[Changeling] A Gathering of Mists IC

[Anarion]

Breakfast is a rather tense affair. Helen comes out, this time with her hair brushed flat, which makes her look a bit like a boy. She compensates for that with a pink t-shirt that has a couple hearts with glitter all over them and a pair of worn blue jeans. Despite her perky apparel, the only comment you get is
"you better not be here for dinner, got it?" that comment is punctuated with the flying crumbs from a piece of toast.

Watching Hatsy eat is also a rather curious affair. Food goes up near the top hat and as it's about to touch a swirl of cape, it just disappears, though you can see bite marks on the remaining bread. It also appears to lift its fork without opposable thumbs. Though really, that's the least weird aspect of it.

Both Helen and Hatsy appear to be diligently pretending that they've joined a convent and taken a vow of silence.

[SiuiS]

Charlotte stands silently for a while, becoming more and more embarrassed. It was possible that Hatsy had not heard her, or even thought she was talking to the other Stephanie. It was more possible that she just decided to continue her life as though the thorns hasnt regurgitate lost lives and broken children all over.

There was only one thing to be done, then. Laundry.

Helen seemed ready for the world. Hatsy probably had somewhere she had to go and then pine for home at. Eggs or no eggs, now was the perfect time. Quietly, fluidly, Charlotte begins moving through the apartment collecting any laundry that may have strayed from its hamper, and in so doing tries to find a suitable pair of pants that wouldn't be noticed or missed.

[Anarion]

Charlotte finds a couple pairs of blue jeans that should fit her with no trouble. One a bit more worn than the other.

Meanwhile, Helen and Hatsy finish up eating. Still saying nothing, Hatsy begins clearing the dishes. Helen announces (looking at Hatsy and studiously avoiding the gaze of anyone else) that she will be at Jane's house all day, and home for dinner, and heads to her room to gather her backpack.

[Raz_Fox]

Real food is amazing. It is not some dry, disgusting dog food put in a bowl far too seldom, it is not a bone with a few scraps of meat tossed to Marchande, it is toast and eggs and it is what people eat and it is the most wonderful thing in all the world. She eats with a fork and knife, deliberately. She is not going to stick her face in her food ever again.

Once she is done, she stands up, picks her plate and utensils off the table, and cleans them off, making sure that not only is the job done decently, but that she doesn't get any water on her suit. It is quite possibly the most meticulous, determined cleaning that the dishes have ever seen.

Once that is done, and her hands have been dried, she turns to her friends. Well, to Kalina. Charlotte seems to have vanished, and Stephanie didn't even bother to get up. "Well," Marchande said, with a bit of a sigh, "You heard our host. Time for us to find accommodations- and the money with which to pay for them." Even though there are questions she would still like to ask- ah, wait, there's one that needs asking now. "Give me just a moment and we'll start," she says to Kalina, before following Helen.

She knocks on Helen's door, as politely as she can, and asks, if the door is opened- "Excuse me, but before you leave, can you do me a favor? I'd like for you to describe what I look like. What all of us look like, ideally, but if you don't have time, just tell me what I look like."

[Anarion]

Helen answers her door. She's got her backpack ready, and a gray, fluffy jacket that she's putting on. In response to Marchande's question, she gives a "how stupid are you?" look, but says
"Um, you're kinda tall and thin, and you've got a suit on and your hair is in pigtails *suppressed giggles.* Um, and I guess you do have a pretty nose and nice eyes too. Your little mousy friend is really short like Stephie, but she's got a pretty face. Your big friend has, like, white-blond hair and she's really beautiful. I wish I had skin like that, so smooth and perfect. And she looks really strong too. Does she work out?"

[SiuiS]

Charlotte continues gathering clothes, finishing her self appointed laundry task. Setting what there is of laundry, wherever laundry goes. Findig where it one's may take some time, depending on how regimented things are.

