Burning Man -- Logs

Shateishael wakes up the next morning feeling uncommonly comfortable. It takes him a moment to figure it out -- he's got Bella half sprawled across him, her head resting on his shoulder, her hair a sweet-scented spill across his chest and one of her arms looped across his front... and on the other side Rosie's head rests on his abdomen, where the little Mercurian is curled snugly up against his hip and legs.

Slate blinks slowly, a rather new, tight but pleasant sensation in his chest as he looks down at them both, an arm about each of them. He smiles slowly after a while, and lets his usual song to the bright lady of dawn remain internal today. He has... little to no impetus to move!

Bella stirs with a little not-quite-purr, blinking and raising her head to remind herself where she is. She smiles across at the Mercurian and then stretches up to kiss Slate good morning, "Hrmm... I like this."

Shateishael returns the kiss with quite a bit of pleasure, then grins and rumbles quietly, "Me too. Help y'self, sweetheart."

Rosenstern stirs in his sleep a little, snuggling a little closer against Slate. He seems exhausted; even if angels don't normally need sleep, his physical vessel must be worn out, to say nothing of how emotionally he must be. Shateishael glances down at Rosie, then shakes his head slightly, "He's gonna have a hard time inna Winter Court, I'm thinkin'... poor kid." He strokes one hand lightly and reassuringly along Rosenstern's back.

Rosenstern stretches out a little, almost catlike, with the hand upon him. Slowly he opens up his eyes. "Good morning," he murmurs, not unhappily.

Shateishael smiles lazily down at Rosenstern, his ice-blue eyes gleaming slightly in the faint dawn light, "Hey there, Rosebud. How're you feelin'?" He feels... curiously tingly this morning. He's not sure why... but he has a very strong urge to run his hands all over both his companions. Bella hasn't even really been considering it, but she too has been lazily petting both Slate and Rosie, moving languidly from stroking Rosie's side to caressing Slate's stomach and back again. Shateishael sighs softly, his eyes half closed as his body responds to Bella's touch. He presses Rosie gently closer to him, and with his other hand strokes Bella's back in long, savored strokes of warmth and sensation.

Rosenstern tilts his head a little, so his chin rests on Slate's thigh. The lithe Mercurian has a soft smile upon his lips. "Very nice." He blinks a little, becoming a bit more awake. "Mmm... good, thank you. Worn out, but good. How are you feeling?" He looks even more comfortable with the petting from the both of them, and rather gingerly, almost hesitantly, he very gently runs his fingertips along both Slate's leg and Bella's.

Bella's almost-purr is much more of a purr as she gets petted, "I'm feeling fantastic, actually. Last night was one of those times like working for fourteen hours on a new piece of pottery and loving every second of it."

Shateishael rumbles quietly and appreciatively at the touches. Internally he's a bit surprised at how easily he's slipped into this mood... but it feels wonderful, and he sees no reason to stop. "Mmm... good t' hear, beloved..." He draws a slow breath, then simply speaks what's on his mind, without reflection, "Bellisima, wanna share the lovely Rosebud with me?"

Rosenstern takes in a soft breath, holding very still. After a moment he whispers without any sort of nervousness, "Whatever might please you both." For a moment he's surprised at what he says, and the conviction behind it; it wasn't all that long ago that he wouldn't have thought himself so yielding. Was it the glamour of the fae court? he thinks. Was it seeing Soma again? Is this something Mother is going to notice about me? ...do I even mind?

Bella laughs warmly and hmms, sliding her body over Slate's until she's laying across his legs in such a way to be able to kiss Rosie, putting everything into the kiss for a long moment or two, "That would be lovely... and I have to say that you may be the sweetest little submissive I've ever seen, Rosie."

Shateishael is silent a moment also, wondering at himself. He's relieved Rosenstern's not upset... then he remembers his revelation from last night, and smiles slowly. He understands now, he thinks. He grins, running his hands with slow pleasure over Bella as she slides along his body, and rumbling, "You're truthful with your heart, Rosie. It don't come any more pleasin' than that."

Rosenstern lifts his head up just enough so Bella isn't stretching, meeting her kiss with his own. When it ends, he's blushing clear down to his chest. "Is that... I mean... I am? I... never thought of myself that way before...."

Dawn rises over Black Rock City, shedding dusky golden light over the multitudes of tents and the towering wicker man in the spiritual center of the camp. The majority of the City's participants who aren't nocturnal wake up and prepare themselves for the day, beginning to go about the work that is the 'radical self-reliance' behind Burning Man. For one tent in particular, though, for some time after the sun brings light to the playa, there is nobody emerging. Instead the three inhabitants are enjoying each others' company, exploring each other and their newfound experiences from the night before. Few pay attention or even take much notice of the occasional sounds of pleasure wafting through the fabric walls.

It's much, much later, therefore, that Bella and Slate are sitting and leaning over Rosenstern, lying stretched out before them, as they decide what costume to put him in for that day. Actually, Bella's doing most of the deciding... Slate's just slowly stroking Rosie's rear and legs and feeling incredibly contented. He finally rumbles curiously, "So... Bella, if Rosie's a sub, what does that make us?" He considers, then adds, "Or... I guess more to the point, how do I do it better, whatever it's called?"

Bella smiles at Slate as she rummages in her bag, coming up with several long, thin pieces of silk that she's planning to sort of twine around Rosie, "Mmmm... well, it makes me a hedonist, sweetie. I sometimes enjoy being just like our sweet little friend. You, I think just have an enabling fetish." She winks at both of the boys.

Shateishael says, "What's an enabling fetish?" Rosenstern blinks a bit, listening, and doing his best to not squirm pleasurably at the touching.

The Bright crawls over to Rosie and Slate again, kissing Rosie at the base of his spine on her way to tie two of the strips of silk around his ankles -- red on one side, purple on the other, "It means that what turns you on is watching your lovers enjoying themselves." She grins up at the big Seraph, "It means that I don't think it would ever have occurred to you that tying Rosie down and making him ask for his pleasure might be fun for Rosie, but once you know he might enjoy it, you'd do it in a heartbeat and find the best way to do it."

Shateishael says, "Oh." He considers a moment, then nods, "Yeah, that sounds 'bout right." He's silent a moment, then grins with slow mischief, adding, "Guess I woulda called it somethin' else, though. I'd'a called it my givin' folks freedom... th' freedom t' be who they really wanta be."

Rosenstern takes in a soft breath at the kiss in the unexpected place, and does his best to focus his mind on the here-and-now. "Yes, that sounds like it fits Slate to a 'T.'"

Shateishael chuckles quietly, letting one hand trail slowly along Bella's back and down her side, as she moves around decorating Rosenstern, "Thanks, li'l Rose. I consider that a compliment." He glances sideways at Bella, waiting with a small grin for her reaction to his previous statement.

Bella wraps the silk up only one leg until she reaches near the top of Rosie's thighs, then she starts crossing over and back, weaving a figure eight that also lays the foundation for starting to wrap around his hips and protect his modesty, "Sit up on your knees, Rosie." She considers Slate's statement and chuckles, "And you're learning to be a silver-tongued devil, for someone that's always one-hundred percent truthful."

Shateishael laughs delightedly! then cheerfully rumbles, "Thanks to you too, then, lovely!" Rosenstern slides up onto this knees, curious, and keeping his hands behind his back; at the very least he isn't blushing at the moment.

Shateishael watches with silent appreciation for a while, then thoughtfully rumbles, "I jus'... had kinda a revelation last night... 'bout Purity 'n Love, 'n Uriel 'n th' 'Therials." He holds up both big, calloused hands, "See, onna one hand there's Uriel as Purity. He's tryin' t' be a good christian angel, so he wants t' make sure th' christian body a' faithful is free a' sin or moral wrong -- maybe even lackin' knowledge a' evil. An' th' other pantheons, I'm guessin' he saw 'em as extraneous, as distractions for th' humans. An' on th' other hand, we got the christian deity: Jesus, th' White Kristos, th' embodiment of deific love." He sighs, "Poor Uriel, I'm thinkin', was pulled in two. Perfect love fears nothin' an' forgives all... but it sure ain't only th' pure that're receivin' of that love. An' his word wasn't love... it was Purity. So... he feared... an' forgot th' love a' his deity."

Bella wraps the silks back and forth until it comes up to just beneath Rosenstern's navel, where she ties them off in a solid but attractive knot at the small of his back. She wraps her arms around the Mercurian from behind and listens to Slate, "That's an interesting thought, hon." She kisses the top of Rosie's shoulder and then bites the same place very lightly.

Shateishael nods, encouraged, and continues, "So that's why I'm thinkin' solar ethics are better. Y' wanna do right 'cause it's its own reward -- we don't need a divine Judge t' give us bennies. We should live like th' sun lives, doin' what we were created t' do, regardless of recognition, permanence, or reward." He smiles slowly, his eyes warm as he adds, "An' that way, we'll lose fear as well, an' approach our deity more closely." He tilts his head, absently pushing his blonde mane out of his eyes, and adds, "Y' look good 'nuff t' eat, Rosie."

Bella smiles crookedly, hands resting on Rosie's stomach. The wrapping is completely modest but leaves not much to the imagination, as it's fitted so close to his body, "Mmm... I wouldn't let Dominic hear you say that too loud."

Shateishael says, "Yeah, I know, sweetheart. But I'm still gonna live like I think David would want me to: enhancin' consciousness, exposin' ignorance an' prejudice, removin' barriers t' a full life, an' assistin' people in findin' th' beauty 'n' depth of their own humanity. An' that way I'll hope t' b'come a better angel too." He takes a slow breath, then quietly rumbles, "An'... that goes for 'Therials too, I'm thinkin'."

Rosenstern looks at Slate, frowning as he listens. "That's... interesting, actually," he murmurs. "and it makes a lot of sense. Since... the last I remember, unless it's changed recently... there is no Word of Love." And then he has the mind to examine the wrapping, and what it feels like. And he blushes again a little, squirming and very much enjoying it. He gives a soft sort of purr with the nip. He nods a little though at Bella's words, biting his lip as he reaches up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind his ear.

Shateishael smiles, appreciating the view of Rosie and Bella, then rumbles quietly, "'M thinkin' we better throw somethin' on soon, Bellisima.. 'r we're never gettin' outta this tent t'day!"

Bella gets up and goes back to her bags, finding a simple red spandex t-shirt, that she tosses toward Rosie, "Put that on...." She grins at Slate, "You're probably right." For herself, Bella chooses a long, gauzy shift that matches her eyes. Rosenstern ducks his head, nodding as he pulls on the spandex tee. Between the snug-fitting shirt and the nearly modesty-less wrapping, there really is nothing left to the imagination for him. Shateishael calmly runs his large hands over Rosie once the little Mercurian is dressed, enjoying both the way the silk and spandex and skin feels, as well as the delightful way Rosie squirms.

The shift is put on over a catsuit of deep purple and belted at the waist with yet another silk sash. Bella braids her hair and weaves in dried violets. While she's digging she also finds a red patent-leather collar, which she contemplates for a moment before putting on the ground near both Rosie and Slate. That's a decision she's not about to make, even if she thinks it would look cute with the costume. For Slate, the Bright gets out a length of black cotton cloth and a heavy leather belt. His appearance of the night before seems to be her inspiration. She also finds a white linen pirate shirt and a heavy canvas vest.

Shateishael glances at Bella, then the collar, a bit perplexed. He glances at Rosie, then picks up the collar, holding it up thoughtfully to see if it would fit, and if it would look nice... and if Rosie blushes at sight of it.

Rosenstern arches his back with the slow petting, smiling and almost-purring. "This outfit makes me feel... I'm not sure. I... I was a hippie, never really worried about how I looked. But this...." He blinks then, seeing the collar and glancing to Slate at the same time the bigger angel looks at him. He watches Slate pick up the collar and holds very still -- and does indeed blush. He's startled, not at any conflict about wearing it... but at the lack of conflict within.

Shateishael nods thoughtfully -- looks like Rosie'd be okay with the collar then. He's a bit relieved the little Mercurian has such a clear physical reaction he can 'read' for truthful pleasure. He rumbles quietly, "C'mere, Rosie... think this'd look nice on you?" Rosenstern moistens his lips a little, looking at the collar, and scoots over towards Slate, kneeling in front of Slate and reaching up to gather up his hair clear of his neck, and lifting up his chin to bare his throat to the big Stone angel.

Bella smiles, watching Slate and Rosie with the collar as she starts folding pleats into the cotton for a simple kilt. Living with and around Ian has taught her a lot of things about traditional and neo-traditional Celtic dress. She murmurs something about gilly-brogues to herself as she pleats.

Shateishael holds still for a moment, slowly realizing this is significant to the little Mercurian. Darnit, should he be doing something special?! He has no idea... and a quick glance over at Bella shows her busy with the cloth. He takes a breath, guessing it's more a 'taking care' than a huge ritual. So he lightly runs his fingers along Rosie's neck in a caress like he saw Soma do, taking a moment to let his hand rest a bit possessively on the Mercurian's throat... then still slowly, he slides the collar on, buckles it, checks for 'give' and secureness... then slides his hands down and around Rosie's waist, drawing the smaller angel to lean back against him as he rumbles quietly, "Comfortable, pretty flower?" He crosses his mental fingers it's not much different than tacking up a horse!

Rosenstern closes his eyes with the touch of Slate's fingers, a soft smile curling the Mercurian's lips. At the same time that Slate cinches the collar neatly, Rosie feels... strange. Certainly he recognized it as a symbol as well as a pretty thing to wear. But to actually be wearing it now, it feels... he can't explain it yet. He lets his hair go and reaches up and back to reverse-hug Slate, wriggling up against him. "Mm-hmmm," he murmurs in answer to Slate's question. "Very, very comfortable."

Bella glances up and smiles at Slate's attaching of the collar, "Very nice... and a good visual indicator." She goes about laying the kilt down over the belt and guides Slate to lie down over the kilt. Folding the kilt over in the front, she then fastens the belt to hold it in place. She hunts down a pair of moccasins to go with everything, "I think you can put on a shirt and vest on your own, love." The Bright winks and then moves to kiss Rosie's cheek, "Beautiful."

Shateishael chuckles quietly, then gives Bella a gentle hug and kiss as she moves by, "Thanks f' th' help, sweetheart."

As Slate gets himself fitted for the kilt, Rosie lies on his belly, resting his head on his hands as he watches raptly. He blushes at Bella's compliment and kiss, smiling to her. "Purple is a beautiful color for you, Bella." He makes a mental note to plant a few more violets in the ranch's garden.

After a few more minutes of futzing, fussing, and gathering things up, the three angels emerge from the tent and into the joyful chaos that is Burning Man. Bella heads off in the direction of Center Camp to see what sorts of things might be starting up. Some of the theme camps listed are "Living Stone," "Jewels," and "Imaginary Flowers." The Bright grins and bounces on her toes, "Oooo.... I want to go see what people are doing at some of these."

Shateishael raises an eyebrow at the 'Living Stone,' rumbling, "Me too, I'm thinkin'!" He grins quietly, watching Bella bouncing excitedly ahead of them, then glances at Rosie and smiles, "C'mon, pretty Rose... you might like th' Livin' Flowers?"

Rosenstern blinks at the listings. Those three... how strange that they just leap out. He tries hard not to fuss at the silk knots that're keeping him from flashing the entire camp, even as he sticks close and unmistakably beside Slate and Bella. "All three sound interesting, actually... which one do you two want to go see first?"

Shateishael chuckles, "Whichever Bellisima chooses, a' course!"

Bella laughs, "See? Enablement kink..." She taps the 'Living Stone' camp name, "This one, I think."

Shateishael chuckles in spite of himself at that, then grins, "Sounds good t' me, sweetheart." He looks around with quiet fascination as he paces along with his friends, both enjoying the brilliant array of color and humanity, and wondering idly if they'll meet any new Ethereals today. Rosenstern seems to be walking less meekly today, not quite striding but not being as socially 'neutral' as he usually is. This, combined with his Mercurian love of people, seems to all but make him glow.

The people on the Playa are already up and working to get themselves fed, get camps finalized, just get out and see things and revel in the self-reliance. Bella leads the trio of angels through the morning stirrings toward the place shown on the map as being the "Living Stone" theme camp. On approach, there is a facade of fantastically painted stalactites and stalagmites framing a "cave" entrance.

Shateishael is happy to let the other two walk ahead or next to him... he certainly loves watching the view when Bella's this bouncy! When they arrive he hmms, studying the painting, and rumbling quietly under his breath, "Mmm... not bad." He wanders slowly through, looking about him curiously as he paces into the entrance.

Rosenstern tilts his head. "Oh, that's quite well-done!"

The cave mouth entrance is a short zig-zag maze of solid pipes put together to serve as a frame for stretches of black fabric. Once past the entrance the camp is revealed as a sort of eclectic sculpture garden. There are artists working on their pieces even now, some stacking stones into delicately balanced abstracts, some working clay on hand-turned wheels, and toward the back of the camp is one stout older man with a chisel and mallet working on a large piece of granite.

Shateishael's eyes widen in sudden appreciation, and he rumbles quietly to his friends, "Is this... somethin' anyone can participate in, or what?"

Bella's eyes light up as she sees the pottery and she all but scampers over to the nearest woman who is working on a fantastically rippled vase-like vessel. The two of them strike up an animated conversation about pottery throwing. From what the woman is saying, the folks in the camp are all artists who met at previous Burns and decided to put together the theme camp to make art and let other people help.

Shateishael smiles, wandering around to see how the stone arrangers and sculptors are doing. If he finds someone he can help, he's happy to -- he's strong and willing. The two young men who are working on the stacked-stone sculpture grin at Slate -- grins so much alike that they can't be anything but twins greet the big blonde and one of them says, "Great! You're just what we need." They put the Seraph to work lifting stones higher than either of the slight young men can reach. Shateishael chuckles, then obligingly lifts stones as directed. It's easy for him, but he's careful not to appear too strong.

Rosenstern looks around curiously and attentively. This is fascinating; the people themselves are fascinating! He asks polite questions, mostly about the people themselves but also about what they're doing. As Rosie gets near the man with the chisel, there's one of those little ripples in the Symphony, this one deep into the bass range, like a quiet tapping on a tympani. Rosenstern pauses, blinking, and looks at the man, suddenly a little nervous and self-conscious. Is it an angel? Is it a Stone angel? Or is it an Ethereal? He pads closer, watching the man curiously and not interrupting.

Up close the man is much shorter than most adult human males. In fact, he doesn't seem to quite be five feet tall. There is none of the disproportion of a human with "dwarfism," and he in fact seems quite nicely put together. Nearly purely silver hair is braided down the man's back and actually tucked into his belt. He glances up as he sees Rosie approaching and smiles broadly, "Greetin's." He rumbles in a brogue so thick it takes a moment to decipher the simple word.

Rosenstern smiles back warmly and genuinely. "Hello there," he says. "May I ask what it is you're creating?"

Bella has settled down to chatter with the potter and they both seem quite into whatever they're discussing, leaving the two male angels to interact with the other artists. Shateishael crafted a Zen garden a couple of years ago on the ranch, after much study, so he's curious as to what the twins are up to. He studies their planned layout curiously, "So... what're y'all creatin' here?"

The two boys have a balanced and interlaced wall designed, with little pockets and indentations. One of them explains as he hands Slate stones to stack on top, "We're building a sculpture wall... the wall itself is a sculpture and we're going to invite people to build onto it or decorate it with their own sculptures."

Shateishael nods slowly, rumbling, "That's a nice idea." He then takes a moment to run his fingers along the wall and check with his attunement as one of David's Seraphim to be sure it's nice and stable for them. The wall needs just a little improvement, but the boys have planned fairly well. Just a few shifts and changes here and there will make it safe as houses. Shateishael rumbles thoughtfully, "Y'all mind if I take a second t' straighten a few bits?" The boys grin those identical grins and assure Slate they would love the input.

Wiping sweat off his brow with the back of one arm, the white-haired man grins at Rosie. He's got a beard to match his hair, though he's got that tucked into his shirt rather than his belt, "Och, well, I thought a' first it mi' be a bust, bu' the more I work on i', the less i' wants t'be tha'." The brogue is thicker than Ian's, a heavy burr to it.

Rosenstern tilts his head to the side. "What does it want to be?" He racks his brain for what sort of being this could be. He feels Stone, as Stone as Slate -- no pun intended -- but there aren't many other angels here at Burning Man. Which leaves either Infernal -- who aren't taken to arts and crafts -- or Ethereal. Or, well, sorcerer, but they don't tend to be the sculpting type, not that he would know.

