Waiting For Rain IC: Spring Slowly Comes

[Thanqol]

"Would that our meeting have come under a brighter omen," Vorel said in her soft, exquisitely cultured voice. "If there is anything I can assist you with, present or future, you have but to ask."

She kept her eyes down, a slight bow in her posture as she spoke. There was undoubtedly power there, but also a deep humility.


"What do you intend next?" Asked Talmage, "Stay, dine and rest, or venture out immediately?"

[Deadly]

"I don't think any of us are hungry or tired right now, but I would really like a quick bath and clean clothes." It seemed like that little concern was prone to get pushed to the back, but she really didn't feel well like this. "If we can spare that time?" She looked to the others.

[Thanqol]

"Of course; the upstairs bathroom has a tub, and the downstairs one down that hall has a shower. You can have your pick of clothes although most of them are about a hundred years out of style." Talmage said with a smile. "Felix!"

"Yes, master?" said the butler, appearing in the doorway as if he'd been lurking there this entire time waiting to be called for.

"Go lay out some clothes for our guests, would you?"

"Of course, sir," said Felix. He paused, gaze losing it's familiar contempt as his eyes flicked between each of the guests, performing mental calculations about style and fit, and then he was gone again as fast as he'd appeared.

[BlasTech]

I've got two days to try to save a man's life, I'm not going to waste a second. Isabelle thought.

"Okay, go ahead Charlene." She said, instead. "Just a quick shower for me though, I'd like to hear more about the courts and their connections as soon as I can, maybe one of them might have something I could be good at."

[Thanqol]

"The courts are mystical connections to the seasons first," Talmage said, "If there's one moment for honesty in your lives, it's in choosing your court. You can change later, but every step down the wrong road is wasted."

Talmage took the iron poker off Jon, twirled it around his finger, and then pointed it to his right.

"Spring, the Court of the Antler Crown. When the world emerges from Winter and mere happiness walks the land. The emotion of Spring is Joy, and if your reaction to your release is happiness or relief, if you want to build something new for yourself, if you want a brighter future for yourself then Spring is your home.

"At it's worst, the Court of Desires is empty lust, corrupted or incoherent wants, or the callous manipulation of others for your own happiness. At it's best, it is of harmony, community, peace and love."

He rotated the poker clockwise, pointing directly up.

"Summer, the Court of the Iron Spear. When the weather is no threat, concerns of survival and family recede. Instead the mind turns to the worse problems in the world; those monsters and people who inflict harm regardless of season. The emotion of Summer is Wrath, and if your reaction to your release is fury then Summer calls your name.

"At it's worst, the Court of Wrath are brutal, senseless thugs, ruled by anger they cannot let go of. At it's best, it brings righteous fury against all that is wrong with the world."

He spun the poker again, this time to his left.

"Autumn, the Court of the Leaden Mirror. As the world dies our thoughts turn to the future and what might be, reading the signs of winter's coming and preparing for it. Autumn's emotion is Fear, the knowledge that darker days are coming. If your heart tells you that the hunt still searches, walk the path of Autumn.

"At it's worst, the Court of Fear are cowards. But at it's best, they are the most courageous souls you will ever know. Autumn knows fear, so it does all it can to conquer it's fear - through understanding, through preparation, and eventually, through confrontation and victory."

He turned the poker one final time, pointing down.

"Winter, the Court of the Silent Arrow. All is dead, all is dust, all is lost. The world is frozen and life is flickering and weak. Winter's emotion is Sorrow, and if regrets at the life you have lost burden you, if you despair that the world is not the way you thought it was, Winter's name is yours.

"At it's worst, the Court of Sorrow spends it's time in pointless, tragic, self reflection and endless tears. At it's best, they are the ultimate realists - not blinded by ideals like the other courts, but accepting of the horrible traits of the world and capable of cutting directly to the truth."

He held the iron poker horizontal, directly at them. "Think carefully on your choice, when you do decide to make it. These are powerful guardians, powerful associations, and powerful communities. They do not think highly of liars."

[the_druid_droid]

“Charlene’s right; I think we’re all good on food. I would like to take a shower though; it’s been... a long time since my last one.”

Jon intended to reaffirm that he would join Isabelle in the trip to see Cludge, but was sidetracked when Talmage began describing the Courts. The details helped; he felt like he was back in college, confronted by a list of student groups to join, and the sense of familiarity was comforting. Unfortunately, the feeling was offset by the importance the Prince laid on making the right choice and his own confusion as to what that choice was.

