Goblin Town -- Logs

The way to get to this Llewellyn is up several flights of stairs and a couple of narrow hallways. The door to the office is open and Hilde calls, "Llew! I've got a newbie that needs to register his mark!" The room is filled with banker's boxes and shelves that look as if there is no way more books could be crammed into them. Thorn doesn't keep himself from gawping, both at the interior and at the amazing amount of books and boxes stuffed into this room!

From around one of the piles of boxes comes a man that must have been grooming and growing his silver-threaded red mutton chops for years. He looks Thorn over and then to Hilde, "Second one in just a few days. Unusual." Then he looks at Thorn and says, "I'll need hair or blood. Something that's part of you." Thorn nods, wondering who the second person to arrive could have been. He reaches up, checking to see if he can pluck a hair from his head or if he'll have to go the blood route. Llewellyn reaches across his desk and plucks a hair from the top of Thorn's head. Then he picks up a fountain pen that could be almost as old as the building, "What name do you wish to register?"

Thorn stifles a 'yeouch' when Llewellyn simply plucks the hair from his head. Wincing only a little, he says, "Thorn, please."

Llewellyn writes the name on the next line of the ledge and then asks, "Do you wish a surname?" Hilde leans in a little and says, "It's not required. We've got quite a few mononyms."

Thorn nods, thinking, then says, "No surname, please. Um... unless someone has already registered as a 'Thorn.'" He actually can't imagine someone wouldn't have taken that pseudonym already.

Llewellyn says, "There are a couple with that as either a forename or a surname, but your mark will be distinct from theirs. Out there..." he waves vaguely eastward, "... surnames are needed because people sign everything with the name itself. That's not so here."

Thorn nods. "May I add a surname later on if I need to? Just in case it becomes necessary?"

Llewellyn nods, "You may." He turns the ledger toward Thorn and taps the left side of the page next to 'Thorn' written in an elegant, calligraphic hand. "Put your mark there." The next line above Thorn's is a little stylized sun and the name is "Cinnamon O'Donnell." Thorn guesses that Cinnamon is the name of the person who arrived so recently. He thinks for a moment, and jots down a stylized rose, that he thinks he can replicate fairly reliably. Llewellyn lays the hair over the little sigil and touches it so that his fingertip is touching both the hair and the sigil. He speaks in a rolling, musical tongue and there is a flash of light from the little rose. He takes the hair and puts into a small white envelope and seals it with sealing wax before handing it to Thorn, "Put your mark on the envelope, please." Thorn nods, and does his best to replicate the stylized rose or 'mark' which is, apparently, his now.

Llewellyn nods and puts the envelope in what looks suspiciously like an inbox/outbox tray, only elegant. Then he says something that seems like it might be sort of an official spiel, "Now, Thorn. Your mark is now legal for any and all contracts, agreements, and suchnot as you may need to conduct here on Coblyn Street. Should you go to another enclave, you'll need to bring a letter from this office or register your sigil with their clerk." Hilde nods and smiles, seeming pleased.

Thorn nods, smiling gratefully. "Thank you," he says. Then he asks curiously, "About how many other enclaves are there?"

Llewellyn asks "On this continent or worldwide?"

Thorn blinks, "Ah... both? Or is it just sort of not really known for certain?"

Llewellyn strokes his chin and thinks, "It's... an amorphous number. Changes often as communities form and break up. In the British Isles, every trod is its own enclave and there are still quite a few trods. If I had to guess? Several dozen. But some are so small that the chances of you encountering them are infinitesimal."

Thorn nods, "Thank you. I was just curious. I'm... very, very new to all this."

Hilde and Llewellyn both nod, and then Hilde speaks. "I usually just get a letter to carry with me if I have to travel. Saves trouble."

Thorn nods. "I think... just in case, may I have such a letter?" he asks Llewellyn. Llewellyn nods and sits down at the table. He pulls over a piece of parchment and starts writing. He writes extremely fast to have so elegant and beautiful a hand. After the letter is mostly written -- in something almost like legalese -- he turns it to have Thorn put his mark on it. Once he does, Llewellyn puts a wax seal with some ribbons on it and folds it into thirds before handing it over. Thorn accepts the letter, nodding. "Thank you again. I very much appreciate it!"

Llewellyn nods and that seems to be the end of it. Hilde takes Thorn's hand and walks with him out of Currier's Hall. She waits until they're a few blocks down, heading toward what smells like a bakery, "Now... you're your own person. Official and all that. Any questions?"

Thorn gives a dry laugh, "All the questions!" He considers. "What do you think I should try to learn about first?"

Hilde considers, "What to look out for. What not to trust." She gives him another of those bright grins and says, "But you seem to have a good grasp on skepticism. At least for someone that's being led down a magically hidden road by an elf in Doc Martens." She stops in front of the bakery and goes solemn again, "We're finally far enough out of any ears that might be Marcus' agents. Killa and Aoi. I suspect both of them. One because he's reptilian and might know Liam�s weaknesses. The other because she's a phoenix."

Thorn nods. "Thank you. And yes, those are good questions." He sighs. "But... this first, yes. I had guessed Killa -- he comes off as one who could be capable of it. Why Aoi?"

Hilde smiles, looking for the first time a little tired, "Because she would be immune to some of his natural weaponry. She's a fire creature. And she's of the 'I am a god' persuasion. She's near-immortal, so those kinds of delusions happen."

Thorn ohs. "That makes sense. I didn't know Liam could breathe fire, but... well, dragon." He chews his lip, "I already have some idea of what I'm going to tell Athala. The question is, how much further do I keep digging, and how do I survive until she gets here."

Hilde smiles and squeezes Thorn's hand. She seems to like touching him, "You'll be safe because you have Athala's mark. But you also have my address if you need to bolt." She points down the street toward the north, "Two blocks down. On the left. The door is painted purple." She hesitates, "And perhaps meet more of the others. Elias, perhaps. Oh! I know who you should meet -- c'mon." She tugs Thorn along, muttering something about, "He should be around here somewhere..." Thorn finds he doesn't mind holding hands with Hilde, or being tugged around by her. It's comforting. Elias, he recalls, is the vampire, but there's someone else that she's taking him to see.

A block or two down, Hilde grins and calls out, "Shane! I've got someone you need to meet!" Sure enough, the tall, dark-haired man he saw with the plump young woman is down the street talking to someone with a smile on his face. He raises his head when he hears his name.

Thorn blinks, "Oh! I remember Shane. We, uh, briefly met when Hans was bringing me to Marcus's." He adds after a moment, "They didn't like each other much."

Hilde chuckles, "Oh dear. No, Shane and Hans don't like one another much." Shane says goodbye to the person he was speaking with and comes to meet Hilde and Thorn halfway, just as Hilde says cheerfully, "Shane! This is Thorn. He's bound to Athala. He's here on a fact-finding mission."

Thorn nods to Shane. "Hi. We, ah, briefly met yesterday."

Shane nods with a wry smile, "We did. That explains why you were with Hans. Let me guess. Staying with Marcus?" Erin, up on the eaves of the closest building, is watching and listening as she always does.

Hilde nods to Shane's question and smiles, "We've just been to get Thorn's mark registered."