The short man runs the palm of one hand over the sculpture, "A tree... feels like mebbe a rowan..."

Rosenstern blinks, looking up at the stone. "Could be both?" Then he mentally chides himself for such a silly answer. "Like, a treant or a dryad?" Oh, that's even better, Rosie. Sigh. Well, hopefully he won't think it too silly.

The silver-haired man chuckles and runs his fingers along the stone, "Mmm... you mi' be ri' feller-me-lad." He offers one marble-dusted hand to Rosie, "Sean."

Rosenstern smiles, and shakes the hand unhesitatingly. Strangely, he feels so very not self-conscious about the collar now. "Rosenstern. Pleased to meet you."

Shateishael cheerfully straightens things a bit -- sometimes with a bit of 'impact adjustment' as needed -- then finally straightens once he's done and sure, "There y'go! Should be nice 'n solid for y'all now." He grins down at the two, thinking Bella'd love them, then rumbles calmly, "Right. What's next?" He glances over at Rosie and Bella, checking to be sure they're still enjoying themselves and not just waiting on him. He tilts his head curiously at the silver-haired man Rosie's talking to, thinking, [Huh. Almost looks like one of Frey's svartaelfar. They always were supposed to be amazing craftsfolks.] Then he looks back at the twins studying the wall, and makes a few suggestions... mostly on which rocks to put where, so the various colors and quartzes look nice and sparkle in the sunlight.

Sean chuckles and nods briefly, "Mmm.... ye're the Flowerkin I heard o' tha' visited Soma, aye? With the Warrior and the wee succubus." As this conversation is going on, the boys thank Slate with sweaty and heartfelt hugs and start scattering tiny little stone and clay figures here and there over the wall.

Shateishael chuckles, hugging them both back strongly and letting them know to call on him if they need any more help lugging the stones around. Then he glances around -- Bella's entranced with her potter. He drifts up silently behind Rosie, putting one hand on the Mercurian's shoulder as he rumbles quietly, "Hey, Rosie. Wanna introduce y'r new frien'?" He curiously studies the silver-haired older man -- then blinks as the heavy accent takes a moment to translate in his head. His eyes narrow as he growls tightly, "She is not... a succubus. She's a Bright an' her name is Bella."

Rosenstern blinks in surprise at how fast word travels in Black Rock City's Ethereal community -- and is about to gently correct Sean when he hears Slate growl. He remains quiet for the moment, letting this work itself through. Sean blinks slowly at the growl in Slate's voice, a hint of a smile lifting one corner of his mouth before he schools his features into a more serious expression, "Me own fault f'r listenin' t' th' natterin' o' jealous tongues, Warrior. Beg pardon. Yours an' Bella's."

Shateishael simply nods once, letting the emotion flow away, then rumbles quietly, "Slate. An' this is Rosie. Who's jealous, an' whyfor?"

Sean puts down his chisel and mallet and uses handi-wipes to clean the dust off his hands, "Ach, jus' one a' th' satyrs. I ought t' know better'n t' listen ta him by now."

Shateishael snorts once, muttering quietly, "Puck, 'm guessin'. If he's that shitty with all th' ladies, he must need t' slander 'em a lot t' make up for his injured feelin's." He leans forward, lightly brushing his fingers across the big piece of stone, and adds, "Nice piece a' granite. Whatcha sculptin'? An'... what kinda 'Therial 're you?"

Sean snorts and grins broadly, showing a bright but crook-toothed smile, "Strangely, a certain segment o' the female population seems t' find 'im irresistible. Bu' then, moths also got a love affair with flames, aye?" He grins again, pleased at Slate's comment and question, "Why thank ye. 'Pparently it's gonna be a dryad... an' I think I know just which one now... lovely lass she is. Yer flower there helped me see 'er." The direct question seems not to discomfit him at all, "Y'mean it's nae obvious?"

Rosenstern pads quietly behind Slate as he moves closer, his hands behind his back as he peers curiously at the granite sculpture-to-be. Shateishael smiles faintly at the reference to moths and flames, then shakes his head ruefully, "T'ain't obvious if we're ignorant of th' fae, 'm afraid. Sorry."

Sean chuckles, "Ahh... b'lieve the common term nowadays is "dwarf."

Shateishael narrows his eyes thoughtfully, "Not Norse, though?"

Sean smiles, "Oh, aye, originally. Bu' I had a peculiar urge t' wander an' when I learned a human tongue, I was a bi' south."

Shateishael's eyes light up in sudden interest, "Yeah?!" He steps to be on the far side of the granite block from where folks are walking, crouching easily so he's closer to eye level with the dwarf, and asks hopefully in ancient Norse, "Did you abide amongst Frey's beloved aelfar?"

Sean's smile causes deep creases to crinkle around his eyes, "Oh, aye, aye." He replies in the same tongue, "But that was long ago, even as stones reckon."

Shateishael sighs softly, relaxing a bit, "So good it is to hear the bard-singer's tongue again -- thanks to you, stone-shaper. Know you what occurred to the Aesir, the Vanir, and the Jotuns? Or had you departed that realm by then?"

Sean shakes his head sadly, still speaking in old Norse with no trace of his accent, "No, no, Warrior. I was gone long before Purity's purge. But there are others here and in Winter's domain that were there to the bitter end."

Shateishael sighs quietly, resting a hand on the big wooden block that supports the piece of granite the dwarf is working on, "I... wish I knew how to help them." He frowns, looking out over the sun-drenched desert, watching heat shimmer dance above the ground as he rumbles, "I do not always understand the fae of the folk I live among, but... they are part of their people too. They deserve that respect also, at the least." Then he turns his head to look back at the dwarf, "I was known as Gunther whilst I was amongst Freya's beloved people. That was a golden-blessed time. I never understood, though, why the Aesir so tormented Fenrir Lokison... do you know why?"

Sean pats Slate on the shoulder and chuckles softly, "That's not a story for here, Warrior."

Shateishael sighs a little wistfully, "Ah. But is there ever a time for it?"

The dwarf shifts back to his accented English, "Some day, lad, stand me a pint and I'll bend yer ear abou' the wolf and his da', aye."

Shateishael chuckles, also shifting into his own equally oddly accented English, "Be happy to, man."

Bella wanders over, smiling warmly, and links her arm through Slate's, "I really, really like this place." The Bright introduces herself to the dwarf and Sean kisses her hand in the pleasantly lecherous way those that live among the Celts seem to have perfected. After a few more minutes' chat, Sean promises to track down the angels in their camp later, and Bella drags the boys off toward the next place to explore.

Shateishael rumbles to Rosie as they're cheerfully hauled off, "We gotta think a' somethin' cool f'r us t'do next year!"

With this just being the second day, many camps are still being built and people are riding here and there on bicycles, unicycles, and even a few oversized tricycles. As the angels are making their way through Black Rock City, there's a commotion and a familiar voice can be heard yelling things along the lines of "'Scuse me!", "Move it!" and "Coming through! Chased by pissed off Asian chicks!" Along the main thoroughfare a disturbance can be seen in the crowd, and soon the familiar form of Puck-as-human comes running as fast as he can. Close on his heels are the dragon and the phoenix, both back in their human guises as well.

As the satyr tries to dodge through the crowd, he glances back over his shoulder and manages to trip over his own feet, skidding across the playa sand to collide with Slate's feet. Shateishael laughs, leaning down to gently but firmly grab one arm and lift the young satyr upright... maybe a touch higher than actually necessary... he grins, shaking his shaggy-haired head once, and his tone is rueful, "Don' learn real fast, son?" The goat-boy's toes are touching the ground, but not enough for running purchase. Shateishael gets a curious look, and gently waves a hand over Puck's head, wondering if he'll bump one of those curving horns. The glamour is just an illusion, right?

Rosenstern blinks at the 'running commentary' (no pun intended) of Puck regarding his predicament. He peers from around Slate, radiating calm good humor. He bears Puck little ill will, considering that from what he remembers, satyrs were rather mischievous and lecherous -- they could no more be otherwise than he could not be an angel of Flowers. Puck looks up at Slate and groans, "Great, running from the hard place and I run into a fuckin' rock..." The satyr ducks his head as Slate waves his hand over it, "The fuck?"

Shateishael grins relaxedly at the 'rock' comment, then rumbles, "Just curious if th' glamour's illusory or not." He looks over the satyr's shoulder and adds, "Might wanna start workin' on an apology? What'd y'do?" There's a hint of more ice in his voice as he adds, "Might wanna 'pologize t'Bella too for callin' her a succubus behind her back?"

The two Asian women have slowed down once they see that Puck is in Slate's grip. Puck himself sighs, "No, the horns aren't there, some glamour is a shape-change..." He cranes his neck to look back at his pursuers and then turns pleading eyes on Slate, "I swear to Zeus and all the Titans that I didn't mean to knock over their carving..."

Bella arches a brow at the comment about him calling her a succubus, but she almost looks more amused than anything. Shateishael raises an eyebrow, 'feeling' for Truth. There's no feeling of either Truth or Lie to what Puck says, and the young satyr is trying his best to wriggle away, knowing his pursuers have to be catching up. Indeed, they arrive just a moment later, looking as if they would like to roast Puck on a spit. In fact, they're so angry that whatever glamour they're using has slipped and a sooty glow comes from their eyes.

Rosenstern murmurs, "Oh, that can't be good." He looks around quickly, then says quietly. "Erm... m'ladies... if I may... your glamour is slipping a little."

Shateishael shakes Puck gently as the satyr struggles, rumbling, "Cut it out, kid -- don't wanna hafta put you in an armlock." He looks a little surprised himself at sight of the two women -- these are some very angry people here! He bows very politely to them both, unsure what to say. Nihongo when they're angry might not be smart...?

Two heads whip around to look at Rosenstern at once, both women glaring at him until it gets through what the slight angel is telling them. Each of them covers their eyes with their hands and they murmur something quietly. When they lower their hands, both sets of almond-shaped eyes looks human and normal again. The bows they give Rosie are short but graceful, "Many thanks." Turning to Slate, the woman in the Dragon headgear turns to Slate, "Thank you, Warrior, for holding him. He has a wrong to answer for." The Phoenix woman crosses her arms across her chest and glares at Puck, who is looking very much like he'd like to sink straight into the alkali.

Shateishael looks around, then murmurs in a low voice, "Perhaps we could take him someplace, um... less public?"

Rosenstern winces and cringes at the sharp looks at him. But when they bow, he relaxes, and does his best to match the bow in return. "You are very welcome."

Shateishael rumbles quietly to the nervous Mercurian, "Good call, Rosie."

Puck rolls his eyes up to Slate again, some real fear coming through his voice, "Please, man, I swear, I fuckin' swear on all I hold sacred that I didn't do it on purpose!" This time, there's no mistaking that the obnoxious little split-hoofed Ethereal is telling the plain truth. Whatever he's done, he didn't mean to.

The Phoenix points at Puck, "That one destroyed a precious carving given to us when the Shang ruled. We demand he make recompense." The way the last of that word is hissed, there's no mistaking that whatever recompense they want, it will not be pleasant.

Shateishael's expression changes abruptly, [Crap. From the time of the Shang... doesn't do things by halves, does he, even if it was an accident. Why didn't he just tell them it was- uh...] He gives a small snort of laughter, then rumbles quietly, "Y'know, havin' a bad rep dun't always stand you in good stead, Jester."

Then he looks at the two women, mentally composing in the more formal cadences of ancient Nihongo, then translating to English -- hopefully this will work... "Honored ladies, please f'give us f'r not knowin' the graceful speech o' th' People o' th'Dragon. It would seem this worthless one caused great harm, but di'n't do it deliberately. Surely there can be some forgiveness f'that?" He wonders idly what a satyr holds sacred, then firmly shoves that thought away. He'd better be focusing... or he's going to get two dragon ladies pissed at him too!

The Dragon Woman snorts, tossing her head in an almost equine way, disbelief dripping from every gesture and word, though her body language relaxed at Slate's formal pattern of speech, "You have much to learn, Warrior, if you are taken by that one's pleas of innocence."

Bella stays back, watching the interaction curiously, arms crossed loosely across her stomach. There are a few people looking, some curious, some amused. Perhaps they think it's a piece of performance art. After a moment, the Bright sidles close enough to murmur to Slate, "We might want to take this somewhere less public."

Shateishael smiles slowly -- they're talking and not just attacking, good! He bows politely again, then rumbles, "Please f'give this unworthy one, gracious lady. C'n we carry 'im f'r y'all t' someplace less public?" He rumbles in an aside to Bella, "Tryin', sweetheart. Hard t'translate in m' head this fast." He thinks a moment, then pulls the satyr in close, pinning Puck's head against his shoulder so he won't get accidentally hit in the head, and murmurs quietly, "C'n tell it was an accident. Want you t'try 'n not make this worse, kid, okay? Quit strugglin'!"

Puck hasn't quit squirming the whole time, but when Slate says he believes the story, the satyr relaxes and takes a deep breath. The Dragon and the Phoenix lean their heads together, murmuring in a quick, musical language, glancing from the corner of their eyes at the group of angels. After a moment, they straighten and bow gracefully, "It is well thought of, Warrior. May we suggest the encampment of our people?"

Shateishael bows politely again, then tucks Puck firmly under one arm, "We're at y'all's pleasure, honored ladies." He will head that way, although he's careful not to get in the way of the dragon ladies. Rosenstern brightens a little at the thought of going back to the fae encampment. Bella grins and hooks her arm through Rosie's as she follows along in the wake of the Dragon and Phoenix. Shateishael shakes his head in quiet amazement as he glances down at Puck, rumbling to the satyr, "What p'ssessed ya t'be flailin' around artwork likely older'n you, kid?"

Puck sighs in resignation and squirms as Slate drags him along, "I was just trying to get those two to laugh. They were lookin' so fuckin' serious, so I was juggling." Rosenstern facepalms. Juggling a Shang statue. He's not nearly as old as that implies... but it still seems like not the brightest idea in the world.

Bella leans close and murmurs to Rosie, "Any clue just how old a Shang carving would be?"

Rosenstern murmurs to Bella, "I'm not sure, but I'm getting the impression it's at least a thousand years."

Shateishael follows politely behind everyone else, as is proper for a warrior escorting court ladies... he thinks that's correct in China too. Hopes so, at least. He shakes his head again, his gaze not unsympathetic, "An' somethin' tipped, or knocked it over? What was it, 'zactly?"

Puck seems to have somewhat adjusted to being hefted like a sack of groceries. He's dressed in a pair of blue jeans and nothing else, "I tripped over one of their little jewel-head-things and I fell into it. It's this wooden statuette of the two of them. Doesn't even really look much like 'em."

Shateishael rumbles amusedly, "Nah, older'n that, Rosie, 'n then some. Think that was one a' th' longest dynasties, too... if m'memory's good it's -- was -- almost 4 millennia old." He draws in his breath sharply at Puck's words, then rumbles quietly, "Do not say that to them!"

Puck winces and mutters, "Too late..."

Shateishael facepalms, "Bright Lord help us. Kid, d'you want to be flamed?!" He snorts in quiet laughter in spite of himself... the satyr's just too much looking to get slammed!

The Dragon and the Phoenix pass over the place where the barrier lay last night, but they do not seem to change. They seem to be exactly the same as they were in the streets of Black Rock City. Shateishael looks a bit startled at the lack of change... then looks down at himself and Puck to see if they look the same also. A moment later it registers, "Ah! Soma must still be outside, yeah?" Rosenstern blinnks at the lack of change, but reasons that Soma- right, what Slate just said.

There's still a tingle as the barrier is crossed, but there's no change in appearance for anyone. Puck shakes his head, "Nah, he's here, but I think he may still be resting. He and Bacchus stayed up 'till first light." The two slight Asians duck into the central Pavilion.

Shateishael nods to Puck, "Well, that's a stroke a' luck for ya, then. Doubt he wants t'lose any of his folk, right?" He idly hopes his guess about the Summer King is correct... if not, he suddenly realizes, it's only the angels left to argue for not mangling the irritating little satyr! Then he pauses at a sudden thought, hefting Puck over to his right arm so he can check something with his left hand -- when he reaches for his scabbarded katana, does it come to his hand still? The katana is there and it comes to his hand, but it also feels as if it has been in a freezer overnight.

Puck hangs his head a little, "I think Soma's pissed at me because I irritated you, actually."

Shateishael smiles, tucking the katana back away. Cold is fine -- to be expected, really, considering it's cold iron the fae are said to shun. He paces for the pavilion, rumbling curiously, "How come y'don't just 'pologize sincerely then, 'n be done wi' our anger? Or d'you really not care at all when y'piss folks off?"

Puck snorts, "Dude, I tried. They didn't believe me."

Shateishael grins amusedly at the satyr, "I said t'us, dude. T' Bella 'n Rosie in p'tic'lar. We'd not be upset any more if it was sincere, an' Soma'd know, 'n not be pissed at you any more." He studies the recalcitrant little satyr amusedly, "It'd be a start, at least, y'know?"

Bella ducks into the pavilion behind the two women and finds it eerily quiet after the joyous noise of the night before. The Dragon and Phoenix women are sitting on the central pillows beneath the carved pillar. They have reverted to their true forms. The Dragon twines around the pillar until her chin is resting on her own back, the Phoenix has perched on her companion's back. Shateishael holds up the flap and ducks into the pavilion, taking a moment to blink and let his eyes adjust to the sudden light change... and to give himself a moment to figure out how he might try keeping Puck from getting toasted.

Puck blinks and gives Slate an incredulous look, "You shittin' me? You really were pissed about that? It was a joke!"

Shateishael gives Puck an amused glance, "Din' bother me, y'silly Fool. Bothered my friends, 'n that pisses me off -- 'specially when y'r actin' like it's their probem, not yours." Dryly he adds, "Y'think maybe y'got a problem with folks bein' pissed atcha 'cause a' that?"

Puck sighs and rolls his eyes, then squirms around, trying to look at Bella, "Look, I'm sorry. It was a joke, OK?"

Shateishael draws a slow, wondering breath, watching the two lovely, ancient creatures... then paces in to kneel politely near the two Ethereals, laying Puck down on the ground next to him. He pins the satyr there with one big hand. Bella snorts and eyes Puck where he lays, "If you ever, ever forget anything that big again, little man, I will personally break off one of your horns and shove it up your ass. Capisce?"

Shateishael gives a short bark of laughter, then grins... sounds like Bella accepts the apology. He glances inquiringly at Rosie, wondering if the little Mercurian's still upset. Puck's mouth runs away with him for a second and he says, "That a promise?" Then he winces preemptively.

Shateishael lightly leans on Puck, "Shut up, boy!"

Puck grunts as Slate leans on him, putting on a falsetto voice, "Yessir! I'm sorry, sir!"

Rosenstern tilts his head to the side a bit. Though Puck is a jerk, it's not really in Rosie's nature to stay angry at him. And Bella has already given the satyr his ultimatum. "I accept your apology. Don't do it again and I won't bring it up again."

Shateishael sighs, "You moron." He looks up at Bella, "C'n you put a geas on him a'tall, sweetheart?"

The Dragon's face seems to be smiling, watching the big angel manhandle the satyr, "It would seem you have no extra love for the mischievous one."

Shateishael rumbles dryly, "No'm."

The Phoenix's voice comes out as a crackle and a trill at once, "This one has caused much mischief and much sorrow this morning. The artifact he destroyed was given us as tribute by a long-dead lover."

Shateishael thinks a bit, then rumbles to Bella, "Actually, don' think there's much we c'n do 'bout his mouth -- it'll either get him flattened, or he'll survive t'grow up some. But c'n you make sure he can't run off? Like... he has to stay in arm's reach a' me or somethin'?"

Bella taps her chin thoughtfully, "I could... but I'm not sure I want him that close to you all the time. I could do something probably..."

Shateishael nods, "Jus' somethin' so he can't run off'd do, sweetheart." He thinks carefully, arranging his thoughts while Bella does what she needs to do, then rumbles slowly, "Gracious ladies, I've only visited th' Land a' th' Rising Sun, rather than th' lovely 'n more ancient lands a' your peoples. I beg f'giveness f' us all in advance, please, f'r any stumblin' in court'sy t'you both, 'cause it's unintentional." He takes a breath -- so far, so good -- then carefully continues, "Wanna ask y'all t' b'lieve me, please, in one respect, though: 's my nature as an angel t' recognize Truth. Gotta assure you, though I don' much like this worthless one, he does speak truth when he states he did not break y'r gift deliberately. Really was 'n accident."

Bella kneels, folding her shift beneath her knees and reaches down to touch Puck's forehead, concentrating for a moment. The satyr seems to want to shy away, but she sighs after a moment, "Can't do it... doesn't seem to work right."

