Law -- Logs

Peony sleeps like a child through the night, diminutive body curled close against Slate's. She shifts in her sleep only enough to fit herself closer to the Seraph, making sleepy noises as she does. When the sun begins to rise, her eyes flutter open and she groans, groping half-blindly for the water bottle that's been set there for her. "Mmmf," she says, eloquently.

Shateishael smiles quietly as he feels the sun's rising and Peony's shifting. He rolls back enough so she can sit up easily, and murmurs thoughtfully,

"The face of all the world is changed, I think,
Since first I heard the footsteps of thy soul
Move still, oh, still, beside me."

Then he grins, adding more pragmatically, "Gotcha some aspirin 'n vitamin B 'n orange juice too, lover."

Peony peers blearily at Slate and laughs, gulping the water, "Aspirin. Dear heavens, please. I'll love you forever for aspirin."

Shateishael rolls relaxedly to his feet, draping a blanket across Peony's shoulders. Then he pulls out the pills for her, setting them within easy reach. He slides into his jeans and adds with a quiet grin, "Rosie says cuppa hot chicken broth is jus' th'thin' t'recover from hangovers... Bellisima says spicy food 'n four more hours sleep. Gotta preference? I c'n make either 'r both?"

The leprechaun smiles, "Coffee. Aspirin and a cold, cold bath are my usual method."

Shateishael chuckles quietly and takes Peony's free hand in his, gently turning it over to put the pills into her palm. "'Kay. Here's th'asp'rin 'n vitamin B. I'll get th'coffee goin' -- c'mon out when y'r ready, 'kay?" He'll drop a light kiss on the top of her head, then scoop up the rest of his clothing before slipping out of the tent. He's careful to zip it closed quickly after him, so all the nice warmer air doesn't escape. Once outside he starts up the small fire he laid the night before. He shrugs into his boots, flannel shirt, and leather jacket while it's lighting up -- that way the jacket will be nice and warm for when Peony comes out.

Shateishael silently blesses Rosenstern for his pre-packaged, easily re-heatable goodies, and starts them up for breakfast. He sings quietly to himself and the Sun as he does so, enjoying the crisp chill of early morning. His song is an old Scots ballad,

"In the distant day was dawning
Comes to me the early morning
Something tells me that I'm going home
The brand new sun was shining bright
From the darkness fields of light
Something tells me that I'm going home

Going home
Where the summers coming in
And the moonlight on the river
Shows me where I've been

Soft the rain is gently falling
Light across the city morning
I get the feeling that I'm going home..."

He remembers Peony smiled at him this morning too... he's encouraged by that. He'd been worrying about her reaction to having told him as much as she did -- but it looks like it'll be okay. He hopes so, at least.

It takes the leprechaun a while to emerge from the tent -- it looks like she took time to maybe brush and re-braid her hair. She's barefoot, braving the weather whatever it may be, and wrapped in the blanket Slate put over her shoulders. The scent of coffee makes her sigh and close her eyes, breathing it in, "Dear god, coffee smells about a million times better out in the woods."

Shateishael cuts off his singing and smiles at Peony as she emerges, then pats the log he's sitting on, next to himself, "C'mon 'n siddown, 'n we'll have coffee soon. How ya feelin', aziza?" He shrugs out of his jacket, to lay it across her shoulders too once she's seated.

Peony sits not on the log but in Slate's lap, kissing his cheek, "Not an aziza. I know a couple, though." She snuggles into the jacket, it and the blanket looking to be the only things she's got between her and the elements, "My head feels less like Karl's trying to reshape the skull."

Shateishael wraps his arms around Peony once she's settled and covered, tucking the blanket under her small feet. He chuckles at the comment about Karl, then rumbles amusedly, "'Kay, 'm thinkin' we're usin' same word wi'diff'rent meanin's here. T'me, aziza's from th'Saracens... means precious 'r rare, like a jewel. Whutsit mean t'you?"

Peony smiles and leans her head against Slate's shoulder. She seems to really enjoy being able to fit completely in his lap, "They're from Africa. Forest spirits. They help out the good hunters if they're asked right."

Shateishael grins, "Gotcha. Well, if'n y'don' mind, t'me y'r th'Arabic kinda 'ziza." He gently nuzzles the top of her head, then looks up at the characteristic bloop-bloop! noise, "Ah... 'n y'll be wantin' coffee now too! Moment..." He wraps one arm securely about Peony, then one-handedly pulls the pot over, pours coffee into a mug, and carefully hands it to her. "There y'go, sweetheart -- hot 'n black as th'ace a'spades, as Nick useta put it."

Peony wraps her hands around the mug of coffee and breathes in the steam of it, "Mmm... perfect. Sugar just seems to make it worse." She closes her eyes and sips from the freshly brewed coffee, for a few minutes just relaxing into the moment.

Shateishael quietly holds Peony close, trying to analyze the curious sensations he's getting around her. He'd really enjoyed the feeling of her cuddling close to him as she slept -- it had made him feel trustworthy and dependable and useful. He dips his head slightly, gently brushing his cheek on the top of her small head as she sips, then murmurs quietly, "You... feel..." he struggles for words, wishing not for the last time that English was more evocative, "...fittin'. Well-fittin'. Thank you."

Peony's eyes are closed as she sips her coffee and snuggles in Slate's lap, sighing warmly, "Mmm... if we didn't fit together, I wouldn't be here."

Shateishael thinks about that for a while, then muses aloud, "I... been tol' I don' notice fittin' very well. 'M glad I did this time." He draws in a slow breath, his arms tightening a bit nervously about her for a second -- time to find out just where things stand, he thinks. "So, um... sweetheart, y'member th'conversation las' night?"

The leprechaun is warm and still smells vaguely of violets despite the exertion of the hike up here. "I notice how things fit, though. Couldn't do stained glass if I didn't." She doesn't look up at the question, going very still. There's a smile in her voice, "Yes, Shateishael. I remember."

Shateishael smiles slowly down at her, feeling suddenly warm and useful again. He sighs quietly, resting his cheek against the top of her head for a moment, whispering softly into her hair, "Lui Greine..." He tries the one other thing which had so startled him last night, thinking as clearly as he can at her, [Can you really hear me thinking?] He mentally crosses his fingers that she can. It hardly seems fair to him that he should learn something so critical about her as her True Name... and all she gets is something he can ignore if he so chooses.

Peony shifts a little in Slate's lap, looking up at him with a question in her eyes. She starts to ask, "Is something wrong, hon?" and then her brows knit together, and she shakes her head as if to clear it.

Shateishael's expression is a mix of fascination and hope as he tries again, [Lui Greine, aziza, can you hear me? Can you call back to me this way?] He gently strokes her small feet through the blanket and the jacket with his free hand, trying to be reassuring at the same time.

Peony looks up at Slate in puzzlement, though her posture is completely relaxed -- safe is something she definitely feels with the Seraph. One nimble finger taps her temple, "I'm hearing... a voice. Like on the other end of a house. Heard my name clearly, but that's it..."

Shateishael's face brightens and he nods, "Good! Wuz hopin' I wuzn't jus' 'maginin' that las' night. Mind if'n I try 'gain? Figger if we c'n work out how t'do this, it'd be more've a fair 'xchange f'you, 'ziza. Not givin' you worse headache, am I?"

Peony rubs the center of her forehead with her fingertips, smiling, "No. It just feels a little odd. Like a buzzing, but warm."

Shateishael grins, encouraged, and gently kisses Peony's temple, then rumbles, "Try thinkin' at me instead then, maybe? I'll lissen this time?"

Peony looks up at Slate, catching his eyes, and a look of sheer concentration comes over her face. In Slate's mind, there is a buzzing as if something is vibrating inside his mind. It's less a physical sensation and more a memory of one. There is a whisper, like voices he can't quite understand, except for his own True Name. Shateishael's eyes light up with fascination again, and as Peony concentrates he leans forward, resting his forehead against hers -- maybe that will help a bit? He wonders with happy hopefulness if this is strictly an Ethereal-Celestial capability, or if he can learn how to do this with his other beloveds as well. Even if not, however, he's quite excited about the possibility of Peony being able to call to him when she wishes.

The moment Slate's forehead contacts Peony's, the voice springs into clarity.

[...come at last to God's great town
Led on by Gentle ways;

And God would bid his warfare cease,
Saying all things were well;
And softly make a rosy peace,
A peace of Heaven with Hell.]

Shateishael looks startled for a moment, then carefully makes himself hold still and 'receive' as clearly as he can. He grins slowly in growing delight, his arms hugging the little leprechaun close... and when her voice ceases speaking in his head he murmurs in reply, [Who's the author of that prose, lover?]

Peony's eyes are squinted, but she's still warm and relaxed, fitting perfectly in Slate's lap. [William Butler Yeats. It's The Rose of Peace.]

Shateishael sighs in quiet joy, letting his internal Song within the Symphony sing more sweetly and surely within him, trying to share how he 'feels' their music mingling and harmonizing together. Peony stays with her head resting against the big blonde's, but she doesn't react to the singing of the Symphony -- it just seems like she likes having her head resting against Slate's. He sighs quietly again, a bit wistful that he can't share the breath-taking beauty of the Symphony he hears in performance so beautifully around him all the time... then he smiles and shares something else he loves with her:

[O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!
It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night
Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear;
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!
So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows,
As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows.]

Peony smiles and says aloud, "Shakespeare."

Shateishael grins delightedly, "Yeah! You c'n hear me -- how's that happenin', beautiful? This sumpin' y'all c'n do ordinarily? I had no idea!"

Peony leans her head back, breaking the contact, "Mmm... no, not ordinarily. Some lovers can do it. But not even all those can."

Shateishael still looks fascinatedly bemused, "How's it happen, sweetheart? C'n y'tell me more?"

Peony shrugs, smiling as if it's the most natural thing in the world, "You have part of me, Slate. I guess I can call out to it."

Shateishael blinks, considering that for a moment... then he sighs softly, hugging Peony gently, "'Kay. Guess that's a more fair 'xchange then."

Peony snuggles into the hug, smiling, "Love has nothing to do with fairness, Slate. Love just is."

Shateishael mumbles a bit sheepishly, "'S important t'me, lover. Dunno 'xactly what True Names are t'y'all, but if'n it's anythin's important as it is t'demons, y'gave me sumpin' inexpressibly precious t'ya..." a bit glumly he adds, "'n all I got t'give in return is a name I c'n choose t'ignore 'r not, as I feel like." He hesitates, then rumbles slowly, "I... c'n offer ya 'promise t'never tell anyone, if'n y'want...?"

Peony looks quizzically at Slate and says slowly, "I didn't choose to give it to you. You got that part of me, and you got my name instead of my eyes or my hair or my memories of water." The leprechaun smiles, reaching up to touch her lover's cheek, "I would be pleased with that promise, carraig, but I would trust you without it. I am not sure dishonor is something you're capable of."

Shateishael looks a bit puzzledly at Peony, "Um... yeah, I think I unnerstan' how that works. Jus' wan'ed t'know if I could do anythin' t'reassure you 'bout it?" He sighs a little frustratedly, "I -- 'm sorry, lover, but I... jus'... kinda'm real worried 'boutcha, y'know?" Then he adds a bit distractedly, "Uh, translate, please?"

Peony wrinkles her brow again, trying to think what she said that was unclear, "Translate which part? Carraig?"

Shateishael nods, "Yes'm, please?"

Peony laughs, looking sheepish herself, "It's just an old Gaelic word meaning rock."

Shateishael smiles slowly, relaxing a bit as he's reminded of David, and his previous thoughts: 'Stone's love is fierce and stern, true -- but also deep and unending.' He sighs quietly, reminding himself he's blessed to be allowed to be part of Peony's life -- but she has to actually live it herself. All he can do is be there if she wants him. He takes a deep breath, letting it sigh out softly again... then gently takes one of Peony's small hands in his large, calloused one as he murmurs, "I swear by Stone and Light, dear one, I shall reveal your True Name to none, save by your permission." He turns her small hand over to lightly kiss her palm, then settles it neatly back under the blanket.

