| Logs |
2020 May 08
| Goblin Town |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
 |
| Realms: Goblin Town Logs |
A Black Swan Is Born
Marcus smiles at the blush and then looks curiously at the utensils, "Why, Cinnamon, what a lovely gesture. Are they part of your family's silver?" He examines them for a monogram or other seal... and as he's examining them he says off-handedly, "How can you tell about the utensils?"
Cinnamon blinks startledly, then laughs, "My family's? Oh, no -- they don't have anything like that. I got these on Coblyn!" She smiles as he takes them, adding honestly, "I don't really know how I can tell. I just... can? Like..." She studies him for a moment, then nods once and smiles, pointing discreetly, "That right there -- your tie pin? It's silver!" She pushes her glasses back into place, adding, "If you stretch your hand out, I might be able to tell what your cufflinks are too?"
Marcus looks quite impressed as he files this information away. He leans toward Cinnamon, blue eyes interested, "Indeed it is." He holds his hand out again for her, palm up, curious as to what she'll find.
Cinnamon leans forward after tucking the plastic baggie back into her purse, pushing her glasses back into place and admiring the pretty cufflinks. Reaching out a finger, she gently touches one... then smiles, "They're platinum and diamond, aren't they? Is that monogram your initials?"
Marcus looks even more impressed and curls his hand around Cinnamon's wrist for a moment, "They are. They're an heirloom. The monogram is my House's initial." She blinks startledly and starts to lean back when Marcus takes her wrist -- she's unsure how to respond to that! Men don't usually touch her, after all. This is different! Marcus lets go of Cinnamon's wrist when there's any pressure at all on his grip. He is looking fascinated as he puts his left wrist forward. On it is what looks to be a gold link bracelet with an engraved panel.
Cinnamon blinks and pushes her glasses back into place, studying the bracelet, "What's that? A gift?" She leans forward again, intrigued, "What's it say?"
The writing on the bracelet is in some sort of lettering that's very angular. "Yes. It's a gift," Marcus says, "It says 'gjengivelse.'" The bracelet is made of gold, but it's 10 karat.
Cinnamon looks curiously at Marcus, "It's 10 karat -- that's unusual! What's jengee... er, what does that word mean, please?"
Marcus is looking even more intrigued, "It's Norwegian. It means 'fidelity.'" He doesn't comment on her assessment of the gold, however.
Cinnamon tilts her head curiously at Marcus, "Who gave it to you? One of the folks you represent?" She thinks... then nods, "Right, I remember now -- you're the non-Norse Northern Europeans! Oh! Is that text a, um... sort of a take-off on... what's the runes called again... fyl- no, starts with an F though... oh! Futhark! Is that what it's supposed to be like?"
Marcus shakes his head, "No. It wasn't one of my constituents. And yes, it is Futhark." His eyes are assessing.
Cinnamon grins cheerfully, "Fidelity... maybe from one of the families that are connected to yours?" She laughs, "OK, I give up! Who gave it to you?"
Marcus shakes his head, "Not. Not from a family servitor. Someone... else. A... friend."
Cinnamon grins teasingly, "Oooh! A sweetheart? How romantic, if so!" She's being genuine -- she knows men like him don't fall for women like her, after all!
Marcus nods, "You might say that about them." He smiles brightly at the waitress as she starts to bring their food and tea, and then turns back to Cinnamon, "So... tell me why you've asked me here."
"Oh!" Cinnamon brightens, returning to her purse to bring out her journal, then sets it by her plate and beams at Marcus, "I want to find out why you're part of the 'reveal' faction!" She uses the tiny little sugar tongs to drop a sugar cube into her tea as she speaks, "See, I was raised with humans -- didn't even know I wasn't one until just a very short whiles ago -- so my immediate thought was that we should totally keep the supernaturals hidden!" She stirs, sighing happily at all the good smells, then adds more dryly, "So despite Killa's repeated attempts to either intimidate or kill me... I thought it might be good to know why folks think the humans should know about us." Her sunny grin flashes again as she adds, "Is that okay?"
Marcus says, "Killa is brutal, arrogant, and if he weren't truly a god or almost a god, one would think him to be megalomaniacal." He leans back, sipping his tea, "Because hiding is ridiculous. It is saying that we are less than human. Second-class citizens. We are equal. Or more than equal." Something about the emphasis says he really believes the latter.
Cinnamon laughs quietly, her eyes dancing, "Only think him to be a megalomaniac? Sorry, I'm already convinced!" She blinks and scribbles notes in her journal as Marcus talks... then looks up and beams excitedly, "Cool! Ok, so let's see..." She studies the notes, frowning and nibbling absently at the end of the pencil... then looks up again, this time curiously, "So you don't feel someone can hide because they're more than? Hiding can only be shameful? Why's that?"
Marcus says, "I believe that hiding is saying that we are weak. Once, we were revered. Almost all of us. Dragons are still seen as holy in Asian countries."
Cinnamon hmms consideringly, then says slowly, "But... I know there are things which are hidden or kept secret because they are revered. Doesn't that count?"
Marcus leans forward, eyes sharp, "Like the Torah kept in its ark until it is time to be read? Hidden, but not disbelieved. Hidden, but not made fun of. Hidden, but not disrespected."
Cinnamon nods emphatically, "Right?! Like that!" She pushes her glasses back as she studies Marcus with interest, "In a way... wouldn't that even tie in to your belief, I think, that we're better than human?"
Marcus says, "But it is not always hidden. It is taken out. It is revered openly. It is believed in. And we are better than humans in many ways."
Cinnamon smiles, "Well, aren't we too? Like Nasteexo -- their people know about them, right? They have to!"
Marcus says, "And those people are a relatively small group. And those outside that circle believe that Nasteexo's people are delusional."
Cinnamon nods thoughtfully, "Just like lots of folks think the Jews are delusional... or the Christians, or whatever." She thinks a moment, then slowly adds, "Oh, there's an interesting thought -- why do you think we're better than the humans, then? Or do you think only some of the supernaturals are?"
Marcus says, "Because we are. We have abilities beyond theirs. Our lives span generations of theirs. That gives us wisdom and knowledge. They are destroying our world. Our world. They stole it from us."
Cinnamon tilts her head curiously, nibbling on a fresh scone she's slathered with strawberry jam, "Did they really? Or did we just... slide into hiding?" She grins shyly as she adds, "Sorry, I don't know the history yet!"
Marcus says, eyes steely, "They did. They outbred their resources. They behave like an invasive species. They have their niche and they have moved out of it and are crowding everything else out."
Cinnamon hms as she scribbles more notes, absently licking her fingers clean of the jam as she does so. Then she looks up with a smile, "OK! That makes sense. So... I know you haven't spent much time around them, but is there anything about humans that you like? Music, art, clothing... anything?"
Marcus says, "There are many things they have created that I like, but we taught them how to do those things. We taught them about fire and about art and about beauty."
Cinnamon looks intrigued, "Really? How cool! What about the lovely or clever things they've made, though, since we went into hiding?" She pauses, still intrigued, "When was that, anyway?"
Marcus says, "The Industrial Revolution was the true beginning of it. When they outstripped nature's way of keeping populations under control. When mortality rates shrunk to near insignificance in comparison to their numbers." Cinnamon nods politely, waiting for Marcus to answer the other question as well. He considers, then adds, "They have created things I like since then, but they are all iterations of the things we taught them."
Cinnamon nods with a small smile -- looks like Marcus is very convinced of his rightness, from these responses! She scribbles a few more notes, then has a sip of tea as she considers. Finally she says slowly, "Have you thought about... the impact the humans will have on the supernaturals, should they find out about us? I mean, sure -- I'm pretty solid and Aoi's effectively immortal and Josie's really sturdy and stuff like that... but what about the smaller, more regular folks? Is there a plan to keep them safe during the turmoil that'll naturally follow a reveal?"
Marcus hasn't sipped his tea since his voice has come more impassioned, "We will protect them, as we always have." He takes a pocket watch out and checks the time. With a deep breath, he says, "I'm afraid I must cut things a bit short. I have a meeting."
Cinnamon says, "Aww, I'm sorry to hear it, Marcus!" She smiles as she adds, "Nice watch," then continues, "though I'd love to hear more about the protection later, if you have time." She tilts her head inquiringly, "I assume you have something that will protect your people from all the steel in the world, then? Since there's so much of it now?"