Shateishael sighs, "Okay. Thanks f'r tryin', at least." He thinks a bit, then rumbles to Rosie, "C'n you Charm 'im, Rosebud?"

From behind Bella there's the familiar sound of Soma's voice, "I apologize, Seductress, but it won't work here..."

Rosenstern shakes his head, "Not for any appreciable length of time," he says, a touch uncomfortably. Then he brightens when he hears Soma's voice, turning and bowing and beaming all at once.

Shateishael looks surprised, then glances over his shoulder. He nods politely, "Summer King, greetings." He thinks, then curiously asks, "Do none 'a our Songs work here?" Then he nods to Rosie... then grins, watching the Flowers angel brighten. He looks back at Puck, wondering what to do with him... then resolves the issue by simply shifting the satyr around into an arm-lock that keeps him pinned to the floor.

Soma pads into the room, looking exactly as he did the night before. "Most of them will not, Warrior. I apologize. The protective dome..." He waves a hand vaguely. The Dragon and Phoenix women make slight obeisance to Soma and then address Slate, "We accept your assurance, Warrior. But reparations must be made. The piece was precious." Puck is looking resigned. He's also looking quite intently at Bella in her catsuit-and-shift.

Shateishael nods in understanding to the dragon ladies, trying to figure out what might be a proper reparation. He rapidly realizes he has no idea... so he rumbles, "What reparations might be suitable t' assuage your anger, gracious ladies?" He sighs at Puck, shaking his head again, and casually drops a pillow in front of the idiot satyr's face. He also adds carefully to the butterfly fae, "Please don' feel y'hafta 'pologize, Somhairle. We're th'guests here."

Soma glides over, but stays back, watching his chosen ambassadors deal with this breech between members of his court. The Phoenix beats her wings, stirring a warm wind within the pavilion, "We wish a boon from him." The Dragon's musical voice picks up, "A geas to be laid upon him to answer us when we have need of him." The two of them turn as one to look to Soma.

Shateishael looks a bit surprised when Soma doesn't step in and deal with this... then he gets a very thoughtful look. A moment later his eyes widen, "Oh." He leans over and rumbles quietly to Rosie and Bella, "Um... 'm thinkin' this might be like... th' intr'duct'ry interview, y'know?" He listens a bit more alertly to the two ladies, then glances down at Puck, "That okay t' you, kid?"

Rosenstern blinks to Slate, then nods thoughtfully. "Well, then. Let's see. He broke something of immense personal value to the dragon and to the phoenix. He-" He blinks, considering, then nods, "That sounds eminently fair."

Shateishael rumbles quietly to Rosie, "Huh. Di'n' know they could do geasa. Wonder how long they want it for?"

Rosenstern murmurs, "At a guess, forever and a day...." Shateishael grins at the Mercurian, then looks down at Puck, wondering what his answer will be. Puck sighs and nods. He looks like a kid who just had his puppy taken away.

Shateishael looks relieved, "Fan-fuckin'-tastic. That was easier'n I was afraid of." He looks up, "Okay, who lays th' geas?"

Soma smiles quietly and nods, "Done. For a year and a day." He goes to one knee beside Slate, touching a finger to the top of Puck's head. The next things he says has that odd doubling-effect of being in two languages at once, "I bind you, Hill-Piper, to serve She Whose Breath is Lightning and She Whose Wings Are the Sun as they see fit for a year and a day."

Shateishael raises an eyebrow -- that's an astonishingly short and easy sentence, he thinks! Maybe the foolish satyr will even learn something from it... he's not going to enjoy it if the ladies get irritated with him again. Slate grins amusedly at that thought, then rumbles quietly to Soma, "C'n I r'lease him now?"

There is soft flash of light as Soma pronounces the sentence. He nods to Slate, "Flesh will never bind so tight as such an obligation."

Shateishael chuckles quietly, carefully releasing the arm-lock and shifting back to sit cross-legged. Then he curiously asks, "So... does th' dome keep us from shiftin' shape too? Or... or... hm. It doesn't block m'Resonance, though... an' 'pparently th' sword's still there. What's it do, if y'don't mind m'askin', Sumerlidr?"

Puck carefully sits up and then gets to his knees and bows low enough that his forehead touches the ground, some little amount of resentment in his voice though carefully controlled, "May I take my leave, ladies." The Dragon and Phoenix both nod, and the young satyr slinks out of the pavilion, followed closely by his debt-bound mistresses. Shateishael covers a smile at Puck's reaction, and nods politely as the two ladies depart. Then he looks curiously at the butterfly king.

Soma takes his place on the cushions and extends a welcoming hand to Rosie, as he answers Slate, "What is essentially part of you can never be parted from you, Warrior."

Shateishael nods thoughtfully, "In't'restin'. Wonder if turnin' t'Stone is that much a part a' me."

Rosenstern smiles, padding forward demurely and taking Soma's hand, sinking down to the cushions to sit by Soma's feet. Soma smiles down at Rosenstern and then glances to Slate, remembering to ask, "With your leave, Warrior?" He shifts slightly and chuckles softly, "That is something you can answer only for yourself... "

Shateishael smiles quietly, watching Rosie, and nods to Soma at the courteous request. He muses thoughtfully, "Would it be okay if I tried some things, then?"

Soma smiles and nods to Slate, his hand moving to stroke Rosie's neck. He pauses when his fingers encounter the collar, "Ahh, I had not realized..."

Shateishael is reaching for his scabbard again, but pauses, looking up at Soma's comment, "Hm?"

The butterfly fae strokes along the collar again, voice taking on that careful cadence of the night before, "The Flowerkin is yours in more ways than I imagined Warrior. I believed your claim on him was a protective fiction." Rosenstern has just started to close his eyes; he blinks, looking curiously at Soma for a moment before he remembers, Ach, the collar... He blushes and shies a bit, biting his lip and wondering what Soma is going to say.

Shateishael is silent a moment, studying the (rather pretty, actually) tableau of Rosie and Soma. Finally he says carefully, "In comparison t'y'rself, Summer King, my adherence t'Truth is kinda blunt an'... an' I guess kinda crude. But it's at least as heartfelt -- I will not lie to you. It's against my nature t'do so. If Rosie doesn't wanna be mine, that's fine -- but until he says that's what he wants, he is mine, an' I'm gonna act accordin'ly t' protect him." He rumbles quietly a moment later, "An' ultimately he b'longs to his Creator, Novalis. He's jus' on loan t'me, really." Bella smiles and strokes Slate's hair, loving to watch the tenderness with which he handles this.

Shateishael thinks a bit more, then rumbles amusedly, "Fair warning, li'l flower... you tell me you don' wanna be mine in th' court a' th' Winter King, I'm not gonna believe you. You're gonna hafta repeat yourself after we've left. 'Side from that, though, what I said is true." He gives Bella a smile -- he's not sure what he did precisely right, but he's glad (and relieved!) everyone so far seems pleased.

Soma smiles quietly and nods, "One being can never really claim another as chattel." He strokes Rosie's hair, which has stayed simply hair this time. "One would be wise to watch for Truth most carefully in the domain of my other self."

Shateishael nods slowly, his expression a bit troubled, "Plannin' to, def'nitely."

Rosenstern relaxes; though he enjoys and is comforted by the 'ownership' of Slate over him, he didn't want Soma to be hurt. Slate's words, of course, make him blush. He says quietly, "I do wish to be yours, Slate, though I know that in terms of what I am, I am Novalis's. If I say that I do not wish to be yours in the Winter Court, it won't truly be me speaking. Just as it would not truly be me speaking if I said anything against the Summer King." He sighs softly, rubbing his head gently against Soma's hand. "I'm... becoming very worried of what we'll find there..."

Shateishael smiles slowly as he watches Rosie, one arm curling around Bella's waist. He'd like to hug her close again like last night -- watching Rosie's obvious happiness makes Slate feel vaguely cuddly, oddly enough -- but he's not sure how to ask if he can do that. Instead he simply rumbles reassuringly, "S'okay, li'l flower, we'll keep a close eye on you. We un'erstand you're th' one who's gonna be th' focus of attention there." Bella nestles against Slate when his arm goes around her and she strokes the back of his neck, smiling quietly.

Soma nods, smiling somewhat sadly, "Am I to understand that you have accepted?" Thin blue fingers comb through Rosie's hair slowly, the fae king's wings beating very slowly in the still air of the pavilion.

Shateishael looks back at Bella when she shifts, a faintly pleased look on his face, "You, um... wait, I was gonna test somethin', wasn't I. Gimme bit..." He glances at the butterfly fae, "Last night, aye," then adds, "You granted p'mission for a test; I don't wanna spook anyone." Then he draws the scabbarded katana out, laying it across his knees. Slowly, so as to not be at all alarming, he draws the katana itself, silently invoking it and checking to be sure everything is fine.

Soma watches carefully, seeming relaxed, though Rosenstern can possibly feel the slight tension that suffuses the butterfly fae at the sight of the steel blade. "The blade suits you, Warrior." The katana seems to grow colder the longer it is out of its pocket dimension, a tracery of frost beginning to show along its blade. Other than that, it seems to be intact.

Shateishael nods, "Thank you, Summer King. Forged it myself long time gone." He gets a faintly puzzled look at the forming frost, using a corner of his sleeve to wipe it off and politely re-sheath the blade, tucking it neatly away a moment later, "Um... is th' dome th'reason it's so cold?"

Soma actually looks faintly embarrassed and nods in answer to Slate's question, "Cold iron shall match its name under this protection." He continues to stroke Rosenstern's hair for a moment, then sighs with mild regret, "I fear I must attend to less pleasant tasks. Forgive me, friends."

Shateishael rumbles politely, "Anythin' we c'n help with?" He decides to be prudent and not test his Numinous Corpus here... if things become more their nature, it might be embarrassing to be stuck in a Stone form.

Rosenstern nods faintly in understanding -- whatever is here, becomes more so. Thus, born of Flowers, he became Flowers. Slate's sword, being of cold iron, became even more so. He wonders briefly if the steel actually became more like meteoric iron... then Soma is sighing, and he looks up worriedly at the butterfly fae. "What's wrong?" he murmurs

Soma smiles at both men, "It is simply tedium that calls me. For a court to run, there must be bureaucracy. I have appointments to see to, when I would rather while away the hours with new friends. Still, you are welcome to explore this small domain." He leans over Rosie, brushing cool blue lips across the Novalite's temple, "Forgive my abrupt departure."

Shateishael nods in understanding -- bureaucracy is definitely not his strong suit! He rises easily, holding out a hand to Rosie and Bella each, "We'll get outta th'way, then, 'n maybe later t'night if you're free we c'n come back."

Rosenstern closes his eyes with the kiss, and smiles up to Soma. "You've nothing to apologize for...." He stands smoothly and goes to take Slate's hand, standing beside the Stone Angel.

Soma rises to his feet, smiling warmly, "I shall be here tonight. The barrier will be in full force again, I should warn." The fae king touches Rosie's temple again and bows gracefully before furling his wings as closely as he can and leaving the pavilion. With his departure, the three angels find themselves alone.

Shateishael bows politely to the departing butterfly fae, then hmms thoughtfully in the ensuing silence. "Guess we passed." He grins at his friends, adding, "So, what's next? Th' Living Flow'rs camp?"

Rosenstern bows to Soma, smiling warmly to him, as he departs, then smiles to the others. "I imagine we did, at that." Then he brightens. "Oh! Yes, I'd love to see what that's like!" As they depart he hugs them both, attempting to do it at the same time. "I just wanted to thank you both," he murmurs to them. "For everything you've done for me while we've been here. It's helped me out more than I can say."

Bella beams at the boys, kissing each on the cheek, "Well, it's all about radical self-reliance. Can't rely on yourself if you aren't being yourself."

Shateishael returns the hug with bemused pleasure, "Any time, Rosebud... 'though 'm not quite sure what I did t'help?" He pauses a moment, suddenly remembering the curiously more confident way Rosenstern had been moving that day, rather than being entirely behaviorally neutral. He says slowly, "Wait, think I get it... it's all 'bout knowin' jus' who you really are, yeah?" He smiles then, gently looping a finger in Rosie's collar and carefully pulling him close into a hug, "S'okay, li'l petal... we like who y'are."

Once they leave the pavilion and head out of the fae encampment, Bella pauses, "Oh, blast... I left my water bottle back at the tent..." She scowls slightly.

Shateishael is curiously about to ask Bella something, but at that he brightens slightly, "Yeah?" He turns to Rosenstern, "Hey, Rosie, could you run fetch that for Bella? We c'n wait for you here."

Rosenstern blinks, then beams, nodding. "Sure! I won't be long!" He scampers off to the tent on the other side of Black Rock City.

Shateishael smiles, watching Rosenstern trot off... and as soon as the slight Flowers angel is out of earshot, Slate turns hastily to the Bright, his demeanor worried, "Okay, got a moment, sweetheart? Seems I'm a dom now. So... help! What do good doms do?!"

Bella chuckles softly and watches Rosie head off, saying, "You know, I could have gotten it myself..." Slate's worried question makes her laugh aloud and hug the Seraph tightly, "Uhm... sure. And the first thing they do is relax."

Shateishael gets a slightly sheepish look, hugging strongly in return, "Sorry, sweetheart." He sighs softly, relaxing -- the hug helps! "Just... kinda nervous, y'know? Don' wanna see him hurt... 'n this isn't like th' dragon ladies 'n Puck. He chose t'do this... never been inna situation like this b'fore, y'know?"

The Bright slides her arm through Slate's and guides him toward a relatively out-of-the-way spot in the shade of a large tent that seems to be empty at the moment, "Mmm, well, he might want to be hurt. You won't know until there's some negotiation there."

Shateishael gladly walks along with Bella, settling with her in the shade and leaning just a little bit against her. He shakes his head, "I'll be s'prised if he likes pain. He's... well, most a' th' places I've lived, he wouldn't've lasted 5 minutes without attachin' himself t'a warrior. He's th' gentlest two-spirit I've ever seen." He adds glumly, "Which... is kinda why I'm tied up in knots 'bout this. He's only my third lover, an' he's so fragile in some ways."

Bella nods a little, agreeing, "Rosie is the sweetest being I've ever encountered, actually." She strokes a hand over Slate's hair. She starts to say something, and the Seraph's offhand comment catches her, "Uhm... so I'm number four?"

Shateishael's eyes are half-closed as he tries to focus on relaxing and enjoying Bella's touch. He rumbles absently, "Mm? Nah, you're my second, sweetheart. Why?"

Smiling bemusedly, Bella says, "Because, hon, you've just been around so long..." She shakes her head and chuckles wryly, "You know that I'd had four lovers before I'd been on earth a month? But I probably shouldn't be surprised."

Shateishael opens his eyes and looks curiously at Bella, "What's bein' on earth got t'do with havin' lovers, though?"

Bella chuckles again and kisses Slate's forehead, "Sweetie, I would have figured that you'd have fallen in love a time or two after being around a couple millennia. I mean, I don't see you hopping into bed with just anyone, but..." She shakes her head and waves it off, "Never mind... I'll splutter in shock later."

Shateishael looks confused, but just smiles, "Okay. Fallin' in love isn't th' same as havin' lovers, though." He hesitates, then slowly asks, "Um... is it?" A moment later he grins and adds, "An' it's only been one millennia."

Bella shakes her head, still looking slightly off-balance, "I think love is a prerequisite with you, Slate. I don't see you going to bed with someone you didn't love. But we'll get back to that... you wanted to know how to be a good Dom to Rosie, yes?"

Shateishael nods, looking relieved, "Yeah, please."

The Bright smiles, stroking Slate's knee, "Well... the very first thing is to ask him. Him belonging to you is a sweet fiction. No matter who's topping whom, the person bottoming is the one in charge."

Shateishael nods, looking a bit more relieved, "Okay, good. Don' think I'd be very good at whips 'n beatin's. Go on?"

Bella hugs her knees to her chest, still smiling, "I don't know that Rosie'd be up for more than a little light slap and tickle, anyway. I see him being more of a rabbit fur and feathers kind of boy, than leather and spikes. Figure out what you're comfortable with, too. I mean, I don't see you doing this 24/7."

Shateishael nods again, looking out at the camp, "Not sure what that'd be like anyway. He's hearthfolk, not a doormat." He thinks a moment, then grins, "Rabbit fur 'n feathers? Well now... that explains th' jacket he picked out when I tole him he had t' have some protection before I took him anywhere on th' bike." He chuckles quietly.

Bella very carefully says, "You realize I mean using rabbit fur to stroke over his skin and, uhm, bits, yes?"

Shateishael thinks about that a moment, then nods again, "Okay. C'n do that. What else?"

Bella glances toward the direction of the Circle-H camp, "Well, honestly, you're doing a really good job. You're being gently commanding and very protective. You're touching him a lot and you're being an aggressor." She grins briefly, "I don't think you've ever once initiated with me. It's sort of sweet to see."

Shateishael looks relieved again, sighing and pushing his shaggy blonde hair out of his eyes, "Well, good... that's a relief t'hear." He leans back on one elbow, relaxing, then curiously asks, "What's sweet t'see? An' what haven't I initiated?"

Bella runs her fingers over Slate's stomach lazily, "What's sweet to see is you being forward and almost aggressive in making love to Rosie. I can barely think of a time that I wasn't the one to make the first move."

Shateishael hesitates, considering, then says slowly, "I... don't know how, sweetheart. I don't wanna spook you into thinkin' I'm tryin' t' grab atcha, after all."

The Bright rolls her eyes and laughs, "Do you want to grab me?"

Shateishael smiles, his eyes bright as he regards her, "Sometimes, yeah. But I know you're kinda big into freedom... don't wanna inhibit that."

Bella chuckles and shifts until she's kneeling over Slate's lap, reaching for one of his hands to put it on her hip, "And if I said no, would you stop?"

Shateishael looks puzzled as he gently runs his large hand over the curve of her hip, "A' course, sweetheart." He thinks a moment, then adds, "But... sometimes I wanna cuddle or somethin', an' I'm not sure you'd like to just then. Dunno how to ask, really."

Leaning forward, Bella kisses Slate on the forehead, "Then grab me if you want to. Sometimes it's nice to be grabbed. By certain people, anyway." She giggles at the addition and says, "And if you want a hug or a snuggle, say so! Shateishael, dear heart, I adore you. I like snuggling with you. I like sitting under trees with you or just watching the sky. If I don't want to, I'll say so and you'll respect that. You're not impinging on my freedom by asking for something I can freely refuse."

Shateishael looks startled, "You -- you do?" He draws a deep breath, his eyes alight as he sits abruptly up, and grins delightedly at her, "Um... wanna cuddle a bit while we wait for Rosie t'come back?" He's still lightly cupping the smooth curve of her hip with one hand, and he reaches out carefully with the other, waiting to hear her response.

Bella smiles and wraps her arms around Slate's shoulders, "Sure..." She glances toward the tent, "Though I'm thinking it'll be a short snuggle."

Shateishael wraps his arms around Bella's waist, leaning back to gently draw her into a reclining hug. He's careful to make sure she's resting comfortably on his chest rather than on the sandy ground. Nuzzling gently against her hair, he rumbles with quiet contentment, "S'okay... learned somethin' new t'day..." he chuckles softly, "somethin' wonderful!"

Bella chuckles and rests atop Slate, "You know, people are going to think we're insane doing this in the heat of the day."

Shateishael rumbles contentedly, "They c'n get their own date!"

After some time Rosie makes his way to the general area he left the two, carrying Bella's water bottle, and having refilled his own and bringing another for Slate. He finds them nestled in the cul-de-sac snuggling, and smiles warmly, watching and waiting a little bit.

Shateishael eventually spots Rosie and smiles, raising one hand from slowly stroking Bella's back to wave the small Mercurian over, "Hey, Rosebud. Thanks f'r gettin' th'water bottle. Bottles." He pats the ground next to them, "Wanna sit inna shade f'r moment?"

Bella looks rather content, eyes closed as she nestles atop the Seraph and waits for Rosie's return. When she hears Slate speaking to him, she opens her eyes and smiles, "Thank you, honey." Shateishael also looks astonishingly relaxed and happy, in comparison to his usual half-wary half-smile.

Rosenstern blushes and smiles, "Thank you," he says, padding over and settling down on the ground in the shade. "I should have believed them when they said that the playa gets really hot in the day and really cold at night.

Bella sits up and reaches for her water bottle, "Mmm... indeed." Rosenstern smiles and reaches across Slate to hand Bella her bottle.

