| Logs |
2020 June 22
| Goblin Town |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
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| Realms: Goblin Town Logs |
Count Them Off One At A Time
Jaeger was already on his way to the receiving room -- but he comes at a run at the fear in Cinnamon's voice. His eyes are wide and there's clear and intense worry on his face, "Has he been injured?" The elves are all pale to start with, but the thought seems to make Jaeger go ashen.
Cinnamon is almost babbling with worry as she grabs Jaeger's hand to pull him into the room towards Marcus, "We -- we were just talking -- like, regular conversation, you know? -- and then, all of a sudden, his face went completely blank! Like -- like for a moment he wasn't there? -like maybe during heart attacks -- or was it epilepsy? I forget -- anyway, it was like totally scary -- is he okay? Will he be all right?! I'm so sorry I didn't realize earlier that something was wrong with him and he was ill!"
Marcus blinks slowly, still blank and staring into the middle-distance as Cinnamon waves a hand cautiously in front of the young elf's face, "Marcus? Are you there, dude? Talk to us, please?"
Jaeger actually relaxes upon hearing that his son hasn't been injured; as irritated and exasperated as he gets, he does love the boy. The elder of the two men goes to one knee in front of Marcus, saying absently to Cinnamon, "Epilepsy, I think. But that's humans. There has never been a case that I know of in any of the elven races." He snaps his fingers loudly in front of Marcus' face as he says, "Tadaaki! Tadaaki!"
Cinnamon nods worriedly, wringing her hands together... then gasps in relief as several servants come rushing in as well, with Ingrid and Butler in the fore, "Oh! Thank goodness -- come help! Marcus isn't well!"
Jaeger motions Butler and his own valet over, "Please..." The two nearly-identical beings comes to either side of Marcus and each put a hand on his head. One of them turns toward Cinnamon and she gets the feeling that he thinks Marcus is fine, but in a trance. That makes Jaeger relax a little, "Can you rouse him?" Butler nods, looks at his companion -- they both do seem to have remarkably similar builds and features -- and then both concentrate on Marcus... who not only wakes -- but comes surging to his feet in a panic!
Cinnamon squeaks startledly, backing up until she bumps into a nearby chair -- but then she gasps in relief, "He's okay?!"
Butler and Jaeger's valet hold onto Marcus, stopping him from flailing dangerously. The elf's eyes are huge and nervous, but there is sense in them again. Jaeger waves off the other servants, but asks Ingrid to bring tea to the conservatory, "Cinnamon, will you join us?"
Cinnamon nods tightly, still worriedly watching Marcus... then she blinks and looks at Jaeger. Her voice is low, since she doesn't want to scare Marcus even accidentally, as she asks Jaeger, "So... so is he okay now? What happened?!" Butler helps Marcus toward the conservatory, but everyone gets the impression that they aren't sure what happened.
Jaeger stays behind a moment, "I am sorry it took me time to get untangled from some correspondence."
Cinnamon shakes her head, "It's fine, really! I just..." She glances worriedly after Marcus... then takes a deep breath, "Well. He's in good hands now -- I'm sorry I yelled! I just had no idea what to do!" She takes another deep breath, then adds, "I actually did come to talk to you, too. Um... can we talk as we head for the conservatory?"
Jaeger nods and offers his arm to Cinnamon, "We'll have him looked after. If he's come out of it so quickly, I don't think it was dangerous. I'll make him go see Iason tomorrow, just in case. Of course, dear girl: what do you need?"
Cinnamon sighs in relief as she takes Jaeger's arm, "Oh, good! I want everyone healthy now, you know?" She smiles ruefully... then nods once, her voice unwittingly becoming more business-like, "So, as I understand it, you and I and Caradog and the trod of the Elm and of the Rowan... are all owed weregild by either Killian -- if it was just he and his -- or by the entire trod of the Holly, since he's their chieftain. So, due to an oracle, er... prophesizing for me, it's my intention to go to the UK after we've finished cleaning things up here, so we can clear up what happened to Branigan too. Shane and Aisling have agreed that Shane can represent Rowan there, and I'm going to ask Caradog if he wants to send someone with me too... and I was wondering: as co-elder of Elm, would you like to send a representative too?"
Jaeger listens with a serious face and pats Cinnamon's hand in a very avuncular sort of a way, "I would very much like to do that. I am wondering if we should send someone who isn't so affected by iron." He smirks, "Killian may well be offended if I send other than a sidhe, but I care more for my people's safety than his pride."
Cinnamon nods thoughtfully, "I get that. I was wondering if perhaps you'd want to go yourself, actually. From what I've been told, you're quite strong due to your age?" She pauses, then wryly adds, "I can totally get not wanting to suffer hours of painful nausea too, though!" She sighs, adding, "I wish there was... like, a Concorde that was better padded, maybe?"
Jaeger laughs quietly, "I rode on the Concorde a handful of times. It was glorious, as opposed to the last time I took a flight. But I think I would be able to do it... if we have about a three-day recovery between the landing and the meeting."
Cinnamon nods hopefully, "We could do that? I figure we'll be going first to Rowan, then to Holly, er..." she hesitates, then adds a bit shyly, "and then... maybe a quick visit to, um... to Wales too?"
Jaeger smiles, "Oh, I think you will very much enjoy Wales. You will see, I believe, where your genetics come from -- you look very like your ancestors." He considers, then adds, "I believe Rowan will give us shelter, but we should send word first. It is not wise to come upon a trod unexpectedly."
Cinnamon beams excitedly, "Oh, how cool! I'm really looking forward to visiting, then!" She laughs and nods, "Yeah, Shane said he'd let them know... though -- please don't repeat this? -- we think there's a traitor there as well, due to some things the oracle said... so Shane's also just letting a few folks know, if I understand correctly." She adds thoughtfully, "Also, before we go? ...I'd like to have a meeting of all the representatives... possibly with Caradog? -- because I think it'd be wise to have some sort of plan in place already as to what we're asking for. Does that sound okay?"
Jaeger nods and mmms, "Likely Quinn and Saoirse... and I believe Quinn shall wish to interview everyone who is coming." Amusedly he adds, "Be prepared to not have much control over what you say for a few minutes," then continues, "I agree with you: Caradog may well send someone as a representative of Oak. They, after all, have a trod near Rowan and Holly as well." His eyes twinkle, "That is how he and Aisling got to be relations."
Cinnamon laughs! "Oh, Aisling told me that story!" She giggles, nodding, "He's welcome to do that, sure! I want to be sure that everyone who should be represented there... is represented." More seriously she adds, "After all... a lot of innocent bystanders got hurt by the cruelty and greed of these conspirators. I think it's only fair the conspirators face the consequences of all their actions!" As she walks, Cinnamon muses silently to herself regarding Quinn. Curiously, while she'd gladly tell him the entire truth if he simply asked... the possibility of not being able to choose to do so... bothers her rather intensely! She wonders absently: if she concentrated enough... could she thwart Quinn's knack? Hmm... for that matter, she'd like to know she can thwart the knack of someone trying to... what's it called... to enchant or to enthrall her!
Jaeger nods, "Caradog will likely simply send a courier and have them choose a representative that lives in that arm of the trod."
When the two entities reach the conservatory they find that Marcus is already looking much better, though slightly puzzled. There's wine, tea, and some cakes and biscuits waiting for the two elves and the dragon, giving them time to relax and for Marcus to use the conservatory to recover. The conservatory is perhaps one of the most peaceful places Cinnamon has ever been. It may not affect her in quite the way it does sidhe, but it's clear that it's not simply a room with a few plants and a fountain. There's something about it that makes it easy to forget that one is in the middle of a city. Cinnamon curls up carefully in her chair again -- jolting around in worry over Marcus means she kind of strained a few achy muscles! She's glad she chose to wear something long-sleeved with her jeans, so all the bruising doesn't show... and she's very relieved none of the mercs shot at her head! Apparently there's some benefit to having a very large body and wingspan.
When Jaeger explains what happened, Marcus is actually quite agreeable to going to see Iason tomorrow. Cinnamon wonders quietly to herself, while Jaeger is speaking with his son, how the folk of Coblyn will see her now. Apparently her dragon form is scary, but she hopes they don't start seeing her as scary as well! She smiles faintly to herself as she sips her tea, wondering also how they'll react to learning what she traded her blood debt for. It doesn't occur to her that there might be many who are deeply grateful for it! Instead she just wryly hopes not too many of them consider her an idiot for doing so. She smiles and gives a small wave as Marcus leaves, sending best wishes for quick healing along with him.