The ask done, and both the masters of the house about their business, Charlotte slides the most worn pair of jeans out of the stack and surreptitiously takes it to the bathroom. Closing the door, locking the door, sittin on the -- EEP! Colder than I thought... sitting on the toilet cover, she wins working the pants on over her legs. For their part, the legs don't quite cooperate, being dumb to the ways of pants after these long years. The fastener gives her one last spot of trouble, before final victory. She looks into the mirror over the sink, because normal people admire their handiwork with clothes. Her complexion is as she feared, milky and smooth. Not a normal girl, but a... Well, her. A doll, or action figure of some kind. Oh well...

Charlotte blinks away sudden, subtle tears, and represses whatever the mirror brought up within her.



***


She stands a pace back, politely. After all, Marchande didn't invite everyone along. She went herself, and for now, that is as good as a command. She is patient. She can wait.

It doesn't hurt that Charlotte is standing far enough back that Helen can't see what she is wearing, either.

[Anarion]

Helen makes her way past Marchande, finishes putting on her jacket (those watching are aware it makes her look a tad fat), doesn't even spare a glance for Charlotte, and heads out the door.

[Thanqol]

"Good morning, this is Radio Nowhere, repeat, this is Radio Nowhere - is there anyone alive out there?"

Urghhh...

"No, seriously. Is there anyone alive out there? I'm seriously starting to suspect I'm talking to myself here. They were all, "221B! You have a good voice! You should have a radio show!" And now I've got one and it's not as romantic as it sounds. I'm in this cramped apartment with several thousand pounds of illegal radio equipment. You know how hot this stuff gets?"

Stephanie opened one eye, bright orange even in the darkness. There was a girl's voice talking to her, tinny and distorted. She started to rummage blindly.

"Anyway. I guess I'm supposed to talk about the news here? Well, about eight hours ago I committed an act of terrorism against a major United States landmark. They'll probably notice that one in a few hours. My friends are all on drugs, and they're making an awfully good point that I should be on drugs too too. I'm also still not sure what happened last weekend, but I haven't seen any pictures in gossip magazines and I haven't been picked up by the feds so I think I'm safe for now."

Aha. There was the culprit. Stephanie grabbed the crappy old handheld radio out from under the blankets and held it up. She glared at it in the darkness.

She remembered this radio. The dial had come off years ago, sticking it on one empty radio frequency. She'd intended to get it fixed but must of ended up sticking it in the closet instead. And now it seemed she'd turned it on, and someone was using that frequency...

"Anyway. You people aren't here to hear me talk. You aren't even here. But it doesn't matter! I'm not doing this for me, or even for you. I'm doing it for the Music.

Next up, Coldcut's Everything is Under Control."

Well, there was no way she could sleep now.

The closet opened smoothly, silently, and Stephanie was out, cape wrapped around her, radio safely in her pocket. Her hood was up, two large, orange eyes glaring out of the blackness. She moved quickly and smoothly, but with a brittle edge like she would snap if distracted at all from the task at hand.

Coffee. A set of knifelike tendrils emerged from under the cloak, picked up the bag and slashed the top open with razor-sharp tendrils. The switch for the coffee machine went on. The tendrils snatched down what was less a cup and more a small bucket with a handle.

Coffee first. Everything else could just... wait. Coffee first.

[Anarion]

Helen shuts the door and is out of the apartment. Marchande and Charlotte find themselves standing in the hallway in front of her room, when the closet door behind them starts making noises. At first it's a faint static, but then faintly you can hear someone talking, although it's obviously a man and not Stephanie. You catch "act of terrorism" and "I'm doing it for the music" among other bits. And along with the radio there is some faint groaning and the sound of something moving.

The closet door then opens and the tentacled shadow that is Stephanie walks out, although all the shadows seem to droop a little bit and the tentacles twitch at the ends and look positively edgy.

The radio is playing music, which filters through the apartment. Kalina can hear it in the kitchen, where she is still sitting with the last of the plates and bread crumbs. Hatsy is in the kitchen as well, waiting for Kalina to finish and doing her best not to look at the armored angel sitting nearby. When Stephanie walks in, Hatsy turns slightly and proceeds to back out of the way. The cape flutters back and forth when it watches Stephanie slashing open the coffee with her tendrils. And as Stephanie as adding the water, you hear the coat rack add, carefully, "I'll take some of that."

