| Logs |
2021 January 30
| Goblin Town |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
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| Realms: Goblin Town Logs |
I Serve the Fairy Queen
Out on the street, the three attacking creatures who had looked like they wanted to flee are now hesitating. The three in front, closest to Cinnamon, appear too overawed to run, however. The frontmost one speaks; it seems to be in English, but it's extremely uncomfortable to listen to, "Because this place is a disgrace!"
Cinnamon tilts her broad head in confusion, "How's that?" She pauses, then adds puzzledly, "Why is it so hard to listen to you? Are you okay?"
The leader of the jibbering things waves an appendage, "It is here! Among the humans! They are not our allies! We are fine!"
Cinnamon nods slowly, then narrows her eyes as she studies the creatures, "Well... where would you have people stay, then, in order to be safe?" She adds in a rumbly aside to the guards, "Do you know why they're hard to listen to?"
The leader of the guards says, "It's... like the things some trods have..." He motions at his throat, "Maybe an amulet? Making it hard to listen or to see because it's frightening to fight someone like that."
Cinnamon blinks, intrigued, "Entire trods have them?! Oh! So these are likely sidhe, then?" She glances inquiringly at Jaeger, "Can you see them clearly?"
The guard shakes his head, "No... the don't-see-me..."
Jaeger is peering, eyes squinted, "They aren't sidhe... they look like..." He finally shakes his head -- he's not sure.
Cinnamon just nods to them, then turns to the attackers, "Okay, can we talk about this calmly? Like, take off your amulets and let's, um... how about we go into the grove and talk there?"
The lead of the attackers looks around -- and realizes that they went from outnumbering the guards two- or three-to-one... to being surrounded by angry people -- and a dragon! The leader stands straight and lifts a necklace of some sort over its head. The person revealed there is a bit like the water-horse: hair like duckweed and slime, skin an unhealthy greenish-gray that's a bit like foxfire. Her eyes are pupilless and dark, and her teeth are snaggled as she snarls, "The guardian of the grove doesn't like us."
Fraser snorts, "None of use like ye very much just now. Ye nearly killed one of the dragon's best friends, ye great bampot!"
Cinnamon rumbles firmly, "But we're going to all be calm and peaceful now, right? So we can talk?" The leader of the creatures turns her head to snarls back at her companions in a language that's painful on the ears even if she's not wearing the amulet. That causes drooping shoulders and weapons hitting the ground. Once they're dropped, it's easy to see that there are both spears and blades there. Cinnamon nods firmly, looking pleased, "Much better; thank you." To the guards she adds, "Would you guys be willing to come into the garden with us, please? Oh, and, um... hmm, let's not leave weapons lying in the street." She glances around at Roger, "Hey, Roger? Is it okay with you if we stack the weapons right inside the gate, please?" At a sudden realization, she glances thoughtfully at Josie and Fraser -- are they still pained looking, or are they okay now? She's carefully not thinking at all about poor Shane nearly dying... since she doesn't want to get angry and do something stupid that he wouldn't approve of! The two werewolves do indeed seem less pained now there's no more howling and screeching. They are, however, looking quite menacing. Even Josie -- the sweetest person most of them know -- looks pissed.
Roger nods to the young dragon, "Please. I would rather have them in the grove than on the street."
Cinnamon beams toothily at the werebear -- then pauses for a few heartbeats to study him with interest. Huh! He's not so much a bear as... a sort of bearish man? Then she remembers herself and swings her head back around, stepping to one side and sitting up so the, um... unhappy party can enter the grove along with her friends, "Go on in, everyone!" The two guards outside -- along with Jaeger, Josie, and Fraser -- get the combatants inside the grove. Roger comes out of the grove and starts gathering up the weapons, muttering to himself. Cinnamon smiles quietly, reaching out to helpfully gather up some of the weapons as well. She reaches to lay them just inside the gate, then ducks her head to peer through the gate, "Um, Roger? Do you think I can fit through the gate safely as a dragon? I, um... would really rather change there instead of out on the street, you know?"
Roger smiles up at Cinnamon, "Yes. You'll fit. The gate is... somewhat malleable."
Cinnamon looks relieved, muttering, "Thank goodness!" in heartfelt tones... then carefully wriggles her way through the gate! She sits up once she's on the other side, "Whew! Fantastic. Okay! Um... Josie! Could I... borrow you for just a minute, please?" She pads off towards the trees on the far side of the grove, glancing over her shoulder as she wryly adds, "Over this way, maybe?"
Roger smiles softly at Cinnamon, "You needn't change if you don't wish, you know." He takes a deep breath, "I'm pleased I didn't have to change."
Cinnamon blinks down at Roger, her voice surprised, "Really?!" She pauses, thinking a bit... then grins almost shyly -- which looks odd on her triangular reptilian face! "That... would be kinda nice, actually? Though... let me check." She calls to her friends, "Hey, would anyone be disturbed if I stayed in dragon form right now?"
Thorn follows along after everyone has entered the garden, glancing around and clenching his hand a little bit. He is not at all sure who these people are, but that they were poisoning people- he blinks, then shakes his head at Cinnamon's question, "Nono, not at all!"
Cinnamon looks pleased as several voices chime in with Thorn's, all agreeing that the dragon form is fine with them. "Oh! Well, okay then!" She comes padding back, glancing around and mentally plotting out where to stretch out on the ground -- she doesn't want to be intimidating, like that time after the attack on the Council where the injured sort of... shied fearfully away from her. A moment later she's coiled neatly along the inside of the circle or treehenge which forms the sacred grove, her wings laid neatly along her back and her head curled back to rest on her shoulder so she can see everyone, "There we go! Everyone good?" A moment or two later Cinnamon finds she's got Josie snuggled against her side. She beams and nuzzles gently against the big werewolf -- she's glad her friend is comfortable leaning against her! The wolf-shifter is still growling every once in a while, though -- she's not happy with these people! They hurt her friend! Roger puts his robe and cowl back on, but the visitors are able to see he has more scars than the ones on his face. Cinnamon grins as she notices the picnic still sitting by the big oak, and adds to the others, "Would anyone like a bit more to eat before we start?" She's read that eating together tends to bring people together more... maybe it'll work here too?
The size of the grove means that Cinnamon has room to be comfortable when she settles herself against the outside ring of trees. She actually ends up against the Rowan and the Elm. Cinnamon beams again when she realizes the types of the two trees she's most leaning against -- that's an excellent sign, she thinks! Fraser plops down beside Josie and pats the growling wolfshifter on the knee, "Relax, lass. You can bite them if they get out of line." Cinnamon has to cover her long muzzle so she doesn't giggle at that! Fraser's comment seems to calm Josie somewhat, though she's still scowling. Roger helps gather up food and offer it around, though he too is scowling -- this lot may have defiled his grove! There's not much talking about it, but the attackers are settled into a spot where they'll have to go past everyone else if they try to make a dash for the gate.
Cinnamon waits until folks have had a chance to eat and relax a bit. She herself is curiously studying the new arrivals, and wondering what species they are. While she's waiting for that, she also remembers: Jaeger's had training in diplomacy! He's so very much older and wiser than her too... so she tilts her head towards the elf, rumbling quietly, "Jaeger? I think you're the senior diplomat here, right? So, um... maybe you should lead this discussion?"
Jaeger's voice is a bit dry, "Perhaps. Except that I have something of a low opinion of random poisoners are the moment." He takes a deep breath before he says, "Why kill your own community?" All six of the creatures have the same kinds of hair and coloring, but with the regular amounts of variation that any other species has amongst its members.
The leader sniffs disdainfully, "Because they will get us all killed. Better to excise this place."
Cinnamon looks puzzled, "How will they get you all killed, though? I mean, um, hasn't this particular enclave been here for... what, at least a century?" She glances inquiringly at Roger. Thorn's brow furrows. This is almost the exact opposite of the 'reveal' faction, it seems -- a sort of militant 'hide' philosophy that requires most of the non-human inhabitants of the world be killed off.
Roger says, "Llanelli itself, in some form or another, has existed for more than two thousand years, and there've been people here -- both human and non -- for a very long time. It started as a hill fort, but this enclave has been here since at least the late thirteenth century. So, yes: at least a century."
Cinnamon grins in thanks to Roger, then turns inquiringly to the entity, "So... how will Llanelli get you all killed? Er... actually..." she tilts her head uncertainly, "may I... ask what you are, please? Oh! -and a name for you?" She smiles as she adds, "You can call me Cinnamon, please?"