After that, Cinnamon chats happily with Jaeger while Marcus rests a bit, arranging when the elder is free to go with her to visit with Caradog. Marcus, when he has recovered, takes his leave much more stiffly and less elegantly than he would have liked... but he wants to get away on his own. Cinnamon has a pleasant time resting a bit and chatting idly with Jaeger... but she's mindful that he apparently needs to rest as well! As soon as she can gracefully do so, she excuses herself, gives him best wishes on feeling better soon, and heads on out.
Cinnamon's next planned stop is at Elias' place, so she starts slowly, trying not to hobble from the aches and pains... but eventually the gentle exercise warms up her muscles and she starts walking more easily. She's no Roadrunner, but at least she can walk along the street mostly gracefully! As she goes she ponders Marcus's odd reaction. Hmm... maybe she'll mention it to Elias -- he might have some clue as to what was happening there! She knocks on his door, upon arrival, cheerfully calling out to see if he's available. Elias calls for her to come on in, letting her know that he's in the kitchen. Of course, Elias often stays away from the front door.
Cinnamon stopped by Uta's on the way here for some delicious hot pastries, and she presents them happily to Elias as well as giving him a warm hello-hug. She knows he doesn't eat regular food, but she also knows how much he likes to make folks feel welcome! "Hi, Elias! Thorn, Spice, Josie, Shane, Veles, Jaeger, and I are all going to head on up to the palace this evening to see what, if anything, Qadan and Niamh have said. Want to come along? Also, can I ask you to come to a planned meeting between myself, Caradog, Shane, and Jaeger? It's about the weregild Holly owes, and I'm hoping we can come to some mutual agreement on what to ask for... and you're really good at keeping things all calm and productive, y'know? So I was wondering if maybe you could come as my mentor, maybe?"
Elias smiles at the pastries, breathing in the scent appreciatively and putting them into his breadbox for the next time he has visitors. For a supposedly ferocious creature of the night, he seems to have a lot of people that just pop 'round for a chat! "Of course I'll come along, child. When is the meeting?"
Cinnamon brightens from where she's hopped up onto an out of the way chair by the kitchen table, "Yay! Thanks, Elias! I've not yet heard back from Caradog, but I hope to get a good time from him soon. I'll let you know as soon as I do, okay?" Swinging her legs -- since her feet don't quite touch the floor -- she adds curiously, "So, um... Elias... have you ever heard of... of epilepsy in elves?"
Elias smiles, "He'd be sending the message to your house. How long have you been at your house since you sent the message to him?" He leans back against the kitchen counter and mmms, "Epilepsy? I haven't seen a case of it, but it doesn't mean it couldn't happen. They have neural cells, after all, and epilepsy and other seizure disorders are misfirings in the brain. So I suppose it's possible... though... whatever brought that up, child?"
Cinnamon hesitates... then decides Elias is careful about who he talks to, so it should be okay to mention Marcus's... 'issue.' She explains what happened, "Marcus and I were talking earlier today and... at one point he went all blank-faced? -and... well, sounded almost... drugged, maybe?" She sighs, "I kinda panicked -- I ran to the door and yelled for help. Fortunately the two tree-people there were able to wake him up okay. Mr. Butler said it was like he was in a trance or something?"
Elias listens and then ahhs quietly, "That... is true -- he was in a trance. Or I suspect he was." He straightens, smiling quietly at Cinnamon as he adds, "It would seem many of Liam's abilities bred true in you. He had a mesmerizing voice and it was a pleasure to listen to him... but he was also simply mesmeric... if needs be."
Cinnamon blinks, pushing her glasses back, "He was... what?" She frowns, considering for a few moments... then her eyes widen in horror, "Oh, no! Oh, Elias... did I hurt him?!" She wrings her hands together, "Oh my gosh, I really didn't mean to!" A heartbeat later she adds, "Oh, bother... I should go back and apologize right away!"
Elias shakes his head, "You didn't hurt him, Cinnamon... and I would recommend strongly against apologizing and telling him what happened. It would make it hard for him to trust you in future."
Cinnamon blinks again -- then winces, "Oh, golly -- that's right!" She sighs, leaning her chin on her fist, "Well, that just stinks. I'll have to be extra nice to him instead." She goes silent for a moment... then looks back at Elias, "Except... I'm not sure how I did it. Um, do you know how Liam did?"
Elias smiles, "Force of will, I'm pretty sure. If he wanted an answer badly enough and asked it with intention..." He taps his lips, "You've seen our dear Shane use his knack?"
Cinnamon nods interestedly, "But he just stares -- he doesn't say anything?"
Elias laughs quietly, "He's staring because he's concentrating. He's listening rather than simply hearing."
Cinnamon muses, "So... asking with inten... shu- oooh. I see what I did now!" She beams in relief at Elias, "Thanks for the help! OK, I'll be really, really careful now." Wryly she adds, "I don't like it when someone forces me to do something I don't want to... so I'll have to be careful not to do it to anyone else."
Elias smiles. It's odd how reassuring a smile with that many needle-like teeth can be, "Precisely."
Cinnamon chats happily for a bit with Elias, letting him know about the intended trip to the UK as well, due to the oracle's words... then reminds him they'll all meet at the palace this evening to see Niamh and Qadan. After that she heads off again, taking her time so she's not more achy... though she decides to turn into the pocket park for a moment to catch her breath. Maybe she can find the nature spirit there, and ask about her windowboxes? She's guessing there must be a well or something on the premises too... and she sure wouldn't mind a nice cold drink of water right now!
There is indeed a small well in the park. When Cinnamon nears it, there's a soft chuckle that sounds like water over stones. Cinnamon blinks as she pushes her glasses up and looks around interestedly, "Helloo? Is anyone here?" A moment later she adds, "I hope I'm not interrupting anything...?"
A small head pops up on the other side of the well with a smile on the lips. The person has skin that looks like water-smoothed stone and hair like duckweed, "You're not. I just giggle to let people know they aren't alone when they come over into this corner."
"Oh! Are you the nature spirit that keeps this park so beautiful? Thank you, if so!" Cinnamon pads over, beaming and holding out a hand, "My name is Cinnamon! What's yours, please?"
The little person hops up on the edge of the well and swings their legs with a smile, "Hello, Cinnamon. I am. I'm Muriel." She doesn't, however, reach to take Cinnamon's hand.
Cinnamon blinks puzzledly, but decides maybe it's just that Muriel's manners are different from hers, as she drops her hand, "I really like your park. I was wondering if there was anything I could do to help? -and, um... I was wondering if you also ever did things like... grow plants in other folks' windowboxes, or make a greenery spot on their roofs or back yards?"
Muriel is perhaps Cinnamon's human size, "Thank you! It's my home and I get to stay here just for doing what I love! I think that's a dream come true. I do sometimes help if people have problems with plants. Not everyone has a green thumb!" By way of demonstration she wiggles her own thumbs, with a giggle. They are indeed green. It looks like moss on the stones.
Cinnamon laughs delightedly, "That's so cool! So... would you be interested in making flowering windowboxes on my cottage? I'm happy to get all the stuff you need, and pay you for your time... but I know there'll be times as a Councilor that I won't be able to be here on Coblyn and make sure they stay watered..." She pauses, then adds hopefully, "So, um... is -- is that something you do?"
Muriel leans forward and her green eyes widen with a smile, "You're the dragon! Oh, that's just gonzo!" She bounces on the mossy edge of the well, "I'll be happy to caretake some windowboxes for you! You can use them as extra wards, you know."
Cinnamon nods at Muriel's recognition of her -- then beams, "Oh, thank you so much! Just let me know what you need me to get for you, okay?" She blinks interestedly as she adds, "Extra wards? Cool! How's that work, please?"
Muriel giggles again, "Like any other wards! You choose the plants according to what you want them to do. Rosemary for remembrance and peace, lavender for luck, and so on and so forth. Think about what you want the plants to do and I'll let you know what we need!"
Cinnamon's eyes are wide at the potential, "Ooh, I didn't know that!" She whips out her little notebook, scribbling hastily -- then beams up at Muriel again, "Thanks so much! I'll be back, okay? Oh! Also, um... can I have a drink of water from your well, or is that, like... rude or... or invasive or something?"
