| Logs |
2022 March 04
| Neverneverwhere |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
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| Realms: Taps Logs |
Be the Blessing Gone If I Forget Babylon
The time moving toward Boston is spent in outfitting Ohkwari's wagon to serve as home for himself, Sna'thaid, and Chanticleer. They'll be going in as 'Chana's bodyguard, maid of all work, and majordomo respectively. Fantine would be staying in the vardo with Sulochana and serving as her lady's maid and dresser -- which, honestly, was already her job.
Alg is unhappy about being left behind but once 'Chana explains to him that someone has to guard the girls, he reluctantly agrees... though his agreement sounds like the sort that means he might just follow after anyway at some point. For Roy's part, he spends as much time with his beloved as he can on the way up. The king-in-hiding is going to be worrying a lot while 'Chana is gone, but he knows he needs to stay behind. Even if he weren't distinctive and very much being sought after -- the news of his fake death may not have made it this far yet -- leaving the girls without two-thirds of their parents is simply not tenable.
During this time Roy even gives opinions on the types of clothes and jewelry that might go over particularly well in Boston. That information is carefully and gratefully accepted by the three women -- not only do they want Sulochana to look impressive and delectable but they also want to subtly put off any real regard of the others in the party... or as Sna'tha amusedly puts it at one point, they'll be uglifying everyone else! It has to be done extremely carefully, though, or it'll be too obvious. Gramma Marcie, as an example, is clearly old, but Ohkwa is asked to do his best to appear a little slow mentally, while Fantine deliberately dresses down. Even Chanti is set up so he'll be sharp but unremarkable.
Okhwa is used to having his own living space, but he's a bear manitou and doesn't mind denning up with people that he cares about... and he cares a lot about the people of the caravan. Though 'Chana is an adult and a mother twice over, the manitou is old enough to see her as quite young -- less than a century! -- and in need of protection. Some of the time is also used in drilling and refreshing the Hetaera / spy / caravan leader on her martial training. She's never gotten rusty, but her godsmother wants 'Chana to be razor sharp before walking into the lion's den.
The rest of the caravan have functioned without Sulochana before, but those times were because she was nursing a newborn and could not travel due to her special circumstances. This is different -- this is an exceedingly dangerous mission. With a little back and forth they work out a code that can be sent in letters out of the city. The caravan itself will be stopping over in a town a week out of Boston called Sturbridge. Everyone figures that's far enough away to be safe, yet close enough that runners can be sent on fast horses if something happens.
As they draw closer, the folk of the caravan continue to find battery arrays. The ones around the smaller towns are commensurately sized, but once they start nearing the port city itself they find larger and more numerous ones. Every single one is carefully harvested -- which means the number of quartzes the caravan ends up with is truly mind-boggling. Dom is careful to keep the bases themselves as well -- and both quartzes and metal arrays are carefully hidden away within the caravan, as no one wishes to be caught with them. After all, there are cities with Tap engineers that could look the arrays over and possibly reverse-engineer a way to detect or disable them.
The caravan slows down purposely as they near Sturbridge. The plan to make them less conspicuous is to be in need of an extended stay in town for repairs and reprovisioning. To make this look real enough, they actually stop at a couple of out-of-the-way places along the trail to cache their current supplies. Also, though it pains most of them to do it, they purposely go about slightly damaging some of the wagons in ways that will need some time and materials to repair. During that time the prettier folk within the caravan are helped to... to sort of mess themselves up a bit; to tone their good looks down enough that they don't look like they should be instantly grabbed up for Brahmin breeding purposes.
On the morning that 'Chana and the others are to split off from the larger caravan she's awakened by Roy quite assiduously and passionately making love to her. It will be, at best, two weeks or more before they see one another again, since Roy will be staying with the caravan and doing his best to stay out of sight. He's shaved his head again and trimmed his facial hair into a shaggy goatee that looks nothing like he'd normally wear. It makes Sura giggle a bit as she runs her fingers lightly over his changed face... though her smile is tinged with sadness, and her lovemaking is slow and thoughtful, as if she's memorizing him again. She's careful, though, around the girls -- before them she's cheerful and confident-seeming.
The roads into Boston are well-patrolled for a couple of days out and the trails themselves are smooth and marked quite clearly -- it would seem Crowninshield is spreading his domain already. Each town is nominally its own, and one good thing that can be said for them is that they are clean and orderly. Crime is low and no one tries to harass the two wagons. However, there are a lot of too-pretty people and the cities themselves seem somehow sterile -- there's no real life or character in them. Sulochana sighs internally as she silently observes from her seat on her pretty little vardo. Is this soullessness really what Sean Crowninshield considers civilized? Or does he just want things simple and controllable? It's certainly not what she herself wishes for the world... and if this was what the world used to be like then she can certainly understand why the magical powers-that-be supposedly sort of blew it up in the Great Dying Off.
After some slightly depressed perusal of her surroundings, however, Sulochana throws off the attitude and turns her focus entirely upon her mission. She is the greatest and most greatly desired of Hetaerae, consort of kings and gods! She is the most beautiful woman in the world, come here to become consort to the most powerful man in the world! Nothing less will do for her, naturally. Further, as an unwittingly mesmerized 'gift' sent by Doris from Naugatuck -- with an implied message that Doris deserves better than one podunk little village! -- the Hetaera appears both eager and pleased to soon and smoothly join up with the new King Crowninshield.
The city is not walled -- it's a bit too large for that -- but there is a 'green belt' around it. This green belt is something very much like a moat made out of ground cover and the patrols in it are quite clear. The roads going into the city have been funneled down to three areas around the green belt and each of the entrances is well-guarded. There are at least six guards at each gate, plenty to allow two sets to be checking over incomers while leaving at least one pair free to watch the road itself.
It's clear after just a few questions and some reading of road signs -- which use pictographs as well as words -- just which of the three entrances is the main one. The gate across it sits between two ornate miniature towers with an arch between them. At the apex of the arch is a coat of arms. It is shield-shaped with an ornate crown in the center. Above the crown is an eagle and below it is a dove. It's not difficult to guess just whose symbol that is. Beneath it is a scrolling banner divided into three sections with words written on it: PULCHRITUDO, NOBILITATIS, POTENTIAM. Another scroll, thicker, is overtop the crown and simply says: PORT OF BOSTON. This gate, unlike the other two, has what might seem to be a large array of guards. There seem to be more than a dozen people and two of them are just for the gate itself. That pair is more heavily armed. Two more are in place at the top of the towers and they are also armed, these with crossbows. Another pair seems to be in place to guide people into different areas. One area is for single travelers, one seems to be for tradesmen, and another seems to be for everything else. There are carriages there, but there are also what look like stagecoaches and a couple of vardos like 'Chana's. Each of these areas has its own pair of guardsmen checking papers and examining the loads being brought in.
Those that are traveling singly have but one pair of guards since checking one person at a time is a quick and easy thing. Each of those folks seems to be making notes as they pass people through. The tradesmen's section has a half-dozen guards of its own and a pair of people that seem to be noting down things such as what the tradesmen are bringing in and the names of the caravans. The third area has four people, two to check the vehicles and people and two to take notes. It would seem that they're keeping close tabs on who is coming into the city. Not as much notice is paid to those leaving unless they're tradesmen.
Sulochana murmurs a soft, "Fascinating," as she sits next to Chanticleer, who is driving the vardo. It's first in the line of two; Ohkwa paces relaxedly next to the horses drawing his wagon, while Fantine holds the reins mostly so that it appears someone is actually driving them. Gramma Marcie is seated next to her, her gaze flickering alertly back and forth even as she half seems to be nodding off right there on the bench seat.
The little group had gone through all the paperwork they'd 'retrieved' from the riders they'd passed, puzzling over whether they should try modifying some of it so that the Hetaera has some at least vaguely official looking paperwork. Luckily, the letters of introduction mostly seem to say something along the lines of 'Let it be known that the bearer of this document...' meaning that they could present it as their own. The language in those is fairly innocuous. Some of the other documents they got from the intended messenger looked to be more complicated and likely did contain a shibboleth of some sort. Sna'thaid managed to get some of Doris's personal correspondence, giving them some time to see if they could figure out the key phrases.