Shane smiles at that, "Good idea. Establishes you as a person unto yourself as well as bound to Athala." His hand is resting casually on the hilt of his sword, but it seems more of a 'giving his hands something to do' gesture than a 'threatening the new guy' gesture. He tips his head and looks closely at Thorn, "Tell me you mean harm to no one here."

Thorn nods. "I mean nobody any harm here," he says solemnly. "I've been sent to just gather information for Athala. And I wasn't given any background or context of Coblyn Street." He hopes that Shane understands what that might mean.

Shane seems to be listening very intently and he nods slowly when Thorn's done speaking, "I believe that you mean no harm to anyone here." His smile relaxes, "So she sort of threw you to the wolves." Hilde grins at that, "At least the one wolf I know is a friendly one. More likely to wag you to death than anything else."

Thorn remembers the werewolf buying lunch the day before. He chuckles quietly. "She sort of did, yes," he says. He guesses Shane has some sort of truth-saying ability or magick.

"Josie's very nice until you've done something extremely bad," Hilde says. To Shane, she says, "I wanted you to know his face and the situation. I think he's got some idea just how convoluted things here are... and knows to keep an eye out."

Thorn nods, "Hilde's been very gracious in showing me around. I don't think I'd have gotten very far at all without her help."

Shane smiles. It's a pleasant smile -- not all the scowl he gave Hans, "She won't steer you wrong. It's very easy to talk to her and I've never known her to let anything slip to the wrong people."

Hilde grins at being described as easy to talk to and her pale blue eyes twinkle, "I'm not as easy to talk to as Quinn, though. Are you going to be at the council meeting?" Shane considers and says, "I may be, at that. It's going to be an interesting one." He's not about to mention Cinnamon in front of Thorn at the moment.

Thorn nods, "It sounds like it will be, at the very least." He doesn't like 'interesting' terribly much, especially when someone's been assassinated.

Hilde gives Thorn's hand a squeeze and nods to Shane, "Good. Having you there will make me feel better." She tugs on the human's hand and says, "I also want you to meet someone else. If we can find him."

Thorn nods pleasantly, "Of course! I'll be glad to." He looks back to Shane, "Thank you again, Shane."

Shane nods and then gives Hilde a quick hug before heading along down Coblyn. Hilde grins and hugs back, "I think we'll find Jarek at the cafe. He drinks a lot of coffee." The 'cafe' turns out not to be the sort of light and airy place that term might call to mind. The decor is less Starbucks and more Pre-Revolutionary Russia. There's even someone playing a balalaika, though it's a rather desultory playing and doesn't so much sound like a song as if they're tuning the instrument. Sitting at one of the tables is a person with mustaches that are truly impressive. They frame his mouth and flow down over his chest. Hilde leans in a little and murmurs to Thorn, "I dare you not to think of Yosemite Sam."

Thorn thinks that it just needs a gramophone playing the Volga Boat Song and the atmosphere would be perfect for pre-civil war Russia. At Hilde's comment he blinks in surprise, then stifles a laugh. "Darnit," he murmurs, "now I can't stop."

Hilde gives an impish grin, "Come on. He scowls at you, but he won't bite. Much." The man does have those long flowing mustaches, but the rest of his hair is cut into a very precise flattop. He's wearing a white shirt with full sleeves with a pinstripe waistcoat over it. His jacket seems to be draped over the back of his chair. He raises his head when Hilde calls out, "Jarek! I want you to meet someone!" The look he gives Thorn is assessing and doesn't seem all that welcoming.

To cover the giggling, Thorn tries to mask it with a calm smile as he nods, "Pleased to meet you, sir."

Jarek has a cup with coffee that looks like you could stand a spoon up in it. He rumbles, "Who are you?" The accent also is quite Slavic, and there's a silver tooth in the front.

Hilde clucks and sits at one of the other chairs at Jarek's table, "Be nice! I've just absconded with him from Marcus' place. This is Thorn. Athala sent him." Thorn tries not to clear his throat or make any sudden moves. He doesn't want Jarek disliking him even more just because he walked up. He has a feeling that being known as Athala's might not be the best way to make friends around the circles Hilde travels. And he most certainly does not sit without permission from either Jarek or Hilde!

Jarek sips his coffee and looks Thorn over, "And you bring him here because..."

Hilde smiles, "Because you're a good person to know! And because if he needs to hide, you've got one of the most secure houses on the street." She pats a chair, "Sitsit!" After a moment, it becomes obvious that Jarek can't be over 3' tall. Which might not make it even harder not to think of Yosemite Sam. Thorn studiously focuses on how the coffee is so strong it could probably stir itself, as he sits at Hilde's insistence. He does not want to annoy Jarek at all, especially since Hilde thinks Jarek can hide him.

Jarek looks Thorn over, "Athala sent you. She is a strange one. But if Hilde thinks you may need hiding spot, I will provide it. We domovoi are good at hiding things."

Hilde leans in a little and murmurs, "They're household guardians... but you don't want to piss them off." She takes a deep breath, "Jarek, why do you think we need to stay hidden?"

Jarek strokes his mustaches and says, "Because people do not trust or respect us. Nor do they believe in us. Humans, most of you, are very aggressive to things you do not understand or that are not something you see every day. There are many, many more of you than there are of us. And there are those of us..." he makes a gesture encompassing the cafe, the street, perhaps the entire supernatural world as he adds, "that would do much harm to humans if we were not trying to stay quiet."

Thorn nods soberly. "That is similar to my feelings on the subject," he says. "Look, I would love to see magic -- real magic -- brought back to the world. It's a dream I've had. But humans can be fearful, and...." He gives a slight laugh and shakes his head. "I saw my first werewolf today, happy as can be. I've seen amazing people and things in just the past day!" His smile fades into seriousness. "But I won't trade a world of magic for their lives. Someday humanity may be ready to face the world, the true world, the world with domovoi and werewolves and fey and phoenixes and dragons. But it is far, far too soon for that world to be safe." He doesn't think to mention how dangerous it would be for people like himself; they burned witches once upon a time and he has little doubt that there are people in the world who would do so again.

Jarek nods, "You are wise for so young."

Hilde laughs, "Jarek, he's probably around my age!"

The domovoi nods, "And you are very young. People see ljosalfar and they think 'old and wise!' They do not know that you are a child."

Hilde grins again and then looks at Thorn, going a little serious, "And what have you learned to tell Athala when she arrives?"

Thorn says, "That there is a fairly sharp division between the two factions -- everyone has a stake in it, even if they profess neutrality. How could anyone not know how high the stakes are? That once the resolution passes there is no going back -- and that I believe it was someone in Marcus's faction who had Liam killed, either by permission or commission." He adds sheepishly, "That could change depending on what happens between now and then."

Hilde and Jarek both nod and Jarek speaks, "Yes. You are smart."

The rest of the day is spent largely showing Martin around the street and letting him sample things that he'd never have seen out in the normal, workaday world. There are fruits in shapes that are unusual. He can even see colors in some of them. There are fantastical pastry sculptures and delicate little meat pies. People are hawking fabric and clothing. There's even a blacksmith and farrier. The front of the smithy is open to the street, but there's a rope cordon marking what Hilde says is the safe distance for those with problems around iron. There's a jeweler with necklaces so delicate that the chains are nearly invisible, making it seem like the pendants are simply floating above the wearer's skin. The last place they go is a glassblower's stall where Hilde enquires about an order she made and the artisan tells her that it should be done by the morning.