Peony smiles and curls her fingers to stroke Slate's mustache as he kisses her delicate but strong palm, "And I accept your pledge, Shateishael, my carraig, my love."

Shateishael sighs in quiet happiness and hugs Peony close and warm. A few heartbeats later he rumbles in explanation, "'M 'fraid angels got True Names... but don' hafta answer t' 'em. Um... if'n y'feel up t'it, can y'tell me whut one means t' 'thereals, so I don' do sumpin' stupid by accident?"

The leprechaun shifts and smiles, "They are something we do not share lightly." She sits up more straight, her blanket shifting a bit to show the barest line of skin down the front of her body, "They can be used to bind us. They can be used to scry us out or to harm us."

Shateishael listens carefully, thinking about what Peony's saying. When she's done he rumbles thoughtfully, "'Kay... by bindin' y'mean th'kinda thin' Soma did t'Puck? 'N by scryin', y'mean bein' able t'see someone over long distances, 'r sumpin' else?"

Peony mmms, "That's one way of binding, yes, though not all of have the knack. And by scrying, sometimes seeing; sometimes it's just knowing where someone is. Being able to find them."

Shateishael brightens a bit, "Could you scry me, if'n y'needed me? Ooh! Or mebbe I c'd use it t'find you easily, if'n y'called? Does it work thataways?"

Peony smiles and shrugs, "I couldn't scry you out, simply because I lack the knack of it."

Shateishael frowns thoughtfully, then rumbles, "Is... our hearin' each other in our heads, is that a kinda scryin'?"

The leprechaun's brows draw together yet again. "I... don't... think so," she says carefully, making a seesawing motion with her hand, "it's more like a link. I don't even know if it would work if I couldn't see you."

Shateishael grins hopefully, "Does practice make perfect in this, lover?"

Peony laughs and shrugs again, "No way to know but try."

Shateishael chuckles quietly, relaxing a bit and gently tucking the blanket warmly about Peony, "'Kay. Long as y'don' mind m'doin' so, 'm gonna keep tryin' -- I'd really like f'you t'have a good, easy way t'reach me if'n y'ever needed... 'n f'me t' locate in on ya easily once't y'called, jus' in case." He sighs in quiet pleasure again, gently brushing his cheek against Peony's hair again, "Anythin' y'wanna know 'bout me, 'ziza?"

Peony arches a brow and laughs, "Just in case? Or just in case Gaelach turns up and tries making a nuisance of himself?"

Shateishael smiles, "Tha's whut I meant, really. If'n y'need me but cain't get t'a phone 'r sumpin', I still wanna know."

Peony looks thoughtful and stretches again, "Well... we could test it."

Shateishael grins, "Okay! How y'wanna do that?"

The leprechaun considers for a moment, "Maybe a game of hide and seek... but somewhere that we know the land better."

Shateishael nods, "Soun's good t'me. Wanna head on home?" He grins lazily, adding, "'N that'll give ya time t'think if'n y'got any questions f'me too."

Peony smiles and shakes her head, "Not yet..." She wriggles out of the jacket and the top half of the blanket so she can wrap her arms around Slate's neck, "I want to just soak up you and the woods for a bit." Shateishael chuckles, waiting for Peony to settle herself comfortably before wrapping his arms about her again and hugging her close. [So tiny -- and yet so brilliantly, Singingly alive!]

The little leprechaun doesn't seem eager for anything erotic to happen, but she does soak up the scent and presence of Slate here in the woods. She seems quite at home far from civilization with trees surrounding her. Shateishael is in no rush himself either; he's as happy to hug and cuddle Peony as he'd be to go hiking with her, or for a bit of wading in the little stream flowing nearby, or to make breakfast (as best he can) for her. He derives a great deal of enjoyment in simply watching her moving in the sunlight, and her sheer delight at being alive.

The first part of the day goes by lazily and comfortably. Peony does eventually move out of Slate's lap, giving him the freedom to put together a breakfast for the two of them, which she insists on feeding him bites of from her own plate. Every once in a while she looks at him very intently and the buzz of voices comes back, but still the only time anything but Slate's own Name is clear is when their foreheads touch. When the sun creeps toward mid-morning, the leprechaun finally puts on clothes -- having declared no need for them once the morning chill was gone -- but then saying she wants to go for another hike and she doesn't relish having her hide scratched up by the underbrush. Her scampering isn't quite so energetic as the morning before, but she still seems to run back and forth enough that she's traveling twice as much as Slate. The pair lunch at the base of an enormous boulder, leaning back against it for shade, and then go back to strike camp.

Shateishael grins delightedly at Peony's enthusiasm, happy to make sure she can do whatever her heart desires for this day. He's occasionally rather pleasantly distracted by the way the sunlight gleams on her pale skin, or strikes shimmering gleams of gold from her fiery hair, and he enjoys practicing strengthening the mental link between them both. Through experimentation, the Celestial and the Ethereal find they can call and hear one another's names without being in sight of one another, but since Peony is rarely more than twenty yards or so from Slate, the distance doesn't get much of a test. Interestingly, either of them can divine the direction of the other, but it is by no means an exact pinpoint. Slate suspects playing hide and seek at home will be fun for them both.

Once camp is struck and they're on their way back from the mountain, Peony's enthusiasm doesn't so much wane as transfer from being physical to verbal. For some reason she seems to have decided Slate needs to know more Gaelic, and she starts pointing out things and giving him words for them -- some of them are Scots Gaelic, some Irish, and some she says are Welsh. Shateishael laughs, listening with pleasure to the liquid, rolling language. At some point he amusedly asks if it's the same language for all three cultural types, or did they get mingled later?

Peony admits sheepishly that she can no longer really remember, but it seems to her they started out all the same and then diverged. Each of the languages has its own music; its own lilt, and Welsh seems to be the most liquid of the three. The leprechaun eventually remembers to correct something, explaining that Welsh is different than the Scots and Irish languages, having more in common with the language of the Gauls. Shateishael nods thoughtfully, pondering as he listens. It would seem if he's to have a beautiful and vivacious little Celtic Ethereal as a lover, he should learn the language! He wonders curiously if she can learn Angelic... then blinks, remembering something else. "Um... so, sweetheart... y'ever seen angels in their C'lestial forms?"

Peony looks puzzled, "I've seen you in the forms you have when Soma puts up the glamour..."

Shateishael glances away a touch worriedly... then looks back at Peony, "Um... y'ever seen us in winged 'r non-humanoid form?"

Peony shakes her head, "I... don't think so. I've seen angels looking ways no human really would, but I've only ever seen angels here on earth or in Faerie."

Shateishael rumbles a noncommittal, "Mm." He sighs, then, "'Kay. If'n y'don' mind, I'd like t'be sure y'seen me 'least once't in C'lestial, sweetheart, so I don' accidentally scare ya 'r anythin' later. That 'kay wi'you?"

Peony smiles, seeming unconcerned, "It's fine with me."

Shateishael nods, sitting down on a convenient boulder, "'Kay. Don' think it'll be nuthin' too scary 'r anythin', but th'further we are from human, th'less humanoid we look, 'n I'm one'a th'Most Holy... 'n I've heard a' Seraphim 'r Cherubim accident'ly causing lotta fear in folks... so I figger'd best t'be sure y'know it's me." [Plus it'd hurt a damn sight], he thinks but does not say, [to have you actually be afraid of me...]

Peony sits down on the earth, nodding slowly and still smiling, "I'm used to non-human-looking beings, carraig." She lays her hands in her lap and watches Slate's transformation. He takes a deep breath... then Sings his connection to the Symphony a bit more strongly, sliding easily into his Celestial form.

Shateishael: a palpitating, wingéd snake, bright and cirque-couchant. A gordian shape of dazzling hue: vermilion-spotted, golden, green, and blue. Eyed like a peacock and all crimson barr'd; full of silver moons that, as it breathes, dissolve or brighter shine, or interwreathe their lustres -- so rainbow-sided!

Several of Shateishael's brilliant, glowing eyes gaze thoughtfully at Peony. Its many wings beat gently, holding the big Seraph in place in the air before her, while the iridescent serpentine tail slowly coils and re-coils. Her eyes widen and she breathes something in what sounds to the Seraph's unpracticed ear to be either Irish or Scots Gaelic. In English, she whispers, "Oh, stars, you're a dragon!" If a tone had to be put to the words, reverence would be closest. Shateishael draws a relieved breath at Peony's lack of fear, and exhales joyous Song, its wings flaring wide as it swoops and dances about its tiny beloved. Peony laughs delightedly, not trying to touch Shateishael, just beaming joyously at the flight. This isn't what she remembers dragons being like, but it's the only thing even close she can imagine.

Shateishael will whirl musically in slowing circles about Peony, sunlight streaking rainbows down its shining wings and long, lazily curling, scaled tail... then finally settle again in one location. A moment later its Song changes slightly... and Slate stands before Peony again, a relieved grin on his face. He scoops her up in an exuberant hug -- he'd been more worried than he realized about spooking her! -- laughing, "Ah, y'r good f'th' soul, 'ziza!"

Slate: big human male; looks about 20 to 25 years old; bright blonde hair tied back in a long, shaggy ponytail. Slightly sardonic grin most of the time; narrowed, sharply blue eyes and heavily tanned skin. Broad shouldered, with the strong, muscular arms and torso of a blacksmith. Moves deliberately, speaks in a soft Texas drawl. Tends to wear pragmatic, sturdy clothing: heavy leather boots and jeans; flannel shirts only if he must -- stuff like that.

Peony squeaks as she's scooped up, but the sound turns into a laugh as she hugs back, nuzzling her upturned nose against Slate's neck and mumbling, "Mmm, my carraig arach." A moment later she remembers to translate, "My stone dragon."

Shateishael chuckles, just hugging her close for a moment... then he turns, still contentedly holding her close, and continues down the trail to the bike. His only verbal reply is to rumble with quiet happiness, "Yes."

Shateishael is very distractedly happy to hear Peony call him her stone dragon, and having her cuddled close on the bike feels wonderful as well... it's not until he's laughing and racing Thea down the driveway that he remembers his long, solitary meditation of the night before. That sobers him pretty quickly, and he makes a mental note to ask a few questions as soon as possible. He scoops Peony easily up and off the big old BMW once they're parked, grinning cheerfully at her. Before their helmets are off, he rumbles, "'Ziza, gotta question f'ya, please, 'fore we go in. C'n I tell Rosie 'n Bellisima 'bout whutcha tole me 'bout Eli 'n Novalis 'n th'fae?"

Peony smiles up at Slate, "I couldn't expect you to keep it from them, carraig arach. They're your loves and your partners." She looks a little sheepish, "It's only the story as I lived it, though. There might be parts I'm missing."

Shateishael takes Peony's hand and rumbles quietly, "It's th'Truth as y'know it, pretty lady. Nothin' more precious than that." He slips off his helmet, hugs Thea, then shoulders the packs and grins at the two females, "C'mon, le's go talk! Got lotsa questions."

Bella is inside the ranch house, sitting on the living room couch with several of the cats and a book with a cover that looks as if it were painted by someone with no actual idea of how women and men dressed during the Civil War. She looks up when Slate, Peony, and Thea come in, smiling at them, "How was camping?"

Shateishael beams at Bella, leaning to drop a kiss on the top of her head as he passes by with the packs, "Hadda lovely time, sweetheart! Lotta stuff t'think 'bout too... y'gotta minute t'chat wi'us all, once't I dropped alla this?" He glances curiously at the book, then gets a slightly bemused book, "Whu' thu...'zat a romance 'r sumpin'?"