After a little time, they were able to figure out enough to forge a short missive telling Sean Crowninshield that Sulochana is a Hetaera that happened through Naugatuck and that Doris thought the king of Boston might enjoy her attentions and company. Unspoken but heavily implied is the fact that if Doris can do this, perhaps she could be given a larger demesne. Sulochana has the forged paperwork neatly folded and tucked away upon her person, but they're going to try getting through the gates without it first.
The guards that come to the vardo are both female and both, unsurprisingly, quite good-looking -- though it is in a way that might be called handsome more than pretty. They ask 'Chana to declare the names, genders, and species of anyone coming in with her and also ask her business in the city. Since there's no such thing as photo ID anymore, names can be anything people want. Sulochana refers to everyone as human, and uses the aliases they'd all chosen -- or not. Gramma Marcie, for example, is the name given for Sna'thaid Mhor... for obvious reasons. Fantine has chosen Georgette for her alias, Chanticleer is using the name Carmine, and Okhwa is calling himself Bernard. Also for obvious reasons, Sulochana is using her own name -- she needs to be recognized for her stratagem to work.
The guards -- or are they more like customs officials? -- note down the people and one of them actually blinks at Sulochana's name and her profession. The guard is dark of skin and hair with eyes so light blue that they look unreal. "I believe I have heard your name, lady. Do you have a specific client in the city?" From the careful and very respectful way the guard is speaking, she has done more than just hear the name. When the papers are handed over, the letter of introduction and what seems to be a letter from Doris presenting 'Chana as a gift to the king, the guard's eyes widen and she reaches into a bag at her side, fishing out several tokens. There's one for each member of the party, "These will get you into the palace. You'll need to present these letters to the chamberlain, ma'am. Welcome to Boston."
'Chana smiles warmly at the woman as she accepts the tokens and carefully tucks the letters away, "Thank you so much! Should each of my entourage carry one, or is it acceptable for one of us to keep tabs on all the tokens?"
"It's likely best for each of you to carry your own token. You may not all be together at all times, after all," the guard smiles up at 'Chana and it seems like a genuine smile. It definitely reaches those striking eyes of hers, "You do us honor by visiting." 'Chana nods graciously at that -- what a charming young guard! The little group and their wagons get waved through ahead of several people that actually arrived before them and are still being questioned and they are given careful and complete instructions on how to reach the palace. As they trundle past, 'Chana carefully tucks one token away, then hands the rest to 'Carmine,' murmuring, "Could you hand these out, please, when we hit a good pausing point?"
Chanticleer takes the tokens and examines them. They are made of fine quality porcelain and carry the king's crest. They're painted, so the heraldry is clearer. The shield is blue, the crown silver, the dove is -- unsurprisingly -- white, and the eagle is gold. All in all it's a rather pretentious coat of arms, though the inclusion of a bird of peace might seem a little odd given that the man seems to be bidding to take over port cities.
'Chana is quietly murmuring the directions on how to get to the palace under her breath as they go, though her bright-eyed gaze continues to sweep back and forth as she gathers all the information she can on the city they are, effectively, invading. This route is something they all need to have memorized, of course, in case of needing to make a hasty departure. The Hetaera also knows everyone who can is gathering info as well -- the more complete the picture of the city & its inhabitants that they can piece together, the more effective they'll be. 'Chana is particularly interested in how folks here are dressing, & what is stylish -- she's going to try for an elegantly exotic look to attract the king's eye, she thinks. She knows others of her group will be analyzing other data: how many non-humans are visible, if there are any unattractive people and if so what jobs they're in, if the people seem cheerful or sullen or what, which roads are well-traveled and what condition they're in -- and if the alleyways look traversable for quick getaways at night, if there's any signs of what and how the likely Taps present are being treated, if any quartzes or arrays are visible... anything at all that might help them do their job quickly and cleanly so they can get in and get out as fast as possible!
The city is unusually clean. Most cities and towns have some amount of dust and clutter and detritus. The streets of Boston look immaculate. There are people of varying levels of attractiveness or lack thereof. Most of the ones that seem to be officials of some sort are lovely at the very least and stunning in some cases. The ordinary folks go about ordinary work. Here and there is someone that looks like their job is keeping the city sparkling and those folk tend to be a little less on the gorgeousness scale. Like the denizens, the place has beauty, but seems to have very little soul. Fashion on those folks that seem upper crust is heavy on embroidery and silk. Women tend to wear quite a bit of lace. Corsets are in evidence, but not so much the big hoop skirts that one sees in some of the more southerly cities.
'Chana hmms quietly to herself, already mentally composing what she might wear for her first visit to the king; she'll compare notes with, er... Georgette, that's it -- later. A small part of her is concerned at just how many gorgeous people there are here; the rest of her inner dialogue is quietly reassuring herself that there is more than just 'pretty' to the Hetaerae that makes them so fascinating. Past that she simply does her job: watching, taking mental notes, and preparing. She knows Bernard and Carmine will be keeping an eye out for suitable camping spots near the palace, after all.
The palace turns out to be walled and have extensive grounds, very much like Roy's in Baton Rouge, only Roy's palace has some character, as if it grew sort of organically out of a mansion. This was built to be very pleasing and have beautiful lines and proportions. There don't seem to be any actual camping spots near the palace, but once they reach the gates and show the tokens, they are directed to an area inside the walls to be able to park. There are a few trees for shade and a fountain for water. It's as if someone looked up 'rustic camping spot' in a book and created an idealized version of it. There's a groom there who offers to take charge of the animals, but assures them that they can stay at the camp as long as any waste is cleaned up. Bernard growls grumpily at the man that he can take fine care of the Lady's animals -- he's been doing it for years and doesn't need any help! The big man also takes the opportunity to appear a bit mentally slow as he does so -- to the point that Gramma Marcie pats his arm and reassures Bernard in her cracked, ancient voice: no one's trying to replace him, dear!
After that, 'Chana is directed toward the front of the palatial residence and told that the chamberlain will be awaiting her. She's also assured she should take any time she needs in order to freshen up before seeking audience. She graciously thanks the servant, then turns and claps her hands imperiously, "Georgette! My dear, it is time -- I require your assistance!" The two of them step into the little vardo and quiet falls over the small campsite. Bernard tends the animals, Gramma Marcie begins the campfire for cooking and chats quietly with the big man as the coals are allowed to burn down evenly, and Carmine tidies up a bit before he goes and knocks on the vardo door. It's maybe a few minutes after he's admitted that Gramma Marcie is called in as well, and Carmine slips out. Effectively, everyone is being debriefed and comparing notes so a comprehensive picture of the city can be created between them.
With a little back and forth they get a really good idea of the layout of the city -- or at least the parts between the main gate and the palace gate. The streets are wide and in good repair. There are patrols of guards, but it looked at a casual perusal like they are regular and Chanti thinks it should be possible to make their way between them to get away. Ohkwa does say he wishes there were a camping spot outside the palace walls, though he's sure he could overpower the two guards at the palace gates. Sna'thaid kept an eye out on the grounds and noticed guards there too, though they weren't patrolling but rather more just standing their stations.
More of the people in the palace are lovely than out on the streets, but that may make sense if the king really is trying to surround himself with beauty. The lawns and gardens that they saw on the way in are exquisitely manicured and quite gorgeous. The proportions, like the palace itself and the other buildings, are perfect. Thus, as Georgette & Sulochana prepare her for audience with the king, they make sure she too looks precisely proportional and perfect... and then 'Chana adds one blossom behind her left ear. It will be a very slight but hopefully striking bit of exoticism in her look -- one which is meticulously calculated to catch the eye of the king. Carmine also is carefully prepared so he looks like a suitable foil for such a gorgeous gem; as her majordomo it is he who will be taking care of all the messy little details regarding entry to the palace, after all. As they dress the Hetaera, however, 'Chana can't help quietly wondering to Georgette and Gramma Marcie: what is this obsession with beauty the king has? Is it because he himself is not gorgeous, or for some other reason? She's really quite curious.