Marcus smiles, but it's not quite the easy, charming smile of earlier. It's still plenty charming, however, "We have several options. Thank you for the tea. I'm sure I'll see you again soon." He tucks the watch away and takes his leave. He also leaves the silverware Cinnamon handed him. Cinnamon smiles relaxedly, waving as Marcus leaves... then leans back with a thoughtful sigh. So! This was quite informative, she thinks. First, Marcus really isn't suited to modern life -- and he knows it, on some level, considering he nearly fled right when she asked for hard data. Hah! Also forgot to pay for his share of the tea -- very 'nobility' of him! Second... she's starting to wonder if he has any plan at all, past 'reveal'! Does he assume the humans will just fall over in shock and awe and love? He's dreaming, if so.
Cinnamon considers thoughtfully, then checks the time; she's curious as to just how short or long a time it took for Marcus to feel he had to flee. Hmm... about an hour and a half. Okay, that's fair! Though... it would have been courteous of him to walk her back. Mmm, yeah, he really did flee. She thinks some more as she enjoys both her delicious sandwiches and those that Marcus didn't bother eating. Okay, so he doesn't seem to have any plan, and he doesn't have a clue about life in today's world, and he's utterly convinced the humans are pretty much worthless except for what they've absorbed from the supernaturals. So... if she wanted to change his mind, what would she expose him to? Not culture, unfortunately -- he's already decided that's effectively thieved from the supernaturals. Well... perhaps more about how, um, effective the humans are at war? That might be the way to go. She grins wryly, as it hits her: protecting the weak 'as they always have' sure won't work today! Even if Coblyn is hidden, clever humans could get stuff into it. Water, air, and electricity travel there, after all.
Cinnamon blinks as a sudden thought occurs to her: perhaps Marcus actually thought she was going to pay, since she was sort of hosting this soiree? She giggles aloud at that -- how very symptomatic of Marcus! Just the sort of behavior one would expect from someone not of the modern world! She grins, her eyes dancing, as another thought hits her: clearly he doesn't have any attitudes about men protecting women, though! Hmm... another point in the 'not really ready for prime time life' pile, she suspects.
She has a leisurely, relaxing twenty or so more minutes as she has dessert delivered -- including the one for Marcus, which she gigglingly decides to have wrapped up so she can take it to him -- then finishes her tea while writing copious notes. After that she sighs happily, pays and tips well, thanks the waitress... and wanders thoughtfully out. Amusedly, she decides Marcus' irritated description of Killa is probably the only apology she's likely to get from Marcus, too -- it sounds like he just doesn't really register how others feel, honestly! She strolls back into Coblyn Street, leaving the nicely boxed dessert with Mr. Butler, and continues on to her little home.
Butler accepts the box and again Cinnamon gets the feeling he's assuring her Marcus will get it. Except there's still no words. And the feelings aren't with words. She's just sure it will go where it's meant to go. Cinnamon thanks the entity with a warm smile, waves, and heads on her way. Well! One tea down... four to go! She really doubts Killa would be interested, after all... oh! Also, tea tomorrow with the king.
Cinnamon beams -- this has been a very good day so far!
About an hour later Cinnamon has changed clothes into her more comfortable daily wear, and has decided she really must learn more about the king before she goes to visit! Her best bets, she thinks, are either Aisling or Elias. OK! She'll go see who's home and willing to talk. Cinnamon grabs her back, tucks in her constant companion -- her journal -- and heads cheerfully out again.
Aisling is not home, but she apparently spends time going here and there and taking care of things. She is in no way an idle, entitled councillor. There's work to be done, after all! Elias, on the other hand, is home -- as he almost always seems to be. Of course, Cinnamon has mostly stopped by in the daytime. Cinnamon beams as she sees the door is open -- that's the 'it's okay to come in!' sign, to her! She knocks politely on the doorjamb, calling, "Hellooo! It's Cinnamon! I brought you some cinnamon cookies and lemon curd!" She's internally pleased she thought to purchase some extras at the little tea house -- this will hopefully be a nice way to say thanks to Elias!
Elias calls back, "Come in, come in! I'm in the kitchen again." There's a scent almost of grape juice in the air.
Cinnamon laughs as she trots on in, glancing around with interest, "Are you making beer again? Or is it wine this time?" She curiously adds, "What do you do with it all? Is there some pub on the street that buys it or serves it or something?"
Cinnamon's second guess proves to be more accurate. Elias has a giant washtub on the count and is using something that looks like an oversized potato masher to pulverize grapes. He laughs and smiles. The more he knows people the less he tries to hide those alarming teeth of his, "Yes. Wine. There's someone that comes through and they bring me grapes from a really nice vineyard. I give it to friends. I send it to the pub. It just depends on what I have and what people want." There are more carboys sitting on the floor.
Cinnamon blinks as she looks around, "Goodness, this is a lot of alc- er, of wine!" She grins uncertainly at Elias, "So is it... like, satisfying to make, or really tasty, or what, for you?"
Elias considers the question. "I drink very little of it myself, but I have been told that what I make is quite good. I find the challenge to be satisfying. It is, as I think I said before, biology and chemistry. They were two of my favorite subjects to teach."
Cinnamon nods interestedly once she's seated herself someplace out of the way, "Cool! So hey, since you're a teacher... do you know anyone who knows either Italian or Tagalog?" She grins, swinging her feet -- since she's short enough that they don't reach the floor when she's on the counter -- and adds cheerfully, "I figured I should be able to talk to the folks I'm supposed to be representing, you know? So the poorer southern European countries are..." she checks her journal as she speaks, "Spain, Portugal, Italy, Greece, Malta, and Cyprus -- and the most commonly spoken language between all those countries is Italian! Plus the most commonly spoken language in Oceania is Tagalog." She glances up at the vampire as she adds wryly, "There's just not much information about the Arctic American indigenous peoples, though... all I know for sure is that the most populated tribes are the Inuit, Yupik, and Aleut -- but I don't know much past that. I figure at some point I'll have to just go there and ask, you know? -- and then I can learn the most common language there too." She beams as she adds, "What do you think? Good ideas, maybe?"
Elias is humming as he works. And he doesn't seem to get tired of mashing the grapes. It's a big like watching him easily carry two of the carboys at a time. He just doesn't look that strong, "Hmm... finding a teacher of Tagalog is difficult. It's not much in demand." He looks at her and smiles, "Have you considered one of the distance learning options? There are, I believe, computer programs you could use. I don't have a computer myself, but... Hm... finding a native speaker might be good. But immersion is your best bet. Liam spoke..." He counts on his fingers, "Twelve languages? He picked them up quite easily."
Cinnamon nods amiably, "Oh, I was originally planning on downloading computer lessons... but you mentioned teaching, so I thought I'd ask, you know?" She's faintly envious of her many-greats grandfather -- not only did he know a heaping pile of languages... but he picked them up easily? Eeeek!
Elias nods and chuckles, "Most of the teachers I knew are either retired or dead. The last time I taught in an actual school was... hmm... 50 years ago?"
Cinnamon says, "Oh! Um, well... huh. So there's no one on Coblyn that you know of?" She looks puzzled, "I mean, Iason's Greek, right? And -- oh!" She beams, "I know! I'll advertise on the broadsheets -- that way, if there is someone who knows the tongue, I can pay them and they can teach it to me!"
Elias thinks and nods, "Iason speaks Greek, Latin, and a smattering of Italian."
Cinnamon brightens, "That's a start! Okay, definitely put up an ad in the broadsheet too..." She scribbles a bit in her journal, then nods firmly once and looks back up at Elias. A bit diffidently she adds, "So, um... Elias. I... kinda sorta... have a, um... well, the king w-wants t-to have, er... have tea with me? S-so, uhh... can I ask you some questions, please?"
Elias looks carefully at the grapes, leaves the masher in the washtub, and turns to look at Cinnamon. "Mmm. I'm not surprised Caradog wants to get you by yourself. Of course, dear."
Cinnamon blinks startledly, her eyes widening, "Al-lone?! Er, i-is that... bad?!"
Elias smiles and shakes his head, "No, child, no. It's not bad. It just means he wants a chance to see what you're like without people around."
Cinnamon says, "Oh." She nervously considers that, then grins a bit sheepishly at Elias, "Um, I'm... kinda... not very talkative?" She sighs gustily, "Well, I hope he's not too disappointed, either way!" She glances wryly to one side... then shakes her head and shrugs her shoulders -- the king's going to have to take what he gets when it comes to her, she supposes! "Well, in that case, all the more reason to ask, right? So, umm... if I live here too, is he our king? Like, do we have to obey him, or owe him fealty, or something like that? And... well, what exactly does Caradog rule?! and what do the other kings and enclave leaders rule? And where do they come from, and how much contact do they have with each other, and do they ever go into the real world where the humans are, and how much power do they have, and... uhh... maybe I should stop there?"