Muriel beams, "You may!" She hops not off the edge of the well, but into the well. There's a splash and a giggle and then she's... back. It's not really clear how she got back -- but she's got a small wooden pail with her that she puts on the edge of the well before seeming to disappear into the greenery.
Cinnamon blinks startledly, pushing her glasses up after putting her notebook away. She glances around with a smile, calling again, "Thanks, Muriel!" before she steps over and carefully sips from the pail. It's ice cold and quite refreshing, which makes her sigh happily as she sets the emptied little bucket back on the well's edge. She wanders over to a shady bench and settles down with another contented sigh, then pulls out her notebook and takes a moment to update and review her schedule.
Cinnamon mutters quietly to herself as she does so, "...to ask Aisling if she knows about what plants do, for a good windowbox warding... and got to arrange a private council meeting so they all get the data. There! Now, what's left..." She pauses... then blinks and sighs, "Well... crab cakes. Daddy's birthday." She stares at the page for a long moment... then sighs lugubriously, "I... should call. I should." She pushes her glasses up, staring sightlessly across the little park as she murmurs to herself, "Besides, doesn't absence make the heart grow fonder? Maybe... maybe they'll be... well... nicer?"
Cinnamon considers for a long moment... then sighs deeply. She doesn't really believe it, but... maybe? Glancing up at the sun, she realizes it's getting late -- she should head for the palace to meet everyone there! She hops up -- winces and moves more carefully -- then heads for the park's exit. Calling, "Thanks again, Muriel! Talk to you later!" she heads out. Hmm... actually, maybe... maybe Shane might be willing to hang around for a moment while she calls her parents? She suspects a hug after talking to them will be really welcome, after all -- and for some reason, her dad doesn't seem to be able to bother Shane at all! Cinnamon brightens a bit at that, deciding she'll definitely ask -- and maybe she can buy him lunch or something as thanks!
When Cinnamon gets to her house she finds Shane, Veles, Josie, and Spice playing some kind of card game that's making them laugh and Veles seems almost cheerful in his demeanor. Cinnamon beams as she glances around, locking the door carefully behind herself. She thinks entrusting Josie with the spare key was the right thing to do! "Hi, everyone! How're you doing?"
Josie bounces up to hug her friend, being gentle at the last moment when Shane calls out, "Bruises!" The wolf shifter grins, "You got a message. Caradog says tonight at around six o'clock."
Cinnamon returns the hug cautiously, but then beams, "Oh, yay! We can see the prisoners then? Or is this the special council meeting?"
Shane says, "Prisoners, I think. I have a feeling it's going to be a day or four before the council meeting."
Cinnamon nods to Shane, "Good! I need to get another tablet first!" She settles carefully into an empty chair, adding, "Shane, both Jaeger and Elias will be joining us to talk with Caradog about the weregild, too." A bit shyly she adds, "Um, I invited Elias as... well, like a mentor for me? So if I say something stupid but don't realize it, he can help me... and everyone else can concentrate on their own trods, and not have to worry about me. Is that okay with you?"
Shane smiles, "Why wouldn't it be? Elias is about the most calm, soothing person I've ever met... and me da can make you feel like he's your oldest friend."
Cinnamon blinks slowly at that, oddly disturbed by someone being able to change her mind that way. She knows Quinn is supposed to be a really nice guy, but... not having met him yet, she's starting to get a bit weirded out by all the things she's hearing about the poor man! Still, she consoles herself, meeting him will likely help, the same way it did with John the rakshasa... maybe? She shakes her head briskly once, then adds a bit shyly, "Also, um... Shane? Could I, umm... well, I have to make a... a family phone call, you know? So, umm... w-would you maybe be willing to... well, to sit with me and maybe give me a hug after, if I need it? P-please?"
Shane smiles and shakes his head with a sigh, "Your biological family are a bunch of... well, they don't deserve you. I'll sit with you -- and I won't hesitate to take the phone away from you."
Cinnamon looks a bit sheepish, "It, uh, well, I j-just... I mean... it's... his b-birthday?" She hesitates, absently gnawing on her lower lip, then adds softly, "Is, um... I-is now okay?"
Shane's face goes hard for a moment at the memory of Cinnamon's dad -- but he clears the expression quickly, not wanting her to think it's at her, "Of course. Want to go outside or up to the loft or..."
Cinnamon thinks a moment. Outside? No! One time her father made her cry when she called. She really doesn't want passersby to see her in tears like that. The loft is her bedroom, but... well, Shane has been up there previously -- to put her futon into place? So... she turns a little pink, but hesitantly asks, "I-is the l-loft... okay? Please?"
Shane nods and heads up the ladder. By the time Cinnamon gets up there, he's settled himself so that he's on the futon out of the way of the ladder so she can escape if needs be. Cinnamon doesn't realize he's being careful to not block the ladder -- she's just struggling with an emotional mix of nerves at calling her family, and extremely self-conscious pleasure at Shane's presence! She settles nearby, smiling shakily at him as she almost whispers, "I just... just some quick birthday wishes, you know?" She pulls out her cell... stares at it for a few nervous heartbeats... then takes a very deep breath. "Okay... positive thoughts! They're going to be happy to hear from me! Daddy m-might..." her voice starts to fade along with her conviction as she presses the call button and finishes, "be... proud of me... maybe?"
Shane listens to Cinnamon talking to herself and doesn't say anything yet. Her father is a prick, as far as Shane is concerned. Cinnamon waits silently, listening to the rings with her fingers tightly crossed and a nervous smile on her lips. The phone is picked up by her father, who says in clipped tones, "Oh good. You're not dead." If it were from a lesser person, it might sound like snark. From Mr. Brown it simply sounds like acid.
Shane, whose hearing is quite sharp, scowls at that. Cinnamon blinks startledly... then tries hastily to recover, "Hah... hi, Daddy! I called to wish you a happy birthday!"
Mr. Brown's voice is still dripping with icy vitriol, "Oh, really? How very kind of you. Of course, you couldn't be bothered to let us know where you are and that you weren't in a ditch somewhere after that... boy... treated us like so much dirt."
Cinnamon stutters, "W-what?! Daddy, Shane di- wait. Daddy, you know how to reach me -- all you have to do is call!" Frustratedly she adds, "Why do you always refuse to just call, Daddy? You know I like my privacy!" She takes a deep breath, gently pinching the bridge of her nose as she mutters, "Okay, wait... wait, this is wrong." She sighs, then forces another smile, "I hope you had a nice day today, on your birthday! Did you and Mom get to go out and do something fun?"
Mr. Brown snaps, "We went out, but your mother's been anxious and worried to death about you. We've been devastated..." Abruptly he says, "Here, talk to your daughter. She's finally deigned to call us."
Cinnamon blinks again, sighing softly... then carefully brightens her voice, "Mom? Hi, it's me! I called to wish Dad a happy birthday."
Mrs. Brown sounds as if she's close to (fake) tears, "And you couldn't call before this? That awful man said not to call you!"
Shane rolls his eyes and takes the phone, hanging up before it can go any further, "Nope. Not letting them do that to you."
Cinnamon says, "W-what?!" to her mother -- then gasps startledly as Shane takes the phone, reflexively grabbing for it, "W-wait! What... who were they talking about, Shane? It... they couldn't mean you! ...could they?"
Shane hands her the phone back after he's hung up on the call, "I think they're talking about me saying you'd get in touch with them when you were ready. I believe I said something like you'll call them when you want to talk to them. If you ever do. I think they're trying to make me out to be some kind of abusive bully. Which is fu... which is rich."
Cinnamon goes silent for a long moment, studying the phone in her hands, lying in her lap. So... nothing has changed. They were just the same -- her family. Her father wasn't proud of her for striking out boldly on her own. Her mother... lives vicariously through Candi. Cinnamon herself was... wasn't able to live up to her mother's desires. Maybe... maybe they never would be... proud of her? Maybe... was she stupid to want that? Was she wasting her time? Cinnamon nods silently to Shane, not looking up as she swallows the lump in her throat and wipes the tears off her cheeks.
Shane shifts closer and puts an arm around Cinnamon's shoulders, voice quiet, "And now they're using it to tell you you're a horrible daughter. Which you aren't. They're the assholes." His voice is soft, "And those people down there? Spice? Josie? Veles? And Elias! Hell, me too, I guess... that's your real family." He sighs, adding, "Becky's more family to you than your own mother." Cinnamon startles slightly as the phone warbles and vibrates in her hands... but then her shoulders slump defeatedly as the caller ID lets her know it's her parents. Crab cakes... Dad's going to yell at her for hanging up on Mom... Shane reaches for the phone again, to hit the 'ignore' button, "They have no power over you anymore."