The leader looks entirely unfriendly, "We don't feel a need to name our kind. I am Jenny."
Cinnamon nods, "Jenny, okay... and you don't have a name for your species? Interesting. So: how will Llanelli get everyone killed, please?"
Fraser growls, "She may not, but I do. She's a grindylow. Or a river-hag."
That makes Jenny snarl, "I am not!"
Cinnamon glances confusedly between the two entities, "Um... okay, so... what's a grindylow, please, Fraser? And Jenny, could you tell us why you aren't one, please?" Thorn thinks both 'grindylow' and 'river-hag' sound a bit... derogatory? But then again he doesn't know what language 'grindylow' comes from.
Jenny seems to turn her nose up at Fraser as she says to Cinnamon, "Cities are reaching out. They're killing the air and the water. They're killing themselves, but they're killing us faster!" She seems to ignore Cinnamon's other question.
Fraser says, "Think of them like will-o-wisps -- except they don't lead you astray. They just wait until you come down to the stream bank." Jenny bares her teeth (and yes, they're green -- just like the others of the group) at Fraser with a snarl -- and the werewolf growls, "Don't you snarl at me, girlie. I'm not the one whose fe... friend you nearly killed."
Cinnamon nods to Fraser, then glances at Jenny, "So you... drown people?" She tilts her head as she vaguely remembers something from a story she read some time ago, "Jenny... Greenteeth?"
Jenny sniffs disdainfully, "I'm not her, but I took her name."
Cinnamon nods slowly as she watches. She's trying hard to remain diplomatic and considerate, but Jenny is really not impressing her! She sighs, then simply says, "All right, let's just cut to the chase here. Jenny, what was your plan to save the supernaturals from being killed by the humans, please?"
Jenny motions around herself; it could mean the grove or it could mean all of the Llanelli enclave, "This place is a cancer. It makes our people think they can be safe with humans. That is wrong. It is dangerous. This place should be excised so we all can go back to our places."
Thorn somehow doubts that Jenny's plan is little more than 'kill everyone.' Mindful, however, that he himself is pretty much all too human, he keeps his mouth shut for the time being. Cinnamon nods slowly, then asks, "You said the human cities are reaching out and poisoning everything, right? So... what places do you intend for everyone to retreat to, that they'll be safe in -- that the humans won't be able to reach?"
Jenny says, "If all of us -- the werewolves and the sidhe and all the rest of us -- stepped back, we would see better that the humans are killing us and our places! And if we saw that, we would start to cull them properly! Any species left to overbreed overloads the environment!"
Thorn rubs his eyes wearily. "That's not going to fly," he murmurs.
Cinnamon says, "Ahh, I get it now!" She smiles at the grindylow, though it doesn't reach her slitted eyes, "Correct me if I'm wrong -- but you feel the supernaturals should reveal themselves to the humans, and also cull them as necessary?" She considers for a moment, then grimly adds, "And in order to persuade the supernaturals to do as you wish... you'll simply murder as many of them as necessary too?"
Jenny's chin goes up, "It is not murder."
Jaeger snorts, "Which is basically 'Yes.'"
Cinnamon growls quietly to herself, smoke drifting lazily up from between her teeth for a moment... then sighs and turns to Jaeger, "I apologize, Jaeger; I interrupted you. Please go on?" Much though she'd like to just yell at Jenny, she knows that's not the answer -- and she really doesn't want to resort to flaming folks either! Maybe she can learn how to deal with... with crazy zealots from watching Jaeger deal with Jenny?
Jaeger says, voice calm again, "Do you not hear yourself, child? Killing your own people to try to save them? Do you see how little sense this makes?"
Fraser mutters, "Helter-fucking-Skelter."
Jaeger shakes his head, "The people here are hiding. They are safe from the humans. Do you actually want to make us all vulnerable to people that can kill most of us easily?" Cinnamon sighs in relief -- Jaeger's calm response is making a lot of sense to her! She hastily takes mental notes, watching avidly.
Jenny is scowling; so far, her people have been silent. She snaps, "There are ones that live the way they should! In their trods or their clans or their swamps or rivers or caves or mountains! But they are being forced out by the humans and the traitors that live in these places!"
Jaeger shakes his head, "No, Jenny. They're adapting. You talk of culling, but you do not speak of adaptation. You don't know about coyotes, who now live in every single type of terrain in the United States. Some of them actually live and thrive in cities. They have found the right niche for them -- they adapt... and we adapt. We always have."
Cinnamon nods in agreement, rumbling, "Ravens and crows too -- they're all over cities now! And the peregrine falcons are coming back as well, within cities." Thorn is feeling his stress levels increasing as the conversation goes on. But he needs to stay quiet and stay focused; he shouldn't comment, not when Jenny is clearly angry at humans and he's about as base model human as anyone can be.
Jaeger nods, "Skyscrapers are just like cliffs to them." He glances at Thorn, smiling briefly as he recognizes that anger, then back at Jenny, "You're not making things better. You don't 'cull' a population that's already small."
Cinnamon curiously checks with Jaeger, "Can't swamps and rivers and caves and such become safe and hidden places too... like Elm and all the other ones?"
Jaeger nods, "Oh, yes. But this young lady-"
Jenny snaps, "I am not a child and I am not young!"
Jaeger takes a deep breath before continuing, "Jenny is actually something of the opposite of my son in some ways. I suspect she doesn't want to show ourselves. She just wants the old balance back, when many of us were hidden. Separate but equal." He snorts at that.
Cinnamon thinks privately to herself that Jenny sure isn't a lady either! She says nothing on that, however, instead listening to Jaeger and nodding slowly. Finally she turns her broad, triangular head to look at the grindylow, rumbling almost gently, "Jenny, you can't go back. The old balance is gone. The goal now, if you're smart, is to figure out how to thrive in these new circumstances." She sighs a bit gustily, and for a moment the air is warm all around her... then adds more sternly, "Also, we really can't lose any more supernaturals, please." Jenny's jaw is trembling, so Cinnamon rumbles gently, "I'm sorry, Jenny. If it helps... I can assure you that change can be very scary and painful, but turn out far, far more wonderful than I ever expected."
Roger murmurs to Thorn, "This is how you get radicals. People who want to do well but mostly just cause more pain." Jenny is shaking with either anger or anxiety. The guards have been staying by the gate -- or at least two of them have; the third has left. Then Roger thinks to ask, "Where did you get the apples?"
Finally another of the attackers speaks up, "Here. The tree was full of them. I convinced them they were being attacked and the poison moved from the seeds to the flesh."
Cinnamon sighs as she glances at the druid, "I am so sorry, Roger. If there's anything I can do to help re-sacralize the grove, please ask me, okay?" She looks back at the grindylows as she shakes her head and mournfully asks, "Did you all not realize you were desecrating the sacred? Don't you have any respect for that?"
The unnamed grindylow says indignantly, "This place can't be sacred -- it's surrounded by filth!"
Thorn's fists clench, and his jaw clenches as well. He is very much sick and tired of poisoners. He knows he is just a human, and anything he says would just add fuel to the fire, but it's getting very... very... hard to keep his peace in the face of such casual genocide. Roger shakes his head and sighs, "Thank you, Cinnamon. If you could come... and bring Maerlyn and anyone you know willing to maybe give a little blood."
Cinnamon nods to Roger, then turns back to the grindylow, "You know, the legends I've read say that many of your people live in bogs. Is that true? Because if it is... I know lots of people who consider bogs and swamps to be filthy. So... does that mean we should just clean them all out -- despite you being there?"
Jenny says sharply, "Bogs are not filthy! They are natural!" She moves as if she's going to stand up, only have Josie lean in and growl low in her throat.
Before anything else can be said, there's a motion at the gate and a mellifluous female voice calls warmly, "Roger! May we enter?"
The druid calls back, "Yes, your Majesty!" He stands and moves toward the gate.
Cinnamon says back to Jenny just as sharply, "Your opinion is not universal, Jenny -- there are many who feel this grove is natural too!" She glares at the grindylows for a second... then swings her head around to curiously look and see who is coming in. She wonders what the... queen? Empress? Something else? -will think of the Red Welsh Dragon in the queen's grove... which causes a shy grin to tilt up the corners of Cinnamon's lips.