Everyone else -- except Sna'tha -- will be staying near the wagons, and even she will be visible there until dark falls. At that point she'll be doing her best to infiltrate the palace and reach the king's personal chambers, where she'll lie in wait. She's 'Chana's back-up plan, if the Hetaera can't get to Crowninshield and surreptitiously slay him. Everyone else will be apparently relaxing about the fire at their encampment... though they are all actually quite prepared to work together in order to depart at a moment's notice.
Georgette is a little fretful that she won't be going with 'Chana as she's used to being with the Hetaera in the client's home during professional assignations, but she recognizes the need to stay with the wagon. Carmine goes along and uses only a little glamour. He is, after all, pleasing to look at and there seem to be plenty of sidhe in the city. Mostly, he's trying to disguise the distinctive D'Anvers features on the off chance that someone from the fae courts is here.
At the front doors of the main building, guards greet them and ask for their tokens. Chanticleer, as the majordomo, is the one to step forward and offer them. He introduces himself and the Lady Hetaera Sulochana. He also offers the papers that were brought, but the guards wave those off and admit them to the building after announcing their arrival to a clerk in the vestibule.
It's this clerk, who introduces himself as Abelard, who looks over the paperwork. He was apparently told to be waiting for them because he doesn't show as much surprise as the guards at the city gate. "His Majesty, King Crowninshield, is expecting you." 'Chana nods graciously, clearly pleased. Abelard waves over a young girl that can only be a page. She's dressed in the house livery and is nothing short of angelic-looking, "Beatrice, take these people to the receiving room."
Beatrice smiles and curtseys to 'Chana and Chanti, "If you'll just follow me, please?" She starts off at a decorous trot, obviously expecting them to come along, which they do... though both of them are silently memorizing the path for just in case. The way to the receiving room is a little complex as it seems to be deep in the palace and into the private quarters. They pass ballrooms and galleries on the way. There is a lot of marble in evidence and art on the walls.
It's obvious when they reach the wing that houses the king because there are another pair of guards at the entrance to the hallways. Beatrice smiles up at them, "Abelard has sent the Lady Hetaera Sulochana and her majordomo Carmine to see the king. They are expected." This residence seems unusually heavily guarded. Even Roy, who has an impressive corps of bodyguards, isn't this paranoid about it. 'Chana finds herself wondering, in fact, if she's being shown directly to the king's bedroom chamber, instead of to some reception hall! That, she philosophically decides, works just fine with her -- makes her job easier, in fact, if the king is that eager!
One of the guards asks to see their tokens and then they are waved through. Beatrice leads them to an actual reception hall. It's a smaller one, obviously not the actual throne room, but it's late enough in the day that Crowninshield has probably ended open court until the morning. Still, there's another pair of guards and there are a few courtiers -- possibly close advisors -- in the room. By the time they are entering, of course, Sulochana has pulled her aura close about her, broadcasting 'splendidness!' with calm pride. This, after all, is doubtless the most glorious Hetaera on Earth!
At the far end of the room, there's a table with an ornate not-quite-a-throne behind it and there's a man there looking over some papers as two or three others point out something to him. He's nodding, but his head comes up when Beatrice enters before them and introduces them. 'Chana's guess about Crowninshield not being beautiful is right -- which relieves her, as she's prepared now to show no shock whatsoever. He may have started out attractive, but most of the left side of his face is horribly scarred and some of it bleeds over onto the right side. He wears an eyepatch to hide his left eye, but his right eye is piercing blue. From a casual glance, it looks like some sort of burn, but the shapes of the scars are more like splashes than what might be left by flames. He is built much like Alan -- slender to the point of emaciation -- and his blonde hair is carefully arranged so as to cover the left side of his head, which is likely bald from the burns.
When he speaks, his voice is deeper than might be expected to come out of such a slender chest, "Ahh, yes. We were expecting you." Sulochana pauses then, and she and her majordomo bow courteously to the king. The single eye looks over both the naga and the sidhe carefully and seems to approve of what he sees. "Welcome to the Port of Boston, Lady Sulochana." The look goes from approval to naked acquisitiveness after a moment.
'Chana straightens and smiles proudly, "My thanks, your majesty! It is an honor to be here. The Lady Doris mentioned you might wish the company of one of the Hetaerae. I am immensely pleased to be the one so chosen!"
Crowninshield seems amused, "Is she styling herself Lady Doris now? Well, I suppose it's warranted." He motions 'Chana and Chanti forward, "And she was quite right. There have been a few of the Hetaerae through the city and I have dallied with one or two, but I found them all wanting. You, on the other hand..." The scarred king doesn't seem bothered that there are other people in the room as he says these things. "Please, I would like to see the letters you brought from Naugatuck."
Sulochana glides gracefully forward, Carmine flanking her correctly. At the king's request she nods to her majordomo, who produces the letters and lays them -- with a flourish -- on the table before the king. 'Chana smiles warmly at Crowninshield as she murmurs gracefully, "You are too kind, majesty." She waits calmly for him to finish checking over the letters -- though her stance is carefully calculated to distractingly draw the eye. A king more interested in her than in the details of cold print is all to the better, in her book!
The king looks over the documents, but his gaze keeps straying to the woman before him between sentences. He hmms quietly, examining the letters closely, but after a few moments, he seems satisfied. Even with the look of desire on his face, he seems somehow chilly and distant. "Well, these definitely seem to be in order. Did Doris send any other private messages?" It's clear that he would not be surprised if something were passed on verbally rather than in writing. After all, letters can be intercepted.
Sulochana smiles warmly, "Only what I told you already, your majesty. She was rather sweetly complimentary, I thought, in that she said you might enjoy having quality people closer to you." That, 'Chana thinks, is a nice, subtle potential nudge from Doris to be brought in from the provincial hinterlands -- one that the Hetaera apparently did not get!
Around him, his advisors are starting to gather up papers and such. They are obviously making as if to leave. One woman, however, stays right at the king's right hand. Like many others, she is gorgeous in a very pale way. Ivory skin, white-blonde hair, but her eyes are a startling sort of jade green. She gives the feeling of being much like Chanticleer is for 'Chana: an aide-de-camp.
Crowninshield looks 'Chana over again, face thoughtful. He stands, showing himself to be a couple of inches north of six feet tall, "Ah. Another hint that she would rather be in the city than colonizing." There's a rather unpleasant chuckle at that, "And so she sent me a gift." The king starts to come around the table, head tipping in an almost avian way as he examines 'Chana. The Hetaera smiles with calm pride, watching the king as closely as he watches her. She's breathtakingly lovely and she's somewhat exotic -- there are, after all, a lot of pale people in this part of the country. Chanticleer also gets a once-over though the regard is different. There's obvious lust in the perusal of Sulochana. For Chanticleer, the look is as of someone considering whether they want to add a piece of art to their collection.
The woman comes around the table as well, face attentive but somehow... shallow? There's intelligence there, but she gives the impression of someone that doesn't do much of her own accord. 'Chana finds herself wondering if the woman is being puppeted like poor Eloise, Doris' daughter.
When the king speaks again, he says, "I have heard of you, actually. Stories of royal parties make their way back and forth across the continent. The elite always want to know what their peers are up to. You've been mentioned in missives about St. Louis, Chicago, San Francisco... and a few others. It would seem you have been the consort of kings before." By now he's reached Sulochana and reaches a hand out to touch her chin and tip her head up, "And now you have come to Boston."
Sulochana's calm smile doesn't waver as he reaches out a hand, though her hold on her aura and her will is as strong as she can currently make it. Now, she figures, is when he tries the same thing Doris tried -- to control through touch. She doesn't say anything, though, simply letting her eyelashes droop slightly in an enigmatic, gently teasing sort of 'come hither' smile. Right now she figures less is more, regarding baiting this man. He's already looked at her with possessive lust, and she doesn't wish to appear excitedly over-eager. Better by far, she thinks, to have him be the one eager to advance in this dangerous dance of seduction.