Thorn absolutely adores the tour. It's everything he had hoped for in a world of magic! -and yet he feels soberly that it is still not yet time. There are amazing sights and sounds -- that he can see a scant few colors is nothing short of miraculous to him. He wonders, briefly, what Marcus would have had him see. On the way back to the ambassadorial residence Hilde says, "Make him bring you to the council meeting. If Athala isn't here by then, you can use the excuse that she wanted all the information you could gather."

Thorn nods, "I wouldn't miss it for the worlds."

Hilde nods and kisses Thorn's cheek completely unselfconsciously, "Then I'll see you tomorrow afternoon!" Hilde is happy to walk with Thorn back to the ambassadorial residence. She tends to cheerfully tug him by the hand at times, but then realizes she's rushing him and slow down for a bit. It's getting to be dusk by the time she gets him back. She smiles and says, "Thank you for letting me show you around today."

Thorn smiles back, "Thank you for taking the time to show me around. It was very informative!" He glances slightly significantly at the residence, knowing that this close, there's sure to be some sort of surveillance spell.

Hilde mmms and nods. She leans in and kisses Thorn on the cheek, murmuring, "Be safe." Then she straightens up and heads down the street, waving cheerfully over her shoulder and leaving the man in front of the imposing building. Thorn is used to -- sort of -- Hilde being a bit impulsive, but the kiss does take him by surprise. He waves after her as she departs, then turns to enter the residence. He pauses a moment, wondering if he should ask the magpie to do some scouting around, then decides against it. She should remain somewhat hidden for now, since he doesn't think most people know she's around. He instead enters the residence.

The butler opens the door when Thorn has his hand on the knob. He motions for Thorn to follow him and leads him through the house to a dining room. It's smaller than the formal one from last night, but it's still nicely appointed. Thorn immediately feels somewhat on-edge. He's been expected. He follows the butler into the smaller dining room. Marcus is sitting at the dining table reading a newspaper. He's got a coffee cup, but there's no food on the table yet. Upon hearing footsteps, he raises his head and smiles, "Thorn. Welcome back. Did you have a good day?"

Thorn keeps his voice pleasant. "I did, yes. Coblyn Street is fascinating. Much more interesting that just 'Boston.'"

Marcus chuckles and nods, "That it is. I've been out and about in the city proper quite a bit. Much of it has become very modern. There are still some old neighborhoods, though. Well, old by American standards." He folds the newspaper and puts it aside, motioning for the butler. The motion is apparently the signal that it's time to serve dinner, "Hilde's a good guide, too. Smart. Funny. Beautiful." He sighs quietly and shakes his head with a chuckle, "A bit impetuous and immature at times."

Thorn considers the best way to answer; impulsive, certainly, but immature? He doesn't think that term applies quite so neatly to aelfar as Marcus might think. [Focus on something that will get Marcus talking,] he thinks, and adds, "We did meet Shane, though I'm surprised that it's only him between order and chaos." Well, surprising, yes, but a truthsayer as a cop is a scary and effective cop indeed.

Marcus arches a brow, "Who told you that? About Shane being the only thing between order and chaos? He doesn't even have a title -- or, really, an actual job."

"Oh? That's a relief. He was the only person approximating law enforcement that I met. I'm glad there are others."

Marcus nods, "There's a government. There are bailiffs to do things like bring people before the council if they don't come themselves. Generally there's really no need to patrol the street. Shane simply does it on his own."

Thorn somehow doesn't think the bailiffs are as effective at, for example, keeping ornery and unhappy trolls at bay the way Shane is. "Ah, that makes sense," he says. "Sorry for my ignorance. So the council directly governs Coblyn Street?"

Marcus shakes his head, "The Council is world-wide. Caradog, the monarch, runs the local government. He's a gealsidhe and it'll be his job to cast a deciding vote if there's an even number of councillors."

Thorn nods slowly. He realized that, but he was wondering more why the council would send out bailiffs... though of course that'd be if the council wanted someone pulled in front of the council. So they're more of a council enforcement arm than anything? "I understand now. Thank you." He's further curious that the local monarch has a say on global matters, too! "I apologize," he says, "since, as you know, the Lady Athala gave me very little background. Does the council change venue now and then?"

Marcus nods, "We do, yes. The normal run of things is to change venue about once per season. We didn't move this round because of the tragedy with Liam." He shakes his head and smiles, "We'll move on when the next session after this one starts."

As the maids are bringing in food, there's a ringing from the doorbell and the silent butler disappears to answer it. Thorn nods. [That's convenient,] he thinks but of course does not say. He glances in the general direction of the door, then back to Marcus, "Is there an order to where the council meets? or is that the last order of business in a session?" He wonders who might be arriving.

Marcus mmms, "The next place we're supposed to meet is in Texas. Sparrow's territory. Well, partially his territory. There's some tension between him and Killa over where the borders ought to lie." As he's finishing that, the butler returns with two familiar faces. Odalric and Athala have arrived.

Thorn nods to Marcus, then brightens when he sees Athala and Odalric. He gets down on one knee to greet her, feeling relieved that she's arrived. Athala smiles approvingly at Thorn when he goes to one knee. She cups his cheek and urges him to look up at her, "Hello, dearling. Has my cousin been treating you well?" Odalric has gone to greet Marcus and the two of them are speaking in quiet tones.

Thorn nods, smiling up to his Lady. He knows it's not healthy; he knows he needs to someday break this fascinating he has with her -- but for now... why? "Yes, Lady, he has," he says, then drops his voice, "There's quite a lot going on here."

Athala mms and nods, "I thought there was." She strokes his cheek with her fingertips and then runs them through his hair, "You can tell me about it tonight after we retire."

Thorn half-closes his eyes, "Thank you, Lady!" After that, all four of them sit down for dinner. Athala sits between Marcus and Thorn and Odalric sits on Marcus' other side. The conversation is innocuous enough. The sort of 'how was your trip' small talk anyone might make... even if the details of the trip are a little different. Planes are very hard for them as are trains. They'd managed, this time, in a car that was mostly fiberglass. Thorn finds it difficult to imagine his Lady travelling by car -- she's always been so very ethereal to him that the idea of her and Odalric tearing down the Mass Turnpike seems thoroughly odd. Still, he hides the disjunction in his mind, and enjoys the dinner.

Athala makes a moue when she talks about the car, "They're faster than carriage and coach, but they're also much less elegant. I do miss the days that one could easily travel by horse without being remarked upon." Once dinner is done, Athala rises and holds her hand out for Thorn, "Come with me while I get ready for bed, dearling."

It takes a moment for Thorn to fully register what Athala has said. He gives a start and nods (hopefully to the amusement of Marcus), standing and taking her hand docilely. He would be lying to himself if his thoughts didn't go in a thousand directions at once with that command -- but, he resolutely tells himself, that is not for him to ponder on. Instead he focuses his attention on what his Lady will be asking of him... which will likely include a complete accounting of what he has seen -- and, he hopes, his impressions. Athala's hand is warm and smooth in Thorn's and she moves through the house as if she's familiar with it. The room she's in is actually more of a suite. There's a separate sitting room and bedroom and she leads him into the bedroom, encouraging him to sit on the bed while she starts unpacking and getting out her night clothes, "Tell me what you've learned... and what you think about what you've learned."