When Roger returns, he's accompanied by seven other people. Six are obviously guards, while the seventh is dressed in much less martial clothes -- though they aren't the sorts of elegant silks and velvets one might expect of royalty. Instead she's wearing a pair of blue jeans and what looks to be the type of arran knit sweater Cinnamon bought in Galway. Her red hair is pulled up into a casual ponytail, and she looks like she might be in her early thirties. The delicately pointed ears are lined with fine gold rings -- at least ten in each ear. When she comes into the circle of the grove she stops, hand on her chest as she whispers, "Oh... oh, I hadn't expected..." Her face breaks out into a joyful smile as she looks around the grove... then settles into a scowl as she sees the grindylows.
Roger says, "Everyone, please let me introduce Queen Ceridwen of the Trod of the Willow. Your Majesty, these are Cinnamon, Fraser, Josie, Thorn, and Jaeger. They helped to apprehend these... people." It's obvious he was thinking of another, less-flattering word for Jenny's people.
Cinnamon blinks startledly, her head raising to stare in surprise at the... startlingly, wonderfully prosaic looking queen! Thorn too blinks in surprise, standing as Ceridwen is introduced as the queen of Willow. Cinnamon doesn't stand, but only because people are leaning against her side. Instead she gives a polite nod of the head... and grins. Ceridwen's eyes finally come back to Cinnamon, and she too grins, "Your people are on my people's crest."
Cinnamon blinks again at Ceridwen... then grins shyly, "I, um... it was probably my greatsire, but thank you, ma'am! Er... I mean... your majesty?"
Others in the grove are also standing as they realize they're in the presence of royalty -- though admittedly, while she's got presence, she doesn't have the attitude of Caradog. She laughs and makes sit-down motions with her hands, "Please. This isn't court and this isn't my palace. I'm the visitor here." She smiles at Cinnamon, "Was your greatsire Liam? Your people have been associated with this place for time out of mind."
Cinnamon beams and nods excitedly, "He was, yes! So I had to come visit. I'm sorry I didn't announce myself. I, um..." she's a scarlet dragon, so fortunately her blush doesn't really show, "I'm still... well, kind of a baby dragon still... really? So... I'm still learning all the right things to do, so if it was rude I'm very sorry and I apologize and, um..." she grins excitedly again, "wow, did you know him too?!" It won't occur to Cinnamon until much later -- and it will greatly confuse her when she does think of it -- but Ceridwen's casual demeanor is not triggering any of Cinnamon's usual panic in the presence of people of power!
Ceridwen settles down tailor-fashion between Thorn and Cinnamon, smiling, "You signed in at the gate. I found out you were here, but I thought I would give you time to see the place first. Who wants to be summoned before the queen the instant they set foot in a new place?"
Cinnamon nods amusedly, "Yeah, I get that. So... it's okay we're here, right? I stopped by to see Maerlyn because the folks at the inn said he wanted to meet any red dragons... though we actually haven't gotten to see much past the grove yet. We, umm..." She pauses, then sighs and says to the original two guards, "You guys have told her already about the apples, right?"
Ceridwen nods, "I know about the apples. The guard tells me things like that. I'm... eh... technically I'm the head of the 'army.'" She makes air quotes around the word.
Cinnamon nods in relief, "Oh, good -- okay! So you know about Shane getting poisoned and Thorn saving him and the guards searching for more apples and the fight outside the gate to the grove here?"
Ceridwen sighs and nods, "I do. We try to keep everyone safe. Occasionally someone gets past us." She glares at Jenny, "Though we try to only bar people that cause willful mischief and harm."
Cinnamon watches that, then rumbles thoughtfully, "Jenny, have you given any thought to my suggestion?"
Jenny is scowling and staring daggers at Ceridwen, apparently ignoring Cinnamon. Ceridwen sighs, "Jenny? Your name is Jenny? You know you'll have to be remanded into custody." She sounds truly sad about having to do it.
Cinnamon raises an eyebrow as she watches the grindylow. She considers trying to be loud -- that would likely draw Jenny's attention, as well as startle everyone else here -- then just shakes her head. The young dragon would really like to help settle this peacefully, but... well, now the queen is here, Cinnamon supposes it's all Ceridwen's bailiwick. Plus, to be honest, it's looking more and more like Jenny simply doesn't want to listen. Cinnamon sighs quietly again, resting her chin on her crossed front paw-hands.
Ceridwen sighs and looks up at the guards, "Please. Take her and her people to the gaol. Make sure they're fed and see if there are any things we need to get to make them comfortable."
Cinnamon rumbles a bit sadly, "Their weapons are stacked up by the gate, too. I don't know where their scary amulets are, though... probably on themselves?"
Ceridwen says, "Amulets? That bit was missed..." The guards check the grindylows and take the amulets from them. Ceridwen looks up at one of the guards, "Take those to Maerlyn as well, please?" She leans back on her elbows and shakes her head sadly... then reaches over and pats Cinnamon, "We aren't going to make them suffer, I promise. Making someone suffer rarely makes them see reason."
Cinnamon smiles wistfully and shakes her head slightly, where it's still resting on her paw-hands, "I didn't think you were. I was just... wishing I was better at diplomacy."
Jaeger gently strokes Cinnamon's triangular head, "Dear heart, sometimes diplomacy simply comes down to learning to translate 'You stupid arschloch!' into 'I think I see where you're coming from.'"
Cinnamon half-coughs, half-laughs at that, causing a small gust of warm smoke! She grins ruefully at Jaeger, rumbling, "Thank you, sir."
Jaeger laughs quietly and nods, "And remember that seeing where someone is coming from doesn't mean you agree with them. It just means you have figured out how their twisted logic works."
Thorn says quietly, "Diplomacy works only when the person you're, uh, diplomatizing with is being rational."
Jaeger nods to Thorn, "Exactly."
Cinnamon nods in rueful agreement with Thorn, then sighs as she adds to Jaeger, "It's just... we had Thorn here, you know? But... what if, because I wasn't persuasive enough... the next person has no good healer immediately to hand?" She looks a bit haunted, "That's why I want to get better at diplomacy... as fast as I can, you know?"
Jaeger smiles, "Sometimes step one of diplomacy is getting people to step back. I've done that more than once by raising my voice. You are doing very well."
Cinnamon tilts her head thoughtfully at Jaeger, "Really? Hmm. So... this was... an okay start, then?"
Ceridwen laughs quietly and nods, "Oh, yes. When trying to talk calmly to two groups that are shouting at one another, nothing resets the conversation like a nice, loud noise. My father used to use a bronze-clad staff on a block of stone as a super-powered gavel."
Thorn says encouragingly, "I would say so, yes!"
Jaeger smiles and nods to the melancholy young dragon, "It was a very okay start! You got attention. You brought them somewhere calm. You asked questions. You now have an idea of where their logic lies. Next time you will have thought of ways to work within their framework." Cinnamon smiles at Thorn, then looks relieved -- it sounds like she did the right thing in both Jaeger's and Ceridwen's experience! Though... hmm, the young dragon is going to have to give some thought to the grindylows' 'framework' -- because she's absolutely sure she is not going to be okay with killing folks in order to 'help' them! Jaeger sighs, "Of course... when their framework includes genocide... it can be difficult."
Cinnamon can't help a small, wry grin at that -- she totally gets his frustration! She thinks for a moment... then tilts her enormous head slightly so she can try to whisper to Jaeger, "Hey, um, Jaeger? ...how come you aren't a majesty, but she is, please?"
Jaeger whispers back, "Because I'm an elder of one trod, while Ceridwen is queen of this catchment area. Like Caradog." He flashes a roguish smile at the gealsidhe queen, "Only less pompous and much prettier."
That makes Ceridwen laugh! "I think the terminology is old-fashioned. It's more like being mayor plus judge plus high sheriff than royalty."
Cinnamon blushes at everyone hearing her attempt at whispering -- but then looks a bit confused, "So... so if Trod of the Willow were out in the countryside... then it'd be Elder Ceridwen? But because it's in a city... no, wait, that can't be right, can it? I was told that Trod of the Elm was part of a catchment area too...?" She thinks a bit, then nods, "Right, I remember -- it's the eastern and upstate New York area, and borders on the Coblyn Street catchment area.... right?"
Jaeger nods, "Indeed. But our catchment area doesn't have its own enclave."
Ceridwen nods, "Enclaves are often seen as... county seats? Maybe more like state capitals."
Cinnamon nods slowly, "Huh... well, okay then!" She grins shyly as she adds to the two older fey, "Thanks for not being offended at my questions." Then she raises and turns her big head to ask Roger, "So, um... when did you want to do the resanctifying, Roger? Should I go get Maerlyn now?"