Cinnamon blushes faintly, realizing she's almost babbling with nervousness again! She pauses, then sheepishly adds, "Er, well... also, do the various councilors... 'belong' to them or something?" She adds a note to herself in the journal as well: 'Ask king: why reveal faction? Wouldn't that break the borders of his domain?'
Elias listens to the questions, smiling warmly and raising his brows at the sheer number of questions. But he seems pleased, "Caradog is the ruler not just of Coblyn, but of the catchment area for Coblyn. While in Coblyn, his rules -- the ones not set as global -- are to be followed. You saw the way he was able to get into Killa's compound. He had granted it as an embassy. Marcus' home is also considered an embassy. You could ask to have your home given the status of embassy. They do keep in touch with one another, but the rules and laws are different across the catchment areas. You don't owe him fealty. You are a councilor and we are, essentially, diplomats. In the United States, diplomats are given diplomatic immunity. You have that to a certain degree. You're not able to just tep all over the rules, but you do not owe him a tithe or any of that."
Cinnamon blinks interestedly as she listens... then holds up a hand to indicate she has a question, "Er... what is a catchment area, please?"
Elias chuckles at Cinnamon holding up a hand. Of course, he is acting like a teacher, "It's like school districts. There are borders drawn and each local ruler or elder or leader has sway inside that. Here... come with me." He motions her through the kitchen and into what seems to be a study of some sort. There are multiple maps on the wall. Not a global one, but one for each continent.
Cinnamon stares in fascination at the maps, wondering if the people she represents will be marked on them too! Indeed, there are colors over different areas -- and those seem to be on transparencies taped to the maps -- showing different areas of influence. There's a key to the map on one of the walls. Elias goes to the map of North America. He taps the Boston area, "Coblyn street." He shows her the border that has been drawn in. It covers Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine and some parts of southern Quebec and most of New Brunswick. "The Catchment area." He taps a part of upstate New York, "Trod of the Elm. Smaller catchment area." The Trod of the Elm's catchment area is eastern and upstate New York... and borders on the catchment area for Coblyn.
Cinnamon's lips form a silent, 'oooh!' as she watches and nods... and then she curiously checks the area where her parents still live -- who controls there? She should check out who controls the lands of her representative peoples too, actually! She happily pulls out her journal to take notes, beaming excitedly, "This is so cool, Elias!" The Chicago area is marked with a border and the enclave seems to be in the city proper. The ruler is marked as 'Olav.' Her people are scattered, so it looks as if they fall into several catchment areas. Cinnamon hmms thoughtfully, making notes of who rules where, for her people... then she looks up at Elias again, "Are there any rulers that you, um... might warn me against?"
Elias hmms and slides his fingers around the maps, moving to South America. "Killa's territory. He is quite powerful there, even if he's not actually the ruler. The ruler is more of a puppet. Valdez." He pauses and says, "You realize his name isn't a street punk handle, yes?"
Cinnamon says, "Who, Valdez? Or Killa?"
Elias sas, "Killa. It sounds like an urbanization of 'Killer,' but it's actually an old Quechua name meaning Moon."
Cinnamon looks perplexed, "The Moon? Huh, I wonder why?"
Elias smiles, "Because the moon is powerful. It controls much of the earth quite quietly."
Cinnamon nods slowly, feeling slightly wary. "How about the rulers or elders of where my people are? Southern Europe, Oceania, and the Arctic edge of North America?"
Elias smiles, "Most of the rulers of the Pacific and Arctic areas are quite lovely. They are elders. Many of them are female. As for Southern Europe..." He taps the area around Greece and Italy, "They are varied. Some are very earthy. One around Athens thinks he's a god-emperor."
Cinnamon grins amusedly at that! "Well, cool -- I'm kinda looking forward to meeting them all, then, except for the Athenian guy." She shudders, adding darkly, "One delusional god-emperor in Killa is quite enough for me!"
Elias laughs quietly, "Oh, I believe you'll figure out a way to impress him."
Cinnamon grins shyly at Elias, "Who, the Athenian? What, he likes dragons or something?
Elias chuckles, "He is a demigod. Very demi. His mother was a minor local goddess. Mostly he got longevity out of the deal. You are much more powerful than he is."
Cinnamon looks puzzled, "There are... real demigods?! That... aren't as powerful as dragons and other creatures like me? How do they qualify as deities, then?"
Elias is leaning against the desk in the room, arms crossed, "Yes, there are. There have always been minor gods. In some places there are gods that only watch over one family or bloodline. Household gods. They have just a little power. You, my dear, are effectively immortal and you can breathe fire."
Cinnamon blinks slowly at Elias, then nods slowly, "Oooh... kaaay... so, what's the difference between folks like you and I... and gods?"
Elias says, "Most gods pull power from their people and their land. Worship, you understand. Killa is like that. In his home territory, people actually worship him. Many gods, the ones left, are minor. They are no longer worshipped or their worship is greatly reduced. They can provide things like crop blessings and healing." He smiles, "Effectively, most human people couldn't distinguish between you or I and a god."
Cinnamon blinks again, "Pull... but does that... somehow damage the people? To pull something out of them?"
Elias shakes his head, "No. It's given freely. Though some did demand sacrifice." He takes a deep breath, "I told you about some gods demanding children as sacrifice, I thought."
Cinnamon nods unhappily, glancing at the South American map, "Y-yes... you did." She sighs, then looks at Elias again, "So... why doesn't anyone do anything about cruel gods like that?"
Elias says, "That is part of what the council does. We are global. If we put a ban on something, it is enforced worldwide. Just as the ruling about revelation is world-wide."
Cinnamon nods slowly at that, murmuring, "Ah. I think... I'm starting to understand a bit more why some of the, um... more emotionally... careless? -- of the supernaturals are so excited about revealing themselves again." She glances at Elias, "It's so they can rule as they please again, isn't it?"
Elias sighs and nods, "In some cases, yes. I think Nasteexo simply wants people to have the wonder that they used to have, but I think they may be slightly over-optimistic."
Cinnamon nods thoughtfully again, her voice musing, "Marcus... Marcus has so much anger in him, I think. He seems to feel the humans just all pretty much suck big time; that supernaturals are all simply better than the scummy, thieving humans; and that our hiding is somehow shameful and weak. Also, unfortunately, he doesn't seem to have the slightest plan on how to accomplish the reveal, nor on how to protect the weak supernaturals..." her sideways glance at Elias is quite wry, "past 'we will protect them as we always have!'" She sighs, "And finally, when I asked him how he was going to handle all the steel in the modern world? He remembered an important appointment and fled." She pauses, then muses slowly, "I... almost feel sorry for him, you know? Like... no wonder he always hides in Coblyn! It'd likely be really upsetting to have his beliefs on the inferiority of humans shattered by actually seeing what they're capable of!"
Elias sighs, "Marcus is very young. If he were a human, he would be perhaps 19."
Cinnamon grins mischievously as she nods, "Yeah, it always makes me giggle when he rants grandly about our lives spanning generations of humans' lives, so we have the wisdom and knowledge. Like... dude, you haven't yet even lived one human lifetime!"
Elias smiles and nods, "Exactly. He is very young. Hilde is, too, but she was brought up with more gravity and more noblesse oblige."
Cinnamon nods thoughtfully, "I wonder... how his dad will be when we finally see him? Do you remember how his dad was? Did he have the same snooty attitude, or was he more realistic?"
Elias thinks about that, "Marcus' father is quite old, actually. And proud, but there is a large difference between proud and arrogant." The vampire continues, "As in Marcus' father's father came across the Atlantic in a wooden ship."
Cinnamon nods thoughtfully, "Well, we'll see, I suppose." She glances at her journal... then smiles amusedly, "Want to know something else? Marcus is the only one who even deigned to notice my invitation to tea. Plus, no one has apologized for the assassination attempt... and only Nasteexo and Jalil said they were sorry that Killa was such a dorkface at the Council meeting." She shakes her head ruefully, adding, "Is that sad, or what?!"
Elias smiles at that appellation and hugs her back. It's a good hug, but he doesn't use his full strength, "Be safe, child."
Cinnamon grins cheerfully, "Working on it!" After that she skips part of the way to the bookshop, where she asks them to place an ad for her in the next broadsheet: she's looking for someone she'll pay to teach her Italian or Tagalog. Once that's taken care of, she'll head on back to her little house and putter with the repeater and her laptop, researching her represented peoples and making sure she can easily connect with the outside world. She wants to work remotely for her accounting company employers, after all, and to ask Rebecca if dragon-kin have any hereditary servitors.