Thorn closes his eyes, knowing that seeing her change would be far, far, far too distracting. He starts at the beginning, focussing on the issue of Liam's assassination and the council's response, moving to the current situation and the two factions. He does mention Hilde, and that Marcus is courting her vote on the council even if he considers her brash and young... though Thorn admits that he found Hilde to be, while young, not as immature and impulsive as Marcus believes her to be. As Thorn explains, Athala goes about getting dressed for bed. Body-shyness doesn't seem to be a thing amongst the various elves and she shrugs out of her traveling clothes without a thought... or at least mostly without a thought. Her eyes are twinkling a little as Thorn closes his eyes.

Finally he takes a deep breath and goes into his analysis -- such as it is. "I believe someone in Marcus's faction killed Liam," he says bluntly. "The timing is too convenient, the placement too convenient, the situation for the vote is too convenient, and I get the impression that for a dragon of such years, he was being seen as 'inconvenient.' It's possible -- even likely -- that Marcus himself does not know who did the actual deed, but he is uninterested in looking a gift horse in the mouth too closely." He pauses. "I admit to a bias, my Lady. I don't think humanity is ready to face a world full of the true supernatural, at least not yet. We're still terrified of things we don't remotely understand. While you know I would welcome magic back into the world with open arms, I... don't believe the time is yet right. Not in this way."

Athala mms as she listens, nodding. Then she says with some amusement, "Did Marcus tell you that he's actually younger than Hilde? Neither of them have seen their first half-century." There's a rustle of silk or some other delicate fabric and the bed shifts as Athala sits by him and rests a hand on his leg, "I have a request of you."

Behind his eyelids Thorn rolls his eyes, "He had not, my Lady." He almost jumps out of his skin at the touch, but he regains his composure and nods, swallowing as he looks to her, "Of course, Lady! Anything you wish!"

Athala's smile is in her voice, "Marcus and the others on the side of exposure are going to put Odalric forth as a candidate. There's no way to have the thirteenth member be truly outside. Liam came from the Celts originally, for instance, and the Celtic representative is Aisling. If that goes through, you and I will go home. If it does not, I want you to stay here on Coblyn... and when the time comes, I want you to find your way to Texas."

Thorn blinks. This is... really unexpected. He feels his heart sink to hear Odalric will be put forth as a candidate -- he can't help but feel that the side that favors exposure is so very, very wrong in its reasons and goals! -- but Athala's continued words confuse him, "I... of course, my Lady, I will do so." He knows that he won't get an answer by asking 'what' will herald the 'time' she mentions. "Texas is... very large. What will I look for there?"

Athala smiles, "The enclave there. It's not like Coblyn. Well, not much like Coblyn. It's Sparrow's territory. Have you met him yet? What you will look for is more of the information around Liam's death."

Thorn nods, "I've not met Sparrow yet, no. I will do as you request, Lady." He can't help but be confused still, though he doesn't give voice to it.

Athala strokes the back of Thorn's neck, "You'll be fine, dearling." She stretches and yawns, "Do you want to go back to your room?"

Thorn smiles quietly. "Thank you, my Lady," he says at her reassurance. Then he adds hesitantly, "I would go where you would have me go, Lady."

Athala smiles, "Then I will have you stay here."

Thorn's thoughts on that are a mass of surprise, adoration, joy, and adulation. He isn't quite able to do more than bow his head, sighing happily and saying, "Thank you, my Lady."

The meeting isn't set first thing in the morning. This is largely because there are a few of the council members that either aren't early risers or -- like Elias -- need extra time and precautions to make it to the council chambers without being harmed. Josie grins as she says, "Also, Sparrow says that it ruins his digestion and he'd like to let his breakfast settle before the bullshit."

The werewolf slept over the night before and has brought her 'council clothes' to Cinnamon's little cottage so she can get dressed with her new friend. Like she said, her council clothing consists of a nice pair of slacks, a button-down shirt, and a blazer. There's also a necklace with some kind of runes or symbols on it. She explains that she decided to forgo the tie this time.

Cinnamon giggles in spite of herself at that! She's a smidge nervous despite knowing she's a shoe-in for the position... so she fusses a little more than usual over her appearance. When she finally presents herself before Josie, she smiles weakly, "Is, uhh... is this okay?" She's in a nice suit: navy blue skirt and jacket paired with a simple white blouse. The skirt falls slightly below the knee, and Cinnamon wears hose and matching navy blue (very) low-heeled pumps. Her hair is nicely brushed and pulled back into a small bun at the base of her head, and she's wearing the minimum of make-up -- lipstick and foundation -- mostly because she really doesn't know how to do much more than that well... and she'd rather have too little make-up than a smeary mess!

The suit is one of the three or four owned by Mary that she wears to work... and no place else. She feels she was lucky to find such nice, simple, plain suits at the local Dresses for Less store, a year or so ago -- she hadn't been able to find suits her size in any of the regular stores -- and besides, most store clerks seemed to be either skinny models or far too intimidating about her needing to lose some weight! Cinnamon hastily adds, "Oh! Also, uhh..." She fumbles at the collar of her blouse, pulling it back enough to show the magical, terribly expensive necklace that feels weirdly right on her, "here's the -- here's Liam's necklace as well? But, um, I thought I'd keep it hidden until... time?"

Josie looks her over and then reaches back and undoes the bun, "You've got pretty hair. Let it down." She runs her fingers through it to settle it, "We need to get you skirts that are a couple of inches shorter. Just above the knee, I think..." The werewolf grins widely at Cinnamon showing the necklace, "Yes. Keep that hidden. We want to at least give them half a chance to be civil about it."

Cinnamon blinks a bit startledly regarding her hair, one hand going up reflexively, "Oh! But it -- I -- er, I d-don't want to look... messy?" She looks a bit unhappy as she adds, "Above the knee? But that... er, I, um..." She flushes slightly, remembering some rather unpleasant shopping trips with her sighing and critical mother, "I... look like a beach ball if I wear sh-shorter clothing..."

Josie smiles, "Then we'll brush it! It's pretty hair! And almost all the people with long hair wear it down. Except Aoi, usually. She wears hers in that sort of geisha bun thing?"

Cinnamon thinks for a moment... then moves the pins to her temples, so they hold the hair back out of her face. "Um... how's that? Still good?"

Josie blinks at Cinnamon and then gets a scowl on her face, "Someone has been telling you lies. You have very nice calves. They're strong legs!" She looks Cinnamon over and nods, "It looks good."

Cinnamon blinks a bit startledly at Josie, absently pushing her glasses back into place as she falters, "L-lies? I... I d-don't think so... it was m-my mom?"

Josie is still scowling a little, "I don't think your mother has very good eyes."