Roger says, "We needn't do it just now. It should actually likely be done on a full moon night."
Fraser mutters, "Leaves me out of it, then."
Cinnamon nods at that, relaxing, "Okay! We've still got, um..." she silently counts on her clawed fingers for a moment, then grins, "a week to go on that!" She pauses, then worriedly adds, "Er... Roger? We may be gone by then. Is that okay? We won't get back to the US on time for the next Council meeting if we stay more than a week here, after all?"
Roger smiles, "There's no need to apologize! Maerlyn will still help, as will the rest of my brothers. I will put out a call to them. We should also send someone to Apple..."
Cinnamon nods in relief at that, settling her chin back down on her crossed forepaw-hands. Thorn hmms soberly at mention of Apple, "Would affecting the trees here also affect the trod they're related to? I would think not, but then again...."
Roger says, "Not especially. It's more the other way around. But since it was the apple tree..."
Ceridwen looks over the visitors, then asks, "Is there a route you planned on taking? Back to your transportation?"
Cinnamon blinks at Ceridwen, "Uhmm, well... mostly just to walk down to the docks?" She grins with a hint of pride as she adds, "We found an old wooden sailing ship to get here!" She flicks an ear at Fraser as she adds, "He's the first mate of the ship -- the Valkyrie!"
Fraser grins, "Aye, that I am -- and proud of it!"
Ceridwen looks delighted, "Oh! Maybe I can actually visit the continent again!"
Cinnamon brightens at that, "You mean like the US? You'd be welcome to come along, if so -- we've got one or two cabins still free, as I recall? Or did you mean like Europe?"
Ceridwen grins, "Europe. A trip to the US, though tempting, would be a bit too long away from my duties. I asked only because if you're going to travel, I thought we might be able to send you as the envoy to Apple."
Cinnamon looks slightly confused, "Trod of the Apple... is in the US?" She abruptly has to cover a giggle -- as she unwittingly has the same thought Thorn did several days ago: does this mean Apple Computers is run by elves?!
Ceridwen smiles, "I'm sure there's one there, but I meant the one near here. If you were going to explore Wales, you could go by there while you were exploring. After all, the cave where Maerlyn -- not our dear flower child Maerlyn but a much older one -- saw his vision of the two dragons."
Cinnamon looks surprised, "It was... just a vision? Oh! Okay. I must've read the wrong myth, then." She grins shyly, "I like yours better, honestly. Building a castle over two battling dragons didn't seem like a really smart idea to me, after all!" She glances around at her friends, "Do any of you know where Trod of the Apple is?"
None of her friends seem to, but Roger steps in again, "About a day's travel west of here."
Jaeger leans in to translate, "Another hour by train."
Ceridwen smiles at Cinnamon, "Metaphor mostly, I think -- a country built upon unstable politics."
Cinnamon nods slowly to Ceridwen, thinking that she's going to have to do a lot of research on myth and metaphor! She nods to Jaeger as well, tilting her head to check with him, "Do trains suck for you too?"
Thorn says thoughtfully, "An hour... that still sounds slightly uncomfortable if one didn't like cold metal."
Jaeger smiles, "They do. But I thought you might take Shane, Josie, Spice, Thorn, and Fraser with you. Even Maerlyn, if he wants to get out of the enclave for a while."
Cinnamon replies pragmatically, "Well, we have to take at least one person who knows where the trod is, or we'll never find it. Is it on the coast? Can we sail to it?"
Ceridwen smiles, "Maerlyn knows. He just tries not to leave for too long. He gets worried over his plants the way some people get worried over their pets."
Cinnamon grins at that! Roger too smiles, "I can't blame him. But if he does go, I'll help with the plants."
Cinnamon hmms... then nods briskly, "Well, okay then! So we need to ask Maerlyn to come along, let him know Roger can care for his plants, and get going ASAP to Apple, right? Anything else we're supposed to do while there, past ask them to come for the reconsecration of the grove? Also, is it on the coast? Is sailing feasible?"
Roger shakes his head and pushes to his feet, brushing his hands off, "No... well... yes... it's inland a bit, but you could sail down the coast. But it's a while until the moon, so if you don't find you have time, we can send another envoy!"
Cinnamon gives Roger a curious glance, "It's... a week until the moon! Won't the sidhe there need time to travel safely?"
Roger considers, "Yes. But you also have to leave in a week. I meant that if you think of it today and decide you haven't the time, we'll send someone else."
Ceridwen is getting to her feet as well, "I hope you'll be able to come for a longer visit some time. I'd love you have you visit me at home."
Cinnamon smiles shyly at Ceridwen, "Thank you for the invite!" She glances around and sighs happily, adding, "I don't know about my friends, but I know I'd sure like to come back on a longer visit!"
Thorn nods his head, smiling, "I would too, for certain!"
Ceridwen smiles at Thorn, "I promise to not make you endure pomp and circumstance! If you've met Caradog, you've likely had to deal with that." Cinnamon has to cover another nervous giggle at that!
The little picnic breaks up and they head back to the inn. There, they find Spice in Shane's room, the pair of them playing five card draw and using matchsticks instead of money. Shane admits it was his idea and said he didn't want to actually take Spice's money. That makes the human hacker snort and tell him in cheerfully obscene language that that wouldn't have happened! Shane is happy to find out the poisoning culprits have been found and there have been no deaths or any other near-deaths. Plans are made for the trip the next day to the observatory, and people are hustled to bed early -- because it'll be an early start.
In the morning they're given another picnic lunch. This one is largely sandwiches and fruit wrapped up in wax paper and tucked into an actual picnic hamper. Maerlyn meets them at the inn, wearing clothes much the same as when the group first met him, but he's also wearing shoes this time: quite modern hiking boots. He's got a messenger bag slung across his body and he's carrying a walking stick, the sort one sometimes sees ramblers and hikers carrying. In all, he looks more like he's ready for an all-day ramble than for a train ride and a leisurely exploration of an observatory. Shane seems hale and whole after a good night's sleep and is even raring to go. Josie puts on her human form again and has regained her cheer after being growly about the grindylows.
Cinnamon is secretly relieved they'll be taking a train instead of hiking the whole way! She intends to enjoy the trip, considering how gorgeous all the scenery she's seen so far is. Thorn is unwittingly thinking much the same, actually -- he too is a bit relieved they'll be traveling by train. Though he still wishes there were a fast way for sidhe and others to travel without being exposed to cold metals. Even so, it promises to be a pleasant train ride and trip to Swansea -- he's looking forward it!
Getting tickets is easy and the train ride goes smoothly despite both Josie and Fraser seeming a little on-edge. Perhaps it's their protective nature and the fact that there's been violence done both to and near their companions. Once they debark, getting to the observatory proves to be simple as well: it's no more than a bus ride away. The observatory itself sits at the edge of a beach and there are plenty of places to picnic when it comes time for lunch. Cinnamon blinks as she first catches sight of the observatory, then adjusts her glasses and stares in fascination, "Wow... is that an angel on the top of the pointy tower? Isn't she lovely? -and whose faces are those on the big poles on the side of the other building?" She grins, adding, "Doesn't it look a bit like a rocket and a gantry? Like the pointy tower's about ready to take off for space?
Thorn laughs, "It does, actually! It's certainly impressive!"
Shane grins, "Yeah, it really does. Of course, it's all about space..."
Cinnamon holds up her cell phone as she adds, "Apparently there's a stained glass panel at the top of the dome too, though I couldn't find any photos of it. Can we go in -- does anyone know?"
Thorn looks around, "I imagine there's a kiosk for visitors or a tour guide if we can...?"
Maerlyn tips his head back at the figure surmounting the tower, hand shading his eyes as he smiles, "No, in fact she's not an angel. She's holding a pair of intersecting rings with orbs along them."
Cinnamon grins shyly at Shane, feeling unaccountably happy at sight of him, healthy and well again! Then she blinks, registering Maerlyn's words. She laughs, teasing the other man, "Oh, so angels don't get to carry rings and orbs? That automatically disqualifies them for angelhood?"
There actually isn't anything that looks like a ticket booth, but there's a large plaque with some of the history of the observatory. Despite that, Maerlyn walks right up to what is obviously the main door and knocks on it with his walking stick. Spice mutters, "Give him a fuckin' gray robe and that's Gandalf knocking at Bilbo's door..." Cinnamon giggles at Spice, nodding!
