walking in a field of fog

[agentlenpc]

Who: You and Fayura
When: Today, a week after the Strangers' arrivals
Where: The Queen's Residence and the Old Town Bazaar
What: Q&A
Warnings: n/a

EARLY MORNING, THE QUEEN'S RESIDENCE
The morning is cold and dark. Inhaling the frigid air is so shocking that those who aren't expecting it cough and wheeze with their first breath. No one really wants to make their way to the training field. Even the Queen's court moves sluggishly, but move they do with muttered recriminations against Allairavar. Cold weather doesn't stop training.

A warming spell around the field keeps it warm enough to practice, and bobbling witchlights and steady e-line floodlights keep the darkness at bay. All along one side of the practice area are weapons with blades live and dulled. The court eases onto the field alongside the Strangers with sighs and grumbles aplenty. No one likes practice on chilly mornings, but they like Allairavar's retaliation against tardiness even less.

Everyone has paired off by the time Allairavar strides out of the manor home with his arm around a woman's shoulders. In the harsh e-line lights and softer witchlight, it's clear she hasn't been well and still isn't entirely healed. Sunken golden eyes scan the field, and her expression is vaguely nauseated. She trembles, either from weakness or discomfort, as Allairavar pulls away and calls in two bladed sticks—weapons caught somewhere between sword and ax.

"Let's go," he tells her, and she takes one stick from his hand as court and Strangers alike look on.

Another male follows them in, sleekly predatory in his slow prowl around the practice field. A dangerous look glazes his eyes, and he circles the whole field once before making a second, tighter pass around the marked off area where Allairavar and the woman square off.

Members of the court trade wary looks, sharing them with the Strangers. More than a few murmur things like, "Verim will go for his throat if he pushes her too hard," and, "Should she even be out of bed yet?"

It seems Allairavar's rule for training is absolute. Even the Queen takes part. Under his watchful eye and tutelage, they run through a warm up that clearly exhausts her, but when he asks if they should stop, she snarls at him and pushes on for another five minutes. Only then does she sit off to the side of the field and begin stretching.

As she lifts from a leg stretch, she catches your eye and offers a small, shy smile. "Would you like to stretch with me? Allairavar's workouts are always hardest the first day back," she says softly.

Allairavar's exercises may be hard, but she looks like she's seconds from collapsing from exhaustion. If she spent this last week resting and still looks so wan and thin and weak, her initial injuries must have been severe.


MID-AFTERNOON, THE BAZAAR PAVILION
Snow drifts lazily through frigid air. Though temperatures hover around freezing, the Old Town Bazaar bustles with activity. Slowly, people rebuild homes and shops burned by the Hunter Guild, and for perhaps the first time in the past fifty years, sentiment has turned against the Hunters.

Strangers out and about in the Bazaar hear:

A landen woman, to her friend: It's not right what the Hunters did, burning down our homes, too.

A well-to-do Blood male, at a food stall: …believe what that pompous Grand Master has to say about a Queen of the Blood.

There's some commotion toward the center of the Bazaar, where the Queen has settled at the pavilion with a group of landen and Blood children. Her only guard seems to be the elegant man seated across from her at the pavilion's wooden table, his eyes watchful as the people pass by.

The Queen herself looks unwell. Though she wears a bright smile and her golden eyes glitter with laughter, they are sunken and dark smudges circle them. Her arms are thin, little more than skin wrapped around bone. In spite of the freezing weather, she wears a tunic with wide sleeves that pool around her elbows as she holds up a small plank of wood and tugs at a ribbon embedded in it. Here, in the chilly winter morning, the woman who brought some twenty Strangers across the vast distances of many worlds looks very human, very mortal, and very fragile.

Her eyes meet yours as she looks up, and you feel a gentle brush against your mind. No matter how familiar or strange mental communication is, no matter how disconcerting or easy you find it, the touch strikes you as incredibly polite. *We can talk, if you'd like,* she tells you over a psychic thread.

Should you join her, you find respite from the cold. A warming spell makes the pavilion pleasantly toasty, explaining why no one wears a jacket and, maybe, the Queen's clothes. She's dressed plainly in a loose, knitted tunic and fitted breaches. She wears no coronet and no visible jewelry except for a golden chain that tucks beneath her tunic.

Fayura offers a quick smile in your direction as she guides the end of the ribbon in her hand through the thin strip of wood in a twisting loop. She offers a soft-spoken explanation to the children before inviting them to try—and inviting the Blood to explain the magic to the landens, too.

As the children turn to their task, Fayura turns to you. "I'm glad to see you made it through the Hunters' attack relatively unscathed." She sets her plank down and taps her mug. Steam beings to rise from it and she lifts it to her lips with a sigh. "And I apologize that I wasn't there to greet you." A wry smile tugs at her lips; her appearance is, in her mind, enough of an explanation for why. "How have you found Draega?"