Cinnamon sighs, leaning into Shane a bit as the grief seems to wash over her. She flicks one hand out, dropping the phone a short distance away from herself as she chokes out, "I -- I d-don't w-want to talk to... n-not now..." As she turns her face against Shane's chest, and the tears begin to silently flow, she wishes Shane was right, and her family really didn't have any power over her... but they do. They have the ability to hurt her... a lot.
Shane wraps his arms around her and lets her cry, voice quiet, "You'll feel the echoes for a while, but all they're going to do is try to get you to come back. That's what narcissists do -- they try to draw you back in so they can leech off you some more. Elias is a vampire, but they're parasites."
Cinnamon can't speak for a bit -- the grief has choked her up -- but after a few moments she manages to get out, "W-why, Shane? Why are people so -- s-so mean sometimes? T-to the people they're s-p-pposed to love?!'
Shane pets Cinnamon's hair, his voice gentle, "Because they don't see other people as real. They see them as a means to an end. You wouldn't be their trophy, so you got to be their emotional food source." Then he does something he tries not to do in front of ladies, since he's got old-fashioned manners, "Fuck them. They can go straight to whatever hell waits for them."
Cinnamon clings to Shane's shirt and cries for a while. She's weeping out her past pain and humiliation, as well as the pain of once again feeling she'd finally done something her father couldn't help but be proud of her for -- only to find that he was still unimpressed... and she's also crying out the hurt of her sudden realization: she's never going to be good enough for her family -- ever. No... she's going to have to either submit to their emotional blackmail for the rest of her life -- or cut them off entirely. She's pragmatic enough to know what the right thing to do is... but it still hurts. Shane holds her and pets her. He doesn't make shushing noises because her tears are legitimate... and shushing someone is more for the shusher's comfort than the sobber's. This is lancing the wound and letting out the poison... it must be done.
It takes a few more minutes, but Cinnamon's quiet, grief-stricken sobs slowly abate. Finally she's simply leaning against Shane, obscurely comforted by his arms around her despite feeling emotionally numb. Eventually she sighs... then closes her eyes and murmurs, "'M sorry, Shane... keep crying all over you..." She takes a deep breath and sighs again... then slowly makes herself sit up again. Slow, methodical things -- that'll get her moving again. She feels sluggish and stupid as she reaches for a Kleenex and cleans up a bit... dry her glasses, wipe her cheeks, blow her nose, throw it away... what's next.
Oh... hell. Oddly, Cinnamon doesn't feel guilty for that profane thought -- instead she's staring at her quietly blinking phone: Dad left a voicemail. Though... wait. She turns her head -- it feels like it weighs at least a ton -- and says quietly, "Shane? Would you please just... delete that voicemail, please? And then..." She blinks slowly, pushing up her glasses as she thinks... then takes a deep breath, "And then... would you please block that number for me? P-please? I... d-don't know if I can... yet..." She sighs again as she adds wryly, "You must think I'm such a dishrag. Well..." she glances away, thinking... then sighs once more, "I guess... kinda am... 'm gonna go wash up. Be right back." She turns for the ladder -- if she's not watching, she won't feel an almost overwhelming urge to stop Shane. Shane takes the phone, deletes the voicemail, blocks the number -- and then he goes through the contacts and blocks any number marked as 'mom,' 'dad,' or 'Candi.'
Josie is waiting at the foot of the ladder with a couple of cool wet rags. Cinnamon blinks up at Josie -- then turns pink with embarrassment at being overheard! She gratefully accepts the rags, though, using them to wipe her face... and to hide the tears that want to well up at Josie's kindness to her. She sets the rags aside when she's done... then fiercely hugs Josie close! She mumbles into the fur, "Thanks, Jo..." Josie hugs closely, too. After a moment or two, another pair of arms slides around them both. And then another. Cinnamon sniffles in spite of herself -- she is so lucky to have such good friends! Though... oh, gracious, her glasses are such a mess now! She has to swallow the lump in her throat even as she smiles at that thought, and she mumbles, "You guys are the best, you know?"
Josie is far into pack mode by now, as she laps Cinnamon's face a couple of times before rumbling, "No. We're just friends."
Cinnamon giggles tearily, squinching up her face against the tongue licking. Then she leans back enough so she can look up at Josie, her smile a little watery still, "You're the best to me, Josie. So... so let's all g-go get some dinner and then... then we'll go talk -- we'll go sort out the last of this conspiracy, okay? Oh! A-and... and we can stop by the infirmary on the way, okay? Um, I mean, b-because Thorn? He... he might want to know too? He helped as well, after all?"
It's agreed that they can stop at the infirmary and that dinner is a good idea. When Shane hands Cinnamon back her phone, his face is serious. Cinnamon is still wiping tears and fur off her glasses and face, but she smiles with sincere warmth at Shane as she says softly, "Th-thank you, Shane. You're the best too."
Shane shakes his head, "I'm just me, Cinnamon. You need a real family." Cinnamon's small smile is wry, but she doesn't say anything.
Cinnamon makes an effort to be cheerful and positive during dinner, and to not think about her blocked phone. The little group of people are all careful to keep the conversation light. No one even tries to talk down Cinnamon's parents because that would be bringing the wound itself up. Eventually Cinnamon decides: it's not her fault. Her family -- no. Her birth family... she needs to not depend on them any more. They don't really care about her -- not like her new, much more real-feeling family. She looks around the table at the people gathered there, and a small, quiet smile crosses her lips. Yes, she decides: this is what she's always thought family should feel like. She knows Shane's comment was almost half an hour ago, but she turns and smiles at him as she says, "I think I have one, actually -- a real family. I think you're right. It's you guys."
After they've eaten, they head out. Shane and Veles are in the rear, while Josie and Spice flank Cinnamon, each of them holding one of her hands as they head for the infirmary. Cinnamon is deeply touched by the kindness of her friends! Perhaps unsurprisingly, that significantly helps lift her mood, and by the time they reach the infirmary her chattering and laughter with her friends is quite sincere. She goes courteously quiet at the infirmary, however, since there are likely people there who are tired and/or in pain.
Nikos isn't at the front desk of the infirmary this time. Instead, there's an apple-cheeked young woman with a serious expression. She looks up and her eyes widen, "Oh! Oh! The dragon! Did you need some medical help?
Cinnamon blinks at the woman -- then grins shyly, "Ah... yes, that's me? But... no, I'm fine, I just... well, we wanted to find out how people were doing, please... and also if Thorn is free for a moment?" She smiles as she adds, "You can just call me Cinnamon, though. What's your name, please?"
The young woman says, "Daphne! Just one moment!" Daphne disappears into the back to look for Iason, who has asked Thorn to make rounds with him today in case there are any of the injured who have worsened.
Cinnamon grins, "Hi, Daph... ne..." then giggles as she realizes her greeting was too slow -- the earnest young woman is already gone! She smiles shyly at the folks in the waiting room as she softly adds, "Pardon us, please. We should be gone soon!" There actually aren't too many people in the waiting area at the moment and they all seem to be simple cases of rashes or sniffles. No one seems at all bothered and several of them actually say thank you to the little group, as they are there for follow ups. Cinnamon blushes a bit with a mix of pleasure and embarrassment -- she's still not used to being considered a huge success, but she's also very happy she was able to help at all!
Daphne is one of those people that scampers. She moves quickly and efficiently and almost bounces up to Iason and Thorn, "The dragon and some other people are here looking for Thorn!" Thorn himself is taking careful notes; so far he's also glad to see there are no relapses of injuries which he'd healed the night before. That's a relief; it means his healing is, well, 'permanent' -- at least until someone gets injured again. At Daphne's arrival, though, he looks to Iason for permission to see the others; he's taking his -- increased -- duties seriously, seeing them as a new responsibility. He knows he won't be able to help everyone, but.... no, best not to think on that now. He asks Iason's permission to see what's up with his friend.
Iason lays a hand on Thorn's shoulder and smiles, "Go. You worked hard when it happened and you've been working hard with me. Go see what they need."
Thorn smiles back to Iason, and nods. Then he is heading to the front of the infirmary, smiling as he emerges from the back. "Hello, everyone," he says. "What's up? What can I do for you?"