[SiuiS]

Poise, decorum. Everyone expects them to come naturally, and they do. What no one expects, or even admits, is that it only comes naturally after the training. Like a sean gracefully dancing across a pond, and never you mind it's feet viciously and violently tearin up the muck, churning away.

It is then with every aspect of her being, voice, posture, body language, that Charlotte makes a convincing stab at smooth, twitching shadow beasts descending from hall closets and slinking away being an everyday occurrence. Pay that no mind, Marchande.

"I am ready now, miss. To go shopping."

[Raz_Fox]

Stephanie looks terrible in the morning. And, apparently, Marchande looks like... a person with nice eyes and a good nose, and pigtails. Just pigtails. No ears, no long teeth, no wet black nose. If only.

Charlotte is suddenly at her side, and Marchande blinks in surprise. Where'd she come from? She'd been looking around, and now she's dressed, almost normally. And she wants to go shopping. "Shopping?" Marchande repeats, incredulously. "With whose money? I don't have any, you don't have any, and I'm sure we can't ask Charlotte's... twin to lend us some."

[SiuiS]

Charlotte moves her hands, searching or pockets. She finds them, and then pays one with her left hand before relaxing. "I'm sure I'll find some. And you promised."

[Thanqol]

No audible response, but an adjustment of the amount of coffee going into the machine. Jagged black lines snatched down a second cup and poured them both full, both rather heavy on the milk, and sliding one across to Hatsy.

Then she sat, curling up around her cup and nursing it with slow sips. The slow, bitter, approach to consciousness began.

[Raz_Fox]

"I promised?" Marchande raises an eyebrow, trying to remember when she did. But she must have. And promises are supposed to be kept, promises actually mean things, and you don't dance around the truth. "All right. Though we should ask if Kalina or Stephanie want to go."

[SiuiS]

"... Oh. Yes, oui. I had not considered that."
Charlotte deflates. Of course, they should invite the others. Stephanie was no longer just pointing out Kalina, who was no longer in mere repose. Of purse they should move as a group.

"When you are ready, miss, I will be, too."

[PhoeKun]

It was a strange thing, to eat so slowly and deliberately. Silence, that much was natural, but every day of Kalina's life that she can remember, mealtime has been a matter of madly scrambling to stuff as much down her throat as possible before trouble came (usually with a capital t). But suddenly there's no need for that, and she intended to savor it. Egg on top of toast. Deliberate, thoughtful chews. Taste. Oh gosh, taste. If only she could have known food had such a thing.

But, perhaps she took to savoring a bit too much, because by the time she stands, everyone has left the table. Worth it, at any rate. She shrugs and carries her plate over to the sink, where deposits it as gently as anyone has ever left a dish of any sort. She spares not a word or glance for either of the actual residents of the house, but makes a beeline toward Marchande and Charlotte. She catches part of the conversation, of promises and shopping.

"I can't offer any money," she begins, "But I would still be very grateful for the opportunity to wear something more complete and less... restrictive in the back. Wonderful as this coat is, it possesses neither of these qualities."

She blinks. Shopping? Is this another dream?

[Thanqol]

Stephanie had waited to see what Rose would say before coming to a decision herself. She nodded quietly. "'sec," she muttered, took a last sip of the coffee, and headed for the bathroom.

The single shaft of sunlight that came in through the window was like a jagged spike of broken glass in her eyes. She pulled the curtains shut. She really had to... go out into that?

Yeah. She did.

She moved slowly around the echoingly familiar bathroom. Everything was right where she'd left it, exactly as she'd left it. It felt like home. A place where she could relax, be herself, pick up her old routine.

She turned on the shower. Cold. She stepped in, fully clothed.

Screw routine.

She closed her eyes and looked directly at the shower head, water pouring directly into her face. It ran off the cloak without absorbing into it, smoother than a raincoat, but it soaked into her shirt, pants, socks, drenching her to the bone. Her hood fell back and the water started to soak into her tangled blonde hair.