Crowninshield is watching Sulochana's expression. He's aware that his appearance is startling, even to someone trained to keep their expression neutral. When he touches her, she can feel that slight push against her will. It's subtle, a brush rather than a grab. It's more as if he's testing her than trying to control her, "And why did you let Doris send you, hm? Is she paying your fee? I understand that Hetaerae are quite dear to treat with and that they do not always say yes to a client."
Sulochana's soft, almost purring laugh is warm and intimate sounding as she continues playing the part of someone who isn't aware they've been mentally urged to a particular course of action. "It is true the Lady Doris talked me into coming here, but it was for very practical reasons. It is only meet, after all, that the most powerful man in the world should have the most beautiful woman in the world as his consort, yes?" She lets the gleam of conviction light her eyes as she smiles, "I should think the king of kings is the most powerful man in the world. Would you agree?"
The smile that curls Crowninshield's lips would be roguish and charming on, say, Roy. On this man, it comes off as cold and a little cruel. "I have to say that you are quite the most exquisite Hetaera I have ever seen and it may not be far off to say the most beautiful woman in the world. I have heard it said that beauty is subjective, but I have made a study. There are things that naturally please the eye. Proportion and poise are amongst them for people. But there is something to be said for the exotic. The unexpected... sometimes." He leans in so that his voice is for her ears only, "I am more powerful than you could ever have dreamed, lady." It's obvious he's trying to be flirtatious in the way of men that think that power is the be all, end all.
Sulochana gives a small, happy sigh, and her voice purrs so softly that only he can hear it -- and feel the delicate brush of warmth from her breath, "Perfect. You are exactly who deserves me." Her lazy, full-lipped smile is warm and inviting -- a smile that is directed with all her sultry focus and ability... solely for the king.
The brush of breath against his ear makes the king -- or perhaps the would-be emperor -- smile even more widely. That stretches his lips oddly, emphasizing the burn scars on his face. Up close, it's obvious that this is more likely an acid burn than a thermal one. Crowninshield stands up straighter and motions his aide over, "This is Molly. She takes care of my appointments and other such organization. I thought having her here for the negotiations would be wise. You do wish to negotiate, yes? Or were you offering your services for free? The way you're speaking, it's as if Doris sent you as a queen-to-be rather than simply a tasty bit of fun." He smirks slightly, "Which is amusing as she tried several times to get me to take Eloise as a concubine before I sent them to their posting."
Sulochana raises an amused eyebrow, "Eloise? Poor child. She would need Hetaerae training, or at least quite a bit of learned poise and maturity, before I'd recommend her for that position." She tilts her head thoughtfully as she regards Crowninshield, her voice slow and sultry as well as calm, "I am not interested in queenship, your majesty; I am a Hetaera rather than a... shall we say, a long-term marriage prospect. What I should like is to be a consort... or, at the very least, to offer an unforgettable night while I am in Boston." She smiles lazily as she adds, "The Lady Doris was kind enough to pay for your first night, after all. As she said: a gift fit for a king."
Crowninshield chuckles, "Oh, I think you and I are going to have more than just one night together. You may not want to be a queen, but I'm quite certain you will want to stay in my city." Again, the brush of fingers against skin and the brush of his will against hers. It's as if he's quite certain that his words will influence her but he cannot actually feel the mental pressure or resistance. That cold smile is in evidence again, "I think we shall wait on our first night, however. I have a young companion staying with me tonight and I wish to make sure he keeps to an agreement he and I made about his mother's upkeep in her old age."
Sulochana's return smile is almost smoky with promise as she purrs, "But of course. After all... as they say, anticipation makes the heart grow fonder." She bows gracefully and almost twinkles mischievously as she adds, "I would not wish to keep you from your young companion! I shall withdraw, by your leave." She turns and winks over her shoulder at him as she sways smoothly away -- she's quite aware of what a stunning rear view she can offer as well!
Crowninshield's smile grows larger and he does indeed take in the rear view as Sulochana leaves, calling after her, "Call on me tomorrow at nine of the clock. You and I shall have breakfast together."
The Hetaera purrs, "I look forward to it, your majesty!" just before she slides quietly through the door. There's a pleased smile on her face that doesn't slip at all as she heads out with Carmine, heading back to her campsite. She's pleasant and courteous to all she passes, guards as well as servants, and it isn't until she's at the campsite and inside her little vardo that she grumbles quietly about stupid kings that aren't ruled by their gonads -- which makes Georgette giggle! Later that night the entire group compares notes again: Bernard reports on who was nosy about the camp, and how; Gramma Marcie talks about her nosing around the marketplaces with Georgette & what they learned there... while Carmine gives his impression of the palace and its people. Sulochana, of course, reports on the king himself... and as she does so she curiously inquires of the other two women: was there any gossip in the markets regarding how the king received such a terrible scarification? She's also worried about the number of sidhe in the city -- does that imply that the Courts are actually happy -- or at least good -- with this man's wide-reaching aspirations of power?
Sna'thaid answers her godsdaughter's last questions first, "No, child. The fae Courts believe very much in keeping your friends close and your enemies closer. I'd say fully half of the sidhe we saw were spies. There are likely more that are glamoured that are also looking out for either Titania or Morganna's interests." 'Chana looks faintly relieved at that.
As for the scars, it's timid little Fantine that answers, "Oui, mam'zelle. Ze scars are well-known, but people speak of them only quietly. Ze king, he was attacked when he was young. Apparently, 'e was quite 'andsome when he was a boy and he was juggling several women as lovers. 'E was heir an' ze ladies each thought they were ze one."
Sna'thaid picks up from there, "You've seen what happens when women are vying for the attention of royalty. There are rivalries and and petty jealousies, but the women normally attack one another. The prince had been courting the scion of a wealthy Brahmin family but also seeing the daughter of a prominent merchant. The merchant's daughter was quite certain she was going to be queen and so she felt it within her rights to simply walk into the palace and Crowningshield's chambers whenever she liked."
The sidhe assassin's smile gets wry as she continues, "She did so one day and found young Sean with the Brahmin heir. There was something of a vocal disagreement." This part is said in a tone that implies the Sna'tha really means 'screaming match.' "At the end of which, Crowninshield apparently told the girl that she was deluding herself if she thought she was beautiful enough or her father powerful enough to make her an actual candidate for princess and then queen."
There's another of those wry pauses, "Apparently, she took that somewhat amiss. She left that night and was gone for a few days. Her father, it seems, worked in jewelry and they use acids to remove impurities and to clean. She got some of that and came back to the palace, saying that she had come to apologize and make a peace offering. She was allowed in."
"Once she was alone with the prince, she opened the jar of acid and threw it at him. You've seen the facial effects. Apparently there are scars on the upper left of his body as well, meaning he likely was not clothed when the attack happened. Word is that the reason he is so thin now is that some of it was either swallowed or breathed and it damaged his health as well as his appearance."
'Chana sighs at that story; her voice is wry as she murmurs, "I... would not wish that on anyone... but if anyone could be said to deserve it, it would be one such as he. What a pity that he learned nothing from that experience!" She goes on to quietly detail the periodic 'brushes' of Crowninshield's will on her, so he would get what he wanted without effort, as well as the cold heartlessness of his behavior. "I'm not surprised the merchant's daughter believed herself the new queen to be. I don't doubt Sean lied to her as well. It was when I mentioned that I was not interested in queenship, for example, that he decided I should not leave his city."
"Indeed. What I believe he learned from that experience," Sna'thaid says, "is that people have to be tightly controlled."
When Chana comes to the palace the next morning, she's led much the same way she was before, but they end up at a different door. No one checks the tokens this time, either. The guards take the page's word for who the Hetaera is and admit her to the room. This time the page doesn't come in with her.
The room is a small -- but somehow not intimate -- dining room. The table looks like it would hold six at most and only two places are set. The head is obviously Crowninshield's place with another of those ornate not-a-throne chairs. The other place is at the left side of that one. Normally an honored guest is put on the right, but this arrangement would mean that Chana would be looking mostly at the unscarred side of the king's face.