Cinnamon grins and waves shyly to Thorn, "Hi, guy! We're just about to head up to the palace to see what Niamh and Qadan had to say for themselves. Since you helped work out the conspiracy, we thought you might want to come along?"
Thorn's expression goes sober... but then he nods and smiles quietly, "I would, yes. Plus, the more people there, the more it might impress upon them that they are in really deep... sand."
Cinnamon giggles, then nods... then pauses. A moment later she asks a bit carefully, "So how... have folks been recovering? Is everyone doing well so far? Is there, um... anything we can do to help at all?"
Thorn says, "So far, everyone's been recovering well. I don't think that there's anything more that people can do, other than make the worst-injured comfortable while they heal naturally."
Cinnamon nods with relief, "That is fantastic news! So, can you come now? Do you need to check with Iason first, or what?" Thorn checks with Iason, who gives his blessing. A short while later, the group plus Thorn arrive at Caradog's palace, the glittering dusk weaving threads of light into the alleys of Coblyn Street. Cinnamon smiles at the guards, "Hello! We're not sure who to ask for, but we'd like to either speak with the prisoners, or find out what they had to say, please?"
The guards at the gate aren't ones the newcomers to Coblyn have met, but they seem to know Josie and Shane. They also let everyone know Elias and Jaeger have already arrived. Since the group is expected, there's a page there to lead them to where they'll all be meeting with Caradog and the prisoners. Cinnamon thanks them happily, pattering along after the page and chattering to her friends, "Oh, good, Elias and Jaeger are here already! I wonder if Caradog has someone like at the Trod of the Elm, who can get people to talk without hurting them? That'd be awesome if so!"
The page leads the little group into a room that's much like a sitting room -- and also completely internal, with no windows and a heavier door than any of them have yet seen inside the palace. Besides the entrance, there's another heavy door with a very sturdy lock -- even a heavy bar. Elias, Jaeger, and Caradog are there, speaking quietly and seriously together, though they all stand when people arrive. Cinnamon brightens, "Elias! You made it already!" She happily trots over to give him a quick hug -- then grins and waves shyly at the ancient elf, "Hi, Jaeger!" then bobs a quick curtsy to Caradog, "Hello, your majesty!"
Jaeger smiles and nods, while Elias hugs Cinnamon back and smiles, "I decided to come on ahead."
The king inclines his head to Cinnamon and to the others as they make their own courtesies, "Thank you for agreeing to a meeting this late."
Cinnamon beams, "Happy to, if it makes it easier for Elias!" She takes a deep breath, then asks more seriously, "So... did they confess? Or do you have one of those folks with a knack that gets people to talk without hurting them?"
Caradog smiles. It's like Marcus' smile in that it has more depth when he's too tired to make it over-bright, "We haven't fully interrogated them yet. I don't have a truthspeaker at the moment, but I wanted to ask Shane to help with sorting out the lies." Cinnamon blinks, finding she likes Caradog's smile more when he's tired and more himself too. What a pity she can't somehow arrange to be around Marcus only when he's tired! That thought makes her grin ruefully at herself -- she's being silly! She glances inquiringly at Shane instead... and the equally intriguing thought occurs to her: Shane... is always himself! It's... oddly, wonderfully... well, restful, really. It's one of the things she likes best about him, in fact.
Shane nods and bows, "I'd be honored to, Your Majesty." Before the half-beansidhe is upright, Caradog is already assuring Shane that he'll be compensated, as sometimes using one's knack is tiring.
Cinnamon looks pleased... then tilts her head and asks curiously, "So... were there any confessions or surprises -- even if we're not sure what's true yet and what's not? Like... did Niamh confess to the nettles, or why they were doing this?"
Caradog shakes his head, "We haven't questioned them extensively yet. Some say that sweat greases the wheels of confession, so we've been waiting." Cinnamon nods thoughtfully at that -- she has no idea, personally! So instead she simply glances expectantly between Shane and Caradog. The king should lead them down to the cells soon, right? Instead, the king sits, then motions for the others to do so as well. He lets them all know he'll have tea brought, and then have the prisoners brought up one by one.
Thorn is a little surprised the king is going to have tea while the prisoners are brought up. He would have thought it'd be the other way around. Well, except for the tea part. But he's not in a position to second-guess a king -- for which he is very grateful. Veles is doing his very, very best to be unseen, even though he left the amulet at Shane's place.
As they're waiting there's a knock at the door; Caradog looks mildly surprised before calling, "Enter!" It's a page -- the same page, actually -- who announces Jalil is at the gate and asks if His Majesty can see the councilor. Caradog considers, then stands, his diplomatic face immediately falling into place, "Of course; he was affected by this as well." The page shows Jalil in and the djinn says his hellos to everyone before Caradog invites him to sit. The gealsidhe king asks, "Have you met everyone here?"
Jalil mmms, "I have met or seen all of them in action, yes."
Cinnamon brightens as she waves, "Hi, Jalil! Oh, good idea to have you here too!"
Jalil nods to Cinnamon, "I am afraid that I let my anger get the better of me, meaning we do not have Moustapha to question as well. I had trusted him. More fool I."
Cinnamon cheerfully introduces Veles and Spice to Jalil as well, then waits until the ifrit is comfortably settled before she curiously asks Caradog, "So... who were the folks that tried to sneak out the back, please?"
Caradog smiles slightly, "People that were in on the plot but not necessarily involved: some of Qadan's people, and one or two folk from Holly who were here on business."
Cinnamon nods thoughtfully... then blinks at a sudden thought. Pushing her glasses back, she turns to Jalil, "Hey, maybe you know, Jalil: did Moustapha have family? I mean, like... who inherits his stuff? 'Cause... if he doesn't have family, maybe... maybe we could, like, let his money pay for stuff like folks' medical bills after the attack, and repairing the hall, and stuff like that?" Thorn nods in agreement with Cinnamon.
Jalil inclines his head to Cinnamon, "He had no spouse and no children that I know of -- mischief spirits of many kinds have... issues... keeping close relationships. Indeed, if he did have children, the mother or mothers would likely have never told him. I will gladly hand over his possessions... and since his possessions were relatively meager, I will help to pay for the repairs to Currier's Hall. He was in my household and therefore my responsibility."
Cinnamon beams at Jalil, pushing her glasses up again, "Well! In that case I have some good news for you," she turns to Caradog, "and you too, I think, your majesty!"
Caradog is one of those people that has the ability to seem mildly interested even when the information being tossed about is stunning, "I'd be glad to hear any good news."
Cinnamon grins as she explains the strategy she and Spice came up with, in order to keep the beansidhe, the mischief spirit, and the tngri from escaping. "So actually Moustapha had quite the tidy little nest egg -- and now we have his ill-gotten gains, and can make sure those who deserve to be helped can benefit from his bad actions!" Happily she adds, "How's that? Is that okay? I wasn't sure what the proper procedure was for folks that are still alive, but I figured it'd be a relatively straightforward question of inheritance for Moustapha, right?"
Thorn considers. Clearly Moustapha had a lot more resources to throw around that Jalil didn't know about! At least if the monies being sent to that PMC was any indication. Even so, he's curious to see Caradog's and Jalil's reactions to just how much money the 'relatively meager' Moustapha had! Cinnamon adds more gravely, "Perhaps some of it can go to the cousin of the poor sidhe who died, too...?"
Caradog strokes his chin thoughtfully; Shane is watching both men quite intently. Jalil considers, "Can you tell me how much of this came from my household funds?"
Cinnamon thinks a moment, then explains, "We found two bank accounts for Moustapha, Jalil. One was Nigerian, and his alias there was Michael Okafor. The other was a simple BoA account, and that's where the payments from Qadan and Niamh went." She tilts her head at Jalil, "We didn't find any other payments into it, so... correct me if I'm wrong, but it's possible neither of them were your household account? Unless you paid into his Nigerian account, maybe? If that's the case, and you're willing to give us your bank's tracking number, then we can certainly note down all the money you paid him and return it to you?" She's quietly relieved she and Spice didn't accidentally poke into Jalil's personal accounts!
Jalil smiles thoughtfully, "The Nigerian account is one which was set up in the Michael Okafor name in order to make dealing with merchants outside of the enclaves possible. If none of it came from a third account, then you are welcome to all that was in those accounts."