Shateishael chuckles quietly, "Oh, yeah... kinda like parts of what're Texas 'n Mexico now." He's silent a moment, just enjoying the way Bella's vessel shifts and moves across him when she sits up... then he sighs softly, still smiling as he puts an arm behind his head, and looks over at Rosie again. He reaches out with his free hand and lightly taps Rosie's thigh, "Got some stuff I wanna ask you, Rosie. First, wanna find out more from you what you like, 'kay? 'N second, want you t' promise me y'won't ever just walk over t' someone who holds out their hand for ya, okay? Unless it's me 'r Bella. Come ask me first, even if it's Soma."

Rosenstern blushes and ducks his head, looking abashed. "I'm sorry, Slate. I should have thought of that. It won't happen again, I promise.

The Bright reaches out and touches Rosie's cheek, "Sweetheart, it's not like something like that had been negotiated."

Shateishael says, "S'okay, Rosie. Jus' I don't wantcha t'do that with th' Winter King 'r someone else... we don' know yet what he's gonna be like, an' we need t' be careful." He watches Bella, then rumbles calmly, "Yeah, that's what I meant b'fore -- wanna negotiate what you're expectin', Rosebud." Bella smiles quietly, shifting so that she's not on top of Slate while this conversation is going on.

Rosenstern blushes at the touch again, and nods. "Okay," he says, a little nervously. "I'm... a little new to this as well. I mean, there are some people in the circles I travel in who are in relationships like this. I just know I feel safe around you, that I'm comfortable with you, that I feel little hearts popping about my head when I'm around you, and that I want to do anything and everything to make you happy and to care for you."

Shateishael looks a bit startled, then grins, thinking, [Sometimes metaphor is so strange!] He rumbles quietly, "Y'r doin' fine, Rosebud, an' you keep a beautiful hearth. Heck, Soma's gonna have a cow when he sees whatcha done with th' Circle H!" He considers a moment, then adds, "If somethin' ever happens an' I'm busy, an' Thea's not 'round t' take care a' you, find Bella, 'kay? An' I'll come getcha as soon as whatever th' danger is has been taken care of. Got that?"

Rosenstern blushes. "I'm glad; I hope he and his guests like it." He nods soberly then, "I'll do that, I promise."

Shateishael nods then, rolling upright, "'kay, then I think we're cool for now." He has some water himself, then asks Bella, "Hey, sweetheart, you know how t'do that Creationer song that rolls time back?"

Rosenstern says softly, as he leans against Slate, "As for what I like... gosh, Slate... there are a lot of things, and some of them I'm just starting to notice, now that I'm... that I've put a finger on how I feel, and what I want to be towards you."

The Bright shakes her head, "Sorry, no, hon. I think Ian does, but I fall into that trap of thinking Ian knows everything about Eli."

Shateishael laughs! "Yeah, he's like that. Okay. Was jus' wond'rin' if you could help fix th' sculpture 'r not." He looks down at Rosenstern leaning against him and smiles, looping an arm around the slight angel, "Jus' think 'bout it a whiles, 'n when you're ready we'll siddown an' talk 'bout it, 'kay? Need t' know ev'rythin' 'bout what you want if I'm gonna get it right." He has another long drink of water from the bottle, then sighs contentedly. He grins, ruffling Rosie's hair gently, "'Kay... so. Livin' Flow'rs now?"

Bella grins, "I think it's Imaginary Flowers..."

Rosenstern nods, smiling and rubbing his head against Slate's ruffling. "I will. I'll be happy to present that list to you," he grins mischievously, "in whatever manner you wish." Then he brightens, then. "Oh, yes, please?"

Shateishael chuckles, "Livin', imagin'ry... place like this, might be one 'n th' same, sweetheart!" He looks around, adding in quiet contentment, "Y'r right, Bellisima... this is a very, very nice place!"

Bella brushes alkali off her knees and behind as she stands up, "Heh, well, if Ian were around, we might actually be able to make some of them real. I want to learn that little trick sometime."

Rosenstern tilts his head to the side. "How do you mean?".

Bella grins and reaches over to takes Rosie's hand, "Ian can turn one thing into another." Rosenstern starts to reach for Bella's hand, then pauses and looks to Slate inquiringly.

Shateishael nods, "An' he can roll time back a bit." He chuckles quietly, adding, "Bella's always okay, Rosie. She's a survivor, an' I trust her with you." He finishes with, "But that's how I keep th' ole truck rollin' 'n happy -- Creationers that c'n reverse agin'."

Rosenstern smiles and nods to Slate, then takes Bella's hand. "Oh... anything into anything?"

Bella shakes her head and twines her fingers with Rosie's, "I think it has to be organic. Can't do a thing with plastic or rubber."

Shateishael shoulders the water bottles and paces alongside Rosie on the other side, "So what're these Imaginary Flow'rs s'pposed t' be, d'y'all know?"

Rosenstern beams and shakes his head cheerfully. "I've not any idea!"

Bella shrugs and grins, "No clue, but I'm looking forward to finding out."

Shateishael says, "'Kay. Let's go then. Maybe we'll see more 'Thereals... been pretty damn fascinatin' so far!"

The Imaginary Flowers camp isn't as enclosed as the Living Stone camp was, and there seem to be more media present. Under a deeply shaded awning there is a small, crowded display of oil paintings of fantastical landscapes and almost psychedelic still-lifes. There are carvings and one installation seems to be enormous origami creations. There are strips of earth and window boxes planted with flowers that look as if they could have grown there, though Rosie can tell they are nothing that has ever grown on earth.

Shateishael shades his eyes to look under the awning, extending his senses as much as he can for the telltale trill of Ethereals being present. He blinks at some of the paintings, rumbling quietly, "Someone's been inna Marches..." Extending his senses leaves Slate awash in the feeling of Ethereals being present. He straightens in surprise, adding just as quietly, "Feels like there're several 'thereals here?"

Bella steps under the awning and smiles, crouching down to examine one of the false gardens, but not touching the flowers or earth. "Mmm... not surprised. Most of the folk in Soma's inner court were like him. Butterflies like flowers."

Shateishael nods slowly -- that makes sense. He follows, although he's more curious about the sculptures and origami. Are any of them made of stony materials? Toward the back of the camp where two aged and delicate women are sitting, there is a display of flowers carved of soft stones and even one or two that seem to be made of wire or sheets of silver or gold.

Rosenstern blinks at the alien flowers, amazed. He lingers alongside them, fingertips gently touching the soft petals. What stories do you have, blossom? he asks silently. "These flowers," he murmurs to the other two. "They're not... they're not terrestrial."

Shateishael looks over curiously at Rosenstern, then looks more carefully at the flowers, "Um... where're they from, then?"

Rosenstern hesitates for several long moments. "I don't know," he says wonderingly. He leans over them and inhales their scent, smiling. "But they're beautiful."

A soft voice, familiar from the night before, speaks up, "The one the Flowerkin is touching is from my mother's garden in the Marches." The eyes smiling out of the girl's face are familiar, and her skin is still nut-brown, though no longer bark-like. Her hair is pulled back under a brightly tie-dyed kerchief. It's Ayra, Bacchus' daughter.

Shateishael looks alarmed until Ayra speaks, at which point he relaxes a bit and nods politely to the girl, "Mornin', Ayra."

Rosenstern brightens, smiling as he turns and bows to Ayra. "Good morning, Ayra!"

The dryad girl has a watering can in her hand, grinning, "We're preserving the fiction that we're watering them just for appearances."

Shateishael chuckles quietly, "Yeah, I c'n see how that'd help." He looks around to make sure no one else is near, then rumbles, "Is y'r mom here too?"

Ayra shakes her head, smiling. She's wearing a long t-shirt dress, also tie-dyed, "No, mother doesn't like to leave her gardens."

Shateishael tilts his head thoughtfully, looking down at the graceful girl, "So... she's where th' Tether leads to?" He thinks a moment, then ah!s, "Th' center pole inna pavilion, right? That's th' Tether itself?"

Ayra tips the watering can, dampening the earth around one of the plantings. The blooms in it are eight-petaled stars, each petal a different color of the rainbow, the eighth pure white, "Mmm, it doesn't dump out into her front yard, but yes. And the column marks the center."

Shateishael nods, "Beautiful carvin's on th' Tether." He watches Rosie in raptures over the alien flowers, smiling in spite of himself.

Rosenstern looks at the flowers still wonderingly. "What... if I may, what are these flowers called?"

Ayra smiles down at Rosie, "They're called Hera's Stars. Mother created them as a tribute."

Shateishael quietly moves to examine the sculptures and origami. He never did do well at the paper folding, he remembers... he was more into metal shaping. He grins, also remembering an exasperated sensei telling him his calligraphy looked like it had been hammered out, not painted! He runs his fingers lightly and carefully over one of the sculptures, enjoying the warm feel of the metal against his skin.

Rosenstern smiles. "'Hera's Stars.' They're beautiful." He's entranced. Someone who creates flowers! Whole new species of flowers in riotous beautiful blooms! Shateishael smiles at Rosie's enthusiasm, and makes a mental note: must ask Somhairle if it's permitted for angels to visit the Marches during the time of the Tether.

Ayra smiles broadly and offers the watering can to the Mercurian, "Would you like to water them?"

Rosenstern brighrens. "Oh! Yes, please, Ayra! I'd be honored to! What... what do I need to do?

Ayra hands the watering can over to Rosenstern with a smile, "Well, they like to have moderately damp soil and heavy shade." She motions to the awning, keeping most of the planted flowers out of the sun, "The water has some special nutrients." Rosenstern nods to Ayra, and gingerly waters the plants -- not too much water, after all she said 'moderately damp soil,' not 'swamp.'

Bella has meandered off, examining the delicate sculptures of one young man who has build roses and crysanthemums one petal at a time out of clay. The two delicate old women watch Slate with pleased smiles on their faces. One is sitting comfortably in an old-fashioned wheelchair. The other is futzing and arranging the pieces of artwork on stands and tables. Shateishael looks up after a bit and nods politely to the two old women, touching a finger to his temple where he'd tip his hat, if he had his usual cowboy hat on, "Mornin', ma'am, ma'am. Y'all carve these? Lovely work."

The woman in the wheelchair rolls forward slightly, "I did the metal, she did the stone." Her companion smiles but doesn't say a word.

Shateishael regards the two old women carefully. They 'trill' like ethereals in his head, but he doesn't remember seeing them at the pavilion last night. So he politely says, "Y'all c'n call me Slate, 'n that's Rosie over there -- th' Flowerkin -- 'n over there's Bella." He crouches next to the display stands, lightly touching the stone flowers, and wonders if the stone is from the Marches also.

The stone itself is soap stone in some cases, jasper in one or two. Most are fairly common semi-precious stones. The silent woman leans over and touches Slate's hand gently, her companion says, "You like them?"

Shateishael looks up at the two women and nods, "Yes'm. Stone's special t' me."

The lady in the wheelchair smiles and laughs softly, the sound rich but soft, "Oh, we can tell, can't we, dearie?" Her silent companion nods. When she does, the flimsy scarf around her neck shifts and reveals the long-healed track of a scar.

Shateishael grins ruefully, "Guess it's kinda obvious, yeah." He tilts his head, regarding the two women, then rumbles, "Is it okay t'ask what y'all are?"

Shateishael looks ruefully amused again, "'Kay, guess I asked f'that." [Mental note: not polite to ask what they are!] He goes back to examining the metal and stone flowers, idly tracing connection points and other signs of the metal worker's skill.

Ayra sits down on a rug near the flowers and smiles, "You really do love plants... my mother would adore you."

Rosenstern blushes, and smiles to Ayra. "It's... well, it's such a huge part of who and what I am." He smiles shyly. "I kind of get it from my Mother.... But for as long as I can remember, I've loved working with plants in general and flowers most of all."

Ayra smiles and reaches to touch the delicate star-shaped blooms with her fingertips, "It's unusual for a dryad to care for any plant other than her tree. My mother has always been odd."

The scarred woman laughs silently, the other smiles impishly at Slate, deeply-wrinkled eyes twinkling, "Why, mostly we're old, Warrior."

Rosenstern tilts his head to the side. "Why odd?" he asks curiously.

The young dryad shrugs, smiling, "Just not in our nature for the most part."

Rosenstern smiles to Ayra. "It's fine. That's not always a bad thing..."

Ayra nods, "Mmm... but it's not always good, either. If we all went by our natures, we wouldn't be here."

Rosenstern nods a little, "True... and... neither might I, at that," he adds a little uncomfortably.

With a warm smile, Ayra leans in to kiss Rosie's cheek. Close up, she smells very much of moist earth and leaves. It's a familiar scent for the Mercurian, "Thank you for agreeing to help."

Rosenstern blinks at the kiss and blushes, smiling and glancing towards Slate. "I'm glad I can," he says gently. "I... I feel horrible for what happened after Neuschwanstein, but... I really do want to do what I can to help you. You deserve that, to be happy."

Ayra laughs musically, "Silly flower! I have always been happy!"

Rosenstern blushes, smiling, "I'm glad to hear that, Ayra."

Ayra reaches over to spontaneously squeeze Rosie's hand, "Some day, you really should come see mother's gardens."

Rosenstern blushes a little deeper. "I would very much like to. They sound simply beautiful, if these blossoms are any sample."

The woman in the chair smiles, eyes still twinkling, "We are of Soma's people. But before his, we were Oberon's."

Shateishael looks up again and nods politely, "Thank you, ma'am. Um... 'm 'fraid 'm not real well-read on th' fae, though, so 'm still not real sure what y'are... so if there's somethin' I should say 'r do t' be p'lite..." His voice trails off as it suddenly registers -- these women are old! He straightens, studying them in startlement. Does that mean... the fae aren't immortal?!

The woman in the wheelchair moves around the table and reaches up to touch Slate's face, "Well, I suppose the closest name would be sidhe, but we aren't the same as that any more." When she's not hidden by the table, the reason she needs the chair is obvious. Her legs end at the knee.

Shateishael nods slowly to the woman, crouching down next to the wheelchair so she doesn't have to reach as far, and trying to remember what sidhe were. He goes still at sight of her legs, feeling suddenly nauseous... then he drags his gaze back up to her face and sighs softly, "Ah. Think I un'erstand... you were there, weren't'cha?" Uncomfortably he adds, "I... y'all don't hafta talk t' us if y'don't want to, y'know? We're not all like him, but..." His voice trails off again. He literally has no idea what to say that won't sound idiotic.

The woman in the chair smiles sadly, "Ahh, yes, we were. But we were also there when the others came to salvage what was left. My sister and I know well that not all of Jehovah's children wish us harm." Glancing over toward Rosenstern, she smiles more warmly, "His kind especially were a blessing." As she speaks, her sister comes around the table and taps Slate on the shoulder.

Shateishael listens in fascination, rumbling quietly, "I... didn't know, lady. I'm glad Novalis' children were there for you. Not all of us are the children of the Desert King." He looks up at the tap, "Yes'm?"

Delicately veined hands open to show Slate a bloom carved carefully from rutilated quartz. It seems somehow to be a hybrid of old-fashioned rose and daffodil, and is held cunningly atop a stem and leaves twisted from silver wire. The chair-bound fae beams, "Ahh! A gift! Wise as always dear!"

Shateishael rumbles softly, "Oh..." as he stares speechless at the beautiful flower. He reaches cautiously to touch it with a gentle finger, then pauses, startled, at the fae's words, "Me? A gift for me? Lady, y'all don' hafta do that...?"

The silent one gives Slate A Look and her sister laughs, "Of course we don't have to, Warrior. If we had to it wouldn't be a gift now, would it?"

Shateishael blinks, considering that, then grins with genuine warmth at the two women, "Guess so, ma'am. In that case, thank you both very much!" The elderly sidhe hands the flower over to Slate and her companion starts to say something else, but before she really can there is an influx of decidedly human festival attendees. They're respectful and appreciative, but they also make it difficult to discuss the summer court aloud.

Shateishael will rise and carefully take the stone flower into his hands. He holds it up to the sunlight, admiring the way it glitters and shines, then grins back at the two old ladies and rumbles, "With your blessing, honored grandmothers, surely we may not fail." He'll give each of them a gentle kiss on the cheek, like a respectful grandson. Then he rumbles quietly to the two women, "Will we see y'all at th' pavilion t'night?"

Both women nod, and the one that can says, "We shall be there." Shateishael smiles, bowing politely, and gets out of their way so they can talk to the humans. He goes looking for Bella and Rosie, happily wanting to share the lovely gift with them.

Bella extricates herself from the crowd around the clay artist, beaming. Shateishael also is beaming, the lovely stone flower carefully cradled in his large hands, "Bellisima! Look what th' fae ladies gave us! I'n'it beautiful? Where's Rosie? Bet he'd love this too." The Bright oos and ahhs appreciatively at the flower, then motions toward Rosie, where he sits with the dryad and her garden. Shateishael shifts through the crowd to drop to one knee next to the seated Rosie and Ayra, lowering his hands so the flower can be seen. Fortunately he thought to pull a pair of shorts on under the kilt before heading out that morning, so he won't scandalize anyone accidentally. He rumbles, "Hey, Rosebud, lookit! Beautiful, yeah?"

Rosenstern blinks and looks down at Slate's hands, and his eyes go wide. "Oooh! Slate, that's beautiful!"

Ayra grins and claps her hands delightedly, "Rose and Lily gave you that, didn't they? They must like you!"

Shateishael grins happily, "Yeah. 'S a gift from th' fae ladies there," he nods to indicate the two women, then blinks at Ayra, "Holy crap, I completely spaced askin' for their names! I'm a dope." He looks sheepish, then adds, "They said we'd see 'em at th' pavilion t'night, so I c'n intr'duce y'all to 'em then, 'kay?"

Rosenstern beams and nods his head. "That'd be wonderful!"

Ayra rises to her feet as some of the humans start to drift over toward her gardens. She chats with them amiably, talking about the names of the flowers and very carefully not saying anything untrue -- she witnessed Slate's discomfort with it last night. Shateishael smiles thankfully at the little dryad, but will eventually draw away with Rosie and ask him if he could please take the lovely gift back to lock it in the truck, where it will be safe. Rosenstern bobs his head and takes his leave first of Ayra, then of Bella and Slate. Then he scampers off -- carefully carrying the stone flower! -back to the tent.

Bella slips her arm through Slate's as they leave the overflowing Ethereal camp, smiling as she watches the retreat of Rosie's silk-covered backside. "He's really just about floating today."

Shateishael nods slowly, smiling in spite of himself and sliding his arm comfortably about Bella's waist. "I think I c'n kinda un'erstand it now, though. It's like... I di'n' know how t' ask you, an' wasn't willin' t'risk antagonizin' you... but now I know you'll jus' say stop an' not be pissed, it's easier not t'worry." He smiles down at Bella, his ice-blue eyes warm and alive with pleasure, "An' I think that's why he's so happy t'day too -- he c'n really be himself. He doesn't hafta be anythin' 'cept what I tell him, y'know?" Shateishael grins cheerfully, adding, "An' he knows I'm not gonna ask him t'be anythin' he really doesn't wanna be."

Bella nods and nestles against Slate's side, "Mmhm... that's one of the joys of being in his position with someone that loves you."

Shateishael draws in his breath slowly, still a bit tingly feeling at how much easier and natural he feels with Bella now. Softly he rumbles, "Is it? Good... guess I'm doin' it right so far, then." He's gently trailing one hand along Bella's back when the thought hits him, "Um... have you done this too, Bellisima?"

Bella closes her eyes for a moment, letting Slate be the one to guide her as they walk, just enjoying the heat of the sun and the caress of the Seraph's hand. "Hm?" she asks at his question, "done which exactly?"

Shateishael says, "Been a su- oh, wait, 'course you'd hafta've done it, if y'already know y'like it, right?" He ponders silently for a moment, reflexively guiding Bella and not realizing she's in a sense doing it right then as well.

Bella chuckles as Slate works it out for himself, "Yes. Quite a few times. I've also been a dominant. But I don't have to be either one. Sex play is sort of like ice cream. Sometimes I want the rocky road with chocolate sauce. Sometimes I just want a nice rich vanilla."

"Heh." Slate grins, "You're a wonder, sweetheart, y'know that?" He sighs happily, continuing to steer her gently through the crowd for as long as she'd like... then he curiously asks, "So... what didja wanna splutter in shock 'bout, Bellisima?"

Bella opens her eyes and takes over guiding herself a bit more through the crowd, "Just about the fact that someone as loving and gentle as you are hasn't had more lovers..."

Shateishael lets his hand slide to entwine his fingers with hers, and smiles curiously, "How d'y'mean, sweetheart?"