Comments

mid-afternoon

[mollymocked]

Molly has impersonated royalty, but he has never been in the vicinity of it. The highest officials he's ever swindled (because that's how one interacts with those sorts when you're a carnie) haven't reached beyond minorly titled persons. What he expected of Fayura was a posh woman, maybe a bit severe in her nature, but good-hearted. He expected coronets and jewels. As he steps closer to the pavilion, he looks wealthy by comparison, even if nothing on him is real except the moonbow-shaped green jewel around his neck and the teardrop shaped green bauble dangling from his left horn.

He hadn't intended to do this until he heard people whispering about the Queen being in the area and as he watched from the bazaar and saw the gaggle of children at her feet, he felt maybe he needs to meet this one. He's got barely any charm, but he has two pieces of ripe fruit, and he's broad enough to come without invitation, but he's glad he has it just for the sake of not starting off badly.

"I've been in worse places." He juggles the two fruits methodically- a purple-skinned horned devil in bright colors just juggling for no reason. "And I can tell you this, and this is true- no person of esteemed blood comes out and plays with children where I'm from. I wouldn't be surprised if someone came right out and told me they ate them."

[agentlenpc]

The children look up as he approaches. Many are overtly curious, but none seem frightened. One leans over and whispers, "He fought off the Hunters near my house. I saw him. He's like a Warlord Prince." This seems to be high praise among the children and enough to set the ones that are a little nervous completely at ease. They go back to their lesson, ignoring Molly entirely.

Fayura gives Molly a wry smile as he approaches. Her eyes flit immediately to his two Green Jewels, and she seems pleased that he's already gotten them set. And then her expression falters—first, with confusion at the way he talks about the esteemed Blood, and then with a mixture of horror, disgust, and understanding when he speaks of eating children.

"Then people truly are the same no matter where one goes." Molly may have been speaking in metaphor. Fayura, quite clearly, is not. She sighs and gestures to the bench near her, indicating he should sit. "There's no point in locking a Queen away in a manor. We need the people and the land as much as it needs us. Keeping my distance would hurt everyone."

[mollymocked]

Warlord Prince, despite the fact that it sounds like an accolade, are two words that no one has even put on Molly in his two years of life, though he'll take them, he supposes. From the mouths of babes.

He settles where she indicates and offers her the other fruit. If she's going to sit among the commoners, then he doubts she's worried about being poisoned, though he does glance around just to be certain no one is going to tackle him for handing the Queen an untested fruit. That would be about his luck. "There's decent folk. They just tend to not be the ones talking loud enough to drown out the arseholes." Maybe eventually, the Bryces and Dolans of the world will out-number the rest in the Empire, but he's not gonna be around to see it.

"And I think a better class of nobility would think like that. Hard to care what's going on with the people you're ruling over if all you do is send people out to collect their money and police what they do without giving a shit what they're like." He tilts his head to the side, and barks a laugh. "Do I sound bitter? Oh god, I sound bitter. Well, at least you can honestly say I've received a better welcome here than I have other places. This is not the first place I've entered that was on fire when I got there, and it won't be the last. And the company is fair- Lady, right? I think that's what I've heard them call you..."

Molly intended to go into this being polite and bullshitting and offhandedly charming and here he is, chatting with her like she's anyone else. She's just too humble and gentle for him to try and treat her like a mark or someone he wants something from. She's just a person who gave him an afterlife that will ideally be better than an eternity of slumber in the Raven Queen's domain. And that's fascinating and terrifying and worth as much sincerity as he can give, even if he is being glib.

[agentlenpc]

Fay accepts the fruit, giving a quick psychic probe for poisons. It's something Molly can easily feel, though he might not be able to identify precisely how she's using her Craft. The probe is fairly perfunctory and most certainly casual in its execution. Across from her, Verim eyes the fruit with suspicion until the psychic energy fades, and then he goes back to watching the children.

"Lady, yes," she assures him, taking a bite of the fruit and sighing with pleasure. Fruit can be hard to come by, especially in winter. Draega isn't the final bastion of civilization, but it's one of the last. In winter, navigating the Heartsblood river becomes significantly more difficult, and traversing the empty land between Draega and the next city is a dangerous prospect. Trade thins in these months.

"I do wish the circumstances had been better. If the Hunter Guild hadn't attacked..." She frowns. "I still don't know how they knew."

"Especially since you didn't tell anyone what you were up to," Verim says dryly.

Fay shoots him a look. "You didn't draw the short straw," she reminds him. "You don't get to fuss at me." To Molly, she explains, "I made them draw straws or else I would have gotten my ears blistered by all twelve of the First Circle, plus the court's Healer, plus all their partners. Too much fussing."

[mollymocked]

He's gonna have to get used to that- that weird mindfeel whenever someone uses magic near him. As someone who doesn't have any of his own (or didn't until now), it's never been something he had to think about. Still, he takes no offense and Verim gets a little wave and a cheeky grin for his troubles.

He crosses one lanky leg over the other and makes himself a little more comfortable. "Well, it's not like you did it for fun. You've got your reasons, and you made some decent offers that we didn't have to take. And all thing being equal, you pulled me out of... Let's call it a less than ideal situation. I'm grateful for that, and it makes up for a harrowing welcome." He pauses and then adds, "Are you going to be all right? I'm not fretting- don't worry. You're a grown woman who can take care of herself, and I can see that. It's just... That was a lot of magic, wasn't it?"