Bella laughs, "I declared this to be a day when I would have no appointments and no commitments, so I've got all the time you need." Peony climbs onto the other end of the couch and scoops up an orange tabby kitten that almost matches her hair. Bella grins at Slate, "Not just a romance. A trashy, badly-written romance."

Shateishael snorts amusedly, "Y'know, 'm beginnin' t'wonder if y'really like me 'r not, if'n y'r c'mparin' me t' one'a those!" He grins cheerfully, heading briskly off for the bedrooms before he gets the paperback flung at him, "Back inna bit!" His exit is followed by the laughter of both the women.

Shateishael is indeed back in a bit, and he sprawls relaxedly on the couch between both women. Desty, the big Rottweiler cross, soon has his head resting on Slate's thigh, blissfully soaking up scritchings as Slate rumbles slowly, "So... Peony, 'm gonna be careful whut I say, so if'n y'wanna clarify anythin', please feel free, 'kay?"

Both women automatically shift so that their feet are against the sides of Slate's legs as he settles in with Desty. Peony nods and smiles, "I'll correct you if I hear anything really wrong."

Shateishael takes a deep breath, then concisely outlines for Bella the startling news that Eli and Novalis helped the fae. Then he just as concisely outlines his speculations, adding, "So... gotta few real curious questions now, sweetheart. First, who tol' ya there might be few fae hangin' 'round Burnin' Man? Second, howcum there ain't no C'lestials but us'n Lilith at Burnin' Man? 'N third... does Soma know? Is he part a' th'reason there's no C'lestials roun'bouts? Whut'd he do, if so?" He glances inquiringly at Peony, "You know th'answers t'either a'th'las' coupla questions, 'ziza?"

Bella listens with a carefully neutral expression to the story, wriggling once in a while at the uncomfortable portions of it. When the Seraph asks his questions, she smiles crookedly, "I heard it from Ian, actually. We were talking about Burning Man one night after watching something about it on TV. He's never been, but a lot of the folks that come to the Faires go." She wrinkles her brow, "But... huh. I hadn't really thought about it."

Peony shakes her head, "I just knew it had been a safe place for us. Sanctuary."

Shateishael rumbles thoughtfully, "Whut did Ian say 'bout fae, sweetheart?" He nods to Peony as she answers, although his expression is a bit grim. From his experience, sanctuaries exist because someone has the power to enforce their will and make the sanctuary exist, even if only temporarily -- much like he and Elly have done with the Circle H. Soma, however, doesn't have that ability (as far as Slate knows) against the combined might of the demons and angels -- as the previous Tether attempt clearly demonstrated. So... how is the Burning Man event staying Celestial-free?!

Bella speaks slowly, thinking about it, "He said... he said he'd heard there was more going on there than humans getting together. That there'd been rumors of strange things going on that just didn't seem to fit with stage magic or science... said he'd heard it attributed to the fae."

Shateishael draws a slow breath, "'Kay... d'ya know who he heard that from?" He takes another breath, then rumbles, "Maybe from Eli?" He sure hopes it wasn't just another angel. He gently strokes Bella's feet when she looks uncomfortable, trying to be reassuring as best he knows how.

Bella just shrugs, "I didn't actually ask him, hon." She looks sheepish and ducks her head a little, "He did some very distracting things not long after that."

Shateishael laughs softly and rumblingly, still stroking Bella's feet as he thinks... then he turns to Peony, "So you don' have any idea howcum there're no C'lestials at Burnin' Man, then, sweetheart? You din' know Lilith wuz there either, didja?"

Peony shakes her head, looking a little puzzled, "No. I didn't know she was there until that morning you found us in the Jewels camp." Her smooth brow furrows, "It... we just knew we were safe. I sort of assumed maybe there was something keeping the Celestials away. But I knew about the Flower Lady and Eli helping us."

Shateishael frowns, starting to worry... then he looks up determinedly, "'Kay. Le's find out. Le's call Ian 'n Soma, 'n jus' ask." He adds a touch worriedly, "I c'n see Lilith workin' out some deal t' keep th' demons 'way -- she's Freedom, after all -- but cain't see that deal bein' cheap, y'know?" He pulls out his cell, starting to key in Ian's number, then glances at Bella, "You wanna talk t'him, 'r should I, sweetheart?"

Peony leans forward, speaking to Bella over Slate's lap, "He just goes for whatever he wants, doesn't he?" Bella laughs, "Not always. He can be sorta shy." The Bright shakes her head at Slate's query, "You ask him, love."

Shateishael gives Peony a faintly confused grin, "Whut? Y'r not curious too?" as he finishes keying in Ian's number.

Peony smirks slightly, wiggling her toes, "Of course I'm curious; I'd just be more likely to bring it up a little more naturally."

Shateishael gives Peony another puzzled look, "This ain't natural?" then grins at the familiar bellow of Ian's greeting.

Ian's greeting is indeed a bellow, and a friendly one -- it has to be a bellow to get over the enthusiastic barking of his two constant companions. "'Ello, boyo! Y'keepin' m'fav'rite girl happy out there?"

Shateishael laughs! "Tryin', tryin'... think she 'n Thea miss ya, though. Y'comin' out t'visit any time soon?"

The big Malakite's laugh is as much a roar as his greeting, "S'pose I could. Got no travelin' plans for the next couple weeks. Festival I was s'pposed to go to got canceled because o' some bullshite wi' the organizers behavin' like wee bairns."

Shateishael snorts amusedly, "Yeah, happens sometimes." He pauses, then curiously asks, "Y'ever thought 'bout visitin' Burnin' Man, Ian?" He adds, "Bella said y'd mentioned it once. Sumpin' 'bout fae there, 'r sumpin'?"

Ian is quiet for a moment or two, his voice slightly amused when he does finally answered, "Wondered when I'd be asked 'bou' tha'. Tell y'what. I'll be down there before the sun's down and we'll have us a chat 'bout that. Will that work fer y', laddie?"

Shateishael mmms thoughtfully, then absently starts rubbing Peony's feet as he rumbles into the phone, "Mind if'n I ask ya how ya feel 'bout fae first?"

Ian chuckles quietly and, knowing him as Slate does, the Seraph can almost picture the Eliite rubbing a hand over the top of his head, "Was always rather fond of 'em, laddie. Useta know more'n a few."

Shateishael nods, reassured, "'Kay. Consid'rin' y'r answer b'fore 'bout m' question -- yeah, wanna talk t'ya, definitely." He's silent a moment, then adds quietly, "Thanks, guy. Seeya soon." Both females are quiet as Slate talks with Ian, though Peony does mouth 'Who is this guy?' to the Bright. Bella's reply is done in the same way, 'Angel. You'll like him.' Shateishael takes a moment to reassure Peony that Ian's a nice guy and has known fae previously... then reports the extremely curious wording of Ian's reply to both ladies. He's starting to get a really... worried feeling about this, but he swallows that by offering to help Bella throw something together to eat. Bella starts putting together some snacks and pulls out a bottle of Bowmore, which makes Peony go 'Ooo!' in appreciation. The Bright explains to the leprechaun that Ian lived in Scotland for a long, long time.

The trip that usually takes Ian a couple of hours takes maybe 3/4 of that, as if the Malakite was in quite a hurry to get himself to the ranch. The rumble of his truck is instantly recognizable, and the voices of his dogs baying joyfully is just as recognizable -- they always love being let loose on the ranch to run like maniacs with the other creatures. Once Slate hears the truck coming he grins ruefully, shaking his head at the commotion, "An' folks say I lack subtlety... back inna bit, ladies!" He heads on out, waiting for Ian with a grin and watching Desty and Holly having gleeful conniptions around the truck as well, baying along with Ian's pups. Inside the ranch house, Bella gives Peony the briefest possible rundown of her history with the two men, explaining their roles in her life and her conversion.

Ian crouches down, carefully arranging his utilikilt so that he's not flashing anyone, and greets Holly and Desty like old friends. When he gets back to his feet he's smiling, but it's less his normal good-natured beaming and something a little more wry. He nods to the Seraph. "Slate," he says in greeting. This in and of itself is unusual. Ian has a pet name for just about everyone and everything.

Shateishael pauses, looking slightly confused and folding his arms, "Hey, Ian. Sumpin'?"

The Malakite smiles and shrugs his broad shoulders, "Thought y'might be a little irritated wi' me is all." He holds his arms out in a half-questioning, half-inviting way, as if to give his friend the option of a hug of greeting or not.

Shateishael steps forward and hugs the Malakite easily, then steps back enough to see Ian's face, his hands still resting on the other angel's shoulders and his voice still a touch curious, "Now why'd ya think I'd be irritated wi'ya, man?"

Ian chuckles, relaxing some and clapping Slate on the shoulder in a way that would stagger a smaller angel, "Because I been keepin' a coupla secrets... c'n we go inside so I only have t'pologize 'bou' this th' once?"

Shateishael snorts amusedly, "This's m'shocked face, Ian... not really." He hesitates, then grins ruefully, rubbing the back of his head, "Um. So, yeah... 'fore ya go in, jus' wanted t'mention we gotta guest we're kinda fond of too. 'S okay wi'you?"

Ian's face goes very serious, his diction much more careful than normal, as if saying something almost ritualistically, though his brogue still sings through it, "My friend, I would never harm a guest of yours." His eyes examine Slate for a moment, but he doesn't go any further.

Shateishael nods, "Thanks, Ian." He sighs, putting an arm about Ian's shoulder as he turns towards the house, adding, "Gonna hafta ask ya later 'bout fae 'n C'lestials... 'm thinkin' 'ts gonna be relief t'hear jus' whut's up here too..." A moment later he's introducing Ian to Peony.

By the time the Seraph and the Malakite have come back, Peony and Bella are in the living room with steaming mugs of coffee and the bottle of Scotch waiting on them. Upon seeing Ian, Peony whistles through her teeth and mutters to Bella, "Dear stars, you do like them big and blond, don't you?"

Shateishael blinks at Peony -- then can't restrain a burst of laughter! Still grinning, he rumbles, "Ian, this here's Miz Peony... Peony, this's Ian a' Creation." Ian takes Peony's hand and bows over it, kissing the back of her knuckles and murmuring, "It's a pleasure t'see one of your kind again, ma'am. Haven' seen a leprechaun in a month 'o Sundays."

Shateishael chuckles quietly to himself, remembering his utter lack of recognition at first meeting Peony. He sighs in quiet relief, accepting a mug of coffee from Bella in exchange for a kiss, then settles himself to let the Malakite and the leprechaun have a moment to get to know each other. Bella gives Slate a questioning look, knowing she didn't tell the big Malakite what Peony was. Shateishael murmurs quietly to Bella, "He said he's know buncha fae in 'is time, sweetheart. Figger he c'n rec'gnize 'em, yeah?"

Peony laughs as the very obviously informal Celestial greets her fairly formally, her own lilting accent intensifying slightly, "Aye, and I've not been recognized for what I am in longer than that." Shateishael grins lazily, putting an arm warmly about Bella and absently rubbing the ears of a purring cat as he watches Ian and Peony. He bets Peony'd like to hear Gaelic again, now he thinks about it... and Ian can do that for her. Slate makes a small mental note to himself -- must learn Gaelic! -whatever sort Peony can teach him. He knows how much he misses the musical, rolling tones of both Norse and Comanche.

Ian smiles over at Slate, "Oh, aye. They used to be thick on th' groun' in the Isles." He straightens and holds his arms out to Bella, "C'mere, lassie, an' give us a buss. How's ma... domestic life treatin' ye?" The Bright smiles and stands, hugging Ian and kissing him hello. "You've been keeping secrets, mister man," she says with teasing accusation, making Ian put on a comical hangdog look. Shateishael watches with interest... does Ian think Bella's married now? Hm... maybe he should invite Ian to move in here too?