Arguably, he had felt each and every one of the Courts' emotions that morning alone, and even if one of them was dominant, he wasn’t sure which one it would turn out to be. Although he wanted to find time to sit down and process the past few days, his mind felt slow and tired; he almost missed running, where there were only snap decisions and fleeting sensory impressions to worry about...

[BlasTech]

Isabelle listened attentively, but with more than a hint of confusion on her face as Talmage explained each of the seasonal courts to them. "So what you're saying is that we should let ourselves decide on a court first, before worrying about the jobs that they might be able to set us up with?"

The idea seemed strange to her, although it did make a certain kind of sense. Courts would be more likely to make contacts amongst those who shared their sense of purpose. Summer, for example, would likely have some connection to the police or military, whereas Fall's focus sounded more academic.

Her eyes flicked once, quickly, to the windows of the room and back. Clearing her throat, she spoke again. Her words controlled.

"But isn't that a bit of a leap of faith? Not just because of the lack of knowledge, I mean. The aspects of the seasons seem clear enough to make a decision on, at least in the way that I can feel some draw to at least two. But the courts are still ruled by people, who can still embody the best or the worst of their respective seasons. What should we do if we desire to join Fall's scholars and find only cowards in the Freehold? Or we seek to be Summer's shield and find only a brute in charge?"

Isabelle frowned, for some reason her words were sounding more formal, more poetic, than normal. Her eyes flicked to the windows once again before, more importantly, sweeping over her friends. Taking a couple of deep breaths, she forced her hands to unclench.

[Thanqol]

"The courts are not ruled by people. They're ruled by seasons. And if you're honest with yourself and your season, and embody it's ideals, then the season will crown you the Prince. If you don't, you will never unlock even the least magic of your Season or receive any of it's protection." Talmage said, "You don't have to be friends with the people in your court. You don't have to obey the Prince when he's not in power. But if you chose honestly they'll be people who you at least have something in common with, something you can explore together."

[Deadly]

"I'll be quick," Charlene promised as she wandered off to find the shower. She could have the others repeat what Talmage told them later. Right now she felt filthy and frankly surprised Felix hadn't stood at the ready with a hose when they arrived. Probably he had noticed the smell from miles off. It was one thing to live in the dirt for years when your only company were foxes, having to show herself like that to other people made her accutely aware of how she looked, an awareness she simply hadn't had for years.

She found the downstairs bathroom and turned on the water while slipping out of her ragged clothes. She looked at them briefly and decided they were fit only for the trash. She stopped and glanced at herself in the mirror while waiting for the water to get warm. She stood lost in the image for a moment before tearing herself from it and stepping in under the water. A deep shiver ran through her body as the warm water washed away the cold and dirt. She closed her eyes, imagining the black sludge on its way down the drain. She could stand here for hours under the water, but she knew she didn't have time for that now. With a heavy sigh and some reluctance she endeavored to make the most of five minutes.

Her hair was still wet, despite a furious attempt at flash drying it, as she adjusted the clothes Felix had laid out for her and looked herself in the mirror. It was an unfamiliar face looking out at her with eyes of sad wonder. She reached out to the mirror and ran a pair of fingers over the scars. "Who are you?" She whispered to her image. A woman, pieced together from fragments of impressions gathered over one frantic day through the city's streets stared out of the mirror, dressed in clothes that were - as Talmage had suggested - not exactly in fashion. And yet Charlene felt refreshed, even quite relieved. Somewhat presentable at least.

It was a rather different woman who, a few minutes after entering the bathroom, stepped back out. Not just less dirty, not just dressed in something other than rags, but not quite wearing the same face either. Only the scars remained to suggest a familiarity between the two. Charlene hadn't noticed a difference. The face she saw in the mirror was always the same yet at the same time unfamiliar to her.

[the_druid_droid]

As Talmage finished his overview of the Courts, Jon excused himself and headed down the hall toward the bathroom and shower, giving Charlene a friendly nod as he passed by her.

Once inside, he began to strip off clothes when he realized that some ragged pieces of his outfit were almost glued to him with grime. Jon shuddered a little as he peeled them free, then stepped into the shower and cleaned as best he could with soap and elbow grease. There was still hot water left, and process of cleaning up was one of the pleasantest experiences of the day. He began to feel less like a wild creature standing in the tub, and could almost close his eyes and imagine he was back in the bath at home; of course, the weight of his horns wouldn’t quite let the illusion of normalcy persist.