Maerlyn grins over his shoulder at Cinnamon, "No. But most angels don't have breasts." He waits a few minutes and then knocks again... a few more minutes and then a third time. It's after the third set of knocks that the door opens and what looks like a wizened old man peers out, squinting at Maerlyn and then past Maerlyn at the others. He snorts -- almost a laugh -- and steps back, "Well, get in here before someone notices the door's open!"
Cinnamon blinks startledly at the old man... then quickly moves forward with the others. She whispers to Spice as she does so, giggling, "So is this another of the wizards?!"
Thorn opens his mouth to ask about 'angels' but isn't sure he really wants the answer. Then the door opens and he's blinking at the other... wizard? He follows curiously along with the others. Spice mutters back, "I just hope he's not that bastard Saruman."
The old man chuckles, "Nope -- not me! Though I wouldn't mind his hair." The old fellow's hair is short and a little straggly. It even looks, in places, like it might have been singed.
Maerlyn snorts, "If you'd keep your hair in a braid when you're working with Bunsen burners, it would help."
Cinnamon giggles again at the old man's words! She smiles a bit wistfully at Maerlyn's comment, though -- she's always kept her hair at about ear to shoulder length... mostly because she's been convinced her hair is limp, dull-colored, unattractive, and dowdy -- just like the rest of her. She takes a deep breath and marches in with her friends, firmly reminding herself that she may be all that... but only when she's human! As a dragon she's pretty darned beautiful, she thinks! The old man waves them on and starts up the spiral staircase inside the part of the observatory that looks like the gantry of the launchpad. As they climb, they circle around a beautiful hanging orrery and find that their skin and hair are bathed in blue and purple light reminiscent of dawn or dusk.
Thorn looks at his hands in the lovely shimmering light, then looks up to see if he can find the stained glass window it's coming through. Cinnamon oooohs in wide-eyed pleasure, staring around herself and giggling as her friends turn different shades of blue and purple. She murmurs to Spice, "My favorite colors! Wish we could do this for realsies!" The light is coming from a stained glass oculus at the top of the brick tower. Cinnamon finally looks directly upwards -- then goes still, simply staring with her mouth open. The whole climb clearly was designed to serve as a quiet and lovely reminder of what this tower was built for. She only remembers herself when someone bumps her gently in passing, though all she does is whisper, "How beautiful!"
Once Cinnamon looks up and pauses, several of the others do the same thing. There are intakes of breath and even one actual, audible gasp. Maerlyn and his companion stop just above the others and there's a warm chuckle from the tie dye-clad wizard, "Ah. I love watching that."
Cinnamon finally starts walking upwards again when Fraser rumbles amusedly, "Ye'll fall over if ye lean any further backwards, lass!" She's careful to hold onto the railing as she does so, though... because she's still staring upwards. Her reply to the Scots werewolf is soft, "Isn't it gorgeous, though, Fraser?"
Fraser chuckles, "Oh, aye. It's almost as lovely as the sky on a moonless night at sea, where the Milky Way seems so close you can almost touch it."
Josie nods, her dark eyes wide, "It's... it's like it's the night sky but all the time and inside."
Something odd finally registers for Cinnamon... and she blinks and turns her gaze to the older man, "So... who are you, please, that you get to live here?"
The older man is several steps above Maerlyn as he smiles down at Cinnamon, "Taliesin. I'm in retirement, of course." Then he starts on up the stairs again, chuckling.
Cinnamon stops walking again, staring after the old man with a shocked expression... but then she blinks and asks Maerlyn -- with, admittedly, a bit of urgency, "Is he like... like you? Like there's always a Taliesin?!"
Maerlyn smiles at the little dragon and nods, "Yes. But he's been around longer than I have."
Cinnamon's eyes widen with delight at that! She grins almost mischievously, trotting up the stairs a bit to catch up more with the older man and calling after him, "Will you sing for us, please?!" Thorn, who isn't as familiar with the myths and histories, blinks at Cinnamon's request.
Taliesin pauses and peers down at Cinnamon, "Oh, I think we can do that. But you'll have to sing along with some of them. Some songs don't sound good with one lonely voice." He does move awfully spryly for a man apparently several centuries old.
Cinnamon beams at that, replying brightly, "Okay! That's not too great a price to pay... to hear the bard who's supposed to have sung at King Arthur's court!"
Taliesin chuckles and shakes his head, "Not me. One of my predecessors. Just like that whippersnapper's predecessor is who saw the dragons under the castle." By now they've reached the observing room, and he adds, "They were supposed to take the telescope, but there was some paperwork mix-ups..."
Cinnamon says, "Ooh, that's right! Can you tell us about the dragons too, please?!" She wonders if there are any cool myths or prophecies about the Red Dragon of Wales that she's not heard yet. There are certainly lots and lots of stories about both Merlin and Taliesyn, after all!
Thorn asks, "So the telescope is still here? I'd have thought they'd have noticed it missing from where it should be!" Cinnamon giggles at that!
Taliesin clears his throat, "You would think that, wouldn't you?" His eyes are twinkling. Then he does something that he seems to take great satisfaction in: he walks to the dome through which the telescope peers, puts a single finger on it and starts to walk in a clockwise direction. The dome moves with him as smoothly as it if were on rails, "The one that's there is just as good, but this one had some modifications done."
Cinnamon watches in fascination -- that is a really well-balanced set of gimbals at work there! Maerlyn speaks quietly, "It's actually floating..." Thorn blinks in surprise. The rollers on the dome must be in extraordinarily good condition! Taliesin must oil it very frequently to get it to move as smoothly as this -- Thorn glances to Maerlyn. Or yeah, you know, it could be 'just' magic! Josie and Fraser are also gawking. Even Spice gives a low whistle of appreciation.
Taliesin laughs and tsks at Maerlyn, "You should have waited to spoil it! Yes, it's floating on a layer of oil and water. The designer was inspired."
Thorn feels a little silly, now that he thinks about it. Even so, with just oil and water, this is remarkable. Cinnamon says, "Why did you keep the telescope here?"
Maerlyn smiles at Thorn's expression, "I've always loved this place. The man who designed it really was inspired... and Taliesin did the inspiration."
Taliesin too smiles, "I wanted a place to inspire wonder. There was a science-fiction author who wrote: 'Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.'" There are no computers in the room, and very few lights. There are, however, a lot of large sketch pads and comfortable places to sit. To Cinnamon's question Taliesin replies, "Because it's an excellent one... and because I need an excellent one for the work I do."
Cinnamon wanders fascinatedly around the room as she asks, "What work do you do?"
Taliesin sits on the edge of a table and smiles, "Astronomy. Astrology. Prophecy and history."
Cinnamon pauses, tilting her head at Taliesin, "Prophecy? Does that happen often to you?"
Taliesin chuckles, "Actually, no -- that's more his department." He tips his head toward Maerlyn, continuing, "What I actually do seems like prophecy, but is based on astronomy and history. It does tend to repeat itself. By observing astronomical events and carefully lining them up with history, one can begin to understand when big events are afoot."
Cinnamon looks intrigued as she settles on one of the big cushion chairs, "So are big events afoot?"
Taliesin smiles wryly, "They are. But I haven't quite sussed out just what they are. We've cycled back to the place where the original Maerlyn dreamt the dragons. We're waiting for some kind of massive upheaval... or rather, we're trying to trace lines to what upheaval is going to come."
Cinnamon grins with shy hopefulness, "So does that mean there are going to be dragons again, or just some big socio-political issue?"
Maerlyn mmms, "Both, I think. Or at least dragons are going to come back into more importance again. You're... well, there aren't a lot of you left. There are a handful, still..."
Cinnamon's grin gets, if anything, even more shy -- she's not sure how Taliesin will react to her being a dragon, after all! As if mention of dragons summoned it, her cell phone rings... so she ducks her head and answers her phone instead, "Hello?"
The voice on the other end of the line is familiar, though the accent is thicker, "Cinnamon?"
"Veles?" Cinnamon brightens, "Hi! How're you doing, dude? Is your family happy to see you again? How's your dragon? Will he see me, maybe?" Thorn blinks and perks as Cinnamon's phone rings -- then smiles when he hears it's Veles.
Veles' voice is soft and he sounds happy when he answers, "They welcomed me home as if I had never left. We are not Christian, but there was mention of lost sheep being all the more precious."
Cinnamon beams, almost glowingly happy for Veles, "Awwww! That is so awesome, dude! See?! Told you they'd be thrilled to see you again!" She sighs happily, then adds, "So, what's up, guy? What can I do for you?"