Ian says with the faintest hint of apology, "Couldn' jus' come out and tell ye, lassie." He lets the Bright go so she can snuggle herself against Slate. If he considers her to be married, he must consider it to be a rather permissive one because the kiss of greeting wasn't exactly a platonic one. He settles himself into the armchair he almost always occupies when he visits, stretching his long legs out and crossing his moccasinned feet at the ankles. Broad-fingered hands fold together over his stomach as he settles in.

Shateishael smiles down at Bella snuggling with him, gently stroking her hair once before he looks up at Ian again from where he's seated, "So, g'wan, guy -- grab a mug, getta splash a'whutever Bella's got f'r ya, 'n tell us whutcha know." He pauses, then adds slowly, "Wait... y'got anythin' 'bout this y'cain't tell us?" Peony also settles in against Slate, tucking her feet beneath herself and studying Ian with a lot of curiosity and very little caution -- of course, caution has never exactly marked anything that the Celestials have seen Peony do. Shateishael smiles, settling his mug on his lap so he can gently cuddle Peony close and comfortable also. The coffee can wait.

Ian leans forward and takes the coffee and judiciously pours a measure of the Scotch into it before settling back into his seat, "Well now, don' know as there is. Da's not f'r keepin' things from those as figger 'em out on their ownsie."

Shateishael nods, relaxing a bit, "'Kay. Jus' checkin' -- rather y'tol' me 'head a' time 'stead a' havin' t'prevaricate." He nods once again, drawing a slow breath, "Tell, then, please?"

Ian sips his coffee with a pleased rumble at the flavor of it and the whisky he poured into it, "Mmm, well, there's not s'much as y'might think, laddie. Couple years ago Da came by on one a' his rambles an' let me know he'd like it if I nudged the lovely Bella toward the fae an' their little secret out in th' desert." Shateishael listens silently, absently stroking Peony's hair and Bella's side as he watches Ian and thinks. Both the women react to the petting like particularly contented cats.

Ian smiles crookedly, "He didn' say outright I sh'd keep his name outta things, but usually if he wants one of us to know somethin's from him, he brings it us personally." Bella nods in agreement to this. Very little in her life as a Bright Lilim of Creation has come straight from Eli, but one or two little things have. Shateishael nods, his ice-blue gaze intensely thoughtful. The big Malakite shrugs, "I was a little concerned about it, but Da seemed bound an' determined. Promised me none of y'd get hurt or I'd never have planted that seed." Shateishael nods again, although this time it's reassuring the big Malakite that everyone is fine.

Bella shifts a little bit, listening to Ian ramble his way through the explanation. Like many a Scotsman, he has a seeming inability to get straight to any point until he's had a few sips of whisky. Peony is still watching the large Eliite. Ian's face is settling into solemn lines, "Like I said b'fore, I remember the fae quite well. Been to more than one a' their revels, back when the Courts held sway." He smiles crookedly for a moment, "Had t' slap the hand of a leprechaun once tha' was doin' 'is best to lift m'sword off m'belt once. Shameless little thing 'e was. Damn near drank me unner the table. Hurt like 'ell it did, when all this bullshite 'bou' how they could and couldn' interact wi' the humans started comin' down. Confused the shite outta me."

Shateishael nods slowly, still listening. He's both sorry and glad he missed out on the Ethereal Holocaust... but he's going to try to understand it as best he can, from as many perspectives as possible. A hint of pain passes through Ian's eyes. "I heard 'bout' Uriel and 'is Malakim goin' crazy after it'd already happened. I was doin' duty as a muse an' guardian when the news filtered down. Poor lass I was watchin' over almost went insane, 'm 'fraid." He looks extremely guilty, "Took me years t'fix, an' it was all over by then. Those as was left were squirreled away and Uriel was taken away."

Shateishael's gaze sharpens, "Who?! Who squirreled away th'remainin' fae?"

Ian shifts uncomfortably in his seat, sipping at his coffee, "Da, 'a course. An' Novalis. Always thought there mighta been others, but those're the only two I know fer certain. I stood a shift or two on the borders in the Marches, an' I know it never woulda worked there if the Lady 'o Dreams didn' give 'er consent."

Shateishael says, "'Stood a shift'? Whuts'at mean, Ian?"

Ian shifts a bit again and smiles lopsidedly at Slate, "Means I stood in the Marches with m'sword and m'shield and I watched t'make sure no one came close to where they'd see y'r little lassie's people were still aroun'."

Shateishael nods, Ian's words verifying a suspicion. He's silent a moment, then rumbles quietly, "Who else ya suspect were in, Ian?"

Ian shrugs, "Well, if alla the warlike angels were actually pointed in th' right direction, I think Uriel's purge mighta actually worked. But they weren'."

Shateishael nods, unsurprised. He's silent a moment -- asking for more precise answers is a waste if the two of them are just speculating together. So instead he asks other questions which have been bothering him, "So howcum there aren't any C'lestials at Burnin' Man, 'xceptin' Lilith?"

Ian continues, "Which says t'me that Michael either didn' give a flyin' fuck 'bout it or he was purposely ignorin' it. An' I really can' see yer Architect stayin' the hell 'way from somethin' like Burnin' Man." Then he sits up straighter, eyes locking onto Slate, "Lilith was there?" His shoulders are a little tense and he flicks a worried glance toward Bella.

Shateishael nods amusedly at that, "Yeah, 'at's been buggin' me too, 'bout m'Architect." He adds amusedly, "She wuz drummin', Ian. So howcum there aren't any others there? Y'all standin' shifts on Burnin' Man too, 'r whut?"

Ian makes a seesawing motion with his hand, "Not as such, laddie. We don' actually patrol th' place. I know word was very carefully put out t' let th'humans be there. The unnerstandin' was tha' someone was wantin' to see what came of it wi'out us puttin' our foot in."

Shateishael raises an eyebrow, "From y'r S'perior, 'r someone else?"

Ian shakes his head, "It was sorta disseminated. Sorta let word drift out in a way so y'just knew it... I knew wha' was up there, 'course. Da tol' me th' Summer Court was tryin' t'bring itself back t'gether." He shakes his head mournfully and sips his coffee, "B'damn, but I miss tha' lot."

Shateishael is silent a long moment, just quietly and reassuringly stroking both women... finally he looks up at Ian and rumbles thoughtfully, "So you don' know who started th'word drift?"

Ian shakes his head and shrugs apologetically, "First heard it from a Mercurian who was poutin' tha' he couldn' go."

Shateishael studies Ian slowly from under his blonde hair... then rumbles quietly, "Why us, Ian?"

Ian smiles crookedly, "Why not you, laddie? Bella'd not be kept away from meetin' actual Ethereals even if someone tol' her she was s'posed to stay 'way. Y'r wee poofter had... contact... with 'em before. An' ye're one 'a the leas' rigid warriors I ever met that wasn't one 'a Da's."

Shateishael narrows his eyes thoughtfully, "How'd you know 'bout Rosie'n th'fae, Ian?"

Ian smiles lopsidedly, "Da tol' me. Dunno how he knew."

Shateishael shifts restlessly -- he's starting to feel that unpleasant sensation he gets when he's feeling deceived. He ruthlessly reins himself in, then grumbles tightly, "Ian, whut else he tell ya 'bout this?"

Ian holds his hands up placatingly, "I hones'ly don' know how he knew, Slate. He tol' me not t'ask." Shaking his head, Ian admits, "Not to be s'prised if y'had a lot of questions after goin' t' Burnin' Man." He chuckles, "But until now, none 'o ya asked me anythin'."

Shateishael shakes his head a touch irritably, "Ain't worried 'bout that, Ian -- c'n unnerstan' not tellin' whutcha not been asked. Whut's worryin' me now is whut's comin' up inna future. Got folks I wanna keep safe, y'know? An' 'm wundrin' whut th'price wuz t'keep th'demons 'way... 'n if there wuz a price t'keep us 'way..." He eyes Ian with a touch of sardonic humor, "'N if'n y'r gonna ac'sh'ly answer m'las' question."

Ian's brows draw together, "Tha's what Da tol' me, Slate. Not t'be s'prised if the lot 'o ye had questions about the whole thing." He looks apologetic, "S'far 's I know, laddie, y'r th' only Seraph's ever been tol' any o' this."

Shateishael sighs quietly, "But wuz there anythin' else he said 'bout it, Ian? Like call him if'n we started askin' questions, 'r tell 'em they're on their own, 'r anythin' 'bout th'demons, 'r whut?! An' why'm I s'pposedly th'only Seraph tol' 'bout this?"

Ian smiles almost sadly, "Because if anyone asked y'bout it, y'd have t'tell 'em." The big Malakite shrugs, "Da didn' say not t'come t'im wi' questions, but he's not always the easies' person t' contact."

Shateishael snorts amusedly, "That ain't so! Don' hafta say a thing if'n we don' wanna." He sighs in faint exasperation, drumming his fingers irritatedly. He hates having to wade through deception to get to the truth! Then he blinks, registering he's drumming his fingers on Bella's thigh, and hastily stops, "Sorry, sweetheart..." He pushes his bangs back with a gusty sigh, then rumbles, "'Kay, le's think. We know there're archangels helpin' out. We know there mus' be some kinda contact 'tween 'em an' 'least some 'a th'fae, 'r we three wouldn'ta been 'llowed t'wander in. We know there's gotta be some kinda similar c'nnec'shun f'th'other side too, 'cause there're no demons 'xcept Freedom herself... so..." he looks at Bella and Peony questioningly, "Time t'call Soma, 'm thinkin'... yeah?" He adds, turning to look at Ian, "Thanks, guy. Sorry y'got put in sucha awkward p'sition."

Ian shrugs and smiles back, relaxing a little, "Da's all about noninterference usually; I was a little s'prised that he wanted me t' push the lassie toward this." He gives Bella an apologetic grin, "F'rgive me, lass?" Bella eyes Ian with a smirk, pretending to consider it. Finally she answers, "Maybe. Ask me tomorrow morning."

Peony shrugs and smiles, "If you call him now, you're likely to get him, Bacchus, Karl, and the whole lot of them again."

Shateishael hastily amends, "Good point, Peony -- rather talk t'Bacchus than Soma. We'd drive each other t'distraction, 'n 'm already feelin' cranky." He sighs, shaking his head once, then nods, "Bacchus, then," as he pulls out his cell and dials the number he has for the satyr. While he has one for Soma, the butterfly fae has a somewhat laissez faire attitude about anything faster than letters for long-distance communication. Ordinarily Slate would heartily approve... but not this time!

The satyr answers his phone, as he almost always does, with the alias he uses in his everyday life, "Alan here." The half-goat Ethereal apparently has an aversion to checking his caller ID.

Shateishael rumbles calmly, "Hey, guy, this's Slate. Y'someplace where y'c'n talk freely?"

There's a sound of the phone being shifted around and Bacchus says, "I'm chaperoning a field trip today, so I've got about half a million students running around like it's their first day out of prison. What do you need?" He sounds amused more than anything -- perhaps a bit surprised at what seems a random call from Slate.

Shateishael laughs! -then grins, "Um... y'want me t'say now, 'r wait 'til later, dude?"

The satyr snorts slightly, "Go ahead and prime me now. Otherwise, I'll be distracted wondering what you wanted and one of these little hellions will get away from me and end up stealing a T-Rex metatarsal."

Shateishael mouths to Bella and Peony, 'Bacchus is a teacher?!' then laughs again at Bacchus's commentary, "'Kay, gotcha. Jus' wanna know..." he pauses a moment, phrasing his question carefully, then nods, "Wanna know whut th'price wuz t'keep all th'C'lestials outta Burnin' Man, please. Ev'rythin' else c'n wait 'til later."