Several days later, after Cinnamon has had her tea with Marcus and both the newcomers have been welcomed at the palace, they all meet at Elias' house to start the trek to New York and the Trod of the Elm. The three have been keeping the fact that they're traveling very quiet. Cinnamon is excited -- this is more travel than she's done in her entire life! True, her family forced her to take the school trip to Washington, DC, and dragged her along to a Florida summer vacation once... but this trip is one she actually wants to take!
Thorn is a bit tense. He's not looking forward to confronting Aethala, and he's been trying very hard to not let any of his tension show. Fortunately the infirmary offers plenty of chances to distract himself, especially when someone comes in needing aid. He's quite content to lose himself in his work. But as the day of the confrontation dawns he is edgy and unsettled, and Erin preens his hair in an effort to calm him. It, well, mostly works.
Elias pushes a little hamper of food on them along with some money, which Shane tries to give back and which Elias insists on them taking since this isn't a pleasure trip. Shane has Thorn both tell him directions to the trailhead they'll need to use to get to the trod and write them down along with a description of what the entrance to the trod looks like. Thorn gives as detailed directions as he can to Shane, inwardly wondering if this could be considered some sort of betrayal. Cinnamon watches in fascination and takes quiet notes.
The transportation that has been arranged is a comfortable sedan that Shane assures them they can have for as long as they need it. The half-beansidhe also puts on more average clothes for the drive, seeming just as comfortable in jeans and a t-shirt as in his kilt. Cinnamon likely recognizes the gun case that Shane uses to store his swords when he's traveling. Apparently he doesn't like to leave home without them. When he notices Thorn's nerves, he puts a hand on the other man's shoulder and murmurs, "Deep breath. We'll get to the bottom of this."
Thorn nods to Shane, and smiles quietly to him. "I know we will," he replies. Whether that's good or bad... Cinnamon continues to watch silently, not really understanding Thorn's nerves. She's packed enough for about a week, including her favorite snacks and her laptop. Shane is good at finding music that everyone can agree on or at least swapping smoothly between people's preferences as they make their way west into upstate New York. Cinnamon is happy to ride in the back of the sedan, or take her turn at driving -- whichever Shane wishes. She does prefer that Erin not read her writing, however. Shane uses Thorn's directions to get them to where they need to start. Once they reach the trailhead, he gets out his backpack and slings the rifle case over his shoulder.
Thorn keeps Erin with him, obliging Cinnamon's preference. He lets his thoughts wander as he looks out onto the road. His color-blindness is particularly noticeable as they pass through towns and main roads. He wonders, if Athala is indeed behind all this, what will happen to him once he breaks from her -- it seems the most sensible thing to do, since he doesn't want to associate himself with assassins and such sort of plotting. At least, that's what he's telling himself now. He takes a deep breath as he starts recognizing landmarks, stepping out of the car and looking up the trail. How long has it been? he thinks. A single misstep, seeing too much, and then... well. Maybe it's time I not be so colorblind and so accepting of my La- of Athala's whims.
Cinnamon tucks her laptop into her backpack and shoulders it, then checks her sneakers are tied and she's got her bottle of water. She smiles nervously at Thorn and Shane, "Ready!" -- and hopes she's not so out of shape that they have to portage her out. That'd be humiliating!
Once they're on the trail, it's easy for Thorn to remember where they need to go. Erin moves with them, ghosting from tree to tree and never getting out of Thorn's sight. Thorn keeps one eye on Erin, and another on the trail. He's particularly alert for any changes to the path or route that catch his attention. Cinnamon just does her best to patter along behind the two men without tripping over any roots or stumbling over any rocks. The hike is a little long, but Shane's got a good eye for when people need to rest and for not calling attention to it other than suggesting a stop for water or a nibble. Cinnamon is breathless enough that she's just incredibly relieved that Shane seems to need so much water and food!
The route is the same, aside from the normal changes one expects in a living wood. It's perhaps three miles in that the trees that frame the entrance to the trod catch Thorn's attention out of the corner of his eye. Cinnamon breathlessly -- and a bit plaintively -- asks at one pause, "Aren't there any trods in cities?!" She blinks as she looks around nervously, adding, "Also, do we have to worry about bear traps too?"
Thorn stops, and keeps his attention on the trod's entrance out of the corner of his eye, turning and slowly looking towards it, trying to keep in mind the trick he was taught to keep the entrance in sight. He smiles quietly at Cinnamon's comment. "I honestly don't know. I wouldn't be surprised, though they'd be very unusual sidhe." Her comment about bear traps makes him frown though, and he wonders if that's how they got Marcus's father: the man was focused on the trod entrance and didn't see the trap. "There's the trod entrance," he says, pointing and not quite sure that they'll see it once it's pointed out. "We should definitely worry about bear traps."
Shane smiles, "I have yet to find a trod in a city. Quinn's trod is way out in the middle of nowhere." The question about bear traps sobers him and he pauses. He opens the rifle case and pulls out not a sword, but a knobbly stick about the same size as a cane. "Talk me forward, Thorn... and stay in my footsteps, both of you."
Cinnamon gives a nervous squeak, hastily ducking behind Shane! From that relatively safe position she continues to glance around nervously. Thorn nods, keeping his eyes on the trod, and steps carefully behind Shane. Cinnamon shifts so Shane and Thorn are before her. She's fairly sure bear traps don't attack from behind, after all! She glances forward at one point -- then gasps startledly! "Oh! Look, look -- what's that ahead of us? Is that the trod thingie?!"
Thorn lets out a relieved breath. "Good eye, Cinnamon. Yes, that's it exactly."
Shane keeps his eyes more on his feet than on the two trees that mark the entrance to the trod. Each step is preceded by careful exploration of the humus and undergrowth to make sure nothing is hidden there. To Cinnamon, the entrance swims into clarity, going from being just a pair of elm trees near one another to an obvious gateway where the limbs of the two elms reach up and over, forming an arboreal arch. Shane works his way carefully there, trusting his companions to follow his path. It's rather like he's navigating a minefield. Cinnamon says, "It's... weird... ly pretty?"
Thorn's lips quirk into a smile. "It is. Both. Weird and weirdly pretty."
When they reach the entrance Shane stops, voice quiet, "Thorn, I think you need to take point now. You've been here before and you have bonds here." Cinnamon leans to stare worriedly past the two men -- Shane sounds really serious, and that kind of scares her! Are the elves really that hostile to visitors? Thorn nods quietly, and slips past Shane to take the lead. Now that they're between the elms, he doesn't have to focus his attention on them to keep seeing the trod. He leads them forward, into it -- doing the thing he had once sworn he would never do: lead others to the trod.
Shane puts a hand on Thorn's shoulder as he passes. He can see the tension in the other man. For Thorn, stepping through the doorway is the same blossoming of color and heightened sensation as always. The greens and blues and browns seem to simply pour themselves over him. The scents of leaves and and damp earth and of the flowers he knows are tended and encouraged here. Thorn takes a shaky intake of breath as the colors leap out at him. His heart races as he realizes, knows, that he's within the trod again. It's -- almost -- like coming home.
On the other side of the gateway it looks very much like Thorn has just disappeared. Shane murmurs, "They do that. They protect themselves. Just step through. I'll be right behind you."
Cinnamon blinks nervously at Shane... then takes a small, gasping breath as she nods once. She turns to face the elms, takes a deeper breath... then makes herself take a step -- then another -- then she's walking -- and then she's through, whew! That's where she stops, her eyes huge as she stares around herself with her jaw dropped! She breathes out a soft, unwitting, "Ohh... woooow...!"
Thorn says, without turning and with a smile in his voice, "That was exactly the same thing I said."
The trod is forest. It's only superficially like the forest they were just in. The trees here look older, larger. And there are, true to the name, a large number of elms. That's only unusual if one is aware of Dutch Elm disease. Where colors bloom into existence for Thorn, they just seem extra-saturated to Cinnamon. It's a bit like looking at an ultra-high-definition screen. It seems almost too real. Shane steps through after then and looks around himself, "It's lovely." It's almost reverent the way he says it.
Cinnamon blinks, her voice a little high with nerves, "It... it almost looks like... like it's been photoshopped? Is this real?!" She's standing in one place, slowly turning in a circle as she stares in silent, open-mouthed awe all around her.
They're only past the gateway for a few minutes before a being peeks at them around a tree. It seems to be the same sort of entity as Butler at Marcus' residence, but there's less solemnity about it. There's a very palpable sense of cheerfulness and it bounces away. There's something that sounds-almost-but-not-quite like squirrels chattering.
Thorn nods, turning to smile quietly at them both "Oh, it's real," he says. "It's just... hard to explain how color and sensation work here. I was never really certain how it came to be that way."