Crowninshield isn't there yet, but a butler or valet is and he seats Chana and offers her tea to drink while she waits on the monarch. The servant is exactly proper and handsome in a way that says his forty or so years have given him character. He inquires as to whether the lady brought anyone with her this morning and when he's told she did not, he nods and says, "That is fine. His Majesty had instructed us to make sure your retinue were well-fed and taken care of as well." Sulochana thanks the servant with pleasure for his kindness, but reassures him that all is well.
It takes fifteen or twenty minutes for the king to actually appear and he makes no move to apologize for his tardiness; instead he says, "You look lovely this morning, lady. Fresh and eager for the day." Crowninshield is dressed impeccably and takes his time to look the Hetaera over appreciatively, "Today is stacking up to be tiring and full of court business, so I am glad we had this time to discuss any arrangement we might come to."
Sulochana's smile is warm and intimate, "Ah, a tiring day ahead? Such a pity. Were you thinking of a respite later tonight, perhaps?"
Crowninshield smiles and says, "I had actually hoped for something of a long breakfast. Perhaps in bed." Indeed, the food has not been brought in, "I understand that Doris has paid for your first night with me. That, I trust, actually pays for twenty-four and not eight hours. After that I would very much like to engage you for at least another two days." Again, there's that brush of his will against hers, "And I'm quite sure you'll find my city entrancing. I wouldn't be surprised if you wished to stay for quite a while."
Sulochana's soft laugh is inviting, "Why, what a coincidence! I too had hoped for something of a long breakfast. In fact, I dressed for it! Sort of... a gift for you, if you will." Her golden eyes twinkle with mischief as she murmurs almost demurely, "Perhaps you might like to unwrap your present... in private?" She pauses, realizing they're already in (mostly) private, and amusedly adds, "In private comfort, that is?"
Crowninshield's remaining eye gleams and he waves to the butler that's in the room, "Have breakfast brought to my chambers." The piercing blue eye is looking Sulochana over with hunger. On the outside, she's dressed as properly as any lady in Boston, of course. "I am very much looking forward to seeing how it is you've dressed for me beneath all those layers." He offers his arm to her. The gesture is courtly and she can see that he has some inborn grace... but 'Chana has been with kings and gods. Courtliness is not enough to sway her... and there is something about the monarch that feels empty. Cold. Given the stories the others gathered in the city -- and the coldly heartless perfection of the city itself -- she suspects he was never anything like warm or sincere, even before his disfigurement.
Courtliness is not enough to sway her, true -- but she is a Hetaera trained and experienced down to the bone. The soft glow of anticipation and pleasure on her face as she smoothly rises and accepts her client's arm appears as sincere now as it has with every client which she truly enjoyed. That warmth and sensuality appears completely focused on the king, as if he were the pinnacle of experience and enjoyment for her... and her focus does not flag in the least as they retire to his bedchambers. If anything, her apparent excitement and arousal seems to rise as that of the king rises, as she does a slow, sensual striptease for him... at least until he decides he cannot wait any longer and simply tears off what remains of the delicate, lacy, enticing little nothings she wears.
And tear them off he does. Once he's in utter private the veneer of courtesy and deference is shed. He is stronger than he looks, and if 'Chana were someone less strong he would be quite overwhelming. What he does cannot be called lovemaking because there's not really anything of affection in it -- but there is desire, and he is quite skilled at what he does. And yet... it's a technical skill. Something learned as if from a book because he intended to be the best at everything he turned his hand to. If Sulochana had not had the experience of clients who took true pleasure in her reactions to them, it would seem wonderful. It probably did seem wonderful to other people that came to his bed. The Hetaera, however, has two Chosen that make love to her as if they are worshiping her, and other lovers who see what she gives them as a sacred trust. Indeed, over the years the Hetaera has come to deliberately select her lovers for that ability to cherish and care for her as much as she does them. Quite frankly, simple skill is not enough. It is the difference between hearing someone that learned music by rote and someone for whom the music lives within their soul.
Once their first bout is over, Crowninshield is quite happy to be tangled up with the lovely woman and to be intimately and teasingly fed little bits of fruit and pastries. When his clothes came off, the rest of the scars became obvious. They are indeed down the left front of his chest and even down onto his stomach. He would have had to have been naked to get scars like that. One thing was quite stark: He never asked her to call him Sean. Almost all of her other lovers had demurred when she called them by their titles and insisted she call them by their given names. Not this man... and she is careful to continue using his title. Subtle flattery is the key to appearing completely besotted... and someone who you believe is yours to command is someone you are more likely to trust.
It is easy to coax him into more sex after they've eaten. The second go-round is less insistent but no less athletic. He enjoys changes of position and pushes for some things that would probably astonish or even shock some of the more proper women of the city. Fortunately for Sulochana, she is not only well-trained in being shocked by very little any more... but also has the slim, athletic build of someone who exercises regularly. She even gently encourages him to try a few things he might not be familiar with -- positions which she cheerfully explains are from a book called the Kama Sutra which all Hetaerae aspire to knowing nearly by heart! That, she figures, should help draw him a bit more avidly to her: she has things he could learn that would make him a better lover!
He doesn't want to leave permanent marks, but he does bite at times hard enough to bruise. It is very much like he's trying to make her feel as if he's claiming her. And all along, she can feel those brushes of his will when he asks her to do something more 'proper' women might balk at. Even oral sex can be seen as shocking to some; anal sex definitely so. He also goes about all of the ways he can penetrate her in a very methodical fashion -- another way of claiming her, though he doesn't say it out loud. Those positions from the Kama Sutra are quite intriguing to him and he moves into them with her like a student and then seems intent upon mastering them. He even goes so far as to say he wants to learn more of that. Of course, part of that (as Sulochana explains) is that the positions are meant to bring intense sensations and new layers of pleasure to lovers. If he wants to be known as the best lover in the city, learning these will be a coup.
Once they are done he is sated and quite drowsy. He laughs throatily, perhaps the first sound of real pleasure or contentment she's heard from him, "I believe I shall have a nap before the day starts. I already had my chamberlain tell people that I would not start open court until mid-afternoon." He yawns and pulls 'Chana into his arms, holding her a little too tightly for comfort, "Stay with me." It's not a request. It is undeniably a command.
Sulochana purrs contentedly, "I would love to, majesty... I confess, I'm a bit sleepy myself as well." She nuzzles into him and murmurs, "Mmm... would you like me to stay until you awaken?"
"Yes. At least until then. You will be having dinner with me as well. Though there will be other people there for this meal." Again, not a request. He may have treated with Hetaerae before, but 'Chana gets the feeling that the ones he has been with were meddled with. There is none of the politeness one shows to an equal. He is treating her rather more like a servant than a skilled artisan.
Sulochana's small yawn is kitten-cute, and she nods, her voice sleepy, "Sounds lovely. But first... sleep..." She closes her eyes, making sure her lithe form is warm and cuddly in his arms, and her silky hair is a soft tumble across his chest. Her breathing slows and calms -- mostly due to training, of course -- and she waits. Once he's asleep she'll quietly reinforce it with a whispered command for him to continue sleeping no matter what... and once she's sure he's deeply asleep she'll shift her shape to her Naga form. His terrible scarring is oddly convenient for her, splashed across his face and throat as it is... because two tiny pinpricks there will most likely be overlooked! Plus she can pretty much see the pulse throbbing slowly in his throat... it will be easy to neatly and slowly bite him there so there is almost no damage, and to let her venom do its job.
Crowninshield is easier to command than one might think. Perhaps he has lowered his will because he is certain 'Chana is well and truly a puppet. He slides down deeply into sleep and barely stirs when the needle-like teeth slip into his flesh and into his vein and leave behind their deadly gift. The Naga is, of course, careful and thorough -- her tail holds him as close as a lover, and stills any tremors he might have as his life ebbs away... and she continues to gently feed the venom into his vein until she cannot feel his heartbeat or his breathing any longer and the light of his chakras has died. Even then she continues to hold him for a few more moments, waiting for any last reactions or possible muscle spasms. Only when she is absolutely, incontrovertibly sure the man is dead as a doornail... does she begin the slightly slower process of shifting her shape back to human. She wonders in idle curiosity, as she does so, if her godsmama is anywhere nearby and watching -- hopefully with approval!