Peony laughs and nods, whispering, "What is teaching but storytelling?" Shateishael grins at Peony, shaking his head amusedly and holding up a finger so she knows he can't talk just then.

There's a moment of quiet on the other end of the phone line. When Bacchus speaks again, his voice is solemn, "You're right, I'll definitely have to call you back about that one."

Shateishael nods, his voice a touch amused, "Thoughtcha might wanna, yeah. Call when y'r free, 'kay?"

Bacchus snorts, "I'll call you the second I'm not riding herd, Friend." Even as he's moving to hang up the phone, Slate can hear his rolling voice calling out, "I know you can read, Jared, so stay off..."

Shateishael laughs softly, then rumbles, "Later, guy." He hangs up, shaking his head again, "Brave man -- ridin' herd on kids!" He grins dryly, "An' he din' deny nuthin', so that guess wuz right too..."

Rosenstern's quiet voice comes from a nearby doorway. "It can't have been too ruinous a price, else they'd have met us with much more wariness and rancor than they did." He fidgets a little in the doorway, setting the new hair band gingerly before hugging himself. "At least," he adds, "I hope."

Ian turns to Rosie and gives him a quiet smile, "Aye, I think you're right there, lad."

Shateishael smiles at Rosenstern, holding out a hand, "C'mon 'n cuddle up wi' us, li'l flow'r. Don' think we're gonna find out nuthin' terrible 'bout'cher sweetheart. Jus' thinkin' it's not inconsid'rable t'keep th'demons 'way, y'know?" He adds reassuringly, "Bacchus did call me 'Frien' as he wuz hangin' up, after all."

Peony fidgets slightly as if considering moving away for Rosie, but it's Bella who actually gets up and goes to pull the Mercurian into the room, "Come on, sugar. I think hugs might be needed."

Shateishael nods, reaching to draw Rosenstern to sit between he and Bella, "Lissen t'th'nice Bright Lady, Rosebud."

Rosenstern pads in, giving Ian a warm, tight hug and a smile in greeting before Bella takes him and settles him in. He smiles quietly. "It's all just a little surprising," he says. "If there was an actual conspiracy amongst the Hosts, this at least is one I can agree with whole-heartedly."

Ian hugs Rosie and just barely resists the urge to ruffle the sweet Novalite's hair. "I c'n say that I don' know anythin' abou' the Infernals in alla this."

The leprechaun is chewing her bottom lip, brow furrowed in thought as Rosie is drawn into the room. Shateishael puts his other arm around Peony, not wanting her to feel like she has to move either, and cuddles Rosenstern once he's settled. He sighs quietly, relaxing a bit inside at contact with his beloveds... then a few heartbeats later he rumbles quietly, "Well, 'm more worried 'bout th'price Soma's payin'... 'cause 'm thinkin' it's a good bet it's done voluntarily 'r whutever. But... dunno 'bout th'Winter Court, y'know?"

Peony murmurs, "The teind." And then shakes her head, smiling wryly.

Shateishael adds quietly to Rosenstern, "It's possib-" he pauses, glancing at Peony, "Mm?"

The leprechaun takes a very deep breath, shaking her head with a bit of a laugh, "A long while back we used to pay a tithe to Hell. The teind. But it's been a long, long time. And if we were paying it now, there'd be none of us left."

Rosenstern blinks, feeling a touch ill. "What... what was the tithe?"

Shateishael nods thoughtfully, "Wuz jus' 'bout t'say t'Rosie that it wuz possible whutever th'price wuz, most'a y'all din' know 'bout it. Soun's like tha's true... yeah?" Curiously he adds, "Why'd'y'all pay a tithe t'Hell? 'N whut wuz it?"

Peony smiles in a way that doesn't come close to reaching her eyes, "We were the tithe, Flowerkin. No one was forced to go, at least not of the Summer Folk. We went to them and they didn't enslave us all. It was a year and a day, and if you came back after it you were lucky. They were not gentle."

Shateishael draws in a slow breath, stiffening noticeably in an effort to not react explosively. He carefully draws two or three more breaths, making sure he's in control of himself, before he breathes a quiet, "Why?!" Ian's eyes have narrowed as well and he's leaning forward, looking intently at Peony. His large hands have tightened on his mug enough that his knuckles are starting to go white.

Rosenstern feels himself almost... disconnected, like it's not really real, that it's something that's far and away and not real. "How... long did you have to do that?" he asks softly.

Peony shrugs, smiling mirthlessly, "Because it is better to lay yourself down as a sacrifice than to watch your kith and kin being slaughtered." She shakes her head as if trying to clear it, "I'm not sure how long it went on. For a long time, it just was. Even Oberon himself went to them once." The smile takes on a sort of cold whimsy, "Granted, after he returned he started refusing to pay it any more." She adds tiredly, "At least he did as his Summer self."

Shateishael takes a few more breaths, then finally manages, "Why... why din' y'all ask f'help?!"

Rosenstern reaches over to touch Slate's hand. "Because we'd just tried to exterminate them," he says softly.

Shateishael gives Rosenstern a shocked look, then turns and asks Peony a touch desperately, "It wuzn't then, wuz it? Couldn'ta been if'n Oberon wuz th'payer, yeah?"

Peony shakes her head to Rosenstern, "This was before Uriel's madness, Flowerkin."

Shateishael draws a breath in slow relief, absently stroking Rosenstern's thigh... then shakes his head again, "No, wait, I don' unnerstan', 'ziza -- were we that un'pproachable?!" He struggles with the concept for a moment, then bleakly rumbles, "Jus' th'Celtic Court bore th'brunt a'this?"

The leprechaun shrugs, "Because the angels were not our protectors, Slate. They were our friends, but to ask for protection and for help... it would have been admitting their superiority." She holds up her hands, "The Celestials didn't say this. Oberon, he was... proud. Titania was no less so. I... don't know if the others paid a teind."

Rosenstern blinks a little. "And paying the tithe to Hell wasn't acknowledging or implying Hell's superiority?"

Shateishael looks like he's struggling internally again... finally he simply growls something incoherent, drawing Peony onto his lap and wrapping his arms tightly around her, as if he's afraid she'll simply vanish. Peony squeaks a bit as she's pulled into Slate's lap, not seeming to mind being wrapped up like a doll, though it does muffle her voice, "Oberon thought he'd tricked them. Bargained them into not getting what they wanted. Having to take something lesser."

Ian growls, "The poncey-arsed, blood-proud little prat." He sounds as if he'd like to spit.

Shateishael growls under his breath again... he's going to be truly furious with Bacchus if it turns out the satyr was once Oberon! Or wait -- Slate knows how to definitively figure out once and for all if this was the case. He rumbles tightly, "C'd Oberon safely touch steel, 'ziza?"

Peony is still a little muffled, "Not safely, no. He could handle it better than any of us, though. I saw him once take a steel dagger from a human who thought to threaten him. He was able to dissemble enough that he seemed unharmed until the threat was passed. But he had a scar on his hand ever afterward."

Shateishael can't quite suppress an exasperated growl again -- dammit! He doesn't want to know Bacchus's True Name -- it'd be so much easier if he could just find some way to be sure... and the urge to smack Oberon for torturing his people so is going to be lurking in the back of Slate's mind now! He takes another slow breath, loosening his arms enough so Peony's not quite so muffled, and rumbles quietly, "Sorry, sweetheart... but wantcha t'promise me, please? -if'n anythin' like that gets started up 'gain, tell me?! Please? Soon as possible?"

Peony smiles, and this time it does reach her eyes, "I'm proud, arach, not stupid."

Shateishael sighs quietly, relaxing a bit, "Thanks, 'ziza." He closes his eyes for a moment, then looks up at the others, "Okay. 'M thinkin' now even more I wanna know whut th'current price is... 'cause that's gonna be a benchmark f'whut th'Winter Court's gonna be asked too, 'm thinkin'."

Ian clears his throat, adding, "I don' think they're payin' any price t' Da or the Flower Lady. Neither of 'em is the kin' t'ask f'r payment f'r kindness."

Shateishael nods grimly to Ian, "Not worried 'bout them. Worried 'bout Lilith 'n her lot."

Bella smiles crookedly, "Oh, I can guess what price she'd ask. It's the same price she always asks." The Bright is quietly stroking Rosie's leg, soothing herself as much as him. Shateishael looks inquiringly at Bella?

Rosenstern is curled up almost into invisibility between Bella and Slate, that sinking feeling in the pit of his being dropping ever deeper. Bella's touch comforts him somewhat, though he looks curiously to her at her statement of Lilith's price. "A favor?" he asks softly. "Or... a geas?" Shateishael notices Rosenstern's shrinking, and slides an arm around the slight Mercurian.

Bella smiles tiredly at Slate, then to Rosie when he speaks, "They're really sort of the same. But yeah, a Favor. And usually of the to-be-named-later sort that always bite you in the ass." Shateishael nods silently, then gets an abstracted look as he thinks. Rosenstern winces a little and nods.

Shateishael finally rumbles, "Well. Dunno whut else we c'n do 'bout this 'til we know more... 'n we're not gonna know more 'til Bacchus calls. So..." he ponders a moment -- what makes people feel better? Doing things. He grins ruefully, "Anybody hungry?"

Ian snorts and shakes his head, draining the last of his cooling coffee-with-whisky, "Me stomach seems t've soured some, laddie."

Shateishael will try to shift the group to the kitchen, doing something together. This is his dearest community, and as a Stone angel he's deeply worried for them. He hopes Bacchus calls or turns up or whatever soon. Rosenstern soon is moving off into the kitchen to cook up something for the group to nibble on while awaiting Bacchus's call. He's trying not to think of anything right now; the 'conspiracy' for the fae wasn't a shock so much as a pleasant surprise. That he and the others had been 'nudged' to go to Burning Man doesn't bother him either, since he's very much glad they were. But the 'teind,' and whatever might be being paid now, bothers everything out of him. He figures on some level there should be some comfort in the balance: Uriel's madness could be matched by Oberon's for arranging the tithe to Hell. And beyond that too, there's the fact that Oberon undertook it himself at some point... and then stopped his people from doing it as well. But that it had been started... even the pleasant diversion of cooking can't erase the melancholy from his thoughts.

Shateishael quietly hugs Rosenstern from behind, trying to be comforting without being in the way. If that doesn't work he'll try a shoulder rub instead. Some time does pass almost pleasantly with Rosie's excellent cooking; even though it isn't perhaps as wonderful as when his whole heart is in it, it is still a salve for the soul. Peony and Bella both seem to be of the opinion that if Rosenstern manages to find something chocolate to give everyone, it might help even more. Ian simply switches from coffee to straight Scotch. Rosenstern leans back against Slate as he embraces him, at the same time considering several chocolate options at the suggestion from Bella and Peony. He has to dismiss the straight-up chocolate sauce, as tempting as it might be; his heart just isn't into that right now. On the other hand, it would go well with the organic ice cream he's been making.

Bacchus' call, thankfully, doesn't take long to come through -- not quite two hours later the phone rings. Shateishael sighs in relief, dropping a kiss on the top of Rosie's head as he flips open the phone, "Slate." The ice cream and chocolate sauce is served at about the same time Bacchus calls. Shateishael grins, tilting the phone so he can spoon a quick bite of ice cream and chocolate sauce into his mouth -- Bacchus should talk for a bit, hopefully, and that should be enough time to chew and swallow!

Bacchus' voice sounds tired but almost cheerful as he starts in without any greeting, "Well, no one made off with any dinosaurs and I only had to confiscate one joint. The hooligans are now on the bus and I'm driving home. Consider me at your disposal, Slate."

Shateishael snorts expressively, chewing madly. "Y'mi' 'f I 'u -- oh, 'ell! 'o'en'..." He swallows, winces at the cold, then rumbles, "'Kay. Y'mind if'n I putcha on th'speaker? Got Rosie, Bellisima, Peony, 'n an ol' frien' named Ian here." He adds in amused explanation, "Ian's th'guy that nudged us t'come t'Burnin' Man, so he's kinda in it too now."