Shane smiles, "Yes. It's real. They tend to be... more..." After a moment, there's the sound of laughter and of rustling leaves and someone comes around a bend in the path. It's not Athala or Odalric, but it's clear they're the same race. Thorn recognizes her from his other trips here. Her name is Ravit. Erin has settled on Thorn's shoulder. Where she could be almost insubstantial outside the trod, here she is extra-present. There is a weight to her existence that isn't apparently outside. Thorn glances to Erin, and smiles to the magpie. "Hey, pretty lady," he murmurs to her, then perks at the laughter. "Hello, Ravit," he calls out.
Cinnamon finally turns so she can see the new person -- at which point she simply stares silently and wide-eyed at the sidhe. A bit startledly she murmurs, "...oh..." to Shane.
Ravit reaches both her hands out, "Ah! Athala's Martin! And friends!" She's smiling. Like Athala, her hair is pale gold and her eyes are a light blue. Her clothing is light and airy, but she does at least seem to be wearing wide-legged trousers instead of a skirt. For all the cheerful greeting, it's obvious to the martial Shane that she's sizing up the strangers. "Introduce me? Vale has gone to find your lady."
Thorn smiles, taking Ravit's hands in greeting. "This is Ravit, who is one of the family and advisors to Athala. Ravit, this is the new Councillor for the Pacific and Arctic peoples, Cinnamon. And this is Shane, who helps to keep Coblyn Street in Boston safe."
Cinnamon grins weakly, waving as she murmurs, "H-hi..."
Ravit's eyes move over the two newcomers and her smile is warm and almost impish, "Oh my. I can see how he might do just that. And the lady... that means you are taking Liam's seat, yes? The dragon?" She motions for them, "Come with me. We'll meet Athala in the Glade." Cinnamon nods silently, still feeling somewhat overwhelmed. She tags quietly after the two men and the lovely, ethereal woman... and feels embarrassingly frowsy and sweaty and grubby and... and short!
It has been just enough time to give the knobbly creature that Rakit called Vale time to carry news further into the trod. As they move around that first curve, there is the first indication that this isn't just woods. The building they pass fits very nicely into the woods rather than disrupting them and the roof is covered over with purple and white flowers that seem to drip over the eaves. The front door is open and there's the sound of someone singing inside. It is, to Cinnamon, like something one might read about in a fantasy novel. And it still looks hyper-real.
Cinnamon stares silently at the lovely house... then brightens at how beautiful it is! She fumbles for her journal in her bag -- she wants to take notes so she can try growing pretty flowers on her home too! Shane keeps a hand on Cinnamon's back, knowing what the first visit to a place like this can be like. He keeps an eye on Thorn, wanting to make sure that Rakit doesn't just spirit him off. Cinnamon squeaks startledly as she realizes Shane's touching her back, then blinks up at him, "I'm sorry! Was I in your way, Shane?" It's not yet occurred to her that getting separated from the group would likely be quite unwise!
As they walk, Rakit asks questions about their journey from Coblyn and then slowly works around to just why they made said journey. Shane smiles down at her, "Nope. You just seemed a little like you were having sensory overload and I wanted to ground you."
Cinnamon thinks about that -- then blushes hotly, mumbling, "S-sorry! Sorry," as she hurries on after Thorn. She'll write down her thoughts in a moment, she decides.
Shane shakes his head, "Not a thing to be sorry about. Should have seen how much like saucers my eyes looked when I first visited Quinn. A lot of his trod is underground. Or at least the living quarters are. There's a lot of forest around and about it that's part of the trod proper."
Thorn has to restrain himself somewhat, since his habit is to let himself be taken about in whatever way the sidhe present wish. But this time, he can't. He won't. He remains close by Cinnamon and Shane, a claim of hospitality on the tip of his tongue in case any of the fey seem grabby. "It has to do with the murder of Liam, the prior dragon councillor," Thorn says. He's careful not to say much more than that. No need to give the sidhe more information than necessary. (He considers, wryly, that this is exactly how he's treated, as it is.)
Rakit listens and nods, shaking her head with a sigh, "There was a lot of grieving over him." Like Athala and Odalric, she has a Germanic accent, but hers is thicker. As they move down the pathway, there are more buildings and some obvious gardens. They're obviously only because one doesn't normally see food plants clustered together like that in a wood. They aren't in tidy rows, however. Like much here, they've been let to grow in profusion.
About that time, they take another curve and find an open space. It is, as advertised, a glade. There are trees and a stream trickling past. There are benches and seats that seem to have grown out of the trees themselves. Athala is seated there, but she stands when Rakit brings the visitors in. Athala's smile is warm and a little teasing, "Ah. I see my dear Martin has brought friends. Good."
In previous visits, the sight of Athala alone would move Thorn to any number of obeisances. Now, her words just make him wary and worried. 'Good,' she said. This is something that she wanted done. That... bothers him, is one way of putting it. He bows, nevertheless smiling and glad to see her. He has to remind himself to make the appropriate introductions in the right order: Athala first, then Cinnamon and Shane.
Cinnamon sighs softly as she glances around. It's all astonishingly lovely now that she's not feeling quite so overwhelmed... but it's also all incredibly... bucolic? Outdoorsy -- and she's never been much good at outdoors. At the voice, Cinnamon glances forward and spots Athala. The dragon-kin's smile is a little weak, though -- she's disturbingly reminded of Athala practically pushing poor Martin on her, back in Coblyn Street. For Martin's sake the little dragon really really hopes Athala's just kind of full of herself and her own 'mystery'... and doesn't know anything at all about the assassinations.
Athala motions them to follow her to seats, "Cinnamon and I have met already. And I think that this dark young man is Shane, yes?" She settles on one of the benches and pats the surface beside her, "Please. Be at ease. You are safe here." Shane, who has been peering hard at Athala, takes a deep breath and lets it out, relaxing.
Cinnamon glances at Shane, recognizing that his behavior most likely means Athala spoke truth. That's a relief! She smiles and settles on a nearby bench, so Thorn can sit next to his lady. "Thank you for seeing us, Ms. Athala." She glances at Thorn, waiting for him to start the conversation... this meeting is mostly for him and his peace of mind, after all.
Athala laughs warmly and shakes her head, "Just Athala, please. There's no need for such honorifics between us." Cinnamon is faintly relieved at that! She's pretty sure 'Ms.' isn't the correct title for Athala, after all... but she's also sure she hasn't a clue what it should most properly be.
Thorn had never even thought that they were anything but safe, but Shane's reaction makes him realize he should have been more wary. Still, Shane's reaction is comforting. Martin sits as well, though not too close to Athala. He takes in a breath, noticing Cinnamon's glance. "This is in regard to the assassination of Liam," he says quietly. "We have reason to believe that Marcus's father was also targeted by the same people." He tries to figure out the best way to ask, point-blank, if Athala is responsible or if she knows who is.
Cinnamon wonders why Thorn is taking so long to ask! -and then it hits her, and she blushes hotly at her own insensitivity: the poor man is likely really upset about this! He loves Athala, after all... Cinnamon feels faintly ashamed of herself for being so rude, even if silently so. She tries an encouraging smile at Thorn.
Athala listens, eyes on Thorn's face as he speaks. She's not smiling, but neither is she frowning. What she looks like is interested. The elf is letting Thorn work his way around to his questions and not pushing. Thorn takes in a deep breath. "My Lady Athala... did you or anyone in the Trod of the Elm have anything to do with the injury of Marcus's father, or the assassination of Liam, or the attempted assassination of Cinnamon?"
Cinnamon holds up a hand, like a student wishing to speak, "Um, Thorn? The assassination attempt on me was just that asshole thug that worked for Killa. You don't have to ask about that one, honest!" After that she pauses, cutting off her urge to keep talking -- so that Athala has a moment to reply.
Athala's face is serious, "I had nothing to do with Liam's death, Jaeger's injury, or the attempt on the young dragon's life." Shane is watching her closely again -- and then he blinks, surprised. Athala sighs, "Jaeger is my kinsman. We were children together. At one time, our parents tried to betroth us. That... did not happen." She reaches up to gently stroke the side of Thorn's face, "As for anyone else in the trod... I have suspicions but not facts."
Cinnamon's gaze sharpens at that last statement -- but then she pauses and raises an inquiring eyebrow at Shane. He's continuing to seem relaxed. He lets a hand rest on Cinnamon's shoulder and gives it a reassuring squeeze. Thorn shudders, both at the touch, in relief... and worry about those last words. This is the most straight-talking Athala has been to him in... ever, really. He knows she enjoyed being evasive and subtle towards him. He's... very glad she's being forthright, but a part of him wonders if this has hurt her. It's... possible, but there was no helping that, and him apologizing would cheapen what she's done. "Thank you," he says quietly. He's trying hard not to just collapse in relief.