Sna'thaid is indeed close by. A little recon of the palace made it easy for the White Dagger to find a private -- possibly secret -- way into the king's apartment. The sidhe waits until the sounds of sex have stopped to slip into the room whilst her godsdaughter is still in her Naga form. Sulochana looks up alertly at the slow change of scent in the room, though her mouth is still fastened to the dying man's throat -- but then she smiles slowly and relaxes, continuing her lethal kiss. She knows if anyone can make this death look like the work of the fey, rather than of one small Hetaera... it would be the White Dagger.
The king is not expected to leave his chambers until at least 2:00 p.m. and it is now just after noon. They have some time to arrange things. Sulochana rises and tidies up her things, carefully removing any trace of her presence as she does a quick wipe-down clean-up and dresses herself. Her godsmother has brought her clothes that might make it easier to slip out the back ways of the palace if 'Chana doesn't want to be seen leaving by the front. After some thought, however, the Hetaera shakes her head, "At least two people know I went in here with the king. If I simply vanish and he's dead, I'll be the logical suspect. Better, I think, for me to simply depart and inform the chamberlain that I was told to leave once he was asleep... and that he would call the chamberlain once he awoke. Do you agree, godsmama?"
Sna'thaid moves around the chamber, arranging things as she speaks with 'Chana, "Actually, I have an idea, child. What if you were seen to leave the palace with the king himself?" As she's speaking, she's pinning a piece of parchment to the wall above the head of the bed with an ornate silver dagger. It is not one of her own needle-like blades, but something that looks very much like it came from one of the fey Courts. The letter puts the city of Boston on notice and declares that no one was meant to rule everyone. Even the fey have two different Courts, after all.
Sulochana grins at that suggestion! -then considers carefully. "Hmm... two questions: how will you deal with his guards and aide-de-camp, all of whom will expect to follow him closely as he processes through the palace? How will you explain such a proud and controlling man leaving the castle with no entourage nor fanfare nor carriage?" She adds wryly, "I love the idea of walking out with him, but I really do want to disassociate him from me as the last person he was seen with while alive, you know? Leaving quietly and being expected back for dinner due to his orders implies he was still alive, I believe?"
"This is true. Then one small amendment," Sna'tha smiles, "He'll see you to the door and give the orders himself. You will have been seen with him whilst he was still alive and I have seen enough of him to know how to give short orders."
Sulochana is nodding before Sna'tha has even finished speaking, "That is perfect, godsmama!" She laughs quietly, throwing her arms in a hug about the slender fay for a moment -- and then she wryly adds, "Let us get out of here... immediately, please! This is... not a man I wish to spend any time with, nor remember with any fondness whatsoever." She tilts her head thoughtfully as she gathers up her small bag, adding, "Plus... I confess I am very curious as to how quickly his horrid little mind-controlling empire will start to collapse. It is my hope that some people -- the least controlled, perhaps? -- are already starting to look around themselves in some confusion, and wonder why they are where they are... and then simply return to whatever it was they wished to do before this disgusting, heartless man corrupted their minds."
"I believe it will happen quite quickly," Sna'tha says, "You are right that the ones with less compulsion on them will likely feel it first. The others may take some time to come to the realization that they have found themselves somewhere they never would have wished to be. And with the hint that the fey Courts were the end of him, people will think twice before trying to take up his mantle." The Hetaera nods in quiet, grave agreement. As she's speaking, the dragonfly sidhe is slowly putting on her glamour. By the time she's done, she looks exactly like the recently-slain king, "Now, let us depart."
Sulochana sighs in relief, then takes a moment herself to be the sensually rumpled Hetaera who would really rather stay... but is obeying the king even if reluctantly. She takes her godsmother's arm, leans her head against the "king's" shoulder, and heads for the door with her. As the faux king opens it, 'Chana is murmuring sleepily, "...can't I stay? Just for a little bit... until you fall asleep?"
The faux Crowninshield answers, "I wish to sleep alone. Perhaps another time you may stay." Sna'thaid has his tone and manner down. The comment about staying another time is said in the tone of someone that is simply saying whatever will cause him the least trouble. To the guard outside the door "he" says, "Please see the lady Hetaera to her people and tell my chamberlain not to disturb me until three of the clock. I wish to sleep and see to some personal business." With that, he turns and closes the door.
'Chana sighs a bit disappointedly... then smiles ruefully at the guard, "Ah, well. If you're busy, I can find my own way to my people, good sir." The guard shakes her head and says, "No, ma'am. I was given an order. I will see you at least to the front door." The woman is perfectly courteous with 'Chana on the way, and the Hetaera takes the woman guard's arm precisely the same way she would with any other courteous escort. She dimples with sleepy pleasure as the guard gives her a half-bow at the main gate, "Lady, I hope that your stay is pleasant and that you are able to stay as long -- or as short -- a time as you wish." The expression is serious and the guard holds 'Chana's gaze for a moment as the Hetaera murmurs a soft, "How charming! Thank you so much, my good woman," before turning back to the palace.
Sulochana herself turns and paces relaxedly out the front gate, covering a yawn or two as she goes. She hopes Sna'thaid has gotten back to the camp already and folks are tacking up the horses and camel to go. The sooner they shake the dust of this poor town from their feet, the better. She's quietly intrigued also by the guardswoman's words. That certainly implies that at least one of the guard is aware that the king influences people sometimes! However, 'Chana sees no reason to push that at all for more information -- at least not as things currently stand. It's her guess that the woman is one of the glamoured fey spies; 'Chana would not wish to mess up the woman's cover.
The animals are already most of the way ready to go -- Sna'thaid had set the other three to getting things ready when 'Chana left that morning. She figured if the king was not dead by noon, it would only be because he was waiting until after dinner to take advantage of Doris's supposed gift. Thus, once she's with her companions Sulochana quickly packs her things away, changes clothes, and turns with a will to helping her dear friends get the little two-wagon caravan moving. She glances around a few times as she works, hoping Sna'tha turns up soon... but even if the fey assassin isn't there by the time they start moving, Sura knows her godsmother will swiftly catch up. By no stretch of the imagination can laden wagons be considered speedy, after all!
They are quickly on the way out the front gate of the palace compound and headed toward one of the city's side gates. Chanticleer sits on the box of Ohkwa's wagon and the manitou walks alongside with his hand on the neck of one of the horses. Fantine drives the vardo and lets the other wagon lead the way. It's not until they're actually out of the city gate that Sna'thaid shows up. She drops down onto the ground beside the two wagons from a large tree, "We are well away. The gates will start to close down once word of the king's death gets out." The dragonfly sidhe speaks quietly, "There was already some little stirring in the streets as I passed. People seemed as if they were waking up from dreams."
Suraksha nods quietly to her godsmother, "Good, I'm glad to hear that. People don't deserve to be enslaved -- whether physically or mentally." She sighs, stretching her arms overhead as she adds, "Dear Goddess but I want a bath once we're in safety once more!" She laughs ruefully, knowing it will likely be a few days, and adds curiously, "Did you know the guard outside the door, godsmama? From what she said, I think she was aware the king, ahh... influenced people."
"I noticed that she startled slightly when you put your hand on her arm, which could mean she was glamoured. But I do not know her personally." At her godsdaughter's request for a bath, Sna'thaid smiles, "We are not waiting until we get back to the caravan for you to bathe. When we stop tonight, you are going to wash. I know you want to get the feel of his hands off of you." Sulochana nods, a small grimace on her soft lips -- but after that she simply turns her head forward and firmly puts the unpleasantness of Boston behind her. She has family, beloveds, children, and dear friends waiting for her... and she did what she did to keep them safe. She has no regrets. Well... it would have been nice if she'd been able to take care of this wicked man earlier, of course... but considering what news she had to work with, she thinks she did a fine job. She hopes her godsmother, Ohkwa, and Roy are proud of her.