There's a swallow and then Veles' voice gets somber, "The zmei... I..." He takes a deep breath, "I met him. But I was barely in time."
Cinnamon blinks, worry starting to grow in her expression, "Barely... in time? Uh-oh. What's wrong, dude? Is he angry or something?"
Veles says heavily, "No. He is dead." The silence after that fairly throbs with sadness and regret.
"Ohhh... oh, no!" Cinnamon takes a deep breath -- she'd been rather pinning her hopes on meeting the zmei in order to learn more about being a dragon. Now that's gone, though... oh, dear! She remembers now: Veles' family had all nearly devoted themselves to the zmei! She sighs, taking a deep breath before she checks the important stuff first: "Oh, Veles -- I am so, so sorry! How are you and your family doing? Are you all okay? Do you need help, or what?"
There's a hesitation... and then Veles says, "I know you and Josie must go back soon for the next meeting of the council. But I would like you to come... if not now then soon... to meet my family. I want them to know there are still sacred serpents."
Cinnamon says firmly, "Veles, I will absolutely come meet your family! I may not be that sacred, but if your poor family needs to know there are still dragons, I'm definitely up for that. But listen -- how are you and your family doing?! Should I ask Thorn to come too, if they're really badly hurting?" She hesitates, then cautiously adds, "Was it... hopefully a peaceful death?" She glances worriedly at Thorn, mouthing, 'Can you come?!' Thorn blinks at her question, then nods resolutely.
Veles sighs, "It was. He was not injured. He was not ill, precisely... just very, very old... and there have been no new sacred serpents born."
Cinnamon sighs and nods, forgetting Veles cannot see her, "I get it... Liam said we weren't very fertile, honestly. Maybe two offspring every couple of generations, if I remember correctly." She beams and blows a thank-you kiss at Thorn, then adds encouragingly to Veles, "Thorny says he can come too! Would you like that? Would that be okay with your family?"
Veles murmurs with some relief, "Yes, please... and Spice, if she can. She is family too, after all." He takes a deep breath again, "I am glad I took the wrong road to come to the right place."
Cinnamon nods briskly, "I'll see if she'll come too, yes!" -- then smiles wryly, "Oh, dude... I wish you were here to give you a hug! I'm so sorry... and I imagine your family's kind of devastated too!" She thinks a moment, then adds, "Can you give me some details so I know where to get tickets for, please? Also, can I call you back with dates on this number?"
Veles replies soberly, "Yes, please call back. There is an airport... it is not close, precisely, but it will bring you within a day's travel. I will meet you there and be your guide. You will need one."
Cinnamon beams, "Okay! I'll ask Spice if she can get us all tickets, then -- and we'll call you right back as soon as we have news, okay?" She adds reassuringly, "Also, Veles? If your family needs anything? Please, please tell me, okay? I want to help as much as possible." Cinnamon figures she may not be able to actually talk to the zmei... but he clearly cared deeply about these people! Maybe she can sort of thank his memory by helping care for his folks as well. Veles agrees, then says his thanks and sends his regards onto Spice and the others. He does seem to intimate that Thorn's abilities might be welcome before he hangs up the call.
Cinnamon turns immediately to Spice once she's hung up, quickly updating the group on what's going on, and asking both Thorn and Spice if they'd be willing to come along with her to visit Veles -- as well as explaining why she's asking. Taliesin has picked up a sketchbook and has been scratching away in it while everyone was talking, while Maerlyn has boosted himself up onto one of the worktables to wait. Once Spice is busy checking prices to the airport Veles mentioned, Cinnamon says apologetically to Maerlyn and Taliesin, "I'm really sorry for kind of interrupting your tour, guys... and Maerlyn, I apologize again, but I don't think I'll be able to be the messenger to Apple. I hope that's okay?" She considers inviting all her friends along -- that'd be awesome! But then, in a small fit of shyness, she realizes that her asking will put them on the spot if they don't want to go. Better, she decides (a bit wistfully) to wait and see if they ask themselves?
Maerlyn smiles, "Oh, we're just showing off. That sounded like an important call."
Shane mmms and quietly lets Spice know to book him a seat as well. Cinnamon beams and hugs Shane with relief at that! Fraser considers, "I... should probably stay back at Llanelli. This could take a few days." He's obviously trying to be subtle about saying 'You don't want a being of pure Id with you.'
Cinnamon grins at Fraser and hugs him too, "You stay safe, Fraser, okay? Plus we'll need you and Jaeger to tell the folks on the Valkyrie to head on back towards Rowan anyways, since that's the best rendezvous point for us all, right? We still have to pick up Aisling before we head on back to the US, after all!" She looks hopefully at Josie, wondering if the werewolf would like to come along to Bulgaria -- then adds, "Oh! Plus I better download the language, shouldn't I!" She hastily makes a note on her cell.
Josie nods, "I'll come along -- I've never been to Bulgaria, and new things are always good!"
Cinnamon beams and hugs Josie in relief too, "Oh, yay! I'm so glad you're coming, Josie -- you and Shane both!" She giggles cheerfully at Fraser as she adds, "No worries, Mr. Fraser -- we'll try sweeping you up on a wild goose chase through the skies some other time!"
Fraser snorts, "Let's us try not to have a Wild Hunt." Maerlyn grins at that -- he's finding he quite likes this unexpected group of people! But then, he was ever curious!
Taliesin smiles, "Did I hear mention of a zmei?"
Cinnamon nods excitedly to Taliesin, "Yes! It's a sacred Bulgarian dragon, apparently!" She happily burbles about the little she knows regarding the zmei, though she grows more solemn as she has to report the incredibly ancient dragon's death as well. After that she looks hopefully up at Taliesin, "So... we likely have a few hours before we really need to hustle, right? So... would it be okay to ask for some singing now... maybe?"
Taliesin smiles, "Let's. But let's go downstairs to do it. This my workroom. I've got living quarters downstairs." He chuckles, "I'm the caretaker -- at least in official records that no one ever looks at because they forget about this place on a lot of legal documentation."
Cinnamon beams excitedly, "Yay! Thanks so much, Mr. Taliesin, for humoring me so!" She glances thoughtfully at Spice, then realizes the clever little hacker will most likely quietly let Cinnamon know once arrangements have been made, and when they're for.
Taliesin chuckles quietly, "Just Taliesin. It's my forename." He puts the sketchbook and the charcoal pencil he was using down on the worktable and leads them all back down the stairs under the oculus and into the part of the tower beneath the dome. Up two floors gets them to a small, cozy apartment, with enough seats for everyone -- as if it was meant to be a gathering place. He excuses himself and returns in not too long with a smallish harp. Thorn looks around curiously, wondering how a reclusive wizard in the (relatively) modern era decorates their home. It's certainly a fascinating locale... and the bard has pretty much said that he altered the telescope. [Magically?] Thorn wonders, then: [Well, of course! Curious, though, that there actually is something to astrology...]
Cinnamon glances with surreptitious interest at the sketch... then wonders happily if that's what a zmei looks like! She'll have to ask Veles later -- or maybe his family? Hopefully they know! The sketch does appear to be some kind of serpentine creature, though it's not like Cinnamon's draconic form. It's something that's got traits in common with both Eastern and Western dragons. The wings seem bat-like, but it has tendrils or whiskers of some sort around its mouth. It's quite elongate as well; Taliesin has drawn it wound about some sort of central rod or pole. It looks, in fact, almost like the rod of Aesclepius.
Taliesin's living quarters are -- much like Maerlyn's -- crammed with bookshelves, which are themselves crammed with books, tchotchkes (or at least some of them might be tchotchkes), and small models of solar systems and machines. Intriguingly, not all of the solar systems seem to be this one! In the places where actual wall shows there are various night-themed pieces of artwork: Starry Night, something that looks like a night sky painted a la Bob Ross... there's also a panoramic photograph of a glorious sweep of the Milky Way. The ceiling itself is painted as the sky would be throughout the day. On the east end of the room, it's dawn; noon at the apex, and night in the west.
Cinnamon oooohs quietly to herself as she cranes her neck to see the entire room -- to her, this is a perfect place for great epic bardic tales! She's almost bouncing with excitement by the time Taliesin returns with his harp. This is one of those amazing, magical, awesome things she'd always dreamed of as a child -- getting to listen to one of the great Celtic bards! Taliesin lowers most of the lights and settles in on the floor with the harp. He hmms as he strums along the strings, creating waterfalls of sound. He's looking pensive, perhaps going over his internal catalogue of music. Thorn pauses when he sees the not-Solar system models. He's intensely curious about them, and will have to ask about them later! But for now, he knows enough not to interrupt a bard's performance. Cinnamon settles quietly, bright-eyed and almost thrumming with excitement!