Cinnamon looks relieved -- then asks, "Can we talk freely here, ma'am?"
Athala's face is a little sad for a moment, but she continues stroking Thorn's hair and face gently. "Yes, we can. I've set Rakit to patrol and Odalric is being his distracting, charming self to anyone that would understand this conversation. I may take you to see Jaeger in a bit."
Cinnamon says, "Oh, good! We were kind of hoping we might be able to talk to him." She takes a deep breath, noticing that poor Thorn still looks a bit wilted, and adds, "Can you talk about your, um, suspicions, please?" She blinks as all of Athala's words register, and wonders what language they're speaking here. Do most of the sidhe not speak English, then?
Athala tries to encourage Thorn to put his head in her lap to be petted, "My suspicions are that someone purposely set a trap for Jaeger. And that whoever did that did it to influence the membership of the council. But I am not in the enclaves often. I do not see the full picture."
Cinnamon looks thoughtful, "The enclaves?" She glances at Shane, "Is that what Coblyn Street is? An enclave?"
Athala nods, "Yes. It's an enclave. A pocket of relative safety for non-humans." Thorn lets out a relieved breath, glad -- so glad -- that he can trust Athala now, and his heart heavy because he knows he's hurt her, somehow. He lets her place his head in her lap, and he closes his eyes, his attention still on the conversation, and just.... hoping he hasn't hurt her too much by insisting on straight answers as he has. Or maybe it's something else; either way, she's not her usual ebullient self.
Cinnamon nods at that, her head tilted as she thinks very hard. Finally she says slowly, "Ma- er, Athala... is there a type of, um, supernatural which can... sort of... well, like 'mentally influence' other supernaturals? Like, not mind control, just... just sort of... sort of ease in the thought?"
Athala smiles down at the relieved but obviously sad Thorn, "I'm sorry I didn't give you more information, lovely man. I needed to know if what I saw was real." She arches one brow at Cinnamon and says, "Several." Shane smiles crookedly, "Quinn can make people talk. It's just a gentle nudge that makes you trust him. Luckily, he's trustworthy. Others can nudge this way or that."
Cinnamon nods gravely, "Then... I think there's been more than my many-greats grandfather and, er... Yay-grr? -- who've been replaced, peeps. It's kind of suspicious to me that four out of seven of the 'hide' faction have been changed in the last decade -- that's over half! And the only change in the 'reveal' faction in the last decade? Marcus's dad... who fell into an illegal bear trap in a wood that hasn't seen bears in god knows how long -- right after he started having second thoughts about revealing!"
Athala repeats the name, "Jaeger. When the first of them was replaced, it just seemed like it was time. But then... things accelerated."
Cinnamon tries it again, "Chyaaa-gr." She sighs exasperatedly at herself, slowly repeating the name under her breath until she feels she has it right -- though it is still, unbeknownst to her, rather accented. Then she smiles ruefully and nods to Athala, "Exactly. So what we're wondering is first if we can talk to you some for any suspicions you have -- either things that have happened or of people -- and then if we might talk to Marcus's dad some too, please?"
Athala smiles down warmly at Thorn, murmuring, "Sweet man." Then she looks back up at Cinnamon, "My suspicions are that someone laid the trap for him. That they knew it would injure him if not completely cripple him. It did both as it stands. And Liam... would not have been easy to kill." She raises her voice and calls, "Rakit, can you bring Jaeger?"
Cinnamon says slowly, "There was something... about him not healing as well as usual too?" She shivers slightly, thinking about Liam's assassination, then adds quietly, "I would really appreciate any thoughts or information you might have on Liam's death, please?" She sighs, wishing a bit wistfully that dragons did healing... or even that she knew more about what dragons did!
Athala nods, "Indeed. As if the trap were poisoned or some sort of magic used on it. As for Liam's death... I was shocked." her fingers are stroking through Thorn's hair, soothing him like one might do for someone that was mourning, "I suspect that Liam's death and Jaeger's are linked. I suspect a poison of some sort rather than magic." Thorn remains where he is, wondering if he maybe misread Athala? Maybe she's not sad or unhappy, maybe she's just picking up on his feelings and sadness. He relaxes, then, letting out a silent breath, just feeling... comforted. He's trying to not let the news that he's hearing disturb him even more.
Cinnamon nods slowly, thinking back to Elias' research... Shane has found something to lean against and looks quite comfortable. Cinnamon looks up abruptly, asking, "What has black blood with sulphur in it, please? And -- and their hair -- if it even is hair -- is... kind of barbed? Like... thistles? Would that be like poison?" She frowns, musing aloud, "If... if that kind of thistley-barbed stuff got into Jaeger's wound... would anyone even know to look for it, to clean it out? And... might it retard his healing?"
Athala listens, face thoughtful, "Barbed like thistles? Or barbed like nettles? Stinging nettles have an irritant in them... a mild kind of poison."
Cinnamon nods slowly to Athala, "Could be either, ma'am... don't know for sure. Is there such a thing?"
Athala nods slowly, fingers stroking through Thorn's hair softly -- both soothing and possessive -- before she speaks, "I think it could have been a kind of nettle. Just not one that's... supposed to exist anymore, actually."
Cinnamon looks intrigued, "So there's a -- a nettle creature? But it's exti- er, it's supposed to be extinct? What is it?!" She pauses as she considers that -- then grins! "Extinct... like the humans think dragons and elves are extinct?"
Thorn blinks from his horizontal position. "Is the nettle a plant? Or a creature?"
Athala smiles down at Thorn, and then at Cinnamon, "A nettle plant that's supposed to be extinct. At least on earth."
Cinnamon frowns thoughtfully as she thinks, "So... the plant is non-mobile but poisonous... but our assassin is potentially harvesting it? Am I understanding you correctly, Athala?"
Athala looks thoughtful for a moment and says, "Yes. I believe that is exactly what I'm saying. As for sulphur in the blood... Well... Christians would say demons."
Cinnamon shakes her head impatiently, "No, we're assuming reality, not religious nonsense!" She pauses, blinking slowly as it hits her: reality for her now includes... dragons, elves, assassins, daemons, centaurs... she has to stifle a nervous giggle and push her glasses back into place before she tries again. "So... what real things have black blood? Do you know any?"
Athala sits, smiling with a little mischief in her eyes as Cinnamon makes that exclamation and then the look of shock and nerves comes over her face. Shane himself has a hand over his mouth, remembering his own moment like that. Athala says, "I don't. But that's more the province of healers."
Thorn says quietly, "I could ask Iason. He might know."
Cinnamon nods slowly as she considers... then hopefully asks, "Do your healers know about how to fix the nettle poison too?"
The elf smiles down at Thorn and trails a finger along his jawline, "That would be wise, meine Dorn." She looks back up at Cinnamon and says, "I only know of the nettle because it was something many of us were taught about as children. There weren't many of them then, but it would be bad for us to walk into them."
Cinnamon pulls out her journal, pushes up her glasses, and beams at Athala, "Ok! Can you tell me about it, and I'll note it all down? And do you have any healers here who might know more?"
Athala nods. As she starts to speak, a young elf (and how often do you even read about young elves?) brings in a tray with fruit, honey, bread, and wine. He beams about himself and scampers back off. The plant looks much like a normal nettle with its serrate leaves, except that it has a dull red sheen along the stems because the actual stinging hairs are tipped in that color. It grew deep into the forest where it was cool and damp most of the time. There used to be an antidote, but Athala hadn't heard of that in centuries because the plant is supposed to be extinct. During all this, she feeds Thorn bits of fruit and strokes his hair. As she's describing the plant again so Shane can try to sketch it, a solemn looking man appears. He walks with a heavy limp despite his walking stick and his face is grave.
Cinnamon nods fascinatedly and scribbles her notes as swiftly and comprehensively as she can -- she wants to get all this wonderfully useful information down for Iason and any other healer who might be able to help! When Athala concludes and pauses, Cinnamon looks up -- then blinks and pushes her glasses up thoughtfully. "Oh! You... you must be, um, Mr. Jaeger?"
Jaeger looks, unsurprisingly, quite a bit like Marcus. His features have moved beyond pretty into distinguished and handsome, though he still barely looks into his thirties. His leg is encased in a splint and the walking stick is some sort of heavy wood, lacquered black and with a gold ball for the handle. When he speaks, his accent is thicker than Athala's, but his English is perfect, "Yes. Jaeger." He moves carefully to sit on one of the benches. Sometime during Athala's talk and the arrival of Jaeger, a plush cushion has been put there, "And you are the young dragon." He turns to Shane, "And you are Shane." His eyes finally fall on Thorn, "And you are Athala's Martin."