The Bright swings her arm with her stride and chuckles, "I mean, big, blonde and buff, that you're a handsome guy. You've got a body to make any girl's... or boy's... panties damp. And you're a sweetheart. You care about people. It's hard for me to believe more people haven't dragged you off to do wonderfully naughty things to you."

Shateishael blinks, "Panties...? Oh!" He laughs, then shakes his head amusedly at her, "Y'r kiddin', right?"

Bella smirks in amusement, "You tell me? Am I kidding?"

Shateishael smiles quietly, "Don' always run th' Resonance, love. Don' wanna be intrusive, an' don' want folks t'feel they can't be themselves f'fear I'll have a cow 'r somethin'. That bein' said, since you asked, moment..." He 'listens' for the Symphony with his Resonance for Truth. Bella waits a moment and repeats what she just said, almost word-for-word. And from what Slate can tell she means every single word of it.

Shateishael watches Bella speaking, 'hearing' Truth in her words and her. It sings through him joyously, intertwined with his nature and binding him into the Symphony... it glows within her as well, sparkling and shining like their very souls, making him feel like his chest isn't large enough for a moment to breath... and without thinking he leans down to slowly, gently kiss her. Bella wraps her arms around Slate's neck, sinking happily into the kiss and letting it become for a moment the center of her universe.

Shateishael holds Bella closely, lost in time within the kiss and the Bright, standing steady as the crowd shifts and flows around them. When he finally raises his head to breath again, he's not sure how long they've stood there... but looking into her face, he reflects quietly that he wouldn't mind being there as long as she wanted. He smiles slowly, rumbling softly to her, "Din' know Truth was such a turn-on..."

The Bright doesn't seem inclined to move any time soon either, lacing her hands together at the back of Slate's neck, "Mmm... that's a universal, though. Someone that can tell you, honestly and with feeling, how desirable you are is the largest aphrodisiac the world has ever seen."

Shateishael brushes his lips lightly against Bella's forehead, his own hands clasped behind Bella's back, gently supporting her against him. "Y'know, as li'l as... what, 'bout 2 centuries ago? -I wouldn'a known that."

Bella leans against Slate, her ear against his chest and smiles, "What? That you're sexy?"

Shateishael chuckles, "Well, not what I meant, but yeah. Most folks don' know how t'say what they're really thinkin', an' it's hard t' feel romantic when y'r head's janglin' constantly." He sighs musingly, adding, "Think that's what made Dancin' Filly diff'rent. She knew 'zactly what she wanted an' who she loved. Nobody else did... till you came 'long." He gets a faintly bemused look, "An' then Rosie. Ha'n't had this much sex in m'whole life!"

Bella chuckles and reaches up, brushing her thumb along Slate's lower lip, "Well, hon, that just means you've got a lot of wonderful things laid out for you. And having lovers isn't all about orgasm, either. The nicest ones are the ones you can curl up on the couch with and eat chocolate chip cookies."

Shateishael lightly kisses Bella's thumb, then chuckles again, his eyes bright with happiness, "Makes sense t' me. You c'n come curl up on me 'r th' couch 'r whatever any time you want, Bellisima." He hesitates, then says carefully, "Is... it infringing on y'r freedom if I say I adore you too?"

Bella smiles and rests her head against the Seraph's chest. After a moment she says, "Loving someone isn't infringing on them, honey. Feeling that you have a claim on someone because you love them is infringing."

Shateishael sighs softly, relieved. He gently strokes Bella's hair, wondering a bit at its softness and shine, and quietly rumbles, "Then... I love you very much, Bella."

Bella smiles, closing her eyes and hugging Slate tightly, "I'm honored, sweet Seraph." Shateishael smiles, relaxing a bit as she doesn't react badly, and hugging her back.

After a moment Bella steps back from the hug and looks up at Slate curiously, "So... you've had three lovers in a thousand years... you... it really doesn't bother you that I've not been quite so picky?"

Shateishael lets his hands slide along her body as she steps back, enjoying the sensation but not getting in the way of her movement. He looks a bit puzzled at the question, "Um... not sure whatcha mean by picky?" He thinks a moment, then adds curiously, "Is it really that easy f'you t'find lovers? Don'tcha... I dunno, feel funny when y'can tell they're not really int'rested in you -- just inna sex, or buyin' y'r time?" He considers Bella thoughtfully, then grins ruefully, "Or d'you just always have lovers that really love you?"

Bella chuckles slightly, "Well... before I came to Phoenix, I didn't really much care. Sex makes for a powerful persuader and it can make for a really secure set of shackles... after that..." she shrugs, smiling, "After that, there was some time where I just wanted to explore everything. And sometimes I took someone to my bed because they needed something or someone to remind them of how beautiful life is."

Shateishael says, "That's nice, Bella. I like that..." he thinks a moment, then sadly adds, "but... don' think I'd be very good at it." He sighs, meeting her gaze, "Hope y'don' mind too much, sweetheart."

Bella tips her head, "You hope I don't mind that you couldn't take a lover simply because they needed it?" Shateishael nods and looks away, looking faintly embarrassed. Rolling her eyes but smiling, Bella reaches up and puts her hands on either side of Slate's face, trying to guide him to look at her, "Sweetheart, you're Stone. You give people something solid to lean against. Creation... well, we're a little more flexible. But being flexible isn't always what's needed. You don't want a tornado shelter made out of milkweed."

Shateishael looks down at Bella and smiles in spite of himself, "'kay... it'd look pretty, though." He grins, teasing gently, then adds, "So... what didja mean by not bein' picky?"

Bella smiles crookedly, "There's this tendency that I've seen from time to time for a less-experienced lover to either feel under-qualified or horrified about the number of people someone has had sex with." She goes on after a moment, "For instance, there was a guy that Lilith sent me to that flew into this weird rage when he found out that I'd slept with three times as many people as he had. For some weird reason he thought that it made me somehow less worthy as a lover."

Shateishael just stares at Bella for a few moments, trying to wrap his head around that... then he can't help it -- he laughs! "He... got pissed?! Why di'n' he ask you f'r advice if he wanted t' be an amazin' lover?"

Bella chuckles as the Seraph laughs, "He didn't care about how good or bad he was. There's this weird emphasis on virginity in women in a lot of places. I don't know what made him think he would get a virgin when trading with a Demon Princess."

Shateishael grins, his eyes dancing with mischief as he takes both Bella's hands into his own. He looks her directly in the eyes, and rumbles solemnly, "Bella, sweetheart... gotta get this offa my chest, 'n confess somethin' t'you... see, I've made more than three times as many swords as you have!"

The Bright snorts and punches Slate lightly on the shoulder, "And it's going to stay that way."

Shateishael laughs delightedly, then slides an arm around Bella's waist, his voice still teasing, "Aw, c'mon, don'tcha wanna be impressed by my... rampant tool use?"

Bella rolls her eyes again and sticks her tongue out at Slate, "I've always been impressed with how you hammer things."

Shateishael grins, "Tell you what... you don' care I'm not virginal 'bout makin' swords, I won' care you're not virginal 'bout sex." He rolls his eyes, fervently adding, "Thank goodness!"

Bella laughs again, "I'm so proud! You're learning humor!"

Shateishael chuckles, "Hey now, humor 'n I are noddin' acquaintances. We jus' don' compare notes often, y'know?"

Bella chuckles and takes Slate's hands, walking backward in the direction of the tent, "Let's go find Rosie..."

Shateishael paces contentedly along the thoroughfare with Bella, although he can't resist asking one last question after a while, "Bellisima? Didja really worry virginity was important t'me?"

She shrugs and chuckles self-consciously, admitting, "It hadn't even really occurred to me until you said that about Rosie just being your third. Part of me got a little paranoid because most folks that have very few lovers take a very dim view of someone that's been less abstinent. I had to ask to quiet that voice."

Shateishael gets a slightly lopsided grin, "Y'know, I know it sounds weird, but... thanks. 'S nice t' know you care what I think." He walks silently with her for a moment, then rumbles contentedly, "Y'know you c'n always ask me whatever you want, sweetheart, right?"

Bella nods, smiling, "I do."

Shateishael says, "Good. Jus' checkin'." He watches her walking for a bit, then grins mischievously again, "Back to th' tent, huh... need any help checkin' up on pretty Rosie?"

The three angels take refuge in their tent through the strongest heat of the playa day. Bella seems to think that judicious applications of ice to Rosie's skin is a good distraction, or a good way to beat the heat that makes its way through the shelter of the tent -- that or she's just feeling mischievous. Eventually, the brightest light seems to be coming from the west side of the tent and the sounds of more people stirring become obvious.

Shateishael sighs contentedly, having very much enjoyed lying around peacefully, watching lovely Bella be sensual with pretty Rosie. [Man, is my life easy or what?!] Rosenstern makes no complaint; he thoroughly enjoys it, the water droplets running over him and more than helping to cool him off. He just hopes the others aren't getting too hot. Shateishael will occasionally idly run a hand over whomever is closest, enjoying the feel of warm wet skin... but when the sun gets low enough he glances over towards the tent's western side, then back at the other two, "So... y'all wanna head out 'n see what's up?"

Bella turns her head toward the sound of laughter coming from outside the tent and then grins at both boys, "Yeah, we ought to maybe go see what else we can see." She starts to stand and wiggle out of the catsuit she's been half-wearing through the lounging.

Shateishael says, "'M thinkin' I'd like t'explore th' 'Thereal encampment while it's still light, an'... umm..." Slate's voice trails off as he watches Bella undressing, and he grins lazily, "Or... we could stay in..." He smoothes one large hand over whatever part of Bella he can reach, and rumbles amusedly, "Y'do that d'lib'rately, don'tcha, sweetheart...?" Rosenstern rolls a little and stretches out, rrring softly and resting his head on his hands, watching Slate and Bella interact with a merry smile.

The Bright laughs and shakes her head, peeling the catsuit off over her feet, "Nope. I just spend too much time around casually nude hippies up in Sedona." She dives back into her clothes and pulls out another catsuit, this one made of red spandex with patent leather cuffs at ankles and wrists. She grins at Rosie, "I wanted to be all girly and match what you're wearing."

Shateishael laughs softly, watching and reaching out with his free hand to lightly smooth Rosie's hair while he watches Bella dress, "Well, 'm hopin' I never get blas� 'bout you like that." Rosenstern blinks at the catsuit and accoutrements she pulls out, and blushes, smiling... then he glances over to Slate to see what the big Stone angel's reaction is. Shateishael looks curious, "Rosie looks... 'girly'?"

The cuffs are very discreet and if one were not looking for the D-rings, one could pass them off as just trim at the ankles and wrists of the catsuit. Bella shakes her head, "Hrm... maybe, a little. But what I meant was that I was being girly in wanting to match what he's wearing."

Rosenstern laughs, and smiles to Slate. "Slate, I've been called 'girly' since a hundred years before it was 'in' to be metrosexual."

Shateishael rumbles bemusedly, "Whatsa metrosexual? That a new word f'r bi 're somethin'?"

Rosenstern rests his head on his hands again, watching Bella change. "Kinda. It's supposed to mean someone who tries to look bi but isn't, I think. Which is kind of silly, as if there's a single fashion that marks one as bi. Maybe in some places, I guess, but it's not universal."

Bella tugs and stretches the spandex into place, grinning, "It means a man that pays a lot of attention to his appearance, which seems very feminine to a lot of people."

Shateishael looks interested, sitting up, "Hey... y'got D-rings on th'..." His voice trails off puzzledly as he realizes those are apparently supposed to be there. "Um... okay..." He glances at Rosie, then back at Bella, and grins ruefully, "Um, am I missin' somethin' here?"

Rosenstern blinks to Slate. "Missing something? How do you mean?"

Shateishael looks at Rosie, looks down at himself bemusedly... then looks up at Bella, "Ah, gotcha." He looks back at Rosie, "Oh, 'cause Bellisima wants t'look like you... 'm wonderin' why, 'n if'n I'm s'pposed t' change too 'r somethin'?" He blinks with a faintly intent expression, suddenly noticing what Bella's doing with spandex... and how very nice it looks!

Rosenstern grins merrily. "Oh, whatever will people think if we're seen walking with Slate, Bella? Dressed as we are?"

Shateishael brightens, "Lucky me!" He grins.

Bella laughs and winks at Rosie, "They'll think, 'Damn, he's a lucky sonofabitch.'" She seems to finally have the outfit settled, "Because it's fun to watch people look at you like they're wondering how they can get cute boys and girls to flock around them."

Shateishael ponders that thoughtfully, then rumbles, "Did I do somethin'? Thought you guys kinda chose me, actually?"

Rosenstern smiles, "That's kind of half the secret to it, Slate, yes."

Shateishael says, "Not doin' anythin'?" He chuckles, "Dayum, they're gonna hafta wait a millennia t'have folks turn up?"

Rosenstern laughs softly. "Nono... I meant that you're you, and that we chose you. That's half of the secret to why we flock around you."

Bella smiles and kisses the top of Slate's head, "You wear what you want, hon. Rosie and I are going to be a bit mischievous and play your little submissive harem."

Shateishael says, "Don' think that's... uhh..." He looks rather startled at Bella's pronouncement, one arm coming up to wrap gently around her hips, "I... my what?!" He gets a funny look, then rumbles startledly, "Dayum again... di'n' realize that'd be a turn on!" Rosenstern stifles an even louder giggle this time, then tries to become the very picture of decorum.

The Bright pauses, seeming to remember something, "That is if it's OK? Not nice to put someone else into your own little fantasy without their permission."

Shateishael sighs, taking a deep breath and rubbing his face gently against Bella's side. He rumbles muffledly, "Sweetheart, you tell me what y'all want, an' I'll try t' make it happen, 'kay?"

Bella smiles, stroking Slate's hair, "Mmmm... see, some of what we both want is to do something that would make you happy. Besides, it might be a way to avoid unwanted advances in the Ethereal camp." She thinks on that for a second, "Not that I'd universally say no, but we don't know these people."

Rosenstern makes a faintly wry look. "I can think of at least one whom it would be better to not be approached by." He considers. "Then again, Puck is probably being kept busy right now."

Shateishael rumbles softly, "'M happy when y'all're 'roun', sweetheart... y'make m'heart sing." He takes another breath, hugging her close about the hips for just a moment, pressing his face against her with his eyes closed... then he relaxes a bit, smiling, and rumbles, "Ain't no one gonna bother us there... not with Soma so hot for pretty Rosie's petals!" He chuckles quietly.

Rosenstern blushes, smiling and nodding a little. He doesn't say that it might help in the Winter Court as well. Bella laughs and tangles her fingers in Slate's hair, pulling his head back if he lets her and then kissing him, "Sweet talker." She straightens and then looks for her sandals, "You're probably right, though. Almost seems like he's in love with our little flower."

Shateishael will gladly kiss Bella for as long as she wants, and his eyes are still faintly smolder-y as she searches for her sandals. He considers her comment about Rosie and Soma, then looks at Rosie, "Well, you're th' one that c'n tell what someone's really feelin' emotionally. Is he?"

Rosenstern blinks at the sudden question, then bites his lip and ducks his head. "He... he wants to be. But he can't, or won't. It's not like how a human confuses themselves about what they're looking for in a love, it's... more integral than that. He can't. It's his nature. But he wants to."

Shateishael rumbles puzzledly, "He can't what? What's his nature? Y'mean he's like a butterfly, an' cain't get attached t'any single flow'r?"

Rosenstern says quietly, "He can't fall in love. With me or with anyone."

Shateishael says, "Why?"

Bella smiles a little crookedly, "Why can't you lie?"

Shateishael says, "S'my nature, but I know that." He sounds puzzled as he asks, "'R ya sayin' he's emotionally damaged 'r somethin'?"

Rosenstern shakes his head. "No, just that he can't, any more than you can lie or I can harm a human."

Shateishael looks horrified, "A life without love?! Bright lord, how does he live like that?!"

Bella shrugs, still smiling that crooked and wistful smile, "They can be very fond of things and people. You saw how Bacchus is with his daughter and how Soma is with Rosie... it's apparently something many of them are missing. Like they don't have the right slot for the love-shaped block."

Shateishael still looks horrified, "Holy crap! Can we help them?!"

Rosenstern lets out a breath. "I don't know. I can't know. Ethereals are... they're not humans. I can't understand them well enough." He sits up, looking a little agitated. "I felt it in Neuschwanstein but I didn't understand until he told me... and even now I don't really and truly understand. I don't know if it's just him, or if it's all Ethereals, or just this court of Ethereals...."

Shateishael rumbles with absolute sincerity, "Those poor folk! That's terrible!"

Bella chews on her lip, "I wonder... I wonder if it's like Bacchus was saying about Soma having to harm himself to go straight to the center of a topic... maybe love hurts them like that?"

Shateishael shakes his head emphatically, "That's still horrible. I mean, I don' wanna lie -- I think it's sick an' it hurts folks. But Rosie said Soma wanted t'love... but he can't!" He wraps his arms around himself, shuddering a bit, "Dunno what I'd do without love... always wondered if th' Fallen were jus' angels who'd forgotten how t'love..."

The Bright considers something for a moment before admitting, "Slate, love wasn't something I could do. I could feel a lot of things, but I couldn't love. Before."

Shateishael nods to Bella, considering... then rumbles firmly, "That... that cain't be right, that they cain't love. That's jus'... tha's horrible. We c'n ask Bacchus t'night, if he's there."

Bella reaches out to touch Slate's cheek almost in the way she was caressing Rosie earlier, a tender touch, "We can ask. After all, we may be wrong." She schools her face back to bright cheerfulness, "Let's get over to faerieland." Rosenstern smiles to Bella and nods, standing.

Shateishael catches Bella's hand lightly in his, turning to place a kiss on her palm... then rises smoothly to his feet, straightening his piratical shirt and tidily tucking the kilt into the belt. He looks at Bella and Rosie once he's ready... they do look rather similar now. Both sleek, smooth, graceful, lovely, almost inviting strokes and pettings... he shakes his head. He can't even begin to wrap his head around not caring about them. He holds out an arm to each, smiling quietly, "Shall we?" The Bright slips her arm through one of Slate's and waits for the Mercurian. Rosenstern's smile turns into a more playful grin, and he puts his arm through Slate's other arm, opposite Bella.

Shateishael heads out, proudly escorting his two beautiful lovers... he grins down at them after a bit of walking, "Y'know, this is nice! Makes me feel all cock 'a th'walk t'be seen with y'all!"

Bella laughs and bumps her hip against Slate as he walks, "Mmhm... it's sort of nice to have a pretty little pet or two on your arm."

The three of them do indeed elicit more than the normal share of double-takes and slightly envious looks. Bella, while always very womanly, has put an extra little sway into her walk. Once, a young man with long blonde dreadlocks on a bicycle keeps his eyes on the group much longer than he should and ends up spilling onto the side of the walkway in a tangle of limbs and bike. He doesn't seem hurt so much as just a little abashed.

Shateishael grins with an almost fiery contentment at the Bright, "Jus' these, f'me." No one nearby is moving at all aggressively, and so they don't really impinge on Slate's mental radar. His eyes are full of Bella and Rosie. He glances over a bit concernedly at the crash, but when the young man doesn't seem harmed, he goes back to walking with and watching his lovers. Rosenstern tries hard not to snuggle too much against Slate, since they're walking. Though he's not intentionally putting any sort of sway into his step, the wrapping does require some careful standing so he doesn't suddenly flash the world.

When they near the fae encampment, Bella starts to slow a little bit, taking a deep breath, "I know it didn't happen last time we went in, but I'm a little concerned I'm going to go all fangs and horns again."

Rosenstern says gently, "It seems to be a mix of what our natures are, and Soma's will. I think..."

Shateishael will pause before they're too near the fae pavilion. He regards it and the surrounding encampment thoughtfully, since it's still light. He's curious too as to who they'll see moving around, and how they'll look. At Bella's comment he looks down at her and smiles, "How y'look on th'outside don't change who y'are on th'inside, beautiful." He slides his arms around both their shoulders, and leans to kiss Bella lightly on top of her head, "We c'n wait a bit. 'M curious if Rosie 'n I c'n change too."

Bella tips her head to the side, "Change how?"

Shateishael says, "Wond'rin' if I c'n manifest Stone, 'n if Rosie c'n produce his pretty wings, sweetheart." Rosenstern takes advantage of the stopping to snuggle into Slate's side. He's a little nervous, as well, truth be told. Shateishael reflexively runs his big, calloused hand lightly along Rosie's arm, cuddling the little Mercurian close as well, and smiles relaxedly at the two of them, "We'll wait 'til y'all feel ready, 'kay?" He gently and reassuringly rubs his hands along both of them, seemingly content to wait all night if they want.