Cinnamon blinks again at that... intriguing thought! "Why, I... I never thought about that!" She considers for a few seconds... yes, the eyes were a lovely shade of blue -- but the possibility that her mother was simply wrong is a new one for Cinnamon! She grins up at Josie, "That... I kind of like that!" She raises her chin, feeling unaccountably better... and beams at the werewolf, "Are we ready?" Cinnamon giggles softly to herself: could it be vanity that caused her mother to not wear glasses -- and thereby to not have good eyes? Cinnamon could see that being the case, honestly!

Josie grins and nods, "We're ready. We're supposed to meet Aisling on the way. And that means Shane will probably walk with us at least to Currier's Hall." She slings a knapsack over her shoulder and trots out the door.

Cinnamon hastily grabs her bag and follows, pausing only to conscientiously lock the little door. After that she pockets the key, then smiles shyly up at Josie, "Do we, um... have time to just walk? I m-mean, I don't ordinarily mind t-trotting after you but... well, today? I'd like to arrive unflustered, please?"

Josie giggles. It might even be getting to where it doesn't seem weird to have a seven-foot-tall creature with claws and fangs giggling, "I'm so sorry. I get excited and sort of romp down the street. We can walk. We can meander, even!"

Cinnamon laughs at the mental image of Josie 'romping' -- then laughs again as she realizes it's not that far off from reality! She beams up at Josie, her eyes shining, "Josie? Have I said how much I appreciate having you as a friend yet?"

Josie blinks down at her in surprise and says, "I appreciate you being my friend, too! I'm a little big and overwhelming for some people. That's why Shane body-blocked me that time at Elias' place. It's nice to have people trust me."

Cinnamon smiles thoughtfully as she patters alongside the big werewolf, "I know you won't hurt me, though -- not intentionally. Never intentionally... though I could see you perhaps hurting me by accident if you were trying, say, to protect me or something... and honestly, in that situation I wouldn't be upset at all!"

Josie nods and her ears flatten a little, "I've accidentally hurt people before." Then her chin goes up, "But I've also hurt people who needed it. But not much." Her tail is wagging cheerfully and people are greeting her and also Cinnamon, even though they don't know her. It's one of the days when you can see the full panoply of Coblyn Street.

Cinnamon grins almost teasingly, "Startled, probably -- but not upset!" She beams up at Josie as she adds, "So of course I trust you! I'm just really happy that there's folks as open and honest as you around -- they're real thin on the ground in the human world!"

There are people of nearly every shape, size, and color. In daylight, it's easy to see that skin tones here are not simply different versions of brown. They pass one very small, very round person with skin that looks like it might be made out of coal. That person waves to Josie and speaks in a voice that sounds a lot like gravel rubbing together when they greet the werewolf, "Sometimes they're thin on the ground here, too."

Cinnamon and Josie have arranged the plan ahead of time: Josie's bringing her new friend to watch a Council meeting, since Cinnamon's so new to Coblyn Street. Thus Cinnamon's very happy to greet people, and there's some excitement in her voice as she does so. She smiles at the coal person, "Then I shall treasure Josie's friendship all the more!" The coal-black person grins with teeth that look like quartz and moves on down the street. Josie ducks her head a little.

Cinnamon is utterly fascinated by all the folk on the street -- even moreso when it hits her: in a sense, they're going to be looking to her for protection and... and common sense! After all, it's likely mostly people like them -- the regular-type folks -- who have the most to lose if humans find out about the fey again. That causes the young woman to blink startledly at that thought, pushing her glasses back into place as she considers it... and then continuing with her shoulders just a little straighter, and her smile a little happier. Cinnamon curiously whispers to Josie, after the coal person has departed, "So, um... what was he, please? I don't recognize that species at all from any of my fairy tales I read as a girl!"

The werewolf looks over her shoulder in that direction, "Alain. I don't know exactly what he is. Some of the Celtic people have told me that there are a lot of little folk who aren't anywhere in the stories because they're the only one of their kind or because their species is so old that the stories have been forgotten."

Cinnamon blinks startledly at that, her training in mathematical logic coming to the fore, "But... how is that possible? You have to have more than one for a species!" She pauses, considering her words... then doubtfully essays, "...magic? Is that how they do it?"

Josie shrugs with a smile, "Maybe? I mean, everything had to start somewhere, right?"

Cinnamon frowns thoughtfully, "Well, yeah, but... is there evolution in magic? Or is it just..." she throws her hands out in an expansive gesture, "kablooie! -- and there new stuff is?"

Josie looks thoughtful, "I don't know. I mean... my kind have been around basically as long as people. Or at least that's the stories I've been told. And the various elves are all in human story books for ages and ages. And there are people out and about who are sort of like other people, but not really? I mean, Liane is a lot of things. And it's possible that people like her sort of evolved out of something else? Or like cross-bred? Like Shane. Shane's cross-bred. He's human and beansidhe. So he's not either one. He's a different thing. But he's a little bit of the other two, too?" Cinnamon huhs bemusedly, lapsing into silence as she considers all that. It's very new and exciting and confusing to her, and she wants to do a good job. Learning as much as she can, she suspects, is going to be critical for this!

Josie does stop at one stall as they move down the street. The proprietor looks as if someone took every description of 'hag' they'd ever found and put it together. She's short, hunch-backed, scraggle-haired, and rheumy-eyed. She's wearing a somewhat ragged black dress with a red bandana holding her hair back. Gnarled hands are arranging things on shelves and counters. If she had been encountered in any fairy tale or fantasy story, you'd want to stay the hell away, but Josie is cheerful as she asks the woman if she's going to have chicks again this year. The things the old woman is arranging are many and varied. Some of them look like they might be tools of some sort. There are pieces of pottery and tin washtubs. Some of the tubs look like they're for sale. Some of them are holding jumbles of this and that. Cinnamon blinks a bit perplexedly as she studies the varied assortment of objects... though she's careful to shyly do so from slightly behind Josie's comforting bulk!

There are also shelves of jellies and preserves. When the old woman speaks, it's in a croak, but she assures Josie that she'll have chicks for Josie's dad so he can start the flock he's been talking about. She notices Cinnamon and smiles at her. It's a crooked smile and transforms her face. Smiles often do that, "You are new."

Cinnamon wonders too: does Josie have chickens? Or... does she eat cute little baby chicks?! Cinnamon blinks at that very sad thought -- then blinks again as she realizes how rude and judgmental that is! She scolds herself internally for being mean about her friend in that way... then blinks again and smiles uncertainly at the old woman, "Er... yes, I am. I'm, er... Cinnamon?" Okay, better scold herself a little bit for thinking unpleasant thoughts about this poor old woman too! She sighs in internal amusement at herself as she catches the comment about a flock too. Goodness, she's going to have to be really careful not to prejudge folks here!

Josie giggles, "Cinnamon, this is Patty. Patty's got the best preserves and sometimes she brings in eggs and sausages. But she only comes to Coblyn once or twice a week."

Patty looks at Mary closely. Given the looks of her eyes, she may be partially blind, "Well, any friend of Josie's."

For the first time it occurs to Cinnamon: maybe some of the social stuff she learned so painfully out in the 'real' world? Maybe... maybe that training wasn't really the best...? In fact... maybe a lot of what she learned about being social from her family is just... wrong? Cinnamon smiles shyly at Patty, "I would love to get some preserves from you, please? Like you noticed, I'm new here... so I'm still putting together my kitchen."