Bacchus hms, "Certainly. Though you'll have to expect me to ask people to repeat things if you talk over one another."

Shateishael rumbles quietly, "Bacchus, we wanna learn stuff, not innerupt ya. So... price t'keep Burnin' Man free a' C'lestials?" He sets the cell phone on speaker, standing it in the middle of the table... then has another spoonful of ice cream. This one he eats more slowly, so he can actually savor it.

Bacchus' voice sounds tinny through the speakerphone, "There was no price to keep the angels away, Slate. We were simply promised that we wouldn't be molested by them. Eli and his companion seemed to think they owed it to us."

Shateishael nods, "Not worried 'bout them, Bacchus. More worried 'bout th'demons... 'n whut Bran's likely t'get charged."

Rosenstern sets the tray of ice cream upon the table, listening quietly as Bacchus talks. "You mean Novalis," he asks, clearly enough to be picked up by the cell phone. Shateishael nods silently to Rosie.

Bacchus' voice answers Rosie, "No. It was not the Flower Lady. I know her of old, and it was not my Zareh's favorite. The body was male." The satyr takes a deep breath and lets it out in a sigh, "As for the demons, only one of them has approached us."

Shateishael's head jerks up at that, and he rumbles, "Bacchus... whut'd th'male look like? Real big guy, black stone body?" Rosenstern blinks, looking a little surprised at it not having been Novalis. He looks to Slate, considering.

There's a pause and Bacchus sounds almost surprised when he does speak, "That... does sound like him, yes. He didn't introduce himself. We assumed he was one of David's."

Rosenstern says softly, "Or was David himself."

Shateishael sets down his spoon and closes his eyes, rubbing his face once with one hand as he mutters half under his breath, "Thank you, Architect." He sighs quietly, then continues to Bacchus, "Th'on'y demon... Lilith?"

Bacchus says, "No, actually. We weren't aware at all of her presence until Peony and Ajax brought back word of her. She's not tried to approach us past that."

Shateishael looks a bit surprised, "Uh... 'kay. Who wuz it, then?" He mumbles confusedly to the others, "She not know, mebbe?" Rosenstern's mind races as to who the demon could have been, while waiting for Bacchus to answer. Malphas? Andrealphus? He shudders at that last thought. Kobal, now that would almost be bearable, as much as he particularly dislikes that particular prince.

Bacchus' voice holds a hint of displeasure as he speaks the name, "The Lord of Factions. The whole idea of the festival seems to bother him for some reason." There's a trace of self-satisfied amusement in that last pronouncement.

Shateishael blinks, "Malphas?! Why on earth would he care?!"

The satyr's voice is almost dripping disdain, "That's the one. Why would he care? Stars and stones, Slate, where on earth have you seen less divisiveness than in Black Rock City? The whole idea of the place is that jackal's worst nightmare."

Shateishael facepalms, "Goddess, I'm dense sometimes!" Then he frowns, looking up again, "Wait... this ain't like him. Why's he 'llowin' it if'n it's ev'rythin' he hates?" Bella has gotten up and moved to sit on Ian's knee, talking quietly to the big Malakite, who has been looking a bit morose for the past bit. Shateishael growls frustratedly, then mutters, "No... gettin' distracted. Whut'd he want, Bacchus, f'keepin' ev'ryone 'way?"

Rosenstern says, "He didn't want to allow it, I think. He wanted it ended... or wanted his agents' safe passage in there, free from Ethereal interference, so that they could spread divisiveness."

Bacchus snorts, "He was doing his best to get a foothold and thought we might be willing to just look the other way while he and his termites tried to make inroads. Soma..." he takes a deep breath, "Soma told him that the time when the fae paid tribute or gave way to Hell was long in the past and he would rather let himself be destroyed in facing Malphas' rage than let his people go down that path again."

Shateishael sighs in relief, relaxing a bit again. Then he frowns thoughtfully a heartbeat later, "Um... they must've come t'some 'rrangement, though?"

The satyr continues, "Truth be told, I was sure that it would be the end of us, but... it hasn't seemed to be. Malphas made a lot of threats and dire pronouncements, but he had agreed on neutral ground for the meeting and wouldn't break the truce."

Shateishael struggles to try and comprehend a demon prince, "So... th'neutral groun' y'all were meetin' on wuz... th'playa?"

Bacchus snorts, "No, actually. It was in Utah. The Salt Flats."

Shateishael says, "Then... why din' he jus' send his folks inta Burnin' Man?"

Bacchus voice is bleak as he says, "I wish I had a comforting answer, Slate, but he didn't. I swear on all that I hold dear that if I knew, I'd tell you."

Shateishael looks confused, "This... don' make sense... 'less..." He's silent a moment, then rumbles, "Whut wuz th' wordin' on th'truce?"

Bacchus sounds confused for a moment, "The only truce was for safe passage to and from the negotiations and for safety during them. And then... we haven't heard from him again. In all honesty, it makes me a mite nervous."

Shateishael frowns, absently licking his spoon as he thinks... finally he sets it in the ice cream again and rumbles, "Could he be worried 'bout y'all contaminatin' other demons wi'ideas a'teamwork 'r sumpin'?" He frowns, muttering, "No, that soun's dumb... but what..."

Bella raises her head and says quietly, "Mom could have made him back off. If she really likes the place, she could have declared it her territory."

Rosenstern's brow is furrowed in thought -- then he blinks. "How long has the Winter Court been resistant to the idea of Burning Man?"

Shateishael gives Bella a curious look... then perks up, "Oh! Why were y'all meetin' in th'first place, Bacchus? Soma 'n Malphas, I mean?" He shakes his head at Rosie, "Not Burnin' Man, 'm thinkin'... a Tether."

Bacchus answers Rosie first, "Since the beginning, Rosenstern. Bran just disdains the whole thing. And we were meeting with him because Malphas asked for it and, to be honest, we were a little afraid to outright refuse him. He found us, after all; it would be stupid to pretend he was inconsequential."

Shateishael nods slowly, "Think I get it then... Bellisima's right. Malphas needed th'meetin' so's he c'd make 'rrangements wi'y'all. If'n he had that, he c'd tell Lilith too bad, he'd gotten p'mission!" He grins, shaking his head, "Man, never thought th'day'd come when I wuz glad f'Lilith bein' a connivin' manipulator!" He laughs softly, his eyes dancing with amusement, "So, looks like all we gotta do is make sure Bran's Tether's durin' some event that's jus' too much fun f'Lilith t'miss!" Then he grins wryly, "'all'... yeah. Right."

The Bright smiles whimsically, still stroking Ian's hair, even though the big Malakite seems to be relaxing a bit. "Which means she could still ask her Favor. She knows what the Ethereals need now. Just because she hasn't asked yet, doesn't mean she won't in the future." Shateishael nods to Bella, his expression still rueful.

Rosenstern grimaces a little, rubbing his neck. "From what I've heard, I'm not... exactly keen on seeing what the Winter Court would consider 'fun.'" He pauses. "Then again... hrm."

Shateishael grins at Rosie, "Dun' hafta be fun f'them... jus' gotta entertain Freedom, 'm guessin'." Peony has stayed quiet during much of this, though her face lit with fierce pride at Bacchus' recounting of Soma's response to the Prince of Factions.

Bacchus is quiet for a moment, "Do you have anything else you need to know from me, Slate?" The tone in his voice is a little wary, a little apologetic.

Shateishael sighs quietly, "Thanks f'talkin' t'us, Bacchus, 'bout this. Um... yeah, kinda wond'rin' whut made y'all choose us... 'n if'n there's anythin' else we should know 'head a' time now?"

Bacchus laughs quietly, "You were who showed up, Slate. And you were perfect. I think Soma was a little shocked to see Rosenstern there, but once the Flowerkin was in his path I don't think he could have turned away if he wanted to." There's a slight pause, "That's a broad question, Warrior. I have no way of answering it completely and with truth."

Shateishael murmurs with quiet amusement, "Don' think f'a minute that wuzn't d'liberate neither... I sure don't..." He considers a moment, then rumbles, "'Kay, how's this... whut kinda angels did y'all p'tition for?"

Bacchus again sounds confused, "Petition for? How do you mean?"

Shateishael says, "Figger y'all asked f'angels t'be y'all's emissaries, yeah?"

Bacchus says slowly, "No, actually, we didn't. You were truly a surprise."

Shateishael looks surprised, "Y'din'? Even Soma din'?"

Bacchus' voice is still slow, considering, as if this hadn't occurred to him before, "Not that I know of, no. We've been too grateful to those of the Celestials that have helped us out to ask them for more. After all, it seems they are risking great things to help us as much as they have."

Shateishael frowns thoughtfully... then rumbles slowly, "Then... one a' our folks must be tryin' t'move thin's 'long...? Y'all been talkin' 'tall 'bout tryin' t'contact th'Winter Court anywheres?" He shakes his head thoughtfully, "Nah, this cain't be coincidence. 'S jus' too perfect."

The satyr sounds apologetic, "Not that I remember. Soma perhaps, but he has few secrets from me. However..." There's a sound of a shifting body for a moment, "Hmmm... we didn't mention trying to contact them, but Eli's companion... he said it was a shame that we were still so divided in ourselves."

Shateishael laughs! "Oh, priceless! When wuz this, please?" He grins amusedly, shaking his head at himself again.

Bacchus thinks for a moment, "A few years ago. Before we actually established ourselves on the playa. Eli came to us to suggest it and promise us safety there. He seemed to think it would work because it wasn't permanent. He had the other angel with him."

Shateishael draws a slow breath, his eyes dancing with quiet happiness -- he's incredibly pleased! "Um... big black stone guy still, yeah?" He laughs softly, happily hugging whomever's nearest him! Rosenstern yeeps a bit as Slate's arms clamp around him in his exuberant hug -- though he grins as well, the Stone angel's joy infectious.

Bacchus admits, "That's him, yes. It's the only time we saw him." The satyr clear his throat and speaks again, "Peony... I'm sorry you had to hear all this in this way..." The little leprechaun smiles wryly, "It's OK, Bacchus. If I didn't trust Soma and you and the rest of the ringleaders of this merry band, I'd not be showing myself." She calls them ringleaders with a tone of true affection.

Shateishael beams at Rosenstern! -then blinks at Peony and chuckles, his humor greatly improved! "We dare ask who else is in on this rigmarole, guys?"

Bacchus says very carefully, "I would really rather you didn't, Slate. Simply because it would, in some small way, be breaking a confidence."

Shateishael nods, still enormously pleased, "'S fair! Lessee... anythin' else we sh'd know, though?"

Bacchus laughs, "Again, Slate, that's too damn broad a question for me to answer with any truth."

Shateishael grins amusedly, "Y'all ever met buncha animals that all talked t'y'all?"

Bacchus sounds amused, "We're Ethereals, Slate. Animals have talked to us for eons." He pauses a moment, then laughs, "Some of us are animals."

Shateishael snorts in laughter! -then grins, "Well, wuz jus' won'drin' if'n some a' y'all's critters were saved by Jordi. Knowin' him, though, he'd do it onna quiet." He hmms thoughtfully, absently playing with Rosenstern's soft hair as he considers... "'Kay, then lemme double check, Bacchus. Y'all 'kay wi'us tryin' t'strengthen th'fae community s'more?"

Bacchus still sounds a bit cautious, "We can use all the strength we can get, Slate... and I trust you to not endanger us, but I'd feel most comfortable if I could talk to Soma about this before giving you any kind of blanket go-ahead."