Thorn swallows, clearly seeing where in the pecking order he is, and that Jaeger's not entirely pleased. He says quietly, not moving unless Athala indicates he should. "Yes, sir."
Jaeger actually smiles a bit at Thorn's nerves, "Relax. Here. In this place and time, we do not deal with rank." He doesn't grunt as he shifts, but his features tighten, "I was told someone had questions for me?"
Cinnamon smiles, "Yes, please! Also, I'm Cinnamon!" She beams as she rises and shyly holds out a hand to shake.
Jaeger moves as if to rise as well, only to have Athala give him what must be the most elegant glare ever. He chuckles and settles back down, taking Cinnamon's hand and kissing the knuckles, "It is a pleasure."
Cinnamon blinks -- then beams again, quite charmed! She settles back onto her bench once the courteous greeting is concluded, cheerfully adding, "So if it isn't too painful, might we ask you what you recall about the time before the, er, 'accident'... and what happened then as well? We're asking because we think there's some kind of larger plot on-going and we'd like to figure it out before..." her good mood fades as it hits her, and her voice goes solemn, "before anyone else dies..." Thorn is somewhat relieved by Jaeger's reassurance. He also is oddly taken by Jaeger's formal greeting of Cinnamon. It reassures him somewhat, actually. As she waits for Jaeger's reply, Cinnamon has a marvelous idea! She blinks at Thorn, wondering if he'd be willing to try it with her... hm. She'll wait until they both know more about the attack first! Thorn blinks a little at the blink, wondering what Cinnamon is thinking and why she looked at him.
Jaeger smiles tightly, "Well, it's definitely still physically painful. I've not had a wound take this long to heal since I was perhaps twenty. I know that there are many new members of the council."
Cinnamon says quietly, "Over half of the 'hide' faction. None of the 'reveal' faction... except yourself, sir. And Elias mentioned that -- much as we'd suspected -- you'd been reconsidering your stance as one of the 'reveal' faction." She tilts her head inquiringly, "Is that correct?"
Jaeger leans back and smiles as Athala hands him a glass of wine, "Danke." He turns his attention back to Cinnamon and says, "I had indeed. We keep our trods secret to keep them and their denizens safe. We disguise ourselves when we go in public, also to keep ourselves safe. If we were to reveal ourselves, it would have to be carefully done or done after some kind of..." His brows furrow as he searches for the word, "...paragraph shift?"
Cinnamon blinks... then grins, "Paradigm, maybe?"
Thorn can't help but blink. "What sort of shift might do it?"
Cinnamon says, "And does Marcus feel that way too, sir?"
Jaeger ahhs and nods, "Yes. Paradigm. I speak English quite fluently, but one's vocabulary sometimes doesn't keep up with the centuries." Athala is still stroking Thorn's hair and listening. Shane is also listening closely and with a look of intense concentration on his face. Jaeger goes on, "The world out there is moving beyond belief and faith and into science. Science is wunderbar. It has found many things." He reaches into a pocket and takes out an antique pocket watch on a chain, "The world. It is like this. Here in the middle, is a balance of belief. Here..." He points to the right... "Is unexamined belief." He points to the left... "This is no belief of what you cannot experience..." He starts the watch gently swinging, "People's minds and hearts, they are like this. The world is swinging over here." Jaeger catches the watch not quite to the far end of the leftward swing, "I believe it will have to go a little further that direction before starting in the other. That kind of shift."
Cinnamon looks confused, "Um, what does no belief of what you can't experience mean, please?"
Shane says, "Seeing is believing. Literally. If you can't experience it with your senses, it doesn't exist." He looks at Jaeger, "Yes?" The older man nods with a smile, "Exactly that."
Cinnamon considers the metaphor for a few seconds... then says slowly, "So... you're saying right now human minds and hearts are... are oscillating? Between... what sounds like faith, and what sounds like sense-limited understandings of the world?"
Jaeger nods, "Yes. They always do. Soon, they will start back toward the center, where the two exist together. That is when it will be time."
Cinnamon tilts her head consideringly, "But won't... won't the pendulum keep swinging? Even if all the supernaturals come out?" Curiously she adds, "Also, do you all know for sure that being part of the human world won't hurt the supernaturals?"
Jaeger shakes his head, "We do not know this, no. That is why it is safer for now to hide. We do not wish to be vivisected."
Thorn winces and shudders involuntarily. Cinnamon nods slowly, still thinking hard. Finally she says, "So... how does what you want differ from, say, what Nasteexo wants? Because Nasteexo is still fine and part of the 'reveal' faction -- but you aren't."
Jaeger thinks for a moment, "Have you spoken with Nasteexo about how Nasteexo wants to do the reveal?"
Cinnamon says, "Well, they said, umm..." she flips forward in her journal, then reads aloud, "'if it were done right, people would be happy to have the old spirits back.'" She looks up, adding, "They also said they had 'family members' in the south and in some islands that Black people traveled through on their way to the US -- and that they all were doing very well?" She glances down, reading a bit more... then nods, "That's it -- past they added that it's not natural for all magic to be gone from the world?"
Jaeger nods and smiles. Again, it's so like Marcus' smile -- but where the younger comes off arrogant, Jaeger comes off as simply confident. "So, much the same as I believe. That it can be done, but the world has to be ready. It has to be done right. It cannot be the way that many wish it to be. A sudden explosion of presence." As he speaks, there's some disturbance back in the trees.
Thorn's brow furrows a little. 'If it were done right.' That appears to be a recurring theme. At least, for most of both sides. Inwardly he sighs; that seems to be the sticking point, the how of it. He wonders who the 'explosion of presence' ones are. At the disturbance, he lifts his head quickly, peering in that direction, and wonders if he can sense Erin nearby. Cinnamon nods thoughtfully, "Right..." She considers for a moment, then adds, "So can you tell us anything about the actual accident, sir?"
Jaeger sighs as if the thought is almost as painful as the actual thing, "I was outside the trod, walking. I love the forest here. I have lived here for hundreds of years and it is continually changing and renewing. It is a fascination." He motions in a way that seems vaguely north, "I was that way, walking along a favorite pathway..." Athala interjects, "By which he means he was climbing toward a small peak that looks across the trod and beyond..." Jaeger nods, "As she says. Something startled me and I took a step without looking..." He shakes his head, "After that, I can't remember very much for a long while."
Cinnamon winces slightly in sympathy, murmuring, "Ouch! I'm so sorry, Mr. Jaeger." She hesitates, frowning thoughtfully down at her journal... then looks up again, "Um. If it is not rude of me... do you know why your son Marcus is, ahh..." she waffles a bit, trying to figure out how to phrase things, "why he's, um... well, kind of full of himself when it comes to humans?"
Jaeger looks slightly amused as Cinnamon works her way around to asking that in a fairly diplomatic way, "Because he is young and arrogant. It is a failing of my patriline. We were warriors. But now the wars are all fought with thinking machines and at a distance. There is no glory."
Cinnamon nods consideringly... then tilts her head at Jaeger, "So... why don't you try teaching him that?" The disturbance in the trees is getting a little louder and Shane looks around curiously. Athala also looks a bit disturbed and is opening her mouth to say something when the young male that brought them the food earlier stumbles back into the glen. He's gasping and pale even for the Germanic elves. He's also covered in blood from about the shoulder to the middle of his torso. Cinnamon shoots to her feet, an unwitting and shocked, "Eeek!" escaping her as she covers her mouth with one hand. Her eyes are huge with horror.
Thorn too shoots to his feet. "Erin!" he says quickly, not shouting but not quietly. "Go see what's in that direction, quick, please!" Cinnamon starts over towards the poor boy, her hands outstretched -- she doesn't know what to do for him, but she has a vague idea of maybe helping him.
Jaeger tries to surge to his feet, but Athala again pushes his shoulder and says sharply, "Sit! You are still injured." She takes the boy's face in her hands and tries to get him to talk calmly. Erin flutters her wings and then swoops into the air and through the trees in the direction from which the boy came.
Thorn moves to crouch beside the boy, trying to find where the bleeding is coming from, silently calling upon what minor healing magics he has. Cinnamon pauses as the actual healer moves to the boy, looking up in shock towards where the boy entered the glen, then at Shane, "Wha- how...?!"
Athala looks up, "He says he's been shot...?!" The bleeding seems to be coming from the boy's shoulder, which is why it's all down the front of his body. Thorn casts the healing magic gently upon the boy, trying to see if there was an exit wound and hoping that it's not a specifically iron bullet. The wound does seem to be a through-and-through, so there's no need to worry about there being a bullet trapped in him. Jaeger, now that Athala is distracted, pushes to his feet and limps to the edge of the glade, looking around. "The guards are moving..."