Rosenstern nods his head against Slate's side, making a quiet sound. He takes in a little breath, then looks over to see if Bella is ready. Bella licks her lips again and looks toward where she remembers the edge of the barrier being. On the other side it looks pretty much like every other large encampment. From here at least nothing seems unusual about its denizens. Some of the faces seem vaguely familiar, as if they might be relatives of someone they've known or have seen. Shateishael smiles and nods politely to any of them that look over, but makes no move to rush either of his companions. One stocky, slightly hirsute figure does look very familiar, since they've seen Bacchus in both his human and satyr forms.

After a moment or two Bella closes her eyes and takes the steps forward to carry her across the invisible barrier of the glamour around the encampment. Once she's across she opens one eye and looks down at herself, breathing a sigh of half-relief, half-disappointment, as she sees herself unchanged -- then she looks chagrinned, "He's got to have his will in it, doesn't he?"

Shateishael grins at Bella, his eyes dancing, "Well, now... ain't that th'way of th' fae? Tricksy 'n unpredictable?" He glances down at Rosie, raising an inquiring eyebrow.

Rosenstern nods a bit, "I... think so, yes." He still thinks that bodes ill for the Winter Court... though he's now intensely curious as to what the Winter King's will should make of him. He licks his lips a bit and pads forward demurely into the area of effect of the encampment. And to think... I'd been tied up on the Tether as Soma made love to me... there's something metaphysical in there, I'm sure. And also a lot I'm never going to tell anyone of the Sword or Judgment, either.

Shateishael smiles, pacing slowly after Rosie, to pause between both his lovers again. He gives Rosie, then himself, a curious look, wondering if they'll all stay apparently unchanged. The sounds of the camp actually seem a little clearer on this side of the barrier, but everyone looks just the same as they did from outside. Bacchus, who had been sitting outside a tent apparently working on patching a pair of blue jeans, looks up and his face splits into a wide grin, "Well, a visit without Puck in tow... to what do we owe the pleasure?" he calls toward the angels.

Shateishael laughs, then rumbles in slightly teasing reply, "Well, now... heard you 'n y'r lord stayed up all night las' night, 'n figgered it'd be p'lite t'stop by 'n see if y'all'd changed y'r minds 'r somethin' 'bout us?" He grins, "An' Puck got hisself in trouble without any help from us, that's f'r sure." He rumbles quietly to Rosie and Bella, "'M thinkin' court's not started yet, actually. Bet that's why everyone looks th' same. That... 'r it's still daylight, maybe?"

Rosenstern nods to Slate, "Daylight makes sense. Easier to hide the glamour as 'costumes' at night, I imagine," he murmurs. He smiles and waves to Bacchus when the satyr calls out to them.

The satyr motions them over, his gaze skimming over Rosie and Bella in way that manages to be appreciatively lustful without being crass, "Come on over and grab a seat. I have to get the hole in the crotch of these patched before I can wear them today." What he's wearing currently seems mostly to consist of a sheet wrapped around his hips.

Shateishael paces over with the other two, if they seem comfortable again. He crouches, curiously asking, "What happened? Usually mine tear either along th'inseam a' th' thigh, or across th'front of th' thigh... not th' crotch seam." He glances around, wondering if either the dragon ladies or Puck are around... he's curious as to how they're all managing now they're all in each other's hip pockets, so to speak.

Bacchus holds up the jeans to show that it's not so much a tear as a hole worn through the patch that was already over a patch of frayed denim, "I got these in 1973 and I'm not giving them up just because the patch gave out." On closer inspection the jeans look so soft that it's hard to believe they're denim in places.

Rosenstern blinks at the jeans. "1973?" he asks. He reaches forward a little. "May I... uhm. May I see them? I can do some mending, unless you want to do it yourself?"

Shateishael chuckles quietly, "Ah... you keep y'r jeans long as I try t'keep mine." He runs one hand along the back of Rosie's calf, where the slender Mercurian's standing next to him, "Rosie's a wiz with needle 'n thread, 'r I'd be left with nuthin' t'wear." Rosenstern shivers with the touch, blushing. Bella settles herself down tailor-style beside Slate and leans her head on his shoulder.

Bacchus hands the jeans over with a chuckle, "Oh, I can mend a bit, but it always ends up looking less than well done." He wiggles his fingers as if to demonstrate that they're too big, "Needles and I don't get along."

Shateishael nods ruefully, holding up one of his own large, slightly scarred hands, "Yeah, hear ya on that one." Then he smiles contentedly, settling and shifting carefully so Bella's comfortable. As an absent afterthought he tucks the kilt under a bit too, thinking, [Good thing I thought to put on that pair of shorts... even if they are a bit short!] He lightly strokes Bella's hair, then watches Rosie mending with his usual swift deftness... then he looks up at Bacchus, "So how're th'dragon ladies? Is Puck behavin'?"

Bacchus does his level best to keep his face straight, "He's been carrying every heavy thing in the damn camp, actually. The little birdie and beastie even took something away from one of the demi-giants."

Shateishael chuckles quietly, "Ah, good t'hear. Hopefully he'll be too tired t'do anythin' that might get him toasted then." He's silent a moment, trying to figure out if there's a polite way to ask... he can't think of one off the top of his head... Rosenstern glances to Slate as he sits. Oh, rats, he remembered to put on a pair of shorts under the kilt. He smiles and sits cross-legged on the ground beside Slate, starting to carefully mend the jeans. They're old and so incredibly soft he doubts that even cashmere could be as soft.

Bacchus smirks slightly, "He'll settle down in another century or two, I hope. It was like that at his age, too."

Shateishael runs his free hand lightly across Rosie's shoulders and back as the Mercurian settles, then sighs softly, still gently cuddling Bella. He's really having trouble even imagining how someone could live without love... so he finally looks up at the satyr and rumbles quietly, "Bacchus... c'n I ask y'rather um... personal question?"

Bacchus has reached for a heavy plastic bottle with a screw-top, taking a big gulp of it, "You can ask anything you want. Can't promise an answer though."

Shateishael nods slowly. "Fair 'nuff. Um... is it true 'bout th' fae not bein' able t'love?

The satyr looks closely at Slate for a moment, face going very serious as he thinks it over, "Love... is a slippery word, Warrior." Shateishael nods slowly, watching the satyr and not rushing him. Rosenstern remains silent and quiet as he works on the jeans. Still, he can't help but pay close attention. Bacchus takes his time with another swig of water, considering, "Some of us... have great affection for others in our hearts." Shateishael nods again, tilting his head and watching intently.

Rosenstern's mending of the jeans slows a bit, though he still works. He's listening with all his being to what Bacchus says, and he already feels the sadness welling up in him. He loves and adores Slate, he really does... but that doesn't mean that he doesn't want Soma to be happy, or doesn't care about the Summer King.

The satyr rolls the bottle between the palms of his hands as he speaks slowly and carefully, "And some of us can love, but it's not easy. It's painful, in fact." There's a shadow across Bacchus' face that says he might know this fact intimately, "Love for the fae can be... a sacrifice." Shateishael looks both confused and concerned, but keeps quiet, not sure if the satyr's done or not. The words do keep coming, though still slow, "I once heard that someone holds your Hearts?"

Shateishael nods, "Yah. Our Superiors keep 'em safe for us, so we don' hafta worry 'bout 'em." It's obvious from his tone of voice that Slate heartily approves of this.

Rosenstern says softly, "But our emotions are our own. The Heart is a link to where we come from. And they can be broken." Shateishael flinches without even realizing, then nods slowly. He's got some scars on his emotional heart that he doesn't talk about.

Bacchus nods, eyes on the ground as he mulls that over a moment or two, "OK, so maybe it's not quite the way I thought. The way I always thought of it was this... for us to actually love, we have to give away a part of ourselves. It's literally like reachin' in your chest and giving someone a piece of yourself. Human poets can write about it, but for us it's true. To love, for us, is forever. If our love dies, we die a little. We can't love again. We stop being..." He stops, groping for words. The Ethereal struggles with his words for a moment, "Think of it this way, Warrior. If you give that part of yourself to someone and that someone dies, you stop being able to see beauty. You can still enjoy things, but it's never more than a shadow."

Rosenstern blinks, feeling suddenly very small. "Oh..." he whispers. So either Soma loved and lost that... or he wants to be very careful... careful with whom he gives his love to. Which is why he would not say he loved me. For us celestials, love is free, it's found, cultivated, cherished, urged everywhere. Even Malakim love in their own way. But for Ethereals... love is forever. Oh, Adonai! To think that the Purity Crusade is the worst that could happen to them! But for to lose love forever, or to fret over it so much that one fears to love! We should have let them be. His vision blurs a little, his eyes stinging.

Shateishael looks unhappy, but impulsively reaches out to rest a hand on Bacchus's, rumbling quietly, "I'm s' sorry, Bacchus. I know it's how y'all are... but f'me, it'd be like dyin' alla th'time, t'hafta live without love -- 'specially since I was created outta th'love 'n care a' my Superior." He hesitates, fumbling for words himself, then carefully adds, "If... if there's anythin' I c'n do t'help... dunno what, but... tell me?"

Rosenstern's feels his hands tighten a little. "Why isn't there an Angel of Love to fix that," he whispers, his voice a little choked. Shateishael gently runs his free hand over Rosie's back, trying to be quietly reassuring.

Bacchus blinks at Rosie, like he hadn't thought of it quite that way, "Well, Flowerkin... I wish I knew. Be awfully nice, though. I would like to see some of the ones wasting away be able to come back to themselves." Rosenstern nods a little shakily at Bacchus's words, leaning back into Slate's hand and side, resting his head against the big Davidian's arm. The satyr's gaze moves over toward Slate and he smiles warmly, "I'm a lucky one, Warrior. My love is safe in the Marches."

Shateishael gently gathers Rosenstern close, making sure he's comfortable for both his loves... then looks gravely up at the satyr, "Y'r willow lady? 'M glad t'hear it." He pauses, then rumbles thoughtfully, "'R' any a' th'wastin' ones here?" Rosenstern feels better with the embrace, sliding back from the brink of an emotional moment, breathing slowly and recovering from the wave of intense sadness. And then, as any angel would do (he reasons) he wonders just what, if anything, he can do to help.

Bacchus mms and nods, a warm light coming into his eyes, "Aye, that's her. Several centuries now..." His grin gets a little more impish, "Though love isn't the same as lovers... it's good trees aren't jealous."

Shateishael chuckles quietly, rumbling half under his breath, "'r Stone..."

Bacchus's tone goes serious again at Slate's question, "Mmm, a couple. A pair of Soma's people."

Shateishael rumbles thoughtfully, "Is it... improper t'ask 'bout 'em?" He hesitates, then adds, "Or t'ask 'bout usin' th'Tether? How's that handled 'mong y'all?" Rosenstern has recovered enough to keep his hands busy with the mending. He's nearly done re-patching the incredibly well worn denim pants.

The satyr stretches his arms over his head, "It's not improper. They're two of our artisans. They're spending most of the time over near my Ayra and her mother's flowers. As for the Tether, its use is freely given."

Shateishael looks startled, "Rose 'n Lily?! But... they di'n' seem damaged -- not emotionally, I mean. They were... they laughed with me, they gave me a gift...?!" Rosenstern blinks, so startled he almost drops the needle. One in a wheelchair, the other couldn't talk....

Bacchus nods and smiles quietly, "They're very kind. They remember love. But they pine. They're dying."

Rosenstern cringes. "The Crusade," he says morosely.

Shateishael looks stricken. "How... but... why? Cain't anyone do anythin'?!" Bella strokes Slate's thigh quietly, staying silent. She remembers being a Demon well enough not to want to dwell on life without love.

Bacchus shrugs in a sort of resigned gesture. Though he's still smiling it doesn't reach his eyes, "Once the king might have been able to. But none of us have had that power in a long, long time."

Rosenstern looks up, and asks with soft determination, "What would he need for that kind of power?" Shateishael growls softly under his breath, then hushes as Rosenstern says exactly what he was thinking.

Bacchus licks his lips, a very human gesture, and clears his throat nervously, "He'd need more of us and we'd have to quit hiding. It's like..." He makes a sweeping gesture with his hand, "The summer court exists as it does because Soma wills it. But he can will it because there are enough of us now. We've found hiding ones, we've opened the door and let some come in from the Marches."

Shateishael looks puzzled, "He... draws power from y'all? And y're not all here right now?"

Bacchus makes a waffling motion with his hand, "Ehhh... more like there aren't enough of us left. Period. Remember I told you we don't reproduce easily?"

Shateishael's eyes narrow in thought. A moment later he rumbles, "What does th'king do with th' power t'heal 'em? 'Cause it occurs t'me that some a' th'things we do easy, y'all don' do a'tall... an' vice versa?"

"I'm... not exactly sure, much as I hate to admit it. I've heard it described as patching them... pulling something from the heart of the Song and pouring it into the hole." Bacchus shrugs apologetically, shifting a little and rearranging the sheet.

Shateishael frowns again, thinking hard... then he looks at Rosie and Bella, "What's th'Healin' Song feel like t'y'all?"

Bella chews her lip as she thinks of that one for a moment, "It feels sort of like I'm reminding the person of what they're supposed to be like."

Shateishael nods thoughtfully, then glances at Bacchus, "Y'think they'd let us try a Song a' Healin' sometime?"

Rosenstern closes his eyes, considering. As an angel, he is an instrument of God, Adonai, meant to show humanity the path to faith, or at least right living. As a Mercurian he is the Friend of Man, the Intercessionist, the one who shows humanity that path, to help them see the messages of the Divine in all their varied forms. And as an angel of Flowers he represents divine compassion, love for all, fertility and growth and love and emotion, from cradle to grave, from wedding to funeral, anywhere flowers are.

He tries, for a brief moment, to wonder if spreading belief in a Divine conflicts with spreading belief in the fae. And for the life of him, for the love of his Mutter, for the love of those he trusts, he cannot. So, he thinks, this is what the first step on the path to Heresy feels like. Mutter, forgive me, please. I will always love you and trust you. I pray that you will trust me in this, or at least understand. The Ethereals are living beings as well. Humans can believe in them and in a Divine Plan, whether that plan is delivered by Mohammed or Moses or Jesus or Bhuddah or Zoroaster.

He looks to Slate at the question, blinking as he comes back to the here-and-now. "I... pardon? The... it ... it feels like a... a rainforest flower blooming open again after a torrent, but... I can't imagine the Corporeal Song of Healing doing much. We'd need at the very least the Ethereal Song...."

Shateishael grins affectionately at Rosenstern, lightly brushing the Mercurian's hair back from his face, "Everythin' feel like Flowers t'you, pretty Rose?"

Rosenstern manages a soft smile, half-closing his eyes and catching Slate's hand with his lips in a soft kiss. "Almost everything, yes. Does everything feel like Stone to you? Whether immovable granite or slow-flowing, burning, smoldering lava?"

Shateishael answers promptly, his eyes tracing first the curve of Rosie's cheek, then turning to smile at Bella relaxing across his other side, "Nope."

Rosenstern smiles a bit. "Well, it was worth the metaphor. But yes, everything feels like flowers. I guess that's how I'm just put together."

Shateishael rumbles gently, "Like th'way y'r put t'gether, Rosebud... no worries there." He sighs in quiet contentment, then glances at the satyr to see if he's about to answer.

Bacchus does murmur with quiet humor, "He is awfully well put together... as to your question... I don't know if it would work, Warrior."

Shateishael nods to Bacchus, "Well, if'n they don' mind, we might ask p'mission t'try." He glances at Rosie, adding cheerfully, "So, y'almost done there, Rosie, 'r y'gonna keep fondlin' poor Bacchus's pants all night?"

Rosenstern blinks, then bursts out laughing. He finishes one last stitch and ties off the thread before handing the jeans back to Bacchus. "Here you go! All done!" Shateishael grins. The satyr stands up and lets the sheet fall unselfconsciously around his ankles before he steps into the jeans. They fit him comfortably, like a second skin, without being so tight around his hips as to be lewd.

Rosenstern thinks to himself it might be awful suspicious if he asked Mutter for the Ethereal song of Healing... still, something to think about -- at least before the satyr drops the sheet. Then he doesn't think much of anything for a moment or two. Shateishael watches with interest, still curious as to how the goat legs work. He wonders if the dragonladies will let him have a glance at Puck's hooves and shoes. He curiously asks, "So has Soma not called court yet t'night? Is that why we're not changed?"

Bacchus looks very human right now. He's built perhaps like a lumberjack, all barrel-shaped abdomen and sturdy limbs. He's nearly as hairy in this form as his natural one, and he seems well proportioned. "Mmm? Oh, court doesn't start officially until full dark."

Shateishael nods, "'Kay. We were guessin' somethin' like that. Y'all mind if we wander 'round a bit 'n explore 'n talk t'folks?"

The satyr shakes his head and grins, reaching down for a heavy silk shirt that looks just as soft as the jeans, "Nah. Soma has asked you to be officials of the court. He wouldn't want you barred from the enclave."

Rosenstern blushes a little when he realizes he was staring, and reaches down to lightly scritch Slate's arm around him. Shateishael looks thoughtful again, then nods slowly. He glances at both Bella and Rosie, "Y'all wanna explore s'more?"

Rosenstern smiles, and nods, nuzzling Slate a little. "I'd love to."

Bella pauses a moment, "I think, if it's OK with everyone, that I'd like to stay and chat with Bacchus a bit..."

Shateishael nods, kissing the top of Bella's head, "You yell if y'need me, 'kay?" He rises, easily lifting Rosie to his feet, and smiles at Bacchus and Bella, "See y'all later," then drapes an arm around Rosie's shoulders and looks around curiously, "So, where y'wanna explore, Rosebud?" He'll amble relaxedly off with Rosenstern, letting either Rosie or his feet lead him where they will, although he looks a bit wistfully over his shoulder towards Bella once he's a ways away and pretty sure she won't hear him. "Hope she has fun w'Bacchus..." Then he looks forward again, looking around and listening to see if there's anyone who'd like a hand, or anything interesting to see.

Rosenstern smiles quietly to Slate, taking his hand. "She'll be fine, I think," he says. "Besides, if anything happens she'll say she's with you; they seem to respect that here a lot more than outside."

Shateishael rumbles quietly, "Hope so. She seemed t'think there was a possibility of y'all bein' bothered. Still... 'm guessin' Bacchus wouldn't let anybody be a pest t'her, right?" Then he glances curiously down at Rosenstern, "What's 'outside'?"

Rosenstern says, "Outside the encampment, I mean."

The encampment is full of colorfully dressed people. Some of them are fairly easy to categorize as to what they might be in their less mundane forms. As the angels wander, they slowly become aware of the familiar sound of a hammer working against an anvil. Shateishael nods politely to anyone who meets their gaze, idly wandering... but at that comfortably familiar noise his head raises and he gets a faint smile curling the edges of his lips. He starts heading that way, rumbling to Rosenstern, "Was there a problem w'that, thatcha saw?"

Rosenstern says, "Not in Blackrock City, no." He sounds a little subdued. "But outside of here in the fey camp, and outside of Burning Man, well.... Bella would be getting a lot of unwanted attention. At least here, I mean, they're polite... 'no' means 'no.'" And I really hope that holds true for the Winter Court, too. Though there's no reason why it shouldn't.

Shateishael chuckles quietly, "Bella's not dumb -- she wouldn't wear that if she wasn' someplace it'd be appropriate." He chuckles, adding, "An' I'm thinkin' appropriate t'her means where it gets th'response she wants!" He adds thoughtfully, "Didja hear what Bacchus said? A demi-giant... wonder what one a' those looks like...?"

Rosenstern quips, "Tall?" Shateishael gives a low, rumbling laugh, looking ahead to see who the fellow blacksmith is. Rosenstern grins merrily, walking with Slate's hand in his.

There are a lot of double-takes aimed in the direction of both the angels. Male and female alike flash appreciative smiles, some more lecherous than others. At the very back edge of the camp there is an open-air forge. Standing over it is the first decidedly non-human creature they've seen so far. The body of a beautifully built chestnut horse is topped with the heat-reddened torso of a human male. The centaur's hair is almost the same shade as his coat and braided, his beard neatly trimmed.

Shateishael draws in his breath sharply, his eyes widening in wonder at sight of the centaur, then whispers, "Bright Lord! If only Thea were here!" He just stands for several moments, staring in wonder at the beautiful creature. Rosenstern also stares. He knows it's rude, but he just stares. Otherworldly creatures in mostly human form are one thing; there've been stranger Celestial forms. But this.... Short of a Cherub, he's never seen anything at all like this.