Taliesin starts with a song that sounds perhaps a bit familiar, but the lyrics seem to be in Welsh. His voice is deep, soulful, and heart-touching. The harp accompanies him, almost seeming to play itself. After a couple of lines Maerlyn's voice joins in as well. His voice is more a tenor, but it meshes well with the bard's voice. Cinnamon wonders excitedly if it'd be all right to sing along very, very quietly now that Maerlyn has joined in, since she can understand the Welsh... tentatively she tries humming along to see if anyone glares at her or not. Shane hums along, smiling; he doesn't wish to step on the beautiful language. He doesn't understand the Welsh words, but he knows the tune. Thorn rests his chin on his hands, eyes closed as he listens. He doesn't know the song himself, but it's very, very emotional to him.
Cinnamon brightens when Shane hums too, and shifts to singing the words very softly... maybe that'll still be okay? She finds herself getting caught up in the dreamily expressive music, closing her eyes and singing along with quiet joy. She sighs with almost choked-up emotional happiness as the last lovely, trailing notes of the music slowly fade away... then opens her eyes, still smiling.
After that song Taliesin smiles at Fraser, "This one is newer, and in... well, mostly English..." Many of them may have heard the song in a major key, but Taliesin plays 'Loch Lomond' in a minor key. Fraser joins in with him, his voice a matching rumble. After that the bard plays another handful of 'newer' songs, though none of them seem to come from any earlier than about 1870: 'Barbara Allen,' 'The Cuckoo'... If any of those assembled sing along, both the bard and the wizard smile. Indeed, Maerlyn's face is alight with happiness at the music.
In truth, none of them have heard much approaching Taliesin's singing. At times it almost seems like there are sighing winds or the echoes of sobs in some of the sadder parts... and there is laughter in places where it would be appropriate. After the songs that are old but perhaps familiar, the bard starts to sing songs that no one but Maerlyn seems to know. One of them, Taliesin explains, is a musical account of the vision of the fighting dragons; one is apparently a story of a highwayman; another is a story of a war between clans.
Cinnamon sings when she feels called by the music, and listens with breathless fascination to the performance when she's not. She takes a deep breath at the song of the battling dragons, eyes closed as she does her best to commit it to memory... and more than once Taliesin's beautiful music swirls her up into its emotional embrace. She wipes away the occasional tear, or laughs and claps along, or smiles as she hums and sways with the music... this is a very special and priceless joy for her! The one about the dragons was apparently written by Taliesin himself, as are a couple more. One or two he sings first in Irish or Scots or Welsh or even Olde English, but many of them he sings twice -- first in its original form and then translated into English. Thorn appreciates the translation, even though it's possibly not exactly the same wording -- Taliesin knows what the meaning of the original is, after all, so Thorn trusts him to translate it! The healer finds it both soothing and haunting to hear the music sung in its original language, whichever that language might be.
Eventually, Taliesin trails his fingers over the strings to create another of those soft waterfalls of sound and sits back with a smile, "That was lovely. It's been too long since I've been able to sing with people."
Maerlyn smiles, "You could be a millionaire, my friend."
It's obviously teasing, since the bard laughs and teases right back, "Because that would help my work."
Cinnamon sighs happily, still beaming as she nearly glows with the sheer pleasure of music! Shyly she says, "You could... like, maybe you could sing for a cause? Like... for peace, maybe?"
Taliesin laughs softly, "I rarely leave the tower anymore. There are too many confluences coming up. But I have sung to soothe savage breasts."
Cinnamon smiles shyly, twisting her fingers together a few times before she finally says, "Well, I... I really liked this, sir! Thank you so, so much for performing for us?"
Taliesin smiles around the room at everyone, "Thank you all for listening." He glances toward one of the windows in the wall and sighs, "It is getting late. Nearly time for dinner." Cinnamon glances at Spice, wondering if they have time to stay for dinner... or maybe get dinner for Taliesin? A moment later she blinks -- wow, that was a wonderfully long concert! It was no more than noon when they started!
The sun is in fact actually setting, and Maerlyn smiles as Taliesin picks up his harp to put her away. Spice looks at her watch, "We've got time. Last train back isn't for a few hours. Coulda sworn we'd only been listening for an hour or so..." Cinnamon nods in amazement to Spice!
Maerlyn smiles again, "Taliesin's voice is beguiling. It's... part of his nature as Taliesin."
The young dragon grins at Maerlyn's explanation, nodding again, "I read one story where he beguiled the Fey Queen with his singing!" She sighs happily again, still beaming with remembered pleasure.
Taliesin calls from the kitchen, "Maerlyn, can you go into town and pick up a few things for dinner? I'll p-" -- and Maerlyn grins as he interrupts, "Pay me back, I know. I'll be happy to. I brought this bunch to your doorstep, after all."
Cinnamon brightens, "Oh! Can we, um... maybe bring you some dinner?" She glances hopefully at Maerlyn, "Is there a nice restaurant in town that'd allow us to order take-out, maybe?"
Maerlyn grins, "There are a couple." He raises his voice slightly, "And it'll do the old man good to try something new." There's a snort from the kitchen and rattling of dishes of some sort. After a bit, it's decided that they're going to get Indian food. Taliesin grumbles a bit about it, but once they bring it back for him, he seems to quite enjoy the tikka masala they got for him. Cinnamon is pleased! A dinner is very little to offer the greatest modern bard, but she's glad the group was able to at least give him that.
Dinner goes in the way that it often does when there is good company and good food. There is laughter and there are stories, and Taliesin proves to be as good at telling spoken stories as he is at singing stories. The friendliness between the wizard and the bard is perhaps heartening. When it's time to leave so they make the train, Taliesin goes back up into the work room and comes down with the sketch he did, "This is a smok... really more a zmei, but they're basically the larval and adult forms of the same thing. I wish you a safe journey to your clansman."
Cinnamon is deeply touched by the gift! She hugs Taliesin tightly, and her eyes are a little misty as she accepts the precious sketch. Thorn too thanks Taliesin warmly and gratefully... for the hospitality, for letting them stay for so long, for his singing -- for everything. The healer is not at all likely to ever forget this visit! Taliesin smiles, "You are more than welcome, Thorn. It's good to have company sometimes." He looks at Cinnamon as he adds, "Maerlyn told me, while he was helping me get the dishes, what kind of dragon you are. I'm glad you're here. Dragons are going to come to the forefront again. You may have to come back to be a protector."
Cinnamon blinks a bit startledly up at Taliesin, "A... protector? Uh-oh... um, is something bad coming up soon?"
The bard's reply is quiet, "We're coming to a confluence of stars and planets that were the same as when the Maerlyn of the time saw the dragons. There will be a struggle."
Cinnamon takes a deep breath... then pushes her glasses up and says as firmly as she can, "Well, then, I... I guess I'll just do the best I can to... to calm things down, right?" She smiles a little uncertainly, a lot nervously... but she truly means what she says. Thorn shivers at Taliesin's words. He doesn't like the sound of that.
Once the group are back at Llanelli, Cinnamon quickly packs all her goods and makes sure Veles knows what time to meet them. She's excited to see a new country! She also makes sure she's downloaded the language lessons for Bulgarian to practice on the way. She figures that's the closest she'll be able to get to the 'Church' version of the tongue which he speaks... but that's better than nothing! Thorn packs as well, his meager belongings that he brought with him already in a small bag. He's never been to Bulgaria before, and this is altogether a more serious mission that they're undertaking from the get-go.
The flight to Bulgaria goes well. There are announcements in both English and Bulgarian when they get to the airport. Veles meets them and hugs each member of the party tightly, "Thank you for coming. There has been a lot of mourning, though I think my family hopes that one of the women will give birth to a new smok. When I told them about you being a dragon who jumped generations, it brought them some hope." He looks sad, "I had hoped you could meet him. I think you would have liked him."
Cinnamon return-hugs Veles warmly! She smiles sadly and pats his arm, "I would have loved to have met him, Veles! But at least you got to see him one last time, right? Did he say anything special to you?" Thorn returns Veles's hug just as tightly, and listens as the scarred man give his explanation to Cinnamon. It's very sobering... especially when Thorn recalls Taliesin's ominous mention of a coming struggle that will involve dragons.