Cinnamon stands frozen, uncertain of what to do. She's staring around nervously, her hands up to her mouth... but at Jaeger's motion she blinks, then is abruptly propelled into action, "W-wait! Mr. Jaeger, wait, please?" She trots over towards the sidhe, her teeth almost chattering with nerves as she adds, "Y-y-you, er -- y-you're not bulletproof, sir!" She sidles in front of him, glancing around fearfully despite knowing she is herself able to resist gunshots.
As Thorn concentrates, he can feel the energy (that his abilities consist of) flowing through his hands and into the boy's body. The sobbing and trembling eases as the wound closes. It's eerie the way the healer can see the flesh actually inside the bullet hole closing first and then the skin sealing over it, leaving the boy whole and wide-eyed. Thorn lets out a breath, and smiles at the boy. "You'll be fine," he says encouragingly. Inwardly he thinks, [I hope, at least. And for all of us, too.] He takes in a breath, and tries to see through Erin's eyes.
Jaeger turns to say something to Cinnamon. At the same moment, Shane -- being the protector that he is -- moves with Cinnamon to in front of the older man. Cinnamon's teeth are almost chattering as she stutters to Shane, "Y-you t-t-too, Sh-shane -- I sh-should b-be covering you t-t-too!" She tries to figure out how to stand in front of both men -- it allows her to concentrate on something besides the horror of the poor, bloodied, shot boy! Shane has pulled his sword and is turning to say something to Cinnamon when there's the crack! noise of a fired bullet. The impact, however, is in the instant before the sound.
Cinnamon has felt this before -- she felt it in front of the pub. This time the shooter either has better aim -- or worse -- as the shot takes Cinnamon in the side of the head. Two inches higher and it would have gone over her crown and into Shane's head instead. Cinnamon gives a thin shriek of shock, stumbling backwards into Shane -- then staggers back upright, her breath quick, frightened panting. "I'm okay! I'm okay -- I'm fine! I-is everyone else okay?" She doesn't quite dare look behind her -- what if the bullet ricocheted and (horror of horrors) actually hit one of the nice men behind her?!
Fortunately the bullet didn't ricochet. It seemed to lose all momentum upon hitting Cinnamon -- the hot, flattened piece of lead has dropped to the forest floor. Shane moves forward to check her over, turning her head. There is an abrasion and he whistles, "You're going to have a helluva a bruise there..." Jaeger snaps, "Back up. Toward the cover..." 'The cover' is apparently the intertwined trees that form a sort of covered seating area -- the place that Athala and Thorn are.
Athala listens to the boy's chattering and looks at Thorn with wide eyes, "Someone is inside the trod..." With a little concentration, Thorn can see through the magpie's eyes. There only seem to be two -- or maybe three -- intruders. But they're moving with the kind of stealth that might be expected of guerillas. She swoops and lets him see the one that just took the shot at either Shane or Cinnamon. The shooter is on the ground behind the cover of a small cairn of rocks. Thorn starts to murmur to the others, "Two or three of them-" when the bullet impact cracks out! He winces, pulling down both Athala and the boy, "Scheisse! Two or three of them, guerillas or operators." He helps the boy remain under cover, and hopes the enemies don't spot Erin.
Cinnamon nods at Jaeger's words, her eyes still wide with fright as she tries to push Shane back, "I'm okay -- g-go back! D-don't get hurt!" She pushes her glasses back into place -- they'd gotten badly jostled at her jerk backwards -- and looks around wildly, "I-is everyone else all right?" Almost plaintively she adds, "Wha-what's going on?! I thought it was safe here?!"
Jaeger's voice is icy, "It is. But it seems we have been betrayed." People are starting to arrive in the glade. There are weapons and a couple more wounded. Jaeger looks at Thorn, "Where is the closest one?"
Cinnamon gasps, "Oh my god!" when she sees the wounded... but at Jaeger's words she blinks, her brain starting to work again. She too looks at Thorn -- then grabs Shane's arm, tugging urgently as she tries to whisper to him, "Shane! Sh-shane, we -- no... me -- just me, that's right!" She releases Shane, turning to Thorn as she calls, "C-can you show me them? Please?" She's got her arms wrapped around herself in fright, but she's also terrifiedly aware: everyone else here -- including friends! -- are all far more fragile than she!
From what Erin was able to see, Thorn points out the direction of the closest attacker, and estimates their distance. He asks Erin, quietly, to perch over the nearest one where he -- and Cinnamon -- can see her. Cinnamon stutters, "Th-thank you!" She turns, white-faced and shaking, and stumbles forward towards the trees. She's not sure what she's going to do or even if anyone else is near -- she just knows she mustn't let anyone else get hurt!
When Cinnamon heads that direction, she can see the blue and white flashes of Erin's plumage in the trees above something that looks almost-but-not-quite like it belongs. Something is off on the shape or the colors... and then there's another crack and another numbing impact against her chest. Cinnamon gasps, rocking on her feet -- then takes a deep breath and grits her teeth. What do the heroes do in the stories she loves so much? Her attempt to roar is more a frightened squeak, but she manages to get out, "Ch-charge!" as she starts tottering forward faster -- which causes her to have to swallow a near-hysterical giggle at how silly she must look! To herself she mutters, "Don't worry -- got lots of shirts packed!" Breaking into a trot, she heads determinedly towards that not-quite-right something. Fire should work! -and fire, she's got. She wishes a bit wistfully that Shane or Josie were there too -- but then remembers: no! They can't come -- they'd be hurt!
When the second bullet seems to bounce off with no effect, there's some scrambling and the not-quite-right thing stands up, showing itself to be a person in a shaggy sort of camouflage. They drop the gun and go for a large, deadly-looking knife at their hip. Cinnamon blinks startledly, then calls towards them in a quavery voice, "Why are you doing this?! Stop, please! Can't we talk things over like rational adults?" She doesn't stop heading towards them, though -- she keeps on with her stumbling trot almost reflexively.
The would-be sniper shakes their head as if they can't believe that Cinnamon is still coming. Or maybe it's at the 'Can't we all just get along?' pleading. There are no words, but there's a lunge toward her. The knife is held not as if it's going for her body, but for her eyes. Cinnamon gasps in shock, drawing her breath in sharply. Her glasses! No! He's going to mess up her- as he gets close enough, the terrified young girl shouts, "No, s-stop!" Fire comes roaring out of her mouth at his face.
Cinnamon's attacker barely has time to take a breath before flame comes roaring into their face. There's a scream and the sniper drops to the ground, rolling and trying to put out the flames that have caught in their ghillie suit. Cinnamon sighs in relief, her shoulders sagging a bit as she checks her glasses are still on -- it's far, far easier than looking at what she's done! Then, out of the corner of her eye, there's another flash -- what was that?!
Back in the glen, Shane lets Cinnamon go off by herself at first and helps get the area set up as triage and defence. Apparently some of the trod's warriors are here, and are working on setting up a safe perimeter in the glade. Shane stops by Thorn and crouches, "Your pretty lady seeing anyone else?"
Thorn grimaces, seeing the ghillie suit through Erin's eyes. "At least one or two more. They're well-camouflaged with ghillie suits. The others are probably trying to flank us. Erin, thank you... can you spot the others and where they might be?" Then Thorn blinks, at about the same time the others hear FWOOOSH! -- followed by screams. "Idiot," Thorn mutters. "He went after her with a knife to the face. She breathed fire on him. Fire plus ghillie suit...."
Several people around them wince. Shane whistles low, "That's basically like wearing kindling..."
Out amongst the trees, the flash that Cinnamon caught is coming from some way around the glade and... up -- as if the person is in a tree. Cinnamon turns, searching visually and glancing up, "H-hellooo? Are, uh..." She gets her glasses settled, then shades her eyes as she continues looking, "Um, hello? C-can we talk, please?" The second sniper is no more inclined to chat than the first one. But they are also apparently shaken because their shot goes wide -- Cinnamon can feel the rush of air against the side of her face. She heads over to the tree, looking upwards, "Hello? Could you come down and talk, please?" She's trying to see more clearly where they are -- she doesn't really want to burn the tree if she can help it. She's feeling vaguely guilty as is about the burning man behind her.
Back in the clearing, Thorn is addressing the wounded as quickly as he can, getting as many people as possible stabilized. This madness has to stop soon so they can figure out who these guys are and what to do with them, and almost as importantly, how they got in. Most of the others aren't so badly injured -- at least not the ones that made it to the glade. Thorn is mostly using first aid for them and there are a couple in the glade that are helping. Athala is amongst those helping.
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