In that moment, she found a strange kind of peace. Like all the pain and sleepiness and upset and duty just... didn't matter any more. That for a moment she genuinely didn't care.

She turned the shower off. She stood still for a moment while the last of the water ran off her, then sighed, pulled her hood back up, and went outside.

"Let's go," she said, heading for the front door, making it clear from her tone she didn't want to talk about why she was soaking wet.

[SiuiS]

Charlotte, upon Kalina's response, fills again with brightness. With Stephanie's agreement, she beams. She turns this on Marchande, highbeams, a laser of joyful expectations.

"Après vous, miss."

[Raz_Fox]

"We need money," Marchande says to herself, looking at Charlotte and Kalina and... oh, Stephanie just walked out of the apartment. "Come on," she says, briskly, following Stephanie out, stopping only enough to quickly thank the changeling. It looked like Stephanie knew where she was going, so Marchande would follow.

"Charlotte created a key, she might be able to make money," she muttered to no one in particular as she followed Stephanie. "And I, last night, I gave her a bit of... some luck. Maybe enough to fool a machine? Find a slot machine, I could probably... break the bank. Kalina? Not sure, Stephanie, not sure. Shoplift? No, no, not right. Trade. Make money. Yeah."

[Anarion]

Walking out of Stephanie's apartment during the daytime is a very different experience from the night. By the time you leave, the fog has partially burned off, so the day is a combination of blue skies and bright sunlight with low hanging clouds and wisps of mist still in the street.

You walk a few blocks back to Market street. The scene that confronts you is something else altogether. Marchande had thought the goblin market was crowded, but that was nothing compared to the mass of humanity walking the street. There are people on the brick sidewalks, which are almost wide enough to fit 10 walking abreast. In the evening fog, the scope was not so obvious, but this morning there must be several hundred people walking back and forth.

On the streets, cars, metro trains and bikes mix together, and several criss-crossing power lines make the scene even more busy. Both sides of the street are lined with some early shops. Down the street towards downtown is a mall, and closer to you is a shoe store and a golf and tennis storefront that looks like it fills two stories. Several streets come in at off diagonals leading to a confused intersection just down the block.

And, is that a gazelle wearing a blue suit near the end of the street?

[Thanqol]

On her way out, Stephanie had taken a dime from the change bowl on the shelf. It wasn't enough to buy anything, but it was enough to safeguard her if someone asked her for money.

The sunlight was agonising. It was like walking through a field of broken glass with your eyeballs. Her head pounded with a hangover she hadn't earned. Her socks squelched with water in her shoes.

She continued her sodden way, listening to Marchy natter. She rolled her eyes a little through it, and didn't bother to answer. If shoplifting was ruled out then she sure as silver didn't have anything to contribute. And everyone was walking so slow...

She blinked. Deer in suits. Now she was hallucinating. Wow, days sucked. Maybe she was dying? Maybe she was in the process of being burned to death by the sun and was only still walking out of stubborn whateverness.

She pulled her hood a little higher and sighed.

[SiuiS]

Spirits! I didn't know your life sucked that bad, Stephanie
:(

Charlotte meanders along, looking, listening, scenting the world around her. Te day is bright and blue and yellow, and the people are pressing like a sea of sardines. And why, it's a crowded market! Fortuitous, that. Or serendipitous? It had been far too long since such words truly mattered...

She slows down, frowning, breathing heavily. Of course the humans can't see them but that doesn't mean the lot of them aren't still Different. Would her words have her away? Would she slip? What would they do if they found out, anyway? Charlotte had heard, had lived too many stories not to think of all humanity as some united Other, waiting for a fault, for her to trip like a doe in the brambles... And her actions, too!

Charlotte composes herself. This is San Francisco. She isn't the only one barefoot and in jeans, is she? Nor is she the only one who moves with a group, even as strange a group as this. No, she is fine, safe. As safe as that gazelle at least. Antlers are bound to draw far more attention than a pretty young girl, non?

... Wait, antlers?