Veles picks up some of the luggage -- basically going for whatever's heaviest, no matter who it belongs to, "He told me that there are other dragons out there and that he was glad I found a gentle one."
Cinnamon blushes at that! She grins shyly, pushing her glasses up as she curiously asks, "He just knew you'd met another dragon? Or you told him?"
Veles smiles, "I told him the whole story. He wept with me for the lost ones of Elm." Cinnamon blinks up at Veles... then abruptly hugs him tightly again, burying her face against his chest so he can't see how she's almost tearing up at that! Veles hugs her and pets her back quietly, then looks across at Thorn, "Thank you for coming."
Thorn nods quietly, placing a hand on Veles's shoulder at mention of the lost of Elm. He lets out a soft breath, then nods and smiles quietly when Veles looks at him, "I'm glad to."
Veles nods and leads them all out to the van he brought to transport them to his home. It's one of those twelve person vans that's damn near a bus. It's got mud along the rocker panels and fenders, and the tires are splattered with it. In fact, Veles is dressed almost like one might think a farmer would dress. Once they're all settled into the van, he talks over his shoulder as he pulls out of the airport, "The last few miles of the trip are on dirt roads. We can get all the way there in the bus, but that's new in the last five or ten years. We'll have to drive through a couple of gates."
Cinnamon blinks interestedly as she stares out the window while they drive along, "Gates? So your family is really out in the country then?"
Veles chuckles, "Extremely rural, but not close-minded -- rural for protection." His accent has thickened since they last saw him, "The gates are to keep away the people who decided to just take a drive into the country."
Cinnamon looks intrigued, "That's why you still speak... what was it... Church something... Church Slavonic, I think? Did you self-isolate up in the mountains, then?" A little shyly she adds, "I, um, downloaded Bulgarian language lessons on my laptop so I could maybe catch a few words while folks were talking -- I hope you don't mind!"
Veles nods, "Yes, it is a very old form of the language, and my earliest one. When I am highly emotional, it's what I revert to, but I also speak modern Bulgarian... as do a small handful of others. They will be happy if you can understand them."
Cinnamon looks relieved as she pushes up her glasses, continuing to watch through the van's window with avid interest. This is only her third foreign country, after all, after Ireland and Wales! The drive takes them not just out, but up -- they're winding their way up into the hills and mountains. Thorn keeps his eyes on the outside, watching in fascination... then glances back at a thought, "Why do they call it 'Church' Slavonic?" They pass very few other buildings after the first half hour, and for the next half hour the dwellings are no closer than two miles apart. The countryside is almost completely untouched after that point. Before then, some farmsteads were visible, but some of the apparent driveways simply disappeared into forest! The actual drive takes another two or more hours... so after that the only signs of civilization are always spotted far from the road. For the last half hour there's nothing until they reach the first gate.
Veles talks as he drives, "Ahh... I am not sure. I have always thought it is much the way that the Romance languages see Latin as a church language, since it was spoken by the priests and other elders, and evolved into other languages."
Cinnamon looks intrigued as she realizes just how overgrown much of this area is, "So... there's lots of open space here in Bulgaria? Lots of wild lands?" As the setting sun casts long shadows over the heavily forested hills, she happily adds, "Wow, it's really beautiful!" The mountains are lush, with hardy trees clinging to their slopes. Once or twice, the travelers even pass brightly painted farm wagons drawn by laconic mules. The people they see nearer the roads are working in the fields with hand tools. There are a few windmills, and even solar panels on some of the houses.
Veles smiles, "Lots of countryside. My family owns everything from a mile back from the fence and several miles on either side, on back up the mountain and into that valley. Of course, we have owned it for a very long time. The borders are well-patrolled so that we do not get squatters trying to claim the land." At the comment about the countryside's beauty, he looks almost proud -- as if the land were his doing.
Cinnamon ooohs at the prettily painted wagons, then grins shyly at Veles, "That's right -- you said your entire extended family was out here, right? There must be a lot of you all by now!"
When they reach the first gate across the road, Veles gets out and unlocks it. There's a sturdy fence on either side of the gate that disappears into the dense woodlands, and deep ditches on each side of the road, to discourage anyone from trying to friend a way around the fence.
Cinnamon blinks at Veles when he returns to the van, "Er... w-would you like me to unlock future gates, so you can drive right through?" She remembers reading about this being part of good manners in the Western part of the US. Maybe she can be helpful and polite like that here as well?
Veles smiles, "I want them to see that it is me there opening them. Though... at the next one, get out with me and I will hand you the keys. You can open that and the other two."
Cinnamon blinks curiously, "It... would be bad if it weren't you opening the gates? Huh! You guys must really police your privacy here then, I guess?"
Veles' voice is dry, "We do not have the magic to hide ourselves like a trod, or an enclave like Coblyn. We rely on some very physical means of privacy." He speaks as if all the gates are watched -- though where they'd be watched from is difficult to figure out.
Thorn blinks, and looks around. There doesn't seem to be anyone within sight for miles around. He wonders if the surveillance is magical, or if there are concealed cameras, maybe? Cinnamon nods, reassured, "Oh, I get it! The enclave at Llanelli in Wales does that too -- because it's right inside the city."
Veles nods, "Da, like that." As he suggested, at the next gate he gets out of the van with Cinnamon, calling out something that's either not in Bulgarian or part of the very old dialect. There's a sharp whistle -- two long and two short -- and then he hands the keys off to the young dragon. For the last two gates he doesn't get out of the van at all, which makes Cinnamon feel happily as if she's being useful!
It's another few miles before the forest starts to open up again into fields on either side of the road, and a few houses or other buildings off in the distance. The road is a little too curvy to see immediately, but eventually the van enters what looks like a small village which looks just as one might think a medieval village should look like... except everything is quite clean. The houses are white-washed and there's no offal on the road. Thorn blinks again, looking around. "Between the distance and the road, this is really well hidden!"
Cinnamon looks around in fascination, completely charmed, "Oh! Everything is so perfect and beautiful and quaint -- I love it!"
Shane laughs at that, "If they're like rural Irish, they may glower at being called 'quaint,' acushla." He smiles as he adds, "But it is beautiful here. It's obvious you all love this place, Veles."
Spice is looking somewhat skeptical: there are no overhead wires and there are no towers at all in sight! Cinnamon grins cheerfully at Shane, and giggles at Spice's thoughtful glare -- the young dragon still thinks it's gorgeous here! She adds a bit more shyly, "I hope they like us..." Thorn glances at his phone, just wondering if he's somehow getting signal... though if not, well... that's to be expected. Nope! Looks like none of the land-based cellphones have any signal.
Veles smiles at Cinnamon, "They will like all of you. I have told them stories of the happenings since I left. They credit you all with, as my grandmother says, making me not-mad."
Cinnamon turns slightly pink, pushing up her glasses and almost stuttering, "Oh! We-well, that was, um... wasn't that r-really Jaeger and all?"
Veles smiles again, his eyes on his driving as he replies, "Jaeger and all the rest of you, da. Jaeger gave me the sanctuary I needed to come to my senses, but you have all been friends and family to me. Shane let me stay with him, and treated me as if I was trustworthy -- you all did. It reminded me of the fact that it used to be true... and that it could be true again."
Cinnamon smiles shyly at Veles again, patting his arm, "But Veles... it is true." Then, without realizing how powerful her (truthful) words might be to her companions, she glances around happily and adds, "So... introduce us to your family?"
Veles parks, though the van has been sitting in the road for a while before a few doors open and people start emerging. The former mercenary laughs, "I will introduce you to some of them, da... though there are three hundred or so of us." He's quick to add, "We do marry outside from time to time. That is how I was... taken from here."
Cinnamon gives a surprised laugh, "Three hundred! Goodness, how do you remember all the names?!" A little wistfully she wonders what it would have been like to be raised around so much family. Surely at least a few might not have agreed with her parents' estimation of her worthlessness?
Veles lowers his voice so those in the van can hear, but those outside cannot, "Actually, I don't remember them all! I just treat everyone as if I know them; as if they're family. My Baba will tell me someone's name if I seem stuck. She kept the genealogy for a while before she passed it to my aunt."
Cinnamon giggles at that, "That's clever! Your Baba is your... grandmother, then? She's still alive? That's awesome!"
Veles smiles, "She is. She is... eighty-seven? Her mother lived to be over a hundred." He slides out of the van and calls to a white-haired woman with a gnarled walking cane, "Baba! I have brought them!" He then repeats that in the old, old Church Slavonic more normally spoken here... which makes his grandmother smile.
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