Cinnamon nods happily, "Thank you so much, Jalil -- that's very kind of you! Umm... let's see. Thorn, can you go to Iason later, and we'll just transfer the appropriate amount of money to him, okay? Then once that's done, your majesty, if you could let us know how much the repairs were, we can do the same for you. Is that okay with everyone?"
Thorn nods, "Of course! I'll be glad to!"
Cinnamon beams happily -- then grins curiously at Caradog, "So, um... may I ask why the backdoor sneakers even came? Er, if you know, I mean... like, didn't that make them kind of stand o- ...ooh, I get it. They had something awful they were supposed to sneakily do too, right?"
Caradog nods gravely, "They did have something 'awful' they were supposed to do, aye... though I've yet to get all the details. I believe it may be time for that now, in fact."
Cinnamon nods interestedly, "Okay!" She shifts absently in her chair, still a bit achy from all the bruising... but anxious to learn everything they can about the conspiracy. She grins as she gives Spice a discreet thumbs-up -- now they'll be able to help those who deserve it with the monies Spice 'liberated' from at least Moustapha! Personally, Cinnamon hopes they get to keep the money from Niamh and Qadan too -- she thinks Trod of the Rowan, at the very least, deserves a chunk of cash just like that received by Trod of the Elm!
"I shall have Niamh brought up first." Caradog's lips quirk in a smile as he adds, "I am especially offended by another sidhe doing this."
Shane has relaxed from his earlier tension. Jalil nods, "I will be happy to help restrain Qadan, if it is needed." Cinnamon looks faintly relieved at that, smiling her thanks at Jalil. She would leap forward too, if necessary... but considering how ouchy she currently feels, she'd... really rather not if it's not required! She tilts her head inquiringly at Shane, as Caradog gives his orders to a servant -- why was Shane tense? Was someone lying? Shane gives Cinnamon a smile. It's a relaxed smile, so he didn't hear anything he didn't like. Cinnamon sighs in relief, relaxing a bit herself as well!
Caradog sends for the sidhe. As they're waiting for her, he murmurs, "She may look somewhat... knocked about. I promise you I have not been torturing her, but she tried very hard to convince my men not to bring her in."
Elias says with dry humor, "In other words, she tried to fight and found out the king's guardsmen are better fighters than she."
Thorn has seen Diarmaid and Fionn. [Shocking!] he thinks. Cinnamon makes a few quick notes in her journal: Moustapha's monies will go to the Infirmary, the cousin of dead sidhe, and the Currier's Hall repairs. Anything left over... she hmms to herself, then smiles -- it can go to paying the cost of the batch of them all going to Ireland! Though it's a pity the Concorde doesn't still fly... though... oh! Maybe a nice cruise ship? Or no; they also have tons of steel and iron in them! Hm... what they really need is a wooden ship... she pauses that thought, glancing up at the others and wincing slightly at the description of Niamh's current condition. She can't help covering a small grin at Thorn's expression, though! Then she says gravely to Caradog, "Thank you so much for being willing to arrest her on my say-so, your majesty. I did have proof... but it was kind of you to believe me and pick her up before the revelation meeting."
The door opens and, as if thinking of him summoned him, Diarmaid brings Niamh up. He's got an arm around her biceps and he's not dragging her, but he is propelling her perhaps faster than she would like to be moving. 'Somewhat knocked about' translates to a black eye and most of the left side of her face being bruised. She also has a fat, split lip and is limping slightly. Cinnamon sits up abruptly, pushing her glasses up as she blinks... then she winces! Goodness! Did she herself look that battered after the attack on the Trod of the Elm?! She can see why people stared, if so! She glances at Caradog, wondering how the questioning will go. Thorn's brow furrows ever so slightly. Based on the light and breezy way Niamh was talking about the attack on the Trod of the Elm -- his trod -- he isn't terribly sympathetic, considering that she tried to fight the king's guards.
For her part, Niamh is trying her best to scowl defiantly. One eye being almost swelled closed and her lip being split makes it look like a wince. Caradog's voice goes from laconic to icy as he says, "Ah. Here we are. Diarmaid, thank you for bringing Niamh up to chat with us. She has a question or two to answer... and it would be much, much better for her if she answered truthfully on the first try." Niamh tries to sneer again, but it turns into a wince. Caradog looks to Cinnamon, "You have questions for her first, Councilor O'Donnell?"
Cinnamon brightens, nodding once, "Yes, thank you!" She's thought about this already: she herself doesn't have the chutzpah to ask tough questions. However... if she tries to channel her employing company's CEO! -that, she knows she can do! She turns to her journal, taking her time to slowly flip through a few pages just like her CEO does... which apparently annoys those being questioned, though Cinnamon's not sure why. Finally she looks up at Niamh, deliberately using a mild voice -- which, for her, is easy considering that's how she usually talks! "Sinead Fianna, yes? Were you supposed to be the replacement Councilor, or was it to be your father? Was it you that brought over the nettles?" She is, again, not sure why hitting folks with the most direct questions seems to throw them off... but she's seen her CEO do it often. Well... maybe it'll work here too?
Niamh tips her chin up and her jaw tightens as Cinnamon asks her questions. Her eyes shift so she's looking over the dragon's head and toward the wall. Seeing this, Elias says in his most gentle voice, "Niamh, child, recalcitrance here will help no one. Least of all you."
Cinnamon's voice remains mild as she adds -- just as she's seen her CEO do, "Also, we already have the proof. This is your opportunity to verify and perhaps lessen punishment... if you tell us the truth."
Niamh licks her lips and says in a voice that's slightly slurred by the swelling of her lip, "I am not a child, beast. And I have nothing to say to any of you."
Cinnamon watches Niamh thoughtfully for a moment... then goes back to flipping through her pages. Almost musingly she glances up at Niamh, studying the woman as perceptively as she knows how -- then asks again, "Did you provide the nettles?" Niamh refuses to look at anyone, least of all Cinnamon. It looks as if she would be tightening her lips in a way that speaks of someone trying to keep their mouth shut, but it's taking effort. Diarmaid puts his snout near her ear and growls something. That makes her jerk against his grasp and the expression of fear is easy to read. Cinnamon snaps immediately, "Did you bring the nettles?!" If she can startle an answer out of the girl, in that instant of fear... then Cinnamon's willing to bet it'll be truthful. Even if it isn't... Shane will know.
Niamh snaps back, "I hope you die just like your bloody grandfather!"
Cinnamon stands up slowly, her eyes unwittingly blazing and her voice soft and tightly controlled with anger, "Really? Would you really like that?" She steps out from behind the table, walking slowly towards Niamh as she continues, "Because I know how he died now. I know how it was done." She stares directly into Niamh's eyes as she softly adds, "Shall I show you how? ...on you?"
Shane stands up quickly and puts a hand on Cinnamon's shoulder, "No. Don't." His voice is quiet and he looks straight at Niamh, "Don't sink to her level, caraid."
Diarmaid also moves to put himself between Cinnamon and Niamh, "Ma'am, I am going to hae to ask you not to damage the prisoner.... any further than she's already damaged."
Cinnamon smiles slowly and humorlessly, still glaring at Niamh, "I won't... but I have no compunction about letting her worry a little... about what she actually did -- to Liam, to Jaeger, to all those she hurt -- apparently without a care in the world!" She finally glances at Diarmaid as she adds curiously, "What did you say to her before, please... just a moment ago?" She wonders if whatever was said can be... done or threatened or whatever -- maybe whatever it is that Niamh fears will push her to talk instead of having that done?
Diarmaid looks directly at Cinnamon, his eyes blazing scarlet for a moment, "I told her that if she does not behave, she will find her confinement here can be much, much less comfortable."
Cinnamon frowns thoughtfully as she turns to head back to her chair, "Mm... thank you, Diarmaid." She glances over at Caradog as she adds, "I'm not willing to damage people in order to get answers, your majesty. If she's not willing to talk then all I know is to get one of those folks whose knack is making people talk... and then throw the book at her once you've got her confession." She smiles wryly and shrugs, adding, "Right now I think she's just wasting our time." Cinnamon sighs as she reseats herself, wishing she was scarier... like she's heard Liam could be. Ah, well.
Caradog nods, then looks to Thorn, "Can I ask you to look to her wounds? I need to send for someone."