[Anarion]

Indeed, Antlers. Though as a gazelle, they aren't especially large ones, simply pointed with a slight curve coming off his head. From a distance, the gazelle man seems to be meandering at a leisurely pace, and he is turning to head into the shopping center next to the underground rail stop, which is about one block down from where you are. Nobody else in the throng of humanity seems to be reacting unusually either to this gazelle fellow or to any of you.

(That would be the Powell Street Muni Station for those with enough city awareness to recognize it.)

[Thanqol]

[You know how your eyes hurt when suddenly adjusting from dark to light? It's like that except after five years of total darkness]

Oh what the sod. She had nothing to lose right now.

Stephanie approached the deer-man, tugged on his sleeve, and said, "Excuse me, sir, are those real?"

[Anarion]

When Stephanie tugs on the sleeve, the man speaks in a gruff voice and starts to say "are what real?" but then finishes turning around and sees the shadow being holding his arm. When he gets a good look at Stephanie, his whole body tenses and he jumps back a few feet and starts talking in a frenzy while backing off further and further from Stephanie.

"Who...no, don't recognize, never seen before. Dangerous, yes, might be crazy. New changeling, can never be trusted, need to bring to court, but can't stay here. But won't be here when I get back, big city. You, darkling girl, stay here, yes? Will be back soon, meet several friends."

*His eyes start to flicker around the area and he notices the others, most especially Kalina*

"Incredible, winged ogre, beautiful specimen. Looks strong, in good physical condition. Stay here, will be back, will bring help."

At this point, he turns to leave.

[Thanqol]

"Oh. Okay!" Stephanie said, thinking this all sounded totally reasonable.

Years of bad guys being clearly marked and uniformed as bad guys, and eccentric but helpful mad scientists had made her awfully trusting in this regard.

[SiuiS]

Charlotte is intrigued. On the one hand, a gazelle man. He might be as visible to them as they were to him - as they were to each other. Her mind reeled, in the spindle-and-axle sense, computing. He was wearing a suit. Did he escape too, just recently? Coils he be mere days ahead of them, trying to blend in? or could he be an old hand (hoof?) doing what other adults did, dressing up, and going somewhere to sit and dream o home and get yelled at?

But...

The other hand, she was always there. Sometimes with a fresh-picke wildflower, sometimes just knuckles and a surprise. There was still the matter of shopping. Stephanie and Marchande had it easy. Even Kalina, resplendent in her formed armor had it okay, though her wings looked painfully bound (and Charlotte makes a note to find a way to bind down her wings un-painfully. What are friends for, after all?), but she herself... Well. She had borrowed some pants that were too snug in the bum and strangle ample at the thigh and chafed funnily, she had no shoes for the cold morning brickwork, and was lucky enough of her shift existed to give her a sense of modesty!

Well, that settles it. Gazelle man will still be in town tomorrow, but without clothes she might not survive the ni-- Gracious,Stephanie. Really?

The naive nightling moves too fast! Figuratively as well, as forward as she's being. Charlotte catches up in time to hear most of the innocuous mumbling, but only really focuses on the one part before the gazelle man leaves

"Stephanie, miss. I don't think Marchande would appreciate being a specimen. And we don't know this man's motives. We can't know what he desires with us..." Her voice is laced with reproach poorly veiling concern.

[Anarion]

The Gazelle man begins to walk away, not listening to Charlotte's questioning.

[Meaning if one of you does not act to prevent his departure now, he will leave.]

[Thanqol]

"Don't be silly, he seems -" Stephanie started, glancing at the retreating deer-man.

[Cupid's Eye: "What does he want with us?" 5 - 2 (sunlight) -0 (Surface thoughts). Tell me if he desires Stephanie so I know if I need to spend the glamour or not.

2 successes, opposed by his composure +wyrd. If Stephanie senses anything along the lines of "Sell them into slavery!" she'sa take him down with her imposing ~50kg physique.]

[Anarion]

Gazelle's desire

Spoiler

Show

The Gazelle desires all of you to go to the Court. Stephanie doesn't understand where the Court is, but it feels secure.