After watching for a few minutes, Rosie can see the forge actually seems to be outside the almost-invisible dome of the encampment, and the centaur actually seems to have two complete sets of metalworking tools. Rosenstern blinks a little at the sight, wondering what that might mean. He murmurs to his companion, "Slate? Why would he have two sets of tools?"

Shateishael mumbles articulately, "Uh?" then blinks, turning to focus on Rosenstern, "Wait, what?"

Rosenstern blinks, looking up at Slate. "Uhm, he has two sets of tools. And he's almost outside the... the dome, zone, area of effect, of the glamour."

Shateishael looks confusedly at Rosenstern... then looks back at the centaur. "Damifino." He grins, adding, "Let's go ask!" and strides forward, to stop a short distance away from the forge. He's keenly aware it's rude to simply get in a blacksmith's way... so he waits until the centaur looks up to nod politely, "Howdy."

The centaur tosses his head back and wipes his forehead with one muscular forearm, "Howdy." He has a rich southern drawl, his tail switching. He appears to be working on a horseshoe.

Shateishael grins suddenly, incredibly pleased to be around a proper working forge. He holds out his hand, "Slate. This is Rosie. Nice forge y'got."

Rosenstern straightens as he's introduced, smiling and ducking his head in greeting. "Pleased to meet you!"

The centaur grins, laying his hammer down just long enough to shake the offered hand, "Karl. Nice t'meet ya'll."

Rosenstern's gaze falls on the anvil, and he blinks. It's... iron. Iron? Isn't that bad for fae? Or... wait.... Ethereals. The centaur might not be affected? Or maybe 'cold iron' is different from some other type of iron? Wasn't cold iron meteoric iron?

Shateishael blinks, looking startled as he shakes the centaur's hand. He'd expected the horseshoe to not be iron -- but it definitely is, to his eye! Further, so is the anvil! Weirdly, there really does seem to be a second anvil, like Rosenstern said... but this one seems to be made out of some sort of mineral. He curiously rumbles, "...iron? I'n't that bad f'r fae?"

Karl snorts and it sounds awfully equine. He goes back to finishing the horseshoe and then quenches it with a hiss of steam. The two angels notice now that they're literally standing just inside the dome. The centaur and his portable forge are outside it, "F'r a lot of 'em, yeah. I ain' never had a problem."

Shateishael says, "Huh, interestin'. Was wonderin' how sturdy 'nuff shoes got made. Th'other anvil f'r satyr shoes 'r somethin'?"

Karl wipes his hands on a soot-streaked rag and puts his hands where the hips on a normal man would be. He's wearing a leather apron over the front of his torso, "Yeah. An' for any other silver work I gotta do. Can't have even a little bit o' iron in it."

Shateishael nods, studying the mineral anvil, but courteously not touching it, "Makes sense." He looks up thoughtfully at the centaur... then grins, "You strictly Summer Court, or y'ever go visitin' elsewhere?" Rosenstern's senses are a little twitchy; maybe he's not used to reading centaurs (there's a shocker), but he's getting a distinct impression Karl here isn't too fond of them. Or maybe he's just the laconic or strong-and-quiet type. Even so, Rosie remains close beside Slate.

One of Karl's rear feet paws at the alkali sand, and he laughs, "I ain't strictly nothin'. I go wherever I can get work, us'ally. Like these folks a little better 'cause I ain't alla time tryin' to figure out who's tryin'a get one over on me."

Shateishael blinks at that... then nods slowly, "I see..." He files that useful piece of information away for later, then adds, "My lead mare'd love t' meetcha, if you ever were in th' area a' Phoenix, Arizona."

The centaur looks Slate and Rosie over carefully, tail still switching lazily side to side, "Y'don't gotta talk about people like they're horses just 'cause I'm halfa one."

Shateishael looks puzzled, "Um... she is a horse. Her name's Aletheia. She's a Comanche breed."

Karl blinks. "Oh..." he says somewhat lamely. Then, "Damn, I got defensive all over myself again, din't I?" He smirks at his own faux pas, "No shit? How'd you keep a line o' them alive?"

Shateishael looks a bit puzzled again, "Defensive? Wha'for?" He brightens at the query about Aletheia though, happily adding, "She's technically my familiar, but really she runs th' Circle H Ranch, where Rosie 'n I 'n some other folks live." With the enthusiasm of someone in love, he adds, "She's gorgeous! An' she'd love t' meetcha, if y'wanted t' visit. Th' Summer King said he was maybe thinkin' of stoppin' by, if y'wanted t'come with him?"

Karl watches Slate's enthusiasm with some degree of amusement, "That'd be up t'Soma an' Bacchus." That same foot paws at the dust on the ground and he retrieves the horseshoe from the bucket where he was quenching it. He still seems a little puzzled over something.

Shateishael nods, then tilts his head inquiringly, "Somethin'?

There's another of those very equine snorts, "Just wonderin' what it is ya'll want. I don't do work for money out here. 'Gainst the rules..."

Shateishael chuckles, "'M new here. Love horses, love metalworkin'... miss m'own forge."

Karl ahhs and inclines his head toward Rosie, "'N yer little catamite?" He doesn't say the word like it's a bad thing.

Shateishael takes a moment to translate the word to something he understands... then he looks at Rosie puzzledly, "What about him? Somethin' wrong?"

Rosenstern blinks. "'Catamite'?"

Shateishael says, "Think it means two-spirit, Rosie." Rosenstern actually scratches his head at that. For all the time he spent in Germany, if he ever heard that term before, it's been a while. Finally he nods a bit, shrugging. Shateishael looks inquiringly back at Karl.

Karl motions vaguely toward Rosie, "'S he jus' followin' y'around or is he inta metalsmithin' too?"

Shateishael says, "Oh! No, we're explorin' t'gether here." Curiously he adds, "That a problem?" Rosenstern is now really getting not-favorable vibes from Karl, but he can't very well tug Slate away. That'd be like trying to move a dolmen of granite. With a thread.

The centaur shrugs, the motion emphasizing his smith's shoulders for a moment. The human half of him is quite well built to the casual eye. For that matter, so is the equine, "Nah, no problem." He smiles lopsidedly, "Lissen, I tend t'be a little blunt. No offense?"

Shateishael says, "Nope. 'M a Stone angel." He grins ruefully, "We're not known f'r social delicacy." Rosenstern relaxes somewhat. No crisis after all. But he gets darn sensitive about that sort of thing.

As the angels are chatting with the centaur, Bella meanders up and puts her arms around Slate from behind. Grinning, she exclaims, "Wow! Wish Thea was here!" She nestles against the Seraph's back.

Shateishael chuckles, snugging Bella's arms, "Yeah, me too. I invited him t'the ranch, though."

Karl nods with a heh, "I just tend t'ask questions as they come t'me. T'be honest, I haven't always been 'round Soma's folks s'much. I was around Bran's a whole lot more till that last couple decades... y'get kinda twitchy when strangers just start talkin' atcha." His eyes shift to Bella and he arches a brow, "Two of 'em? Damn, boy. When d'ya sleep?"

Shateishael laughs! -then grins, "Um... gotta admit we don' sleep a lot. Sorry if I was alarmin'. If y'r willin' t'tell me how t'properly b'have 'ccordin' t' where you come from, though, I'll give it a try?"

The centaur hehs again, "Betcha don'." Reaching into a sturdy basket hanging from one of the poles over the forge's roof, he grabs an iron ingot, "Well, lessee... plot, scheme, stab people inna back... have about three different things up yer sleeve..." He uses tongs to put the ingot into the forge, "But I'd rather ya didn'."

Shateishael rolls his eyes, "Uh, me neither. I suck at doin' that." He tilts his head to glance back at Bella, "Y'have a nice time chattin' w'Bacchus, sweetheart?"

Bella mms and nuzzles her cheek against Slate's shoulder blades, "He's an interesting guy."

Shateishael smiles quietly, "That he is, yeah." He nods politely to Karl, adding, "Don' wanna keep ya from y'r work. If'n y'need someone t'work th'bellows, though, 'd be happy t'lend a hand?"

Karl looks a little surprised at the offer and examines Slate closely for a moment, "Wouldn' say no to a little hand..."

Shateishael smiles slowly, pleased, "'Kay. Say when."

Karl's bellows are slightly oversized, but Slate has no problem pumping them. The centaur watches the fire critically and nods, calling out, "That's about got 'er!" when he judges it to be about right.

Rosenstern beams and waves when he sees Bella again, and laughs at mention of a lack of sleep. Still, he remains quiet, letting the two blacksmiths -- Celestial and Ethereal -- talk. He wonders what the two wildly different smiths could come up with together. Shateishael pulls his shirt off and works with a will. He's strong enough he's not really concerned about the oversized bellows, and he enjoys actually being useful to the Ethereals. Karl actually seems to relax a little when Slate takes right to pumping the bellows and actually starts humming as he starts to shape the iron ingot. Shateishael wonders a bit curiously what Karl's so tense about, but figures the centaur will say when he's ready. For now, it feels good to actually use his muscles again... it's been a while.

Rosenstern glances to Bella, brow furrowed and a bit concerned. While Slate works the bellows, he slips over to beside her. "Everything okay, Bella?" he asks softly.

Bella smiles and wraps her arms around Rosie, hugging him tightly, "Mmm... well... can we talk about that later, honey?"

Rosenstern blinks at the hug and hugs her back, nodding. "Okay. Later, then." And he smiles. And the Intercessionist in him pencils in a series of times when he's going to pester her about it.

When Karl calls for Slate to hold off on pumping more, the Stone angel neatly fixes the bellows back in place, then wipes his forehead with his forearm and grins ruefully at the centaur, "That good f'now? Y'want more help, lemme know, 'kay? But I don' wanna keep m'friends waitin' too long." He hesitates, then grins a bit shyly and adds, "Thanks f'lettin' me hang 'roun' a good forge 'gain, metal-shaper."

Karl nods once, the movement somehow gruff. The centaur catches himself and adds, "Y'welcome. C'mon back if you want to help out 'r talk shop 'r somethin'."

Shateishael brightens, "Thanks! I will." He grins happily at the centaur, then heads back to Bella and Rosie, absently pulling his loose cotton blouse back on. It's painfully clear he's never going to make a clotheshorse, considering how unwittingly scruffy he gets. He's struggling to tie off one long sleeve with his teeth and free hand as he walks along with his companions, and he glances sideways through his golden bangs at Bella. Muffledly he rumbles, "'at's up, Be'issi'a?"

Bella has mostly gained her cheerful demeanor back. When Slate asks his muffled question, she blinks, brows arching, "What?"

Shateishael grins, making a hash of the knotting, then swearing and just leaving it, "Ah, screw it -- damn sleeves!" Rosie laughs softly, reaching to tie off each of the long sleeves. Slate grins ruefully, "Thanks, Rosebud," then glances back at Bella, "I said, what's up, Bellisima? You seemed kinda... put out?"

The Bright mmms, teeth catching her bottom lip for a moment, "I was just talking with Bacchus about the two fading fey." She smiles lopsidedly, as if to say 'I know it's silly.'

Shateishael draws a slow breath, then nods quietly, "Wish I knew what we could do 'bout 'em too, sweetheart. What'd he say?" He waits quietly for her answer. He'll ask her what else they talked about in a bit... he can 'feel' there was something more.

Bella actually squirms where she stands, "He... said that it'd help if there were more Ethereals and he told me what he meant by they don't reproduce often..." She's trailing off again. Shateishael stops walking when Bella does, waiting calmly for her to answer in her own time. The Bright chews on the insides of her cheeks for a moment. She very rarely gets this agitated. For a moment or two she seems like the not-quite-convinced Lilim she was when she first encountered the angels of the Circle-H. Finally she lets her breath out in a gusty sigh, and words spill out of her mouth, "And I talked to him about maybe getting Dad to maybe... I don't know... fiddle things some... I mean... that's big bad juju...."

Shateishael looks puzzled, "Eli? How d'y'mean, sweetheart? What'd Bacchus say 'bout not reproducin' much?" He pauses a moment, then rumbles concernedly, "Bacchus wasn' rude t'ya, was he?"

Bella fake-glares at Slate, "Do you know how inconvenient it is to have a giant, gorgeous, second conscience?" She pushes her hair out of her face for a moment, "He said by 'not often' he means that he manages to father a child on either his love or other fae every two or three centuries... and he's considered sort of freakishly fertile. And I wondered if Dad could..." She makes fiddly motions with her hands, "Maybe change something about them? Sort of given them a Symphonic shot of fertility drugs? Some magical IVF?" At the last question, she laughs. "Rude? No... he did very politely say that if you shared and I was so inclined that he wouldn't object to some private time with me sometime, but it was the most gentlemanly pass I've seen in years. Why did you think he was rude?"

Shateishael looks more confused at the comment about a second conscience... then slowly grins, still listening carefully. At her last query he rumbles, "Well, ordinar'ly y'r rarely this... flustered seemin'? So... what'd ya mean about a second conscience?" He grins a bit shyly, adding, "Thanks f'th'compliment, though."

Bella rolls her eyes and chuckles, "I mean, hon, that when I'm around you I have to remind myself that there isn't an 'I'll tell him later... sometime...' option."

Shateishael chuckles, stepping forward and hugging Bella gently, "Cain't say 'm sorry, sweetheart. You'd hafta ask Eli that y'self, though... not somethin' I know."

Bella hugs Slate back and nods, sighing good-naturedly, "Ian's going to have to help me with that... I have yet to have any luck getting Eli's attention."

Shateishael nods silently, resting his head against her hair and simply enjoying her warmth and solidity in her arms. After a moment he rumbles, "Wanna explore s'more, love, or anythin' else?"

Bella smiles and pets Slate's back absently, "Mmm... I think I want to be away from people a while. My head is a little full."

Shateishael nods, "Okay. Want company? If yeah, lead th'way, love."

Bella nods and heads across Black Rock City toward the tent the three of them are sharing. She's not quite carrying herself with the same confident, impish swing. Instead, she's her normal quietly graceful self. Shateishael paces along next to her, just being companionably silent until she's ready to talk. If she wants, he'll hold her hand. He looks around with interest as they go, noticing folks and nodding politely to anyone who meets their gaze.

As the angels leave the camp, Ayra spots them and hurries over with a big grin, "Rosie, right? We were talking at the camp and I wanted to know if you'd like to maybe come help me with the flowers for a little while?" The Mercurian brightens up and then pauses, glancing over toward Slate with a question in his eyes.

Shateishael grins amiably at Rosenstern, "Go, silly flower... have fun!"

The Novalite beams at the Seraph before happily scampering off with the dryad. And it really is sort of a scamper. The two of them have the air of kids off to play an amazing game as they head back toward the Flowers camp. Shateishael chuckles, watching them fondly... then turns back to Bella, murmuring softly, "Y'okay, Bellisima?"

Bella watches them go with a chuckle and a smile, some of the tension melting out of her, "That's going to be a big help right there."

Shateishael says, "Hm?"

The Bright motions after the Ethereal and the Celestial as their backs retreat into the crowd, "Mending fences."

Shateishael nods, glancing back at them... then he looks thoughtfully back at the Bright, lightly running one large hand warmly down her back. He blinks at the sensual feel of the spandex under his hand, adding with his usual bluntness, "You look gorgeous t'night, sweetheart."

Bella chuckles again and smiles up at Slate, arching her back a bit so there're more surface area for him to stroke, "Thank you, hon. It's sometimes fun to dress like this... sort of naughty but comfy."

Shateishael grins quietly, his ice-blue eyes appreciative. "I like it. So... whatcha wanna do, sweetheart? Wanna walk 'round s'more 'r somethin'?"

Bella slides her arm around Slate's waist, "I really do want to go where it's a little quieter and darker for a little while. I seem to think better like that."

Shateishael smiles, "'kay. Lessee... we c'n either return t'th' tent, 'r curl up inna truck, 'r try th' entryway t' Livin' Stone?"

Bella thinks about it for a second, "Tent, I think. Softer places to curl up and let things marinate." She hooks her hand into Slate's belt front to steer him toward the tent, "And while I'm marinating you can ask any more questions you've got going on in your head."

Shateishael chuckles quietly, amiably letting himself get towed along. "Don' really have any right now, sweetheart... but 'm happy t'be somethin' soft t'curl up on? Um... well, relatively soft?"

Before they can quite make it to the tent, their path is crossed by a slender young man with a long beard and hair braided into blonde cornrows. He's attractive, but no more so than anyone else in the crowd -- except for his eyes. They're an unmistakable shade of cobalt blue. Smiling, he opens his arms as if to hug the pair of them, "Friends!" It's strange to hear Soma's voice coming out of this shape.

Shateishael looks a bit surprised -- then grins, "Hey, Somhairle!" He hugs tightly, "Love th'color a' y'r eyes. How're y'doin'?"

Soma hugs first the Seraph and then Bella, "I'm well..." His eyes shift behind Slate's shoulder as if looking for someone else there, "Where is the Flowerkin?"

Shateishael says, "He's helpin' Ayra w'her mom's flow'rs, Summer Lord." He chuckles rumblingly, adding, "They're awful cute t'gether!"

Bella grins and nods, "They are. It's like watching two little kids." Soma smiles warmly, "Ayra is a dear one... her parentage made for a lucky child."

Shateishael looks curious, "Bacchus 'n his willow lady? How come lucky?"

Soma smiles warmly, "Ancient and wise bloodlines make for wise and judicious young ones."

Shateishael says, "Ah." He grins mischievously, "Take it Puck's not Bacchus's, then?" He chuckles quietly, then pauses, thinking. Finally he says slowly, "Soma, c'n I ask y'a question? Like... who's Bran? Uh, I mean who was he?"

Soma's lips twitch slightly, "Actually, the satyrs are all related in one way or another... but Bacchus and Puck are more closely related than most..." His expression grows serious, "He still exists."

Shateishael looks puzzled, "Does? How come Karl th'centaur's here 'nstead a' there, then? Or..." he ponders a moment, then rumbles, "Is Bran a Winter Court kinda guy?"

Soma smiles and tips his head to the side, chuckling wryly, "That is one way to put it... and Karl finds us more hospitable and less likely to slit his throat than my brother-self."

Shateishael looks a bit startled -- then nods slowly, "Is that th' name of y'winter form? Bran?"

The summer king smiles that same strange smile and nods, "Aye. Bran, the Winter Raven..." Those cobalt eyes flick over Slate's shoulder toward the Flowers camp, "And did you enjoy meeting our meddlesome metal smith?"

Shateishael thinks a moment, then replies as honestly as always, "It was a joy t' find a good workin' forge here, Summer Lord... but I got th' oddest feelin' Karl wasn' so overjoyed 'bout meetin' us, f'r some reason...?" He adds a little sheepishly, "I, um, realize I may 've accident'lly insulted him 'r somethin'... 'm not th' most socially ept guy, I know. Sorry 'bout that."

Soma smiles, amusement in his eyes, "Karl is rarely overjoyed to meet anyone. Even his most bosom companions tend to make him scowl from time to time... his sense of humor is somewhat... staid."

Shateishael tilts his head a touch puzzledly, "He... okay? He said somethin' 'bout normal b'havior f'where he was from being backstabbin' n' stuff... 'r is that jus' th' Winter Court he's talkin' 'bout?" Curiously he adds, "How's he get about outside th' dome, wi'out glamour?"

Bella leans in quietly, belatedly thinking to murmur to Slate, "Ayra and Puck have different mothers..."

Shateishael nods to Bella, smiling, "Figger'd, sweetheart."

Soma nods, face solemn, "Karl was indentured to my mirror-self for several decades. He sold his servitude to spare another being winter's games."

Shateishael looks startled again... then rumbles slowly, "Um... y'sure you wanna have a Tether for th'Winter Court t'be reachin' th' Marches?!" He somehow doubts Winter's games have anything to do with the lighthearted reindeer games of the Christmas carol he's heard.

Soma nods quietly, "Yes... not all of the darker-half beings are like my brother-self. Sometimes one gets caught in the nature of the world."

Shateishael nods slowly, "O... kay... you're th'boss on this one." Without realizing it, he puts a protective arm about Bella, his face concerned as he studies the pretty young man glamour-form. "Anythin' else y'c'n tell us 'bout him, or folks we might be able t'trust there?" Bella nestles against Slate's side, listening quietly.

Soma gets a look that's frustrated and apologetic at once, "Perhaps seeking one whose forte is stories would be the better course, Warrior."