Thorn glances around, wondering if they can get the spiteful sidhe to monologue about why she seems to be so hateful. At Caradog's request he blinks and nods, "Of course, your Majesty." He stands, moving to just out of lunging reach of Niamh -- he doesn't want to touch her, and maybe give her any energy she might want to try to use. Then he uses his magic to carefully try to heal the worst of her injuries. Cinnamon remembers Caradog saying he doesn't have a truthspeaker... she wonders who he's sending for, and what marvelous knack they have. She has the Mesmerism, true, but Elias said to be extremely discreet with it -- and there are just too many witnesses here for her to use it in good conscience.
Niamh shivers as Thorn gets close, cringing as if she's afraid the medic/mage is going to hurt her. When he instead does something that makes the swelling in her face go down, she actually groans-- as if she was in more pain than she was letting on. Thorn wordlessly studies his handiwork, then nods, and without any word to Niamh, returns to his seat. Caradog nods and says, "Thank you, Healer. It's more than she deserves for all the pain she's caused."
Shane leans close to Cinnamon, murmuring, "Ask her about the nettles again..."
Cinnamon glances curiously at Shane... then nods once, and murmurs, "Did you bring the nettles?" She honestly doesn't believe Niamh's going to willingly incriminate herself... but if that's what Shane wants, Cinnamon's happy to provide.
Niamh is perhaps distracted by the surcease of pain -- she sneers, "No."
Shane snorts, "Well, that was easy enough to hear. She brought them."
Niamh's eyes sharpen as she peers at Shane, "Who are you?"
Cinnamon says calmly, "You're not asking the questions here. Were you supposed to replace Liam after you murdered him?"
Niamh manages to literally look down her nose and says, "That seat should never have gone to him. He was never impartial."
Thorn says it before he can stop himself, "And you are?!"
Cinnamon grins at Thorn, "Honestly, no one has told me the seat is supposed to be impartial... so I'm not sure where she got that delusion." Tilting her head, she continues, "On the other hand, she is wildly delusional -- that, or just a sociopath -- so... I guess it makes sense in her head? -and considering Liam had that chair when she wasn't even a twinkle in someone's eye... I guess she'd need to be delusional to believe the things she does."
Niamh snaps, "The thirteenth chair -- the one that is meant to be the decider. It should go to someone who listens to everyone, who gives everyone equal weight. If he wasn't going to listen to everyone then he should have stepped down."
Shane leans in again, murmuring, "She's... she doesn't really believe what she's saying. It's not quite a lie..."
Cinnamon nods to Shane, her voice tired, "Yeah, she's just wasting our time." She adds with a grin to Shane, "I'm guessing the part she doesn't believe is that she would be required to be impartial... if she got the chair!" Then she waits silently, not looking at Niamh -- she's wondering if the girl will get irate at that and continue talking.
Thorn sighs. "So it's not about 'impartiality,'" he says to Cinnamon and Shane, "but just more raw power grabbing."
Cinnamon glances up at Thorn and nods once, "Think so." Thorn finds it somewhat chilling that Niamh did nothing to deny that she had killed Liam. He can't imagine how Cinnamon must be feeling, facing down the churlish countenance of her ancestor's murderer.
The person that Caradog sent for turns out to be a familiar face... and also familiar ears and a familiar tail. It's Tag O'Toole, the apothecary. He's been by the infirmary more than once to bring things to Iason, so Thorn has seen him, and Cinnamon visited his shop. He's looking about as dour as someone with kitty ears and a fluffy and luxurious tail can look. Cinnamon blinks... then nods: Tag, of course. A potion to get the woman to talk -- that makes sense. She smiles at the little puca.
Caradog says, "I don't have a truthsayer, Niamh Hollytrod, but I do have a very skilled apothecary. Tag has been mixing potions and possets and other such things for centuries now. He's studied what herbs have which effects on what races. And I think I am tired of your defiance and disrespect toward myself and these people that you have wronged." He motions to Diarmaid, "Keep her mouth open." Cinnamon sighs in quiet relief -- this isn't pleasant, per se... but it's much better than something like, say, torture. She shudders slightly, even more relieved that torture's not accepted any more... or at least not here.
Niamh's eyes flash and she snarls, "You have no right!"
Caradog's voice stays level, "Oh, I have every right, I believe you'll find. You brought this down... on my enclave; on my people -- people who are under my protection by their registration as citizens of Coblyn Street. You are very, very lucky I find torture to be distasteful." His voice has gotten icy... literally. The room seems to be cooling down. Thorn shivers... then realizes that he actually is cold. He glances around, folding his arms to keep them warm from the sudden chill. Cinnamon doesn't speak -- it would be rude to horn in on the king's dramatic moment -- but she's quite, quite sure there are plenty here who have the right. Jaeger, for one, considering he was crippled and his trod was supposed to be obliterated... and perhaps her, as Liam's heir?
Tag steps forward, voice soft, "Drink it willingly, girl. I have no desire to have Diarmaid force feed this to you, but you will drink it." Niamh looks like she's about to protest, but Diarmaid growls and his eyes flash scarlet enough for the light to reflect off the red-haired beansidhe's pale skin. She looks, for the first time, scared. When Tag hands her the potion, she takes it and drinks it with a grimace.
Cinnamon waits silently. Once it's done, she glances at Tag, "How long does it take?"
Niamh starts to sag almost immediately, answering Cinnamon's question before Tag has to. Diarmaid guides her to a chair so he doesn't have to hold her up. The puca checks Niamh's eyes and nods, "You can ask her now."
The room is staying cooler than it has any right to be. Cinnamon glances inquiringly at Caradog -- this is his show, after all. She wishes a little wistfully that she was... scarier, or more convincing, or... or something... so she could adequately exact justice for her relative's murder. She sighs, realizing what she really wants is just to have this over with. People that are this crazy and vicious... make no sense to her. Caradog nods to Cinnamon, "You have the questions. She is yours." He pauses, voice dropping a degree or two along with the room's temperature, "By rights, I could hand her over to you to exact whatever punishment you saw fit."
Cinnamon smiles wryly at Caradog, "I wouldn't know what to do with her. You'd do better to give her to Jaeger." She sighs, turning back to Niamh, and asks her questions again so the answers are on the record, "Niamh, did you bring the nettles? Did you conspire with Qadan and Moustapha to empty one of the Council seats so that you could have it? Did your father back you up, or did your whole trod do so?"
This pronouncement makes Niamh look at Cinnamon with huge eyes -- and for the first time there is actual fear there. She replies, "I brought them but I did not use them. Those two are gullible. It was easy to get them do what needed doing." She laughs, "Especially Moustapha. He thought he was charming."
Cinnamon's small smile to herself is wistfully amused -- at least this time she's not almost nauseous with fear at talking here! That's one good thing that's come out of this, at least. She nods to Niamh, "Go on. Answer the other questions too."
Niamh says, "I came on my father's request... and where my father goes, the trod goes." Shane frowns a little at that one.
Cinnamon doesn't pause to check with Shane -- she wants to get as many answers as she can right now, "Tell us of how you met Qadan and Moustapha, and how you persuaded them to help you." Niamh's story of meeting the conspirators is a little disjointed, but the gist of it seems to be that she was told to meet Moustapha -- and after some time knowing him, Moustapha introduced her to Qadan. The tngri's involvement was apparently unknown to her father until then. Cinnamon nods, then says quietly, "Tell us all about Branigan's murder." She suspects the lack of success in taking over the trod of the Rowan, after murdering Branigan, is what caused Killian to decide to put someone on the Council... but she doesn't have proof. Maybe this is the way to find out?
Niamh says, "I don't know much about that. I know Father was quite upset that Qui..." She trails off and her eyes go to Shane, widening as she realizes why the half-sidhe looks so very familiar. She breathes something in what might be Gaelic, going even paler.
Cinnamon raises an eyebrow at Shane, "Translate, please?" then adds to Niamh, "Go on."
Shane shakes his head, "Older dialect than I know."
Caradog murmurs, "She said, 'stars preserve me.' As Shane says, it's a very old dialect. I doubt she speaks more than a few old oaths and phrases."
Cinnamon nods, murmuring, "Thank you," then keeping her gaze on Niamh as she waits for answers.
Niamh shakes her head and literally bites her lips together. Jaeger is the one that speaks now, "Was it you, girl, or Moustapha who poisoned the iron trap that should have killed me?"
Niamh's voice is almost ripped out of her, "How would I handle iron, you antiquated fool?!"
Cinnamon tilts her head and grins, "So you're a child to Jaeger, but not to Elias? I think you're addle-brained." She sighs, the moment of humor dissipating, then adds firmly, "Answer your elder."