That night when the wagons stop for rest, Ohkwa quietly speaks to Sulochana and tells her that she has done him proud. He folds the small woman into his arms for a long, tightly returned hug -- and Sura buries her face in his warm, comfortable chest for a moment as she tears up a bit in relief. Her voice is a bit choked as she thanks him -- his approval means a lot to the small woman! He is, after all, one of the spirits of this land -- a land she loves with all her heart and soul; a land she wants to see remain wild and free and beautiful.
Fantine too quietly lets her relief and thankfulness show in her own way: she insists on a huge fire that night so they can warm water from the cold-running stream and pour it into the big half-barrel that the Hetaera uses for baths. Set behind a screen and with a bit of sandalwood scent added, Sulochana contentedly sheds what feels like a layer of skin as her timid but devoted friend suds and scrubs her madly all over -- while muttering in quiet French the whole while about rude and unappreciative men! That helps the tired woman to relax and release the entire (slightly sordid) affair, instead shifting her mindset back into that of Suraksha, the very competent trail boss. Once they're done she gives Fantine a warm, damp, and very sincere hug!
In the night they hear the first galloping horses coming from the city. Sna'thaid reports that they're wearing the Crowninshield livery; she seems quite satisfied. There are no soldiers trying to stop people leaving the city and there seems to be no one looking specifically for 'Chana. After all, the king himself saw her out.
During the week it takes them to get back to the caravan, there are a lot of messengers back and forth -- the news is spreading like wildfire. There are rumors: the king being killed in a fantastical duel with a sidhe knight, or falling over in front of his chamberlain after turning purple or green or some other fantastical color, or being poisoned by someone in the kitchens... no one even mentions the Hetaera. The stories that involve the fey do whisper of a note left or a letter delivered or, sometimes, of a declaration in open court. They are rumors, so the distortion of the truth is to be expected.
Three days before they would meet the rest of their caravan family, Joe finds them on the road -- and he almost wilts with relief upon seeing they are all safe and sound. He slides off his horse before the panting gelding has even come completely to a halt, and hugs anyone that's within hugging distance -- a hug that Sura laughs and returns with pleasure! The forward scout is effusively happy to have found them, "Oh, thank goodness! Rattler's been frantic!" From the look on the storm Tap's face, it's not just Roy who was worrying, though Joe hastily adds, "Don't worry! He's staying in the camp -- but there's been a lot of strange stories and he couldn't help but think that something might have gone wrong. There are even some folk saying that the king's ghost is out a-haunting. No one really believes that, but you know how chaos makes people nervous."
Sura laughs again, her voice teasing, "Oh, so little faith you all have in us? I'm crushed... crushed, I tell you!" She giggles, tapping lightly on the tip of Joe's nose before she steps back and grins up at him, "So, are all the, ahh... 'damages' repaired? Everyone ready to roll once we're back? I'm quite happy to leave this area behind us, quite frankly!"
Joe looks a little abashed, "We didn't doubt it was you that actually killed him, lady, but your sweetheart has been a little torn up inside knowing that you're doing this for him, y'know? Or partly for him, anyway."
As she climbs back up onto the driver's bench of the little vardo Suraksha glances over her shoulder at Joe. There's a quietly grim smile on her face as she murmurs, "I did it for all of us, dear. If you'd met that cold, heartless man and seen him manipulate people like they were just puppets or toys... you would have too."
Joe removes his hat and rubs the back of his head, "All the repairs have been done for a couple of days. We can be ready to move the second you five get back. Uhh... you know once I get back, Rattler's likely to come back this way himself, right?"
Sura grins mischievously, "Really? Gosh, and here I thought you'd be riding with us for a day or two, Joe!" She laughs as the wagons continue on their calm, steady way, then happily says, "So update us, sweetie! What's been happening while we were gone? How're the girls and everyone else doing? What rumors have you all heard?"
Joe rides along with them and gives them all the updates of the caravan. Rohana and Rishima have been minding their Papa Roy very well, though they've been a little fussy about not being able to sleep in their own bed and 'Shima has fussed that her Mama was not there for naps. One of the Friendsville girls has discovered she's pregnant, though she's not sure who the father might be. That makes fully six of them to have kindled -- which makes Sura very happy! She's pleased to be able to help Friendsville in this way, considering she still finds herself wondering what she should have done differently in order to keep the poor Thane alive. She wonders aloud, in fact, if they'll be able to talk Rachel -- and maybe Rufus? -- into staying with the caravan as they head back towards Baton Rouge. Sura would really love to introduce Rachel to Guy, after all. Maybe the two of them will hit it off, and fresh werewolf genetics can only help the isolated little town, she thinks!
Joe assures Sura that Rachel and Rufus both seem to want to stay with the caravan -- which pleases her immensely! Rufus has made it rather clear that he doesn't intend to actually go to Friendsville to stay -- it would appear the young wolf is rather proud of being the trusted beta of such fierce entities as Alg and his tiger lady! That makes Sura awww! with happiness -- she's rather fond of the shy young wolf, and proud of how he's blossoming on the road. Joe also passes on all the rumors they've heard about the king's death -- none of which are new to the little group -- and of the little dramas that happen even amongst a close-knit group like the caravan.
The storm Tap also mentions that Roy has been taking up a bit of a leadership role whilst Sura was gone. People seemed to start coming to him for things like settling arguments in his beloved's stead. The king-in-hiding has been remarkably low-key about it and has pointed out several times to people that Del is the boss of him most of the time. It seems to be his way of doing what he can while letting people know that he has no desire to be their leader. That too has Sura murmuring a pleased, "Aww!" -- she's touched both that her beloved Chosen is willing to help her people so, and isn't pushy about it!
Joe does end up staying with the two wagons for over a day before taking his leave with a grin. He wants to let everyone know Suraksha and the rest are safely incoming! Despite the storm Tap's comments about Rattler coming out to meet them, the water Tap king stays put with the caravan until the vardo and Ohkwa's wagon come rolling into the encampment. The moment that there's a shout from the guards on patrol, however, he comes at a run and doesn't wait for the little wagon to come to a stop before he swings himself up onto the driver's box to take his cherie in his arms and hug her tightly enough to hurt a little, murmuring a lot of things against her hair in his Creole French. She knows some of the words, but all of the meaning comes through: He missed her. He loves her. She is amazing.
Not long after that, the girls are also dancing around the little caravan and demanding hugs and kisses from their mother -- which Sura is joyfully -- and relievedly -- happy to give them! Everyone who wants can get hugs and kisses from Sura tonight -- she is so very, very happy to be safe and sound, back with her beloved family of the road -- and to know that they too are safe from mental control and/or possession.
Roy stays right by his beloved the whole night, but makes no move to take her away from her people. Once it's time for bed, however, he bars the little vardo's doors and spends some time making sure she really is okay, and saying his thank you's. He also asks very carefully before initiating lovemaking. He knows that spending time with the late, unlamented king may have made her feel... unhappy, at best; downright vile, at worst. Once she says yes, however -- which she does with relief; there'd been a small part of her worried that her sometimes hot-tempered sweetheart might think less of her for what she'd done -- he makes sure she is aware how beloved and desired she is. It is like worship. It is love. It is the farthest thing in the world from what she did with Crowninshield as can be imagined. It is, in fact, precisely what she most needed and wanted... both to clear that cruel and soulless man from her body and soul and mind -- and to refill herself both metaphorically, spiritually, and physically with her dear and deeply beloved Chosen Roy.
Though Roy's kindheartedness and generosity in making love to her rather than having sex with her is immensely helpful to the emotionally exhausted Naga, she finds there are a few things she's still a little... twitchy about. She's relieved her warm-toned skin and her rapid healing have vanished almost all the bruises by the time she gets back to the caravan. Also, it takes her a few weeks to be comfortable with being loomed over, either in bed or simply while talking together. Once he notices that, Roy is extremely careful of it. He does, after all, have a bit of a tendency to roughhouse. The first time he notices her stiffening when he leans over her while making love, his heart lurches, wondering if she was reacting to having to do that in part for him.
