[Changeling IC] Time's Wings: Dark Omens

[Thanqol]

Mercia knocked on the big wooden door.

"Miss Richmond? I'm Mercy Wilde, my friend here is Dirk Uppercut, we're with the Federal Police," said Mercia. "You're not in trouble, but we'd like to have a few words if that's all right."

The Huntsmen hadn't really worked out a detailed plan for this. They both knew that Fetches were weird and unpredictable. Some didn't know what they were, others were ruthless survivalist killing machines programmed to bring down their true selves if they ever returned - and had spent years training for that exact purpose. So the Huntsmen were inclined to see how the conversation went before they committed themselves to any form of leverage.

It's the cessation of motion that brings Aelas to her senses. The hum of the engine is almost silent, the seat no longer lifts and lowers in calm, even rocking. Slowly, she lifts her eyes, wet with tears, up from the steering wheel and slowly, she pokes her head up over the dash. It's not the windswept empty plains of Jarban II, with their craggy stones and barren hills lit by lightning. It's...a little field with alpacas!

Her first reaction is to give Butterfly's steering wheel a hug, and then she steps out with delight and gingerly steps over to one of them. It doesn't appear to be able to talk or use magic (her memory from earth is coming back to her that earth alpacas cannot do either of those things), so she carefuly reaches out a hand and pets it behind the ears, running her hand along the soft, fuzzy wool. "You're very nice, Mr. Alpaca" she says to it.

As this starts to calm her down, it comes back to her that the gargoyle is STILL attached to the car. Her sleep spell ought to have worn off by now, so, with a last pat and a glance backward to make sure that the alpacas are in fact still there (them being still there is important), she goes over to inspect the Gargoyle. "Hey! Wake up! I don't know where we are, where are we?" she shouts. Nearby people in the shop can probably hear this. She hasn't the foggiest what this might look like either. What would a normal person see instead of the gargoyle with its claws sunk into the metal door?

The alpacas are all indeed very nice, and they angle around to lick any exposed hands on the off chance they contain carrots or apples or other alpaca-approved treats. They don't go anywhere either. They are very stable and teleportation-free, as alpacas go.

The Gargoyle's eyes were open when you approach her; her stillness was as uncanny as her swiftness. She pounces like a serpent, swift as nightmares.

[Grapple attempt: 8 dice (6 dice base +2 contract) vs defence 6: no successes]

Even though you evade her initial strike she continues to move, alternating between that uncanny, liquid motion and stillness so absolute it's almost like she ceased to exist. She speaks as she does both, the same cheerful tone as she used earlier, completely disconnected from her predatory motion. "We are in Newcastle. It's a nice place, I really love the flower garden by the lake," she said. "You should see it in spring!"

Then it is so.

One moment, the Pilgrim is not there, and our friends Jack and Lily are making their way towards the convocation, towards our town hall meeting where madness is the order of the day. Then he is there. His presence is the smell of the campfire's ashes in the morning, the shadow that has suddenly been noticed as having always been there, the low huff of his breath. I would not fault either of them for suddenly shivering; it is disconcerting indeed to know that he is suddenly there, and who knows how long he has been?

"Hunters," he says, by way of introduction. "Outside of town. Be careful." He pauses a moment, and does not further explain that he means to ask questions about the Huntsmen among the Autumn court courtiers, and that he has told them so that they can be careful, because he cares about them and would not forgive himself if they were caught by some slavering wolves-in-human-skins out in the wilderness. Not that Jack and Lily are likely to wander too far, what with Lily looking after the affairs of the Winter folk and Jack, being Jack, wanting people to talk to and be around. Still. Life is odd indeed, and people wander sometimes, and it needed to be said. So it's been said.

He thinks about reaching out and patting Jack on the shoulder.

He does not.

Indeed, if not asked, he will not accompany them inside. He will wait, and let them enter in as Winter's shining new courtiers, and come in a few minutes later, a few minutes of leaning against the wall and watching the stars come out, and seeing who comes loping along to follow.

"...thank you," Lily manages uncertainly. It seemed a genuine warning borne from genuine concern but it took her a moment to decide to take it for such. She wanted to ask him to come inside but the lesson not to ask anything of one such has him was still too ingrained and so she went inside quietly.

She was genuinely excited about this meeting and for having resolved their little "problem" with their King. She had felt a keen affinity for the Winter Court the moment she learned of their existence and it was exhilarating to get to see not only them but the other courts all gathered like this. She straightened her hair and clothes not for the first time and ensured she stayed out of the way while securing a good view, remaining next to Jack.

The meeting hall was a theatre, set up as though for a performance. The lights were dim and upon the stage stood the entire Autumn Court, shoulder to shoulder, a wall of identical cloaked and hooded figures. Supernatural darkness concealed their faces. Every one of them had used magic to change their Kith and appearance into the exact same uniformed look; a single unbreakable block, impossible to tell one mysteriously robed figure from the next. A fearful show of unity.

[Socialize 4] Lily, however, can see through it. It's a powerful spectacle, for sure, but they're all really just wearing the same outfit - they still have their subtle social hierarchies; some take the lead and some give way. Some are good at this and some are really not - that one just scratched his butt in a profoundly undignified way, for example, making it easy to place him as Ronald Tortureman, the ogrish enforcer of the court. You can tell who is who, who is important, and who is just there as a backup dancer.

Spring, by comparison, all look like totally ordinary people, all with totally ordinary smiles. They're all dressed in nice clothes and fancy hats, and they've all strengthened their Masks* so that it's impossible to see their warped and scarred Arcadian forms. They look like a bunch of wealthy churchgoers more than anything else; pillars of the community, every one.

[Socialize 4] And they expect the same in response. Lily's paid close enough attention to how Spring operates to know that they find it enormously bad form and very tiresome to talk to them directly about anything supernatural whatsoever. Even approaching them without strengthening one's own Mask is a faux pas. They're not stupid - they will address supernatural problems if they're politely phrased in euphemistic language - but as a whole they would very much like to be done with this whole magic and monsters thing.

[* Systems reminder: The Mask is the normal, non-fairy human shape of Changelings that ordinary humans see to prevent them freaking out at these monsters everywhere. Changelings and supernaturals see through it by default. It can be strengthened for a single point of Glamour, preventing Changelings from seeing through it without more specialized magic]

Summer is not here yet. Out driving around presumably. They'll arrive soon.

As far as Winter goes, it's a disaster. You know there are more of them out there (like Edmund) but, much like King Kent, many are too shy, depressed or antisocial to show up to meetings. There's only about four or five of them here, wearing whatever they happened to be wearing that day, scattered around the seats of the theatre and not talking to each other. They don't really think of themselves as an influential faction and, as a result, they're not. There's a lot of potential power there but someone will need to whip them into shape to make that happen.

Who do you approach, and with what purpose?


Isaac, as you wait outside, one of the Autumn courtiers approaches you, deep in their concealing robes. "Do you wish to wear the mask?" comes the voice, soft and female (and, it must be said, a little bit hackneyed as someone with a very rural accent tries to do a mysterious cult leader voice). Nonetheless it is easy to read them and easy to like them - Autumn smooths the lines of communication and makes your naturally perceptive eye even sharper.

This is Kaitlin the Fleshcrafter, the Kithshaper of the Autumn Court. Mortician's daughter, purple hair, very much into the goth thing and had a big hand in setting the fashion tone for the Autumn range. She personally doesn't mind if you don't wear the outfit but she knows the King thinks it's very important.