Shateishael nods, "Figger'd 's much, but y'know whut he's like 'bout answerin' his phone... 'n when I called, wuz mite peeved 'bout stuff, 'n 't ain't fair t'him 'r me t'try c'mmunicatin' when he cain't talk clear 'n I'm cranky 'bout d'ception." He adds a touch apologetically, "Sorry 'bout you gettin' alla this dumped in y'r lap, Bacchus."

The satyr snorts, sounding very goat-like, "It's what a lieutenant is for, Slate."

Shateishael chuckles quietly... then without thinking, asks curiously, "Y'always been a lieutenant, Bacchus?" He blinks, then hastily adds, "Uh... y'don' hafta answer that if'n y'don' wanna...?"

Bacchus chuckles, "I've not always been a lieutenant, Slate, but I've always been Soma's lieutenant."

Shateishael rumbles amusedly, "Sorry... jus' nosy. Um, lemme think... 'kay, so -- community, got it. Hm... y'all gathered alla th' remainin' 'thereals t'gether, 'r there more still out there? 'N there any way t'nudge Soma 'n Bran t'not be quite so... oppositional?"

Bacchus says, "We're trying to find them all, but we don't know if we've missed a few. Some of them might even want to be missed." He sounds sort of tiredly amused when he answers the last question, "I think it might be easier to persuade snow not to be cold. It's... part of them. The brighter the light, the darker the shadow."

Shateishael nods amusedly, "Yeah, figger'd's much, but had t'ask. 'Kay, 'm guessin' once we've persuaded Bran t'make a Tether, it's either go huntin' more 'thereals... 'r try t'figger out how t'calm down th'folks on our side a'th'border so's y'all c'n c'mon out 'gain if'n y'want." He chuckles quietly, still in a tremendously good mood, "'Only' that... thanks, Bacchus. Y'really lit up m'day, guy." He grins at the others, "Y'all got any questions?" Peony is smiling, but shakes her head. Neither Bella nor Ian seem to have anything to ask either. Shateishael raises an eyebrow at Rosenstern, still smiling.

Rosenstern shakes his head quietly, nestled against Slate. "Nothing, Slate. Bacchus, thank you very much -- you helped to clear up a lot of things."

Shateishael smiles, hugging Rosenstern gently, and nods, "Yeah." He chuckles quietly, "'N feel free t'jus' ask next time y'all need sumpin', 'kay? Looks like our job is helpin' y'all."

Bacchus chuckles wryly, "You're welcome. And I'll keep that in mind, Slate."

Shateishael says, "'Kay, good. Y'got any questions y'self, 'fore we hang up?"

The satyr hmms, "Only about a million. I'll call back when I've got them in some kind of coherent order."

Shateishael snorts amusedly again, then grins, "Soun's fine then, Bacchus." He chuckles quietly, then gives the traditional Stone goodbye between friends, "Stay strong, guy."

Bacchus chuckles, "Take care, all of you," and then the line goes dead.

Shateishael sighs quietly, still smiling, and gently hugs Rosenstern again, then holds a hand out for Peony if she'd like too. Rosenstern puts his arms around Slate, though trying not to be greedy, and letting Bella and/or Peony have him as well. Peony moves around so she can hug Slate from behind, resting her head against the back of his shoulder. Bella is still with Ian, who seems to have pulled out of the funk he had sunk into before the conversation with the satyr. After a moment the Malakite says, "Well, soun's like Da and David have been conspirin' some."

Shateishael mms contentedly and nuzzles Rosenstern's temple, then gently strokes Peony's arm around his middle. He studies Ian thoughtfully for a moment, pleased Bella's managed to cheer up the kind-hearted Malakite again, then looks around and rumbles quietly, "Ever'body good?" He raises an inquiring eyebrow at Bella, hoping she's okay with Ian... he can offer her a hug later if she needs it. Bella smiles and gives Slate a little wink to let him know she's OK. Shateishael looks a bit relieved, then rumbles quietly, "Peony? Sweetheart, how're y'doin'? This musta been bit'va shock f'ya...?"

Rosenstern makes a soft sound. "And Mom and Eli... so there is a conspiracy of sorts, and it goes pretty far." It definitely relieves him; he's glad that Stone is working with Mutter and Creation in this. And... that Creation and Mom knew about Soma beforehand, that what happened between him and Soma was not unforeseen... and in a sense, approved of.

Ian chuckles, arms wrapped loosely around Bella, "It goes at least far enough to get David and Novalis to work together, which is a bit of a shock actually."

Shateishael smiles, shaking his head, "Um... not really, ac'sh'ly." He gives Rosenstern a faintly guilty look, "I, um... figger'd sumpin' like this wuz happ'nin', from sumpin' I did las' year, bit after Burnin' Man." Ian looks at Slate curiously, keeping one hand on Bella's hip and reaching for more ice cream with the other.

Rosenstern blinks a little at Slate. "What did you do?" he asks curiously.

Shateishael sighs, looking more guilty, "I, um... called y'r Mom, Rosebud... wuz worried if'n Dominic foun' out, you'd get th'shaft f'bein' romantically involved wi'Soma, y'know? So..." he looks more guilty, "I, uh, kinda set thin's up so's I had ever'thin' that might call her that I could make -- like the uh, th'peace plinth 'n all? ...um... 'n she came, 'n I tole her it wuz my fault 'n not y'rs f'r 'llowin' ya t'spend time wi'Soma." He studies his hands as he mumbles, "Sorry f'not tellin' ya, sweet blossom..." then adds even more sheepishly, "I, um... gave her one a' th'Hera's Tears plants too, as a gift. Hope y'r not mad..."

Rosenstern looks confused, then beams warmly to Slate, reaching up to touch his cheek. "Slate, that's so sweet of you. I'm not mad at all; I was hoping to show her a garden of them but giving her one was a lovely gesture. But why would it be your fault I was with Soma so much? "

Shateishael mumbles, "Uhmm..." looking a bit distracted at Rosie's smile-wattage that close -- then blinks and shakes his head once to clear it, "Right. My fault. Yeah, um, 'cause I coulda stopped ya, sweetheart, if'n I'd thrown 'nuff of a fit."

Rosenstern says, "You could have, yes. But what would that accomplish? Why would you try to stop that? Definitely not jealousy; I've known you more than long enough to know you weren't jealous."

Peony murmurs under her breath, "No matter what kind of manure Gaelach was trying to spread." Rosenstern grins wryly at Peony's mention of Gaelach.

Shateishael says, "Well, it woulda been safer inna long run for ya 'bout Dominic." He sighs, glancing at Bella and Ian, "I'da done th'same f'Bellisima, but I din' know if'n I c'd call Eli, 'n it wouldn'ta been truth neither -- she'll do whut she wants, 'n we all know it." He grins ruefully, then continues, "So... tha's whut got me bit s'prised 'nitially -- Novalis din' jus' come -- she wuz nice t'me -- a Stone angel!" Then he grins at Peony, "Hey, fert'lizer's useful, in its place!"

Peony smiles sweetly, "In its place, yeah, but I don't want it all over my sheets."

Rosenstern says gently, "Slate, you of all people know that love is worth whatever consequences. Dominic can go feed his cats. I worried about what he might think... at first. Then I realized that what he believed didn't matter. I wasn't being dissonant or heretical. To do anything to me he would have to call the Seraphim Council, and I could not believe he'd be able to get them all to do anything bad to me." He smiles warmer, and his fingers become a little more caressing. "And why wouldn't Mom be nice to you?"

Shateishael embarrassedly rubs the back of his head, "Um, well, y'r mom wuz quite definite... said b'fore she'd 'llow one a' hers t' be killed f'lovin', Dominic'd hafta scatter her Forces... which wuz a relief t'hear, must say. An', um... well... dunno, guess I jus' wuz bit worried, y'know? She's publicly hostile t'Stone, 'n I din' wanna getcha inta worse trouble 'r nuthin'?"

Rosenstern says, "I wouldn't say 'publicly hostile...' well, all right, she's... a little less approving of the War faction than she is of the other factions, I guess." He blinks again. "She really said that? Oh... oh, my. Even if she'd half-planned this to happen, that's still... I don't know what to say."

Bella murmurs, "I think, 'Wow, thanks, Mom,' might be a good place to start." Ian chuckles at that and nods in agreement.

Shateishael snorts amusedly at Rosenstern, "Sweet blossom, she's been downright acidic 'bout th'War faction!" He grins, "Damn good camouflage, eh? David 'n Michael 're nudgin' Laurence t'keep on wi'th'War 'gainst Hell -- no time t'waste on inconsequentialities since ever'one knows there ain't n'more fae, right? 'N Novalis's irritable wi' 'em, so she couldn't poss'bly be workin' wi' any a'them, right?" He chuckles quietly, "Makes ya wonder how long Jordi'n Blandine been hidin' folks too." Then he sighs, "Feel bit sorry f'm'Architect, though... mus' hurt t'see his blood brother fracturin', 'n t'hafta lissen t'folks speakin' ill 'bout some a' his oldest frien's."

Rosenstern smiles to Bella and nods, "The first thing I'll say to her once I next see her."

Shateishael frowns, considering... then rumbles slowly, "Wait... th'sooner we help fix things f'th'fae, th'sooner he c'n start workin' on changin' th'attitudes in Heaven... I get it now!" He draws a slow breath as the sheer magnitude of the trust they've been handed dawns on him, murmuring in awe, "Holeee... crow!" He's silent a moment... then beams, "Dayum! We jus' bless't 'r whut?! We got th'coolest bosses!"

Ian chuckles, one arm loosely around Bella like holding a particularly curvaceous teddy bear, "Seems like if we didn't think that, laddie, we'd be in the wrong line o' work." Shateishael's rumbling chuckle is still enormously pleased; he's still beaming as Rosenstern wriggles free and suggests they all return to the living room, so the little Mercurian can clean up the kitchen a bit.

Shateishael grins, gently patting Rosenstern's rear, "Sure, pretty flow'r." He slides an arm about Peony, lifting her easily as he rises, "Seeya inna livin' room when y'r done, Rosebud!" He paces out to sprawl relaxedly on the couch again, setting Peony on his stomach so she can easily shift to wherever she'd like. Bella does her best to position herself between Slate and Ian when everyone gets back to the living room, steering the Malakite away from his normal easy chair. Slate smiles with lazy contentment at Bella's positioning, obligingly shifting so she's comfortable also. Then he glances thoughtfully over Bella at Ian... then leans his head against hers to whisper, "Sweetheart... s'okay t'invite him t'live here too, y'know, yeah?" He figures Peony may hear, being one of the sharp-eared fae, but likely Ian won't and Bella can decide for herself what she'd like to do with the information.

Once Slate has murmured his invitation, Bella laughs quietly and nods, "Mmm... I think he likes having his base of operations in Sonoma," she whispers back, settling in so that Ian is against one arm of couch with Bella nestled beneath his arm and Slate's head in her lap. Peony takes full advantage of this arrangement to sprawl herself over Slate's chest and stomach like a cross between a cat and a child.

Shateishael grins lazily at Peony, idly stroking her back as he considers the fascinating phone call they just had... then he gets a suddenly curious look, tilting his head back enough so he can see Bella and Ian as well, "Hey, guys, I gotta ask... do I come 'cross as that much've a jerk? Both Bacchus 'n you, Ian, seemed t'think I wuz gonna 'xplode at y'both 'r sumpin'...?"

Ian snorts and shakes his head, one hand having been playing through Bella's hair, "Nah, laddie, tha' was jus' me feelin' like I deserved t'be exploded at. Guilt does wunnerful things to ye sometimes."