Hopping out of the shower, he toweled off quickly, and picked up one of the outfits Felix had prepared. When he re-emerged, Jon was wearing a heavily-starched white button-up with brown woolen trousers, set off by a dark green silk vest bearing a subtle ivy pattern. The material was probably older than his grandmother, and definitely not his usual style, but it was well-maintained and he couldn’t deny it had a certain charm.

[BlasTech]

"Well that's of some comfort"

So long as the seasons prefer to embody their best traits more often than their worst. She thought. Somehow the idea of sentient seasons seeking to find the herald of their ideal virtues seemed ... well it seemed like something in a fairytale.

"I'll go get washed up too then." She said, rising. It wasn't something she had a burning desire to go do, but it would give her a moment to think and regather her wits.

[Deadly]

Charlene returned somewhat lost in thought, almost walking into a door at one point when she took the wrong turn along the corridor. "I was wondering," she began as she entered the room and found a moment to jump in without interrupting, "what year is this? It's just I thought I knew I had been gone for years but now it seems maybe it hasn't been that long and," she looked around at the room and down at her dress, "things in here look so old but outside it's just as I remember. It's like someone took time and turned it into a balloon animal."

[Thanqol]

Talmage laughed; bright and genuine, and the room seemed to flood with colour when he did. "Yes, yes that's exactly what happened! See, you know about contracts and all that, right? Felix made some with Time herself. One day about fifteen years ago he just walks up to the ruins of this crumbled-down house on the hillside and the next thing you know -" Talmage waved his arms upwards dramatically, "Poof! Fully restored, curtains and all."

"There was a little more to it than that, my Prince," Felix said. He gave Charlene a long, concerned stare and looked vaguely troubled and irritated by something.

"Anyway, to answer your question, it's 2020. Mobile phones are smarter than human beings, Solutions runs everything, and the coffee is excellent."

[Deadly]

"2020?" Charlene looked down, searching her mind and memories for some sense in it all. "I don't know if that's a comfort or the exact opposite. How's the tea?" The question kinda just jumped into her mind and out her mouth.

[Thanqol]

"I don't know. Felix, how's the tea?"

"A declining art, kept virtuously alive in it's dwindling sanctuaries." The butler responded humourlessly.

[the_druid_droid]

Jon returned, still examining himself slightly as Talmage was explaining the date to Charlene. “So it’s been two years... Felt a lot longer while I was there,” he sat down in another of the chairs scattered around the room and ran a hand through his still-damp hair while he calculated what those two years would have meant back here in his own world.

[Deadly]

"Then nothing much has changed, it seems," she said about the tea, and looked at Jon, "except us."

[Thanqol]

"Well, if you're heading out soon, we'll see to your iron," Talmage said, waving his hand. Felix picked up a large, heavy and ornately detailed redwood box, covered in golden Chinese images of lions. He placed it on the table and opened it up. "One piece each, whatever takes your fancy," said Talmage.

All the iron had the feel of age to it, and had none of the polished shine of steel - these tools were black with flecks of green, leaden and heavy. There were two knives; a large, curved kukuri and a slim, hooked dagger. There was a lantern on a chain. There was an iron gauntlet, taken from some ancient suit of armour. There was a corroded lighter. There was an archaic fountain pen with an iron tip. There was a bonesaw, a golf club, an umbrella and a dumbell.

The sheer weight contained in that crate was slightly dizzying. These pieces had no stories, no history - their mundanity was aggressive. If they could be said to say anything, it would be 'This world has laws'

[Iron Rules:

Iron cannot be affected by any contract or glamour based ability, passes through glamour based defences, and deals aggravated damage to True Fae, Hobgoblins and Hedge Beasts. You gain +1 to resist insanity effects while you have a piece of iron upon your person. You suffer a -1 to any attempt to inflict insanity effects on others while carrying iron. There are further consequences to bringing iron into the Hedge or Arcadia.]

[BlasTech]

Isabelle relaxed as the hot water of the shower flowed over her. Alone, with only the steam and the patter of the water for company, she had a private moment to think. To think about the task she'd taken up, but also to think about the courts and the advice the prince had given.

What was she?

She knew what she wasn't. She was no Autumn scholar, nor a Winter mourner.

But what was it that drove her now?

