train?” She tilts her head slightly, not quite sure that analogy is right. “Or like, there are all these little fires popping up everywhere. Everyone’s running around trying to put them out. And I just picked up a bucket.” She glances aside at Uriel. “To pull it back to something I ‘dislike’,” what the Queen had directly asked about, “I kind of sense a lack of… structure. And I dislike that. A lack of mission or purpose. A lack of guidance pulling it all together, making sure we’re all rowing in the same direction, y’know?” She shrugs, “And I get that sometimes that takes second-place to putting out actual fires before they spread. But it’s still a thing. I’ve been feeling like I’m working without a net, every step of the way.”
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Post by Uriel on Jan 13, 2022 7:53:52 GMT -8
Uriel glanced at her bottle, quirking an eyebrow at the offhand booze comment before passively listening.
"With a place this big? I leaned on my Entitlement, and I suppose if I didn't have that I would have dragged my cohorts into a motley Oath. We do our maintaining, which you've seen at the festivals and whatever Dame Mary has you up to."
She stared back at Wayland, "Is that what you mean? Or are you wanting to do the boot camp for crisis response?"
The Queen couldn't tell if the Ogre felt a generalized unease with the wealth of issues a massive collection of faeries produces, or wanted an instruction manual for a specific scenario. She never heard of the Maker being part of a personal group that would normally assist in the realm of feelings.
Uriel was also bad for offering actionable solutions when that wasn't the thing being asked for. Beasts didn't dwell.
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Post by Wayland on Jan 13, 2022 10:26:12 GMT -8
She tries to keep perspective. It’s a struggle. Uriel might not actually be as defensive as she seems to Wayland. But it’s pushing a lot of her trauma buttons. She takes another swallow of beer, then puts the bottle down on the table, trying to buy herself time to think. She learned something a while back that can help her here, what was it? Ah, it’s ‘What did we just skip over?’ Because it does feel like something was skipped. Is that why Wayland’s feeling so tense and vulnerable suddenly?
It takes half a second to interrogate herself and decide the answer is yes.
She takes a breath. Always remembering to breathe. Breathing is something she can focus on when she’s feeling things she doesn’t want to be feeling. Then, she answers her queen; “I didn’t ‘mean’” she raises two fingers to make air quotes, “Anything. You asked me what I liked and disliked. That’s something I dislike.”
It feels important to say that first. Because that’s what was skipped over.
“If you want to talk about solutions, I can do that. But I was talking about a symptom. I can't speak to a solution until I know what's causing it.”
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Post by Uriel on Jan 13, 2022 11:46:42 GMT -8
Uriel nodded, a strange high pitched grinding noise emerging from the butterfly's throat.
Wayland had said something about picking up buckets and jumping onto moving trains?
"It is hard to be actively involved in the Freehold's issues. Most courtiers can't approach it, because it's frankly asking a lot. The seniors sometimes reach out to people to try and find more volunteers, so the veterans can have a break, or more realistically tackle something else people aren't qualified for. If it's someone without a motley they sometimes meet other Lost they want to continue spending time with, or working together. Because everyone's crazy, it's hard to smoothly put people into groups and hope they don't set each other off, and leave it up to the population while having networks in place if they seek out help. A lack of structure is sort of a Changeling's brand. We use binding Oaths to get on the same page? It's not a perfect system, because," the wings of her eyelashes fluttered, "In my experience, people are complicated as-is, and now you're putting two traumatized states of being on the same coin and asking them to form a society."
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