Thorn murmurs, "She's still dissembling. Answering questions with answers to different questions." He's still rather... displeased... by the scope and duration of this entire and ongoing plot. Cinnamon nods to Thorn and sighs quietly.
Niamh tries to scowl, but it turns almost into sobs, "I don't know! I brought the nettles. I did not use them! I've never used them! They frighten me!"
Cinnamon looks incredulous, "Nettles frighten you, but murdering an entire trod doesn't?!" She sighs again, then says, "All right. Very simple questions then. Niamh: tell us all you know of your father's plot to murder Branigan."
Jaeger's voice is dry, "Of course not. She would not have to be near the slaughter. It didn't risk her own cowardly life."
Niamh's story is again a bit disjointed -- as if she's trying to stop herself from telling the truth, but can't quite. She doesn't know all the details, but she does know the nettles were preserved by one of the apothecaries or herbalists in the Trod of the Holly -- the woman hid them after they were supposed to have been wiped out. Further, Branigan was supposed to die much faster, but he was tougher than her father had realized. By what she says, Shane realizes the Trod of the Holly really were fooled by Saoirse and Aisling's trick of timing. By the end, where Niamh tells of her father asking her to come here and be the local contact, she's sobbing and begging them to make it stop. Tag sighs softly, "It is not a pleasant sensation..."
Cinnamon frowns as she says quietly to Tag, "I imagine not... though I sincerely doubt it's anything like the pain Jaeger put up with for..." she turns to glare at Niamh, "what, three years?"
Jaeger nods grimly, "Three years. Three very... long... years."
Niamh looks at Caradog, pleading in Gaelic, and the king snaps, "What shall happen to you, Niamh -- traitor to your people -- is that you shall be kept imprisoned. I have no stomach for outright execution. At the conclusion of the investigation your fate will be decided by the council."
Cinnamon sighs, glancing wearily at Shane, "Can you translate that, please?" Then she adds to Niamh, "Keeping it short and simple: who stabbed Liam? Who set the trap for Jaeger? What was Qadan's role in all this?"
Shane sighs and nods, "She's begging him not to let you kill her, since he told the truth: you're owed blood debt, and he could turn her over to you."
Cinnamon gives Shane a wry glance, "That's not what blood debt means, though, is it? I mean, Daniella wasn't offering a sacrificial life to me or Thorn or Sparrow!" Then she holds up a hand, "Wait -- we're getting distracted." Turning back to Niamh, she says sternly, "Answer my questions!"
Niamh is still sobbing as she replies: the nettles were handed over to a troll. A little prodding and questioning from Jaeger leaves him saying he doesn't think it was Hans since the one Niamh is describing doesn't have any stone limbs. After that, she doesn't know who did the actual stabbing. She doesn't know the details of who set the trap either -- only that it had to be someone that had been to the trod before because it was inside the borders. She finishes with: "Qadan wants what is our due! He wants to walk free amongst the humans again! We are prisoners in these enclaves and trods!"
Cinnamon snaps, "That is not what I asked about Qadan! What's his role in this nasty little conspiracy?!" She adds quietly to Jaeger, "There was more than just a troll and her involved, I'm sure. Ask Elias -- he said someone with some real alchemical knowledge had to be behind it." She pauses, then muses, "Maybe that was Qadan...?" Niamh is shaking and still sobbing as she spills out what she understands Qadan's role to be: he has an alchemist amongst his people. Consequently, it is he who, once all is said and done, is closest to being the one responsible for the actual stabbing. Cinnamon nods slowly and sighs, leaning back in her chair, "There we go... now we know." She glances tiredly at everyone else there, adding, "Anybody else got questions for her?"
Jaeger murmurs, "I have one. It's a small one, in a way..." He looks at her and asks, "How did you get over here? You are young, for one of us. Did you fly?"
Niamh shakes her head, "I sailed. There are still wooden ships sailing the oceans." Cinnamon blinks slowly... then abruptly grins! That's how to get Jaeger comfortably and safely to Ireland! She'll research trans-Atlantic wooden sailing ships later. Thorn shakes his head quietly and sadly. He's glad they're getting to the origins of this far-too-long conspiracy. If the conspirators accelerated their timetable because of Cinnamon's appearance, they might have been counting on Cinnamon not blooming into her full strength just yet. As it is, she's gotten just enough stronger than they anticipated. He breathes a sigh of relief at that!
Caradog examines Niamh, then looks at the others. His voice has warmed; it's not as flat as it was, and the room is not as cold as previously, "Do you have anything else to ask her?" Cinnamon shakes her head. She's actually somewhat tired of Niamh by now. If the girl is that terrified now... why did she do such reprehensible things in the first place? Thorn too shakes his head silently. The king nods, then says to Diarmaid, "Take her back to her cell. Make sure she has plenty of water and some salt." He rubs his face with both hands, then speaks to his guests, "Do you wish to speak with Qadan as well? My guards tell me that he's been unresponsive to speech."
Cinnamon asks quietly, "Can he be given a potion too?"
Tag says, "I don't know much about tngri biology. I can work off what I know about other elementals. It would take me... perhaps an hour."
Cinnamon says, "If a potion will get him to talk, then it's worthwhile. But if we're not sure, or we know he can, um... like, ground it or something?" She shakes her head, "I'm not sure effectively experimenting on him is right, you know?" She glances at Jaeger and Elias, "What do you all think?"
Elias hmms, "I think that he should be given some time to see Niamh's state when she's taken back. Perhaps tomorrow for him, though I think we've got most of the information we wanted." Cinnamon nods -- that works for her.
Caradog nods, and Diarmaid takes Niamh away back to her cell. The king sighs and shakes his head, "I had thought such nasty business was at least a century behind us."
Cinnamon leans her elbows on the table, and puts her chin on her folded hands as she sighs, "Well, we did get some good information, at least." Her small smile is directed at Jaeger, "We know how to travel comfortably -- for elves -- to Ireland now."
"I did not realize wooden ships were still oceangoing." Jaeger smiles broadly, adding, "I came here on a wooden ship the first time. Of course, that one was a longship."
Cinnamon grins, "I bet she meant a three-master! I saw some of those in the port of the city where I grew up. They're really cool!" She pauses, then looks to Caradog, "Oh! Actually, I have a question, please, your majesty? Qadan's and Niamh's goods: what happens to them?"
Caradog says, "Niamh's goods were seized when she was arrested, but I understand you already have access to her funds."
Cinnamon nods, "Qadan's too. So... are we supposed to give that back to them, or what, please?"
Caradog shakes his head, "Not yet, no. We here have heard the guilt. We'll present that to the council and you will be awarded weregild, I suspect."
Cinnamon hesitates, glancing at Shane and Jaeger... then looks back to Caradog, "Actually... that's something I wanted to talk to you all about too. See, um... an oracle told Thorn and I that we needed to go to Ireland to resolve the issue of Branigan's murder. Once that's done, I fully intend to go find out if the Trod of the Holly really was backing Killian's vicious little plan... because they owe all of us some serious weregild if so." Glancing a bit nervously down at her hands, she continues, "So... I thought maybe it might be smart for us to talk before then? ...to, ah, to decide what we wanted for weregild, you know? So... would you all be willing to do that with me, with Elias present too, as my mentor... please?"
The people around the room seem amenable to that suggestion. Jaeger even says, "It would be a wise thing to have arranged beforehand."
Thorn blinks, then nods, "Definitely agree! It's definitely something to coordinate before the talk."
Cinnamon sighs in relief, "Oh, good! Ok, so... can we talk about that before we talk with Qadan?" Wryly she adds, "I suspect he'll be just as exhausting to deal with as Niamh, after all?"
Elias' voice is as dry as anyone here has heard it, "That is putting it mildly, I suspect."
Cinnamon grins tiredly at Elias. She's so pooped she's nearly resting her chin on the table! "Awesome. Okay, so... tomorrow?" She looks at Caradog, "When's good for you, sir?"
Caradog smiles, "Around this time tomorrow. It will be better for Elias."
Cinnamon nods with pleased relief, "Fantastic! Then... see you all then, okay? For now..." She sighs, dragging herself to her feet, "I have an urgent appointment with a hot shower and a huge bottle of liniment."
Shane chuckles and reaches to help Cinnamon up, "I'll send over some of the stuff I use after workouts." She smiles gratefully at him, through her weariness.
Thorn stands as well. "A lot of sleep seems to be in my future too," he quips.
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