Patty continues smiling, "I'm old and it's a long, tiring trip to the farm. My sisters just don't like the selling part. They like the raising and making parts." The old woman turns to the shelves behind her, "What kind do you like, child?"

Cinnamon says, "Though..." she glances at Josie thoughtfully... then smiles as she comes to a decision, "just one, please, if you have any of it today -- since Josie's taking me to watch the Council meeting!" She grins happily up at Josie, then adds excitedly to Patty, "Do you have any strawberry preserves? I love strawberry when the fruit's still there in the preserve -- so yummy!"

Patty turns around with a round, faceted jar that has strawberry jam so deeply colored that it looks like a jewel inside the glass, "Oh, strawberry is my favorite. And after that, blackberry."

Cinnamon sighs happily, reaching into her purse for her wallet, to pay for it. She's got room to tuck the little jar into her purse -- and after the Council meeting maybe she'll treat herself to a bit of tea and... and maybe scones and jam! Josie also gets a jar of preserves and also a little nutty cookie to take with her. The preserves are extremely inexpensive and Patty tells them both to have a wonderful day. Cinnamon thanks the 'hag' with pleasure, then patters along next to Josie, chattering ebulliently about how wonderful the preserves looked and how excited she is to finally get to see a Council!

Josie giggles and nods, "Patty's been around forever almost. Like, almost everyone here can't remember a time when Patty wasn't here!"

They only get a block or two before Aisling hails them. Shane is, as Josie predicted, with her and they're both dressed in Celtic formal. Shane's hair has been brushed and braided into a plait along his back and he's wearing a crisp shirt and a very clean and well-ironed kilt. Aisling is wearing a long dress in dark-green velvet embroidered with silver leaves and trees. Cinnamon blinks, abruptly feeling shy as she pushes her glasses nervously back into place. They both look so gorgeous and -- and ethereal! But she's just... sort of, well, plain? Mundane. Boring? Then Josie's wagging tail wacks Cinnamon lightly, and the young woman pulls herself together a bit. Well, maybe she is boring and mundane, but... but Josie's wearing modern clothing too! And... oh! And she herself, Cinnamon -- she is a dragon's child! Nobody else here is, so... so she can't be too, er... mundane? Her uncertain smile is a bit rueful as she waves as well.

Shane and Aisling both receive hugs from Josie, and Aisling turns and hugs Cinnamon, "You look lovely today, dear." She looks the dragon over and purses her lips, "But you need some shorter skirts. That length never flatters anyone."

Cinnamon giggles startledly! "I... what?! Er, I mean... wow, Josie said that too!" She frowns, abruptly worried as she looks down at herself. "I, um... do I look bad? Well, I mean... I mean, I thought I looked... at least tidy?"

Aisling clucks her tongue, "Yes, you look tidy. But you also look like someone taught you to dress with the thought in mind that you should fade into the woodwork. We're going back to my place before we go to the council. Come on." She turns and moves toward a door as if she knows everyone will follow. Cinnamon glances uncertainly between everyone -- she's caught completely off-guard! How on earth will a tall, willowy, gorgeous elf lady have anything that might fit her?! Cinnamon knows she's short and dumpy, after all -- she kind of wants to fade into the woodwork, considering that! Aisling sweeps open the door and calls over her shoulder for Shane and Josie to make themselves at home. She takes Cinnamon's hand and leads her into the bedroom. It's a small, tidy room with bright tapestries softening the walls. The beansidhe rummages in a drawer of her dresser and comes out with... safety pins.

Cinnamon stares around herself with a mix of awe and perplexity -- this is how a gorgeous elf lady lives?! But it... but this... it's like her house! She's almost trepidatious as Aisling rummages... and has to swallow a nervous giggle once she realizes she's not going to be asked to wear anything strange or unusual or badly fitting -- thank goodness! She sighs with a bit of relief, "Oh! Okay, that's easy. Want me to take the skirt off so we don't pin unevenly?"

Aisling also gets out what looks like chalk and smiles, "Yes, please." The pins seem to be brass rather than the steel Cinnamon might be used to, "I'll mark it and we'll pin it." She grins impishly, "I've had reason to shorten skirts before."

Cinnamon grins at that, hastily shimmying out of the skirt -- and congratulating herself internally on her decision to wear a slip! Though... "Uh, sh-should we... pin the slip too?" She scolds herself internally again -- Aisling isn't going to make fun of her once the elf see's Cinnamon's legs! And besides, even if she did, well... well, Cinnamon is a dragon, right! Dragons don't have to have great legs!

Aisling eyes the slip, "No. We're not going to pin it. You're not going to wear it." She takes the skirt and lays it out on her simple double bed that's covered with a gorgeous and colorful quilt. Her hands are quick and agile as she puts little white dashes with the chalk and then does a quick little measurement using her hand. She's humming the whole while.

Cinnamon blinks startledly at that -- not wear a slip?! But... "Uh, b-but... but won't the skirt bunch up without it? Er..." -- though... hm. That was something her mother had always insisted was necessary. Could that too be something that... wasn't quite... completely right?

Aisling looks up from her work and looks down at herself, "No. Your skirt won't bunch up. Especially as you seem to be wearing hose. Those will provide enough lubrication, as it were."

Cinnamon blushes, but falls nervously silent. A moment later she remembers herself enough to stammer, "D-do you... er, can I help at all?"

Aisling smiles and shakes her head, "No. You're fine." She nods toward a cozy little chair in a corner, "Sit down if you'd like." Her hands are agile and quick, and when she's done the skirt is a few inches shorter. She's been delicate enough with it that the pins don't show anywhere. "Now! Let's get this on you."

Cinnamon sits where directed, obscurely relieved neither Shane or Josie are present! She hops up once Aisling finishes, wanting to get her skirt back on... but also slightly dreading seeing herself in it. She's still not sold on the 'shorter is better' argument! Aisling had to make a couple of adjustments to keep the skirt fitting right in the waist, but the jacket covers them nicely. When the skirt is back on, the beansidhe takes a step back and puts her head to the side to examine Cinnamon, "Much better. Have a look." She motions to the full-length mirror on the back of the bedroom door. Cinnamon takes a deep breath, reminding herself that she's a dragon and dragons don't need to be gorgeous! Then she peers tentatively into the mirror.

The skirt sits just above Cinnamon's knees. It's in no way a miniskirt, but it is more proportional and breaks her body into more even blocks. In short: It looks a hundred times better for having been done with chalk and safety pins. Cinnamon sighs in relief! She's not sure why this is working now when it clearly never did with her mom... but she's good with that! At least she still looks nice and tidy and competent! She beams at Aisling, "Thank you! I'm afraid I'm no clothes horse, but I think this is good!"

Aisling stands behind Cinnamon, "Someone needs to take your shopping for clothes that flatter you and not hide you. You've no reason to hide or to try to make yourself invisible or unappealing."

Cinnamon laughs ruefully at that, "Oh, I can't afford that kind of custom work... but I do appreciate this!" She smiles as she adds, "Especially since I don't want to make you all late!"

The beansidhe puts her hands on Cinnamon's shoulders and turns her back toward the mirror, "Look at yourself. This isn't custom work. This is just finding the things that you like and make you feel pretty. You can do that in any thrift shop. You're Liam's granddaughter. You are the child of legends. Hold your chin up."