Images of her durance rose, unbidden, into her mind. She stamped them down before the panic could seize her again, but the feelings remained. That rock, that fire ...

The dress that Felix had laid out for her was a simple, yet ornate affair; dark green, and long sleeved, with a gold trim on the shoulders and across the bodice. The hem bore the same gold trim in an intricate pattern that resembled leaves while the dress itself fit Isabelle snugly, particularly across the hips.

Shifting uncomfortably, Isabelle reflected that the butler had a disconcertingly good eye for fit.

She rejoined the others just as Talmage explained the date. Isabelle frowned at that, if what the prince said was true, her durance had lasted nearly a decade. When the iron was brought forth, she hesitated. Unsure what to pick.

[Deadly]

Charlene picked up the kukuri gingerly, turning it in her hands and studying the metal. "I... remember one like this. I think... my brother had one of these, as a collector," she told herself, struggling. The memory seemed as if it belonged to someone else, but holding the heavy blade it felt like an anchor, something that would keep her safely in place. "Thank you."

[the_druid_droid]

Jon pushed himself up from the seat and went to examine the chest of weapons. He considered for a moment, hefting a few items before settling on one of the iron knives - efficient, and easy enough to carry. Slipping the knife away for safe keeping, Jon turned toward the Prince, “Yes, thank you for the information, and the shower... and the weapons.”

[Thanqol]

"Everyone always takes the knives," Talmage complained to Felix.

"Yes, sir." The butler said.

"I don't think anyone has even given that poor dumbbell a second glance."

"The practical applications would seem to be limited." Felix said, dryer than the Gobi desert.

[BlasTech]

Isabelle watched as her friends chose their pieces of iron. In a moment of supreme irony she'd actually been reaching for the dumbell when Talmage spoke.

Sorry dumbell, maybe next time. She thought, as she instead picked up the fountain pen.

[Thanqol]

"Fine. Don't come crying to me when you need to infiltrate an Arcadian sports centre." Talmage said, "Anyway, the cash."

Felix pushed a bundle of banknotes into each of the Changeling's hands.

"There's two grand a piece there, that should keep you afloat until you find your feet. You can stay here until someone else needs the rooms, but I'm giving this now because who knows - you might need it." Talmage said with a bright smile.

[the_druid_droid]

For a moment, Jon simply looked at the money, unused to strangers handing him that kind of cash. Then he remembered how it felt to walk uncertainly into a soup kitchen, hoping for some food.

“Right, uh, thanks again for your help.” Jon tucked the bills into various pockets of his new outfit and tried to figure out how he could help Isabelle once they found Cludge.

[Deadly]

Charlene considered the money. It was an unusual feeling. She couldn't remember seeing anything like that before. She'd seen poor people before, seen soup kitchens and organizations who tried to help the poor, but just handing them a bunch of money? It seemed odd, but she couldn't say no, knowing that they needed it. "Thank you," she said uncertainly, deciding that somehow she'd pay it back.

[BlasTech]

Isabelle took the money with only a slight hesitation, she wasn't too proud to accept help when she needed it, most of the time at least. It just felt strange to be on the receiving end of another's charity. Silently, she made a promise to herself that she would not waste this kindness.

One hand still holding the pen, and the other holding the bills, Isabelle took a few seconds to confirm that her dress did not, in fact, have any pockets. Shooting a rueful glance at Jon, and a slightly more embarrased one at Talmage.

"Um, this is going to sound really bad, especially after all you've given us." Isabelle winced. "But do you have a purse or a jacket I could have to put these in?"

[Deadly]

Charlene blinked and looked down at herself. "Oh," she had worn dresses before, but usually for formal occasions or at least with a jacket. She had gotten used to having pockets, or not needing them. "I could use one as well, please."

[Thanqol]

"You hear that, Felix? That's two more saying the same thing. The dresses are impractical." Talmage said.

With a single arched eyebrow, and a glance directly towards Jon, the butler managed to perfectly emote, "The dresses are fine. It is chivalry which is lacking,"

But the words he said were, "There are coats and purses by the door, mademoiselles." Even that managed to come across like a slap in the face, feeling more like "What churl would ask to wear a coat indoors?"

[the_druid_droid]

Jon fidgeted awkwardly under Felix’s gaze. The message was fairly clear, but he still wasn’t sure why he should feel bad; lots of women in the current era got mad if you assumed they did need help with something. Even so, he was glad when shifted his attention to someone else - the butler made him feel disconcertingly like a naughty child.