[agentlenpc]

This is the first of the Strangers to express gratitude for her bargain. Though she begrudges none of them for their frustration, she can admit to herself how pleased she is that at least one of the appreciates what she's offered. It relieves some of the guilt she feels for wrenching them out of their world, offer or no.

His concern touches her, too, and she smiles. "No, it's fine. It's kind of you to worry." She runs her finger around the lip of her mug, staring at the dark coffee contained within. Black, no cream or sugar. Just pure caffeine. "It was. It was more than I thought it would be."

She calls in a pen and a notebook, flipping the notebook open to a blank page. She passes over pages filled with spiderweb designs with tight, neatly written annotations beside them. On the blank page, she sketches out the tangled web she wove. Tether threads extending from a single point to one of four sides. A single thread that starts in one corner and spirals slowly into the middle of the web. She draws a vaguely Jewel-shaped object in the middle and she taps it with her pen. "My Jewel was the anchor for the web. A drop of blood here." She taps the start of the spiraling line, at the edge of the web and then begins to draw little threads extending out from the spiral to the tethers. "These should have bled off more of the power. Should have prevented the blacklash. But they didn't."

She sets the pen down and scratches at her chin. "I guess there was more power in my Craft than I anticipated." Even to her, that sounds lame.

[mollymocked]

Molly knows that Caleb would eat up such diagrams, would want the full details expanded and elaborated on until he was satisfied with everything, but Molly doesn't have much in the brains department and very little interest- still, she cares enough to be open about what she did, and he cares enough to listen to her.

"And... It pissed those people off because...? They were specifically here for us, weren't they? I think that's what I heard."

This is a lot. But still better than being dead in a ditch and with a better opportunity to destroy the Shepherds. A woman this powerful could surely squash them if she can reach that far. She might even be decent enough to be glad of the chance.

His friends will be safe. He can leave them with that.

[agentlenpc]

Fay studies the web as though that might have answers for Molly's question before finally shaking her head. "It's hard to say if the Hunters came to the residence because they thought they could stop me or because they were interested in killing all of you."

She doesn't know how the Hunters found out about her magic. "I only told the First Circle the morning of. I knew they wouldn't approve, and that's why I insisted only Verim be allowed to accompany me while I worked. All I said of the spell..." She frowns. "I don't remember much of that day."

Verim speaks up. "You said you'd found a way to bring help. A neutral, third party," he says, gold eyes flicking to Molly before returning to scanning the open air market around the pavilion.

Frowning, Fay takes a sip of her coffee. "So then they likely wanted to be at the residence to deal with whoever I might bring. The Hunters are quite proud of their ability to kill the Blood."

[mollymocked]

Molly rolls his eyes, which doesn't have much of an effect when you lack any coloration in them other than varying shades of blood red, but he puts his entire head into it to show his complete irritation with that attitude. "And they're happy to set fires to innocent people's homes to do it. It's not the first time I've woken up with someone or something trying to kill me, but usually the collateral damage is lower."

And it reeks to him. It's not like the Shepherds at all, and yet it's close enough to throw his weight behind it. "I'm fine with being a neutral third party, and I'm fine with people trying to kill me- I'm probably better at killing than they are." This is an exaggeration and a lie, but he has killed many things, so that has to count for something. "There's just a lot right now, and I don't have to tell you that. You're the one spinning the plates."

[agentlenpc]

"The Hunter Guild is quite zealous in their beliefs," Fay agrees with a slight inclination of her head. "I wouldn't underestimate them too much, especially Master Hunter Raya." Disgust flickers across her face. Disgust and fear. Absently, she curves her right hand around her upper arm, rubbing over her shoulder. "Killing the Blood is hard, but they've managed to kill many. No one died that night likely because they were unprepared for what they found."

They'd sent so many against the Queen's Residence, one might almost wonder what they were expecting that would demand such numbers. But, well, she has just said the Blood are hard to kill. Maybe it's that.

"Thank you, Mollymauk." She drops her hand and offers a faint smile. "I know I'm asking a lot and none of you have a reason to go along with what I'm asking. I appreciate that you will."

[mollymocked]

That is a name he files away. He doesn't like this, doesn't like how it's just the murderous version of the Iron Shepherds, but it feels... Maybe not right, but fair that he's here and this is a thing he needs to deal with after failing to deal with the Shepherds properly.

One for one?

"You're welcome. I'm willing to give a healthy dose of suspicion to things like this, but I don't think anyone not on the level would be here in broad daylight with one guard. And... I'm usually a good read on people."

He pushes himself back onto his feet and gives her a little bit of a flamboyant, wrist-flicking bow. "My lady." He pivots and begins walking away before turning on his heels again to walk backwards, facing the pavilion, "And if you kids want to see something exciting after you're finished, I'm gonna try juggling swords in the market. It'll be great."

Look, you gotta boost morale some way. And sometimes you just gotta give the people some performance art for no reason.

[thestewards]

For readily telling Fayura he is willing to help her, Molly gains +1 influence with Fayura's court. For calling her out, he receives +1 reputation with Fayura.