Cinnamon blinks again -- she's never been in a thrift shop! Her parents have taught her that only 'poor' people go there. "I, uhh..." Hmm. Maybe she should try, though? After all, there are other things her parents were wrong about...? She grins suddenly, lifting her chin, "I -- I will!"

Once Cinnamon has been presented to Josie and Shane (with Josie saying triumphantly, "I told you your mother has bad eyes! She can't see you right!" and Shane smiling and telling her she looks lovely, and Cinnamon blushing self-consciously), the little foursome head back down the street. Aisling explains, "There are people who observe the council. Just like happens in courts or in things like senate meetings out there. You'll be sitting with them. But you're going to be sitting in the front and not far behind Elias. Shane is going to sit with you."

Cinnamon nods interestedly, and smiles at Shane, "Thanks!" She's looking forward to seeing this, finally -- after a whole week of build-up, she's quite keen to observe everyone, including those she's not yet met.

Shane nods and smiles, "I'm not quite a bodyguard. More a security blanket. No one would try to hurt you, but I wanted to make sure you had a friend with you."

Aisling nods at that, "There'll be a bunch of rigmarole and then there will be a roll-call."

Cinnamon laughs quietly at that, her eyes bright as she grins at Shane, "That's sweet!" She nods to Aisling, smiling, "I've been in business meetings -- sort of a 'hurry up and wait' thing. I'm guessing it's a little bit like that?"

Aisling nods and rolls her eyes, "Only infinitely more pompous. Especially since Caradog will be there. He's quite self-important. That's what being a monarch gets you."

Cinnamon giggles! "Ah, the Chairman of the Board?"

Aisling snorts indelicately, "No. The monarch of the city. My cousin." She shakes her head, "It's a hereditary seat and I'm surprised that none of his brothers has murdered him to get it." Cinnamon laughs at Aisling's comment! Though... it is a somewhat uncertain laugh -- Cinnamon isn't sure if the elf was joking or not!

They've reached Currier's Hall by that point; everyone is taken into a large room. There are windows, all of them on one side of the room and all closed, and there's a sort of screen set up about one of the seats around the large central table. At the front of the room is a dais -- and if the chair there isn't a throne, it's the next thing to it. Cinnamon looks around fascinatedly as she follows the others in. She knows her current company will mark her as one of the 'exile' group, later, but... she finds she doesn't mind that, actually. These are, as far as she's experienced, good people! She wonders idly if any of the 'return' people would be willing to chat with her -- maybe even listen to her experiences as a human? After a few seconds, though, she laughs quietly at herself. In her experience, powerful people aren't interested in listening to a minor accountant! Plus the older they are, the more staid men seem to get, to her perspective. Maybe Marcus could change due to being young -- maybe -- but... she's pretty darned sure someone as pretty as he wouldn't be interested at all in her! She grins to herself... he is cute, however!

Shane escorts Cinnamon to a chair near the screened-off chair. The three-sided screen also has a sort of draped roof over it and faces toward the closed windows. He murmurs to her that it's Elias' seat, which only makes sense. Cinnamon nods fascinatedly to Shane -- she'd just been wondering that! When the councilors enter the chamber, there's an announcement by someone that reminds Cinnamon of a bailiff. They all file in together, and it seems like it might be alphabetical because Aisling is first, followed by Aoi, then Elias, and so on. Aoi is wearing her ornate phoenix-emblazoned kimono and Elias is dressed in a suit that Cinnamon is pretty sure came from the century before last. Cinnamon sighs happily -- everyone's so beautiful! She smiles quietly as she watches, enjoying the pomp and ceremony of it all. She knows it may well get old and boring to her in future years, of course... but right now she intends to savor it all to the fullest!

Hilde is dressed in something like a pants suit with a short, tailored jacket that is double-breasted. From where Cinnamon sits, there's no hint of a shirt at the collar. After her is one of the first councillors she hasn't met. He's tall with a strong brow and the coloring of the Middle East. He's also wearing very dark sunglasses. He's dressed in a galabeya of rich golden fabric with intricate embroidery at hem, sleeve, and collar. Shane murmurs, "Jalil. The djinn."

Cinnamon whispers back curiously, "Are his eyes sensitive to light or something?" She thinks he's quite good looking too! She grins again as it occurs to her: maybe in some past century the 'normal' clothing was designed for short, stout women! She'll have to do some research and see. That'd be exciting, if so -- she'd look much better dressed like that!

Shane smiles and says, "Somewhat... it's mostly to keep people from being disconcerted. They're not so much normal eyes as holes with embers in them. Most people here have seen it, but it's still a little uncomfortable to some." After Jalil is Jarek, looking precisely the same as he did in Elias' living room.Then Josie, looking just as Cinnamon last saw her. The young woman beams as Josie walks in -- with, for once, her tail not wagging -- and resists the urge to wave. The next person is tall, thin, and has a decidedly inhuman face. The nose is nearly flat and his eyes are slit-pupiled. His skin has an iridescent green sheen to it and he's dressed in a suit as well. It might remind Cinnamon of something worn by mariachi... only apparently specially tailored and in a green fabric. The embroidery on the back is of a rearing snake. Shane says in a flat tone, "Killa."

Cinnamon looks intrigued, staring curiously at the djinn until he's seated -- then her curious gaze flicks back to all the other wonderful new people! She whispers puzzledly to Shane, "What? ...oh, right -- that's his name, right?" She glances at Shane's extremely neutral expression -- on his usually quite expressive face -- and smiles ruefully, "Appropriate name, then?"

Shane's mouth twitches up at the corner, "Yes, though nothing out in the open around here. His snake form is a giant anaconda. I mean giant even for anacondas. He's cold-blooded in more ways than one." Cinnamon recognizes the next person. It's Marcus and if he looked nice out and about on the street, he looks amazing now. Hair perfectly coiffed; suit immaculate. He walks with his chin held high. Behind him walks... two people. The people behind Marcus are both Black, but one is a small, sleek woman in a simple blue dress. The other person is, put simply, enormous. He's dressed in a grey suit and has a shaved head. Shane says, "Nasteexo and her interpreter. I don't know that anyone's ever told me his name..."

Cinnamon smiles quietly as she watches. "The small woman is the, um... the person with the loa inside them?"

Shane nods, "Horse."

Cinnamon is, oddly enough, finding herself relaxing as she watches all these beautiful, dangerous, wondrous people. They're just so much... so much more than she is -- more glorious, more exotic, more amazing... more teeth! -- than she is... enough so that she finds herself realizing there's no competition here at all -- at least for her. She's just little Mary Brown, now known as Cinnamon O'Donnell... and that's just going to have to be enough for them all here! Because that's all she has to bring: herself. OK, she'll do her best, just like she does at work -- and if they don't like it? That's too bad! She's honest, she's good at her job in the real world, and she's going to do her utmost to be good at this job too. She clasps her hands together in her lap, still smiling quietly as the realization hits her. She's been in stuff like this before, where she was out-gunned and out-beautied and out-powered... but she had the truth of math on her side. This is just more of the same. She's done it before. She can do it again. Cinnamon's lips curl up slightly as she grins and whispers very quietly, just to herself, "Thanks, Liam!"