It's not that Suraksha has a fit or anything -- she just stops, puts a hand flat on the chest of the 'loomer,' and in a quietly controlled, very firm voice suggests they shift back a bit. Once she tells him in her careful, quiet voice he changes tacks immediately and lets her take all the time she needs to become comfortable again. He can hear the soft relief in her voice as she thanks him... as well as her embarrassment that he's the one effectively having to 'pay' for someone else's casual cruelties. She finds she isn't immediately comfortable with being manhandled at all, either -- though fortunately no one tries playfully hoisting her over a shoulder. Being grabbed up to lift her onto a wagon, or to carry her around, however, makes her uncomfortable -- and again, she quietly asks that they please not do that without asking her first... at least for a bit, please.
Unlike their normal modus operandi, the caravan doesn't have a celebration before getting on the road -- they just get rolling immediately. The cross-country caravan has weathered enough hungry wildlife and vindictive tyrants and insane weather and rapacious people and all the other various dangers which can be found on the trail... so they think it would be wise to be a little further out of Boston's reach before deciding they really are safe and settling down to celebrate and relax. Fortunately they eventually reach that point... and then the joyous relief and dancing is, for the little caravan, epic!
It takes several weeks, in fact, before the caravan hits a point where all is well and everything damaged is repaired, they're comfortably settled for the weekend, everyone is pretty darned sure they're safe, and Sura's usual constant motion regarding keeping the caravan moving and healthy finally isn't necessary... and that's when she realizes she still has a few things to think through for herself.
The young woman ends up sitting on one of her little vardo's shafts, outside of the circle of firelight and facing off into the darkness. She's unaccustomedly still -- just sitting and staring silently outwards. Even her always-occupied hands are still as she sits... and thinks. She... doesn't really regret the death of- well, wait; let's be honest here. She doesn't regret his murder -- she definitely murdered him -- but... well, that's, what, the third entity she's either ordered the death of, or personally killed, in... less than a year? It's not the same as killing someone in battle -- that, she completely understands. But these last three... Meshek, Doris, and Sean Crowninshield... has she slid over the line from... from understandably protective to just a murderous sociopath? Has she... done wrong, perhaps evil things with the deaths of those three?
Suraksha has been sitting quietly for longer than she ever really has since she joined the caravan and Ohkwa in his place in the shadows watches for a while. Once she's been sitting there for long enough to start people wondering where she is, the manitou steps out and sits down silently beside her. He waits for a bit longer, using the time to empty and refill his pipe. Once it's done to his satisfaction, he speaks, deep voice low enough for just the two of them, "What's got you staring into nothing?"
The young (relative to the manitou) woman doesn't glance over when he first arrives -- her unconscious mind internally identifies the sweet pipe smoke scent as that of her dear old friend, who is safe. She does not immediately answer his query either... just sits for a minute more as the tangled thoughts dashing hither and yon in her head take a moment to settle down enough that she can even verbalize them. Only then, in a slow, halting voice, does she start speaking: "Have you... ever wondered... how to tell if you... if you've gone too far? I mean... when does... at what point does it change from being... killing in self-defense or the defense of others... and when does it become just... just killing because that's the easiest or -- or most satisfying or... when... how do you tell when you're... when you're sick in your head, Ohkwari?"
The bear manitou smokes his pipe as he listens to her, letting Suraksha get through the whole thought. He's been around long enough to know that "helping" by interrupting will just make things harder and more confusing to say. When she's wound down, he takes another moment, thinking. "I think that you tell that by the people around you. If they are people you trust, they will let you know when you're crossing a line." He turns to her, brown eyes gentle and affectionate, "I have an idea why you're asking this. Three deaths. Three killings. And they were all in defense of someone or of yourself." Sura nods silently, choking up and feeling the tears starting to blur her vision as she listens to her dear friend speaking in his slow, measured voice, "Meshek attempted to murder children. If he wasn't hydrophobic, he was still a mad wolf. He would not have stopped."
Ohkwari shifts and moves in such a way that she can snuggle against him if she wants. He will not grab... and on some level Sura knows this... and slowly, tiredly, she leans against his warm, strong, steady bulk, listening to the low rumble of his voice in his chest as much as his actual words, "Doris was a danger to everyone around her. There was almost no one that could have been trusted to be her jailer. One touch is all it would have taken for most and she would have continued raping people's minds and souls."
He carefully settles one strong, sturdy arm around Sura's slender shoulders, feeling her sigh softly and slowly relax against him as he continues, "And Crowninshield... child, that man was evil. Kings are meant to be strong and they can be expected to be ambitious. But he was stealing the very life of the planet and hoarding it. And he was set on having physical beauty and Tapping ability be the basis on which one's life was judged worthy. Think of some of the people you know. Sabrina hasn't a bit of Tapping in her, but she is amazing." Sura nods slowly as she listens, obscurely comforted by the calm certainty in Ohkwa's voice -- as well as her love for the kindhearted, always helpful Sabrina. The manitou continues, "I have known some people with bodies or faces that came out twisted or broken by some accident of birth that were the kindest, funniest, best souls. Beauty is not simply physical." Sura nods quietly again as an image of Alg comes to mind. The hunched little goblin is sometimes filthy, bloodily violent, horrifying... and yet he is also steadfast and true as life itself. Sura would trust -- has trusted -- him with her life.
The manitou looks down at her and rumbles, "He would have killed your Chosen and probably your adopted daughter if he could not control them. Rattler is a flawed person. He can be jealous and hot-headed, but he loves his people and his daughter and wants only for them to be safe. They are his charge and not his playthings. There is the difference between an effective ruler, and a good one." Sura nods silently again, her heart clenching inside her chest at the thought of her passionate, complex, annoying, beautiful, cherishing Roy being killed for refusing to surrender to the casually cruel, manipulative, and abusive Crowninshield. She... knows somehow that she'd gladly kill that horrible man-child all over again if she had to, if it would save Roy.
Ohkwari tips his head down to look at Suraksha's head, "You had the tools to do it. You used the best route to do it. You took the onus onto yourself. That is the mark of a good leader. Do you think that I or your godsmother or your beloved would not tell you if you were becoming cruel and cold?"
Suraksha sits silently for a while as she considers that... then gives a slow, gusty sigh. "No... no, I believe you'd tell me, Grandfather Bear. It's just I... well, when it's all still inside my head? It's... it's easy to convince myself then that... that maybe you're all, like, blinded by love for me or something, you know? That you've not yet... not yet seen it, not yet realized?" She gives a choked half-laugh, half-sob, turning her face into his chest as she mumbles, "I know it's silly, now I've said it, but... but, well... I... was worried, you know?"
Ohkwari rumbles, "If you think that any of us would judge you for using deadly force when it's needed, remember that your godsmother was an assassin and your Chosen has been a mercenary and a soldier that had to take his city from evil men by force. Not all solutions can be gentle or peaceful. Even I have had to use claws and teeth as a mercy before." Then he actually snorts slightly, "Further, Suraksha Sesha, I have been around for a very, very long time. Bear is the guardian of healing. Mental and spiritual as well as physical. I do not love blindly. I love people for who they are -- and because of that, I do not let them fall into evil. If you start down a dark path, I will stop you." He gives her a gentle squeeze, "Even if I have to tie you down in a wagon and drag you away from the place or thing that is causing you to fall down into those shadows, my little Nita. My little mama bear. You would never let anyone harm your family."
Sura laughs again as she leans her head against Ohkwa, though there's less of the grieving sob and more of tired, trusting calm in it this time. She smiles quietly, her gaze into the night looking outward more than inward as she muses on the kindhearted new name granted to her by the ancient bear manitou. She murmurs softly, "Thank you, my dear old friend. Thank you." Ohkwari can hear it in her voice: she's thanking him not just for his promise to her... but also for his simply being there for her when she needs him. Tonight... she needed his healing.
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