Shateishael smiles and nods, "I un'erstand, Summer Lord." He adds politely, "Lovely day, yeah? Will there be court t'night?"

Soma breathes a sigh, a smile lighting his face again, "We take every opportunity to gather while we have the overflow here."

Shateishael says, "Er... overflow of... mortal energy?"

The summer king nods, smiling still, "Small bowl.... large portion..." He makes the same demonstrative hand gestures he did when explaining that the fey were merely gleaning and not harvesting.

Shateishael nods, understanding, "Ah, yeah, gotcha!" He's silent a moment, considering... then says slowly, "Um... so... is there anythin' we c'n do to help... now? 'M feelin' a bit... useless sometimes, durin' th' day?"

Soma considers for a moment and shakes his head, "I believe your companions have need of you... even if it is in small ways." The faerie smiles warmly at Bella who flushes slightly and shrugs, "Well, we don't get time to just play with him often, no."

Shateishael looks a bit confused, then glances inquiringly at Bella, "You... wanted more time wi'me, sweetheart?" He brightens a bit, "Well, why din' you say so?!"

Bella laughs and rolls her eyes and the summer king takes the opportunity to slip silently back into the crowd. The Bright resumes leading Slate toward the tent, "Honey, I mean that this is like time out of the normal... at home, I'm not nearly as likely to suggest I might want the rocky road."

Shateishael says, "Th' what?" He follows quite willingly, his bright-eyed gaze resting with pleasure on the graceful Bright, then adds, "Wait, y'mean like ice cream?"

Bella smirks slightly, wrapping her hand back into Slate's belt, "Yes, Slate, I mean like ice cream."

Shateishael gets a delighted grin, pacing along with Bella, "Ah, so y' feel like rocky road now?"

The Bright laughs, "I'm saying that I wouldn't object if you felt up to it. Or I'd be happy with just a good snuggle."

Shateishael grins, if anything, even more broadly, and when they get to the tent he takes her hand, not letting her enter yet, "Wait, wait... c'mon t'th'truck wi'me f'r moment?" His eyes are dancing -- he's terrible at keeping fun secrets!

Bella gives him a curious look, but nods slowly, "Ohhh... kay?" She does, however follow him to the truck. Shateishael laughs! then opens the truck and reaches in, rummaging and rattling around for a bit, then crawling in (nice view of his ass there), and doing some stuff. Bella doesn't even attempt to hide that she's admiring the Seraph's backside. Eventually there's a low hum that starts up as Slate plugs something into the big portable battery, and he finally turns and grins triumphantly at Bella, waving a hand towards... an automatic ice cream maker! Cheerfully he announces, "Rocky road inna 'bouta half'n hour, sweetheart -- as th' pretty Bright commands!"

The look on Bella's face is pure, unadulterated awe, "Oh, I knew there was a reason I liked you."

Shateishael laughs, hugging her delightedly -- he's thrilled at the success of his present! He rumbles happily, "Been savin' it f'r s'prise f'r ya, lover. 'M real glad it's makin' y'so happy."

Bella snuggles against Slate's chest with a laugh, shaking her head in amazement, "You keep surprising me."

Shateishael grins, "'N if y'want we c'n snuggle 'til 's ready."

Bella smiles, "Mmm... yes, dark, cool tent, bright, warm lover... sounds perfect."

Shateishael sighs happily, "Good, I think." He chuckles, "I'n't that my line?"

Once in the tent, Shateishael makes himself a comfortable place to curl up on or against for Bella, and strokes her hair gently for a while. She'd said she wanted to think for a bit, so until she starts responding differently, or it's time to get the ice cream, he's patient... quiet and relaxed and comfortable.

Bella makes herself quite comfortable against Slate, closing her eyes. She's very quiet and very still for a few minutes, letting her thoughts about the Ethereals percolate. Love and Creation are so closely linked in her mind and it's horrible to see how the two ancient fae are wasting because of the nature of love with them. Eventually, however, she finds that she's just thinking around in circles and shifts around, stretching up to kiss the line of Slate's jaw, "Thank you for being so peaceful."

Shateishael smiles, warmed by the compliment. He rumbles quietly, "Got all th'time inna world, sweetheart." He's silent a bit, then adds thoughtfully, "C'n I ask y'some questions, though?"

The Bright snuggles herself against the line of Slate's body and nods, eyes a little tired. Her body is relaxed, however, and her expression is otherwise peaceful, "Of course."

Shateishael continues slowly stroking one hand along Bella's side, doing his quiet best to be a nice place to relax. "My, um, English isn' th'best, sorry... so I was wond'rin' -- what's a catamite?"

Bella hmms, shifting a little bit. She's not entirely sure Slate's going to be at all pleased with the answer, "Weelllll... if you go by the literal definition, it means a young boy who is kept as a lover by an older man. Usually a very young boy and a much older man."

Shateishael says, "Okay. Is that a bad thing? I mean, is it a slur against th' boy?"

Bella rolls over onto her side so she can look Slate in the eye, "It's not so much a slur on the boy as sometimes a slur on the older man. When I say younger boy, I'm talking pubescent, hon."

Shateishael chuckles, "Ah. Don' think Rosie's pubescent." He considers a moment, then shrugs slightly, "I'll jus' tell Karl Rosie's a two-spirit, not a catamite, then."

A look of utter confusion comes over the Bright's face, "Fairly obviously not..." She blinks for a moment, "The centaur? He called Rosie a catamite?"

Shateishael says, "I should reassure Rosie too, actually... don' want him thinkin'... uh, yeah? Called him my catamite. Didn' sound angry 'r nothin', though, so I wasn't sure, an' didn' wanna cause a scene 'til I knew."

Bella mmms and then her expression clears, "Ahhh... I see. I think, sugar, he might have been reacting to the way Rosie's fairly obviously yours in a lot of ways. Catamites were kept primarily for sexual purposes."

Shateishael nods, "Figured as much. But Rosie's a lot more than jus' a sex toy, an' further, I don' want anyone thinkin' it's okay t'be rude to him. Two-spirit's a respectful term, least where I come from. Not sure catamite is, y'know?"

Bella smiles lopsidedly, "Well... depends. Some of these people are awfully old. There have been cultures where it was pretty common to have a catamite. Some were even adopted by their, uhm, patrons and became their heirs."

Shateishael says, "'kay. 'S good t'hear... 'cause I want Rosie t'be comfortable, 'n not feelin' picked on -- 'specially at th' Winter Court." He contentedly continues stroking gently along Bella's back as he muses over how to ask the next question. Finally he rumbles, "Um... sweetheart, 'rocky road' is th'way y'talk about a diff'rent kinda sex, far's I c'n tell. So... what d'y'call it when y'r not callin' it rocky road? An'... how come y'said y'wouldn' ask f'r it at home?"

Bella nods and fiddles with the ties at the throat of Slate's shirt, "Catamites were also protected by their patrons. So... I don't know. Nowadays it would be an extremely insulting term, but the insult would be aimed at the dominant partner." She laughs quietly, "It's called vanilla, actually. It's really a fairly common term." The Bright actually blushes slightly, "And it's because you're really a very gentle soul, Slate. Some of the things that can be involved with that kind of sex would probably confuse you, and I wasn't entirely sure you'd be comfortable with it." The Bright clears her throat slightly, "And it's not like I'm unsatisfied with our lovemaking to start with. We enjoy one another. That sort of thing is just spice. Like I occasionally like that really hot salsa from that Mexican place near the Circle-H, but their mild is mouthwatering all on its own."

Shateishael gives Bella a dryly amused look, "Think I may have seen a few things by now that might prepare me f'r whatever y'r interested in, sweetheart. Cain't hurt t' at least ask if y'want something, too." His gaze shifts away as he rumbles quietly, "Y'never f'get th' first time y'r asked t'carve a bloodeagle, y'know?" Then he chuckles quietly, "But yeah, if'n y'wanna try somethin' new, tell me, 'kay?"

Bella arches a brow herself, "Bloodeagle?"

Shateishael sits up, carefully so as to not flip Bella around unexpectedly, and quietly murmurs, "Gonna go check on th' ice cream. Be right back..."

Bella sits up and grabs onto the hem of Slate's kilt, looking concerned, "OK... that was a non sequiter. Is it just something you don't want to talk about?"

Shateishael glances back at Bella, his gaze softening a bit, "S'okay, sweetheart. Folks 're usually a bit kinder nowadays, 's all."

Bella still looks a little confused, "O... K..." She lets go of the kilt with that lopsided smile, "Go check the ice cream."

Shateishael grins, reaching back to pat her shoulder gently, "Really, Bellisima -- s'good t' ask if y'want somethin'. Y'won' scare me away, an' I recover pretty quick from confusion, y'know?"

Bella chuckles and nods, "I'll remember, Slate." She makes a shooing motion, but says, "I promise."

Shateishael slips out of the tent and settles on the back of the truck to examine the ice cream maker's contents... and add a few tasty things to it, to better approximate rocky road! He makes a large bowl, tucks a spoon in, then glances around, wondering if he should add enough for Rosie too. Rosenstern comes skipping down the street at about that moment -- maybe not literally skipping but certainly happy. Ayra's mother's garden flowers were wonderful! So many wonderful things to see!

Shateishael blinks -- Rosie, skipping?! -then chuckles quietly, watching the ebullient Mercurian approach. When he's close enough, Slate rumbles, "Hey there, pretty flower... had fun, I take it? Bella 'n I were jus' 'bout t'have some ice cream. Wanna join us?" He pulls another smaller bowl over, handing it to Rosie. "'F y'wanna, I made 'nuff for you t'take some t'Soma t'night too?"

Rosenstern brightens "Oh, ice cream? That's wonderful, I-" He breaks off, and blinks, looking around. "We're in the middle of the playa and you got the ice cream machine to work? Wow...."

Shateishael grins lazily, patting the portable battery... with a slightly smug expression. He takes pride in being prepared, and deeply enjoys making his lovers happy... so he's in an extremely good mood currently! He's still quite pleased-looking as he rumbles, "C'mon into th'tent when y'ready, then. Don' f'get to close it up tight, though, 'kay?"

Rosenstern brightens and nods, "Sure! I think they might like that!" He moves then to give Slate a tight hug, holding on. Shateishael looks curious, but happily hugs Rosenstern tightly back for as long as he'd like. Rosenstern holds Slate for several long moments, and finally lets go, smiling quietly up to him. "Thank you, Slate," he says quietly. Then he's scampering into the tent. "Hi, Bella!"

A moment later Shateishael slides into the tent and grins at Bella, "Seen it all now... Rosie skippin'!" He chuckles, settling down and (if Bella's willing) drawing Bella close so she can lean back against him. He sets the bowl in her hands, "Here y'go, lovely... ice cream!"

Bella kisses Rosie and Slate both on the cheek and makes happy noises over the bowl of pseudo-rocky-road. Shateishael will contentedly share the bowl of ice cream with Bella. He even teases a little, seeing if she'll let him feed her! Rosenstern grins, and slips out briefly to retrieve the bowl outside that he had forgotten, then slips back in after securing the maker. Bella not only seems to not mind being fed, she downright enjoys it. After a bite or two that way, she nudges Slate's hand toward Rosie to give him a bit the same way.

Shateishael grins delightedly, and will happily curl up with both Rosie and Bella, feeding them both ice cream if they'd like. He's not above teasing a little, pulling the spoon away from them a bit so they have to lean forward for it... and if they lean close enough, he enjoys nuzzling against them too. Rosenstern thoroughly enjoys this game, and though he blushes brightly to do so, he only hesitates a little to reach out for the spoon with his tongue. Shateishael laughs softly when Rosie starts playing too, and teases him with one finger dipped in ice cream as well.

Bella is normally right at home in her body, but she's seemed just especially languid here on the playa. She watches the game between the two men happily, and she's not at all shy herself about reaching for the ice cream, though she does poke Slate in the ribs once or twice playfully. Shateishael coughs the first time, trying not to spill ice cream as he's laughing. He grins, "Careful, you, or you get t' lick it up, Bellisima!'

Bella glances across at Rosie, one brow going up, "Does he realize he's teasing or is he just being Slate?" she asks the Mercurian, after Slate's pseudo-threat.

Shateishael chuckles again, then grins, "Bet Soma'll enjoy th' ice cream too. Made a bunch, so's we could all have some, an' a bit left over." He glances over at Rosie at one point, adding, "Rosebud, I foun' out what catamite means. It's not stric'ly a two-spirit, but it's not an insult 'r anythin' t'you."

Rosenstern enjoys licking the ice cream from Slate's finger even more than licking it from the spoon -- just that there isn't as much ice cream that way. He grins to Bella. "I think he knows he's teasing..." He blinks to Shateishael. "Oh... okay. I was kind of worried about the way Karl was. He seemed... a bit brusque, though I'm glad you two got along."

Shateishael tilts his head curiously at Rosenstern, "How y'mean?"

Rosenstern says, "Well... he just seemed a bit short and brusque, like he didn't like us."

Shateishael looks a bit surprised, "He did? Oh... was this a resonance thing f'you?"

Rosenstern says, "Not really, just a feeling I got from the conversation, at least at first. He opened up as it went on, though."

Shateishael looks thoughtful, "Y'know, tha's a good point, though, Rosie... we need t'figger out how t'warn each other if'n we notice somethin' odd from our resonances. 'Specially inna Winter Court." Rosenstern nods, soberly. Shateishael grins at Rosenstern, "So... think on it, yeah? Y'r th' subtle one, not me."

Bella shifts and moves around until she's got her head on the ground between Slate and Rosie's feet, legs stretched out in the same direction as theirs. She wraps one hand around an ankle of each of the male angels. Rosenstern blinks, looking at Bella. Shateishael hms curiously down at Bella, "Y'done w'ice cream, sweetheart?" then glances back at Rosenstern, "'N d'you want any more, pretty flower?"

Bella smiles and tips her head back, "I wanted to touch both of you but not get in between you..." She laughs, "Sounds silly when I say it out loud. I do have an idea about signaling one another."

Shateishael grins at Bella's upside-down-ness then looks curious, "Yeah? Wha's 'at?"

Bella tips her head back a bit more, almost looking upside down at Slate and Rosie, "We'll use a safeword."

Shateishael thinks about it, then nods slowly, "That'll work t'let us know somethin's up... but not what. D'y'think we need more precision, or not?"

The Bright sits up and scoots around until she's sitting tailor-fashion, hands still on the boys' lower legs, "I think just having a safeword to mean 'Something's not right, we need to talk,' would be enough. Easier to remember if things get hairy."

Shateishael nods, "Okay, works f' me." He gives Rosenstern an inquiring glance.

Rosenstern blinks at Bella's words, then smiles and tilts his head to the side. "This is true; some sort of code word that we all know and recognize. We'll have to ingrain it into ourselves so we realize it's been said as soon as it's said."

Shateishael nods to Rosenstern, "Okay. So, what's th' word y'all wanna use?" He finishes off what's left of the ice cream with enjoyment as he listens to his lovers.

Bella thinks about that, petting both legs absently, "Maybe something related to the Circle-H..."

Shateishael smiles, "Thea's full name? Aletheia. It means lit'rally 'not forgettin''... an' colloquially it means 'truth.' Would that work?"

Rosenstern bobs his head. "That works. The Winter Court might know it's some sort of code word unless we work it into a conversation..."

Shateishael says, "Well, I was fig'rin' since it's her name, it's a form a' cover... but we'll know otherwise?"

Bella chews on her bottom lip and nods slowly, "That might work. In fact, that's fantastic." She grins at Slate and pats his boot, "Just remember not to randomly talk about Thea."

Shateishael grins at Bella, "I'll jus' refer t'her as Thea alla th' time, unless we need t'code each other, yeah?"

Rosenstern nods, "So well use her full name if we need to....

Shateishael says, "An' it'll mean somethin's up, 'n we need t'talk."

Bella shrugs and grins, "Perfect."

Shateishael sets aside the bowls and cheerfully rumbles, "Okay, that's settled. So, dress f'court now?" Rosenstern bites his lip a bit, but then nods, smiling. Shateishael is pulling his shirt off over his head, but pauses long enough to give Rosenstern an inquiring look.

Bella looks down at herself and the catsuit, "I was just going to wear this. We'll wear whatever the dome puts us in anyway."

Shateishael grins at Bella, "Sweetheart, y'look amazin' like that as is."

Rosenstern smiles a little. "Just nervous, really." He looks to Bella, smiling appreciatively. "True, it would, which is almost a shame."

Bella leans forward and tries to hug Rosie without just flopping over on top of him, "You both flatter me. But I like it." She laughs and leans back again, watching Slate strip out of his shirt with frank appreciation.

Shateishael hmms, looking down at the shirt in his hands, then grins and nods, "Point. Guess there's not much reason t'change clothes then... although I'm thinkin' I wouldn' mind a shower." He tilts his head curiously at Rosenstern as he unlaces his moccasins, "Whatcha nervous 'bout, pretty flower?"

Rosenstern laughs softly and hugs Bella back. "Just telling the truth!" He looks to Slate, his smile fading only a little bit. "I'm not sure, really. Just concerned about the Winter Court and... well, how when we get back to the Circle-H, how all this is going to affect what we do..."

Shateishael chuckles, shedding all his clothing but the ragged jeans shorts as he rises, "We'll be angels, pretty flower, doin' our jobs. Anyone wanna come shower w'me? Doubt we'll be bothered by Puck this time" He grins mischievously.

Bella smiles quietly and pats Rosie's foot affectionately, "How this will affect what we do is that it means we can trust each other even more than we already did."

Rosenstern smiles and nods to Bella and Slate. Then looks at his clothing, seriously considering the shower but not wanting to ruin the wonderful weaving work Bella did. "Hmmm... shower? Then I'd have to get out of this..."

Shateishael rumbles comfortably, "Ayup. Nothin' like conflict t'teach ya who y'c'n depend on." He picks up a towel and adds, "Well, y' din' do nothin' sweaty t'day, Rosie, that I know of... I was th' one pumpin' th' bellows." He grins, "Back inna bit!" Rosenstern grins to Slate.

Bella also grins at Slate, "And a sight you were." She waves the Seraph on, "If I follow you, I'll get distracted."

Shateishael grins cheerfully at Bella, "Oh no?" He leaves, chuckling quietly to himself... and a short while later he's back, wiping down with the towel, nude and with his wet hair hanging long and darker gold down his back. "Okay... y'all want me t'wear anythin' in p'tic'lar t'night?"

Bella smiles at Slate, then looks over at Rosie, "I'd never talk him into wearing exactly that, would I?" She motions at Slate to demonstrate.

Shateishael looks curious, glancing behind himself for whatever it is Bella wants him to wear... seeing nothing, he looks back at her, "What? Oh! You mean wear nothin'?" He chuckles, "Be a bit cold, wouldn' it?"

Rosenstern blinks, looking at Slate, then grins to Bella. "As much as I would like to see that, too... no, it does get kind of cold on the playa at night." He tilts his head to the side. "Still..."

Shateishael chuckles quietly again, settling easily next to Bella and Rosenstern both, and gently ruffling Rosie's hair, "Ask durin' th'day, when it's warmer. F'now, unless y'all have somethin' in p'tic'lar y'want me t'wear... um... guess I'll put on th' stuff I was wearin' earlier. Y'all seemed t'like it?"

Standing up, Bella brushes off the back of her catsuit, "Yes, it would be a little cold. You're just pretty to look at, hon." She pokes through the clothes Slate brought along and tosses him the pants she had him wearing the first day, "Maybe these... and that pirate shirt again." The Bright grins, "Or... the other outfit. You will never hear me complain about a man in a kilt."

Shateishael smiles as he catches them, "Thank you, sweetheart." He starts pulling on the pants, then laughs, "Hey, make up y'all's minds, 'kay? Cain't very well wear 'em all at once! Or... guess I could, but... 'd be weird." He gives Bella a curious look, "What's it 'bout a kilt y'like?"

Rosenstern says, "What isn't there to like about a kilt?"

Shateishael says, "Well, y'gotta be careful y'don' flash folks. Dunno how women do it, m'self."

Bella nods to Rosie's answer, "Honey, the possibility of flashing is part of the fun."

Shateishael says, "Oh." He thinks about it a bit, then laughs quietly, "All right. If y'all want, I'm happy t'wear th'kilt 'gain." He dresses swiftly so as to not keep his friends waiting, then rumbles, "'Kay, 'm ready! Rosie, y'wanna take th' ice cream? 'M thinkin' I wanna chat w'Karl some; see what he has t'say 'bout th'Winter Court... y'all have anyone y'r lookin' out for 'specially?"

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