Shateishael chuckles quietly, "Gotcha. 'Kay, thassa relief." He blinks and grins as the little marmalade kitten bounces up to land on Peony's back, turning around several times while purring, to settle in place there. Slate smiles with quiet affection, watching... and remembering Bacchus's comment about 'his Zareh.' Slate wonders if he can say that too... 'my Peony'... it has a nice ring to it, he thinks a touch dreamily, as he strokes Peony's back and hair... lazily he rumbles, "Hey, Ian... y'said y'were fond a' some a'th'fae long 'go... y'ever hear 'bout one a'th'fae 'n a C'lestial gettin' close b'fore, though? Not jus' sex... fallin' in love?" Peony wriggles around until she's back-to-belly with Slate, managing somehow to keep the little marmalade kitten, resettling him on her belly. She tips her head almost upside down, watching Ian, curious to hear his answer. Shateishael chuckles quietly in spite of himself -- Peony is so amazingly cute sometimes!

Ian was getting a little distracted with Bella's hair and blinks at Slate's question, "Mmm... I did see it a time 'r two. Was a little strange... wound up with a pointy-eared, wingless Mercurian an' a boggan wi' angel wings once. Was sorta disconcertin' for the Mercurian. Hadda teach 'er Numinus Corpus because she missed 'er wings so."

Shateishael laughs softly at that, then rumbles curiously, "Whut'sa boggan?"

Peony answers with a grin, "Household spirits. Uhm... a brownie, a domovoi... though they're all a little different. Hearthfolk. You'd like them."

Shateishael smiles quietly, "Fae have hearthfolk too? Tha's nice t'hear." He's silent a moment, playing with Peony's hair, then rumbles to the big Malakite, "Ian... th'Mercurian ever say anythin' 'bout... hearin' th'boggan in 'er head?"

Ian thinks about that, large fingers petting the side of Bella's neck, which seems to make the Bright go sort of no-mind and purring, "Mmm... not tha' I remember. But they did have tha' thing a lot of really close loves do where they just seemed to know wha' t'other was thinkin'."

Shateishael rumbles curiously, "Huh. 'Kay... so nuthin' bad happened t' th'two a'them -- good." He's silent a moment, then adds thoughtfully, "Wuz wond'rin' too whut happens t'someone when their True Name is a relatively common word. D'they get invoked ev'ry time, 'r does that kinda thing hafta be d'liberately invoked, y'know? Like... Oberon 'n Titania. Wuz that their True Names but they were jus' too powerful f'it t'matter? 'R wuz it their aliases, 'r whut?"

Ian mmms and absently kisses the top of Bella's head -- this is probably the most affectionate Slate's ever seen the Malakite be with the Bright, "I've always thought Oberon and Titania couldn't've been their real, True Names. Bu' I think tha' wi' a name tha's common, it's somethin' t'do wi' how ye say't. Inflection, y' ken?"

Peony, with her head still almost upside down, chimes in, "Aye. Inflection 'n intention." The longer Ian is around, the stronger the little leprechaun's Irish brogue gets.

Shateishael nods slowly, considering. He'd been worrying a bit about Peony's True Name (and Bacchus/Oberon), even if it is in a fairly rare language... then he smiles, suddenly reassured, "Gotcha... that makes sense, that Oberon -- an' Titania -- couldn't be True Names." He grins, lightly stroking Peony's forehead with his fingertips as he gently murmurs in his mind to her, [Your brogue sounds rich as October ale, little lover...] Then he grins again in sudden delight, "Hey, Ian! Whuts'a Gaelic f' sumpin' that's precious 'n rare, like a jewel?"

Peony wrinkles her nose at Slate and says, probably completely confusingly to the other two angels, "Buzz, buzz, buzz."

Shateishael laughs softly at Peony's comment, rumbling lazily, "Sorry, 'ziza."

Ian hmms, thinking on that, "Well, in Scottish Gaelic, luachmhor is something precious."

Shateishael tests the word carefully, trying not to mangle it, "Luu-ach-mhorrr... like that?"

Bella looks confused. "Talking too much, hon?" she asks Peony in a sort of dreamy voice. Between Ian and Slate is about the safest place the Bright could envision.

Shateishael's slow smile lights his face, and he rumbles to Peony, "Y'wanna tell, sweetheart?"

Peony looks a little sheepish, "Uh...."

The Malakite nods with a chuckle, "Close enow. The Manx wou' say my chree... my precious, but since tha' damn book, tha' strikes me's a bit spooky."

Shateishael says, "Uh? Which book?"

Ian makes a waving motion, "Wi' th' hobbits 'n the wizard 'n all."

Shateishael says, "Oh... uh, whut wuzzit, I 'member... yeah, that'n." He grins, trying the word again, "Luachmhor." Bella's eyes move from Peony to Slate thoughtfully and she reaches down, curling her fingers around the multihued lock of the Seraph's hair and giving it a very gentle tug. Shateishael mms, rolling his head back to look up at Bella inquiringly.

Ian clears his throat, "Why d'I get th' feelin' 'm missin' somethin' here..."

Peony smiles up at Ian, "Oh, aye, think we're all dancing around something the carraig arach and I should've said when we got back."

Ian arches a brow, "Stone dragon, eh? Interestin'."

In an attempt to break the slight tension building around the revelation she suspects is coming up, Bella says, "If you tell us you're pregnant and it's Slate's, I'm going to the very top and demanding that someone explain a few things."

Shateishael rumbles amusedly, "Well, we did kinda have some innerestin' stuff t'figger out, sweetheart. Wuzn't malice, tha's f'sure." He grins up at Bella, assuming Peony wants him to reply, then, "We had a swap, lover! Wuz weird... alla sudden I knew..." He blinks -- then tosses his head back and laughs aloud delightedly at Bella's comment!

Ian and Bella are both suddenly very, very interested. It's Ian who speaks, "A swap? Like ears f'r wings? He examines Slate and the kittenish leprechaun, who hasn't bothered wearing her glamour.

Shateishael grins, "Yeah! Um..." he gives Peony a mischievous look, "Y'got anythin' y'wanna tell me, 'bout Bella's suggestion?"

Peony looks wide-eyed, "No, nothing in that vein." She puts both her hands over her belly (and the kitten), admitting with what sounds like perhaps a little guilt, "I'm one of the few I know that uses condoms... there need to be more of us, aye, but I'm not yet the one to carry any of them."

Shateishael chuckles quietly, gently stroking Peony's side, then smiles affectionately at Bella, "We knew each other's True Names, sweetheart... in our heads. Wuz bit strange. We 'xperimented 'bit, 'n we think we c'n kinda tell where t'other is -- we were gonna play hide 'n seek here later, t'test bit more. 'N we c'n hear each other still in our heads when we're touchin', but if'n we're not touchin' all we c'n hear is when we say each other's Name... anythin' else is jus' buzzin'." He glances down at Peony again, "I get that all right?"

Peony mmms, "Seems our foreheads have to be touching for anything but the names to come through."

Shateishael nods in agreement, still gently stroking Peony's side and hair... then he rumbles softly, "Why y'don' wanna have kids, pretty lady?"

Ian is very carefully not saying anything, waiting for Bella to respond. The Bright seems completely unsurprised, smiling down at Slate and his little Ethereal lover. She murmurs to Ian, "Mmm... expected this a while back. Relax." The Malakite does indeed let out a breath.

Shateishael looks up curiously at Ian, "Sumpin'?"

Ian chuckles and shrugs, "Just felt like it might have been something you'd have preferred telling the lassie in private."

Peony shrugs and wrinkles her nose a little bit, "Remember what I said about not binding myself? Kids are sort of a big constraint."

Shateishael nods slowly to Peony, not quite getting it but willing to wait until later for explanation. To Ian he grins, rumbling relaxedly, "Dude, got it on exc'llent authority I am th'world's mos' clueless Seraph ever! An' 'sides... check b'hind Bella's lef' ear f'th'colored strands a' hair... think we're all kinda bonded by now."

Ian turns Bella's head and examines the multicolored lock of hair, whistling low through his teeth, "Ach, well, looks like yer all goin' native." He doesn't say this like it's a bad thing. In fact he sounds almost wistful, maybe admiring.

Shateishael chuckles wryly, adding, "From whut I wuz tole later, Bella'n Peony practically threw th'poor girl at me!" Bella has the good grace to squirm a little bit. Peony, however, looks positively smug. Shateishael snorts amusedly at the two of them, rumbling, "So much f'my sterlin' reputation... whutever it wuz..."

Peony wriggles slightly, hips moving in a way that might be purely coincidental, and grins up at Ian. Ian himself roars with laughter, "Jaysus, laddie, y'r jus' covered up in pretty things."

Shateishael grins cheerfully, "Yeah, ain't it terrible?"

Ian says solemnly, "May I be cursed just like that someday."

Shateishael laughs aloud himself as well, his eyes dancing, "Oh, man, dunno how'm gonna bear up." He chuckles, reaching back with his free arm to hug whatever part of Bella he can reach, and gently hugging Peony as well. He sighs in quiet happiness, then rumbles thoughtfully, "Still... 'm thinkin' this'ssa damn good reason t'wanna work real hard on makin' sure th'fae 'ventually start gettin' treated decent 'gain by our folks." He sighs thoughtfully, looking at the others, "How y'all do stuff like that? -get word out 'bout stuff folks should know, but subtly?"

Bella snorts and elbows Ian gently, "I've seen you, you big lout. You practically have to peel the pretty boys and girls off yourself." Ian oofs and chuckles, ruffling Bella's hair, "Not the same at all, lass." He turns his attention to Slate's question, "Mmm... the Mercurians seem t'be best a' tha'."

Bella rests her hand on Slate's chest over his heart, smiling a little to herself and not seeming to mind that it means Peony's head is resting a bit on her hand as well. Shateishael nods slowly at Ian's reply about Mercurians, although he's quite curious... he finally just asks, "Whutcha mean, Ian? Whut's diff'rent for ya?" He mumbles thoughtfully under his breath, "We gotta Mercurian... might wanna use a diff'rent one, though, 'least at first... gonna hafta think of one..."

Ian smiles and pats Slate's shoulder as best he can, "I meant I'm good at findin' people infatuated wi' me, but I tend not t' have 'em fall in love wi' me." Before anyone he can protest, he laughs, "Got lotsa love in m'life, jus' ain' been time f'r me to have tha' sorta bond."

Shateishael blinks a bit startledly, "Tha's... whut Lilith said -- well, sorta. Said she had lotsa infatuated folks, but none a' them really loved her, 'n she din' have th'time t'work at it." He considers a moment, then adds, "'Course, part a' her problem is she don' really wanna let anyone in, far's I c'n tell." Curiously he asks Ian, "Whut'cha mean y'don' have 'nuff time, guy? That sumpin' we c'n help wi'?"

Ian shakes his head and laughs, "Misspoke m'self. Meant it's not the right time yet. It'll happen when it happens. Been in love before. Will be again."

Shateishael says, "Oh, 'kay." He nods relaxedly, "Been there m'self." He's silent for a moment, then curiously asks Ian, "Hey, gotta 'nother question f'ya, Ian... y'ever meet Hera?"

Ian blinks, "The goddess Hera? Wi' the peacocks an' all? Nah, stayed mos'ly 'way from that parta th' worl'."

Shateishael nods slowly, "'Kay. Wuz jus' wond'rin' 'cause a' sumpin' Bacchus said... he mentioned th'Lady a'Flow'rs wuz th'fav'rite a'his lady Zareh, th'Willow Lady... but she mentioned her fav'rite wuz Hera. So..." He gets a puzzled look, "Could they somehow be one an' th' same?" He glances inquiringly at Peony, "You seen 'em both, pretty lady?"

Peony mmms, squirming again and stretching, "I think maybe one was her favorite goddess and the other was her favorite of the archangels?"

Shateishael says, "Ah, 'kay." He's silent for a moment, not wanting to exactly spill out what he's been puzzling over regarding Bacchus/Oberon... then muses, "Jus'... wuz won'drin'..."

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Last modified: 2006-Aug-27 20:09:50

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