After Nasteexo is another new person. This one has the rounded face and down-tilted eyes of an Asian country. The dark hair is pulled back at the nape of the neck in a tail and he's dressed in an embroidered jacket with a Mandarin collar along with silken pants pulled in at the ankle. His feet are bare. There are iron bands around his wrists, neck, and ankles. They look seamless. The jacket and pants are both a deep, rich red and the jacket's embroidery is gold. Shane says, "Qadan." The last person, however, Cinnamon knows. Sparrow, like Qadan, is barefoot. But he's wearing multiply-holed jeans and a white t-shirt with a black leather vest over it. His hair is in two long plaits tied at the ends with leather sleeves, with feathers hanging from them. Shane grins and murmurs, "He's actually wearing a shirt today."

Cinnamon says, "Why's, uhh..." she pronounces the word carefully, "Kuh... dahn... wearing shackles, please?" She puzzledly adds, "They look like iron. Won't that hurt the elves?"

Shane shakes his head with a sigh, "He says they keep his power in his body. And he doesn't give a fu... doesn't care if it keeps the elves at a distance."

"Huh!" Cinnamon thinks a moment, then whispers, "So the iron, like... grounds him or something?" Shane nods silently. Cinnamon giggles as she sees Sparrow's white T-shirt! He looks almost defiantly pragmatic, considering his clothing choices.

When all the councillors have taken their seats, the bailiff? Chamberlain? Herald? Whoever he is, he calls for everyone one to stand. Everyone does. Except Sparrow, who's got his feet kicked up on the table and his hands folded across his stomach. Cinnamon stands as well, glancing uncertainly at Sparrow. He's far too old, from what she's been told, to be an angsty teenaged rebel... so maybe this is part of being a Trickster? She doesn't know enough to say. She promises herself a few long, relaxing research trips to the Boston libraries in the near future, though!

The person that comes to the double doors, after everyone is called to stand, is magnificent... and he obviously knows it. His hair, like all the elves except the beansidhe so far, is blonde. It's a richer, more golden blonde than Hilde's hair and it is, as seems quite common here, quite long. Long enough, in fact, that it brushes the backs of his thighs. He's wearing the kinds of clothes Cinnamon has heard described in her fantasy novels. The pants are richly brown and have the sort of understated shine of garment leather. They tuck into knee-high black boots that turn over at the top into a cuff. His shirt is a royal purple with full sleeves and decorative cuffs. The tunic over it is grey with purple embroidery in intricate knots. Over all of it he wears a cloak, fastened at the shoulder with an ornate cloak pin. The cloak itself is white fur of some sort.

Cinnamon stares in silent awe -- how lovely! She half hopes he never opens his mouth, so that she doesn't have to learn how... well, potentially petty he is! The herald introduces the man as: "Caradog, monarch of the Boston enclave." Caradog walks with dignity and grace around the table and up onto the dais. Directly in front of the dais is the only open chair. The table is perfectly round, so everyone is evenly spaced, but that chair seems to hold a gravitas unto itself. Cinnamon blinks as she stares at that empty chair, and the unnerving thought occurs to her: she'll be seated with her back to this guy... the whole time?! But what if he -- wait. Surely someone this, er... self-confident? -- wouldn't deign to make mocking faces at her back... would he?

Once Caradog takes his seat, everyone else does as well. The gallery on both sides has filled up quite a lot with people of all shapes and sizes. They all look rather solemn. There's the scraping of chairs and the murmur of voices before Caradog speaks, "It would seem that most of the street has come to listen to this meeting." Cinnamon grins at that -- no surprise there! Everyone wants to know if they'll stay hidden or not, she suspects. There are a few chuckles here and there at what apparently is meant as a witticism and then Caradog says, "Though I suppose on a vote this important, it's only to be expected. Especially as the council is missing a member. I would like to take a moment, please, for everyone to remember Liam. He shall be missed." Cinnamon glances around swiftly at that, abruptly curious to see if anyone seems... less than sad in regards to Liam's demise -- maybe even happy?

Most of the faces around the room are appropriately solemn. Even Sparrow seems to be taking it seriously. Those that aren't solemn are blank. Killa is amongst those looking blank, as are a few other faces in the gallery. After a moment or two the bailiff says, "I will call the roll before the business of the Council." He holds a ledger and calls, "Aisling. Councillor for the British Isles." Aisling says "Present!" and the bailiff makes a mark in the ledger.

Shane takes a deep breath, "It's your entrance coming up. You ready?"

Cinnamon smiles at Shane, "I think so. But from what I understand, they're going to try voting first, or something -- either on a replacement for Liam, or for the Big Question." She grins as she adds, "Isn't this exciting?!"

Shane grins at her, "On a replacement, yes. Because the seat's vacant, they'll mention it at the end."

The bailiff goes on down the list, marking each councillor present. He doesn't say anything about the empty seat. He takes his seat and Caradog says, "We have two orders of business today: the question of secrecy and the question of the empty seat. I myself think we should vote on secrecy first and the open seat second."

Cinnamon whispers to Shane, "Does he get to determine that? Or is he just hoping to get to cast the deciding vote?" She grins at that thought -- a local king excited at being able to vote on a worldwide issue! That should ruffle the feathers of every other ruler in the world!

Shane murmurs back with a sigh, "Here's the paradox. If he asks for a vote on what to vote on first... he can vote to have the issue of exposure called first. But it's very much Robert's Rules of Order here..."

In fact, as Shane is speaking, Elias says, "I move that we table the issue of secrecy until a replacement is found for the thirteenth council member." Cinnamon grins as she watches -- that's about what she expected! Plus she suspects the 'return' faction will have someone in mind to take Liam's place. Who that will be makes her very curious!

Perhaps surprisingly, it's Marcus that says, "I second the motion."

That makes Shane blink, "That's automatically seven votes there. There will be no tie-breaker."

Cinnamon looks intrigued, whispering back, "Why do you suppose... oh! They have someone in mind already -- cool! I wonder who it is?" No one on the 'exposure' side seems surprised that Marcus did that, but several on the 'hide' side shift in their seats. Caradog also looks -- very briefly -- surprised. The roll is called and the vote passes with only two people voting against: Killa and Qadan.

Shane shakes his head and says, "I... have no idea."

Cinnamon grins excitedly, "Guess we're going to find out!" She looks around to see who the 'reveal' folks are maybe glancing at!

Caradog isn't scowling, but he looks stony. It's clear he didn't expect this outcome. He's got the bearing of someone that's used to his suggestions being taken as orders. Marcus stands and says, "The question of the empty seat has weighed heavily on us all." He puts his hands on the table and bows his head solemnly.

Thorn is amongst the onlookers -- one of those of whom Caradog has stated, "most of the street has come to listen." The human scans the room, looking around at the faces. He isn't surprised at the blank, stony responses to the moment of silence for Liam, though part of that could be just due to Killa's cold-blooded nature. The human is also unsurprised at Caradog's request, though now Thorn knows Marcus is offering the council seat to Odalric, Marcus' agreement with Elias is unsurprising. Thorn wonders, though... who does the 'remain hidden' faction have to put forward for Liam's seat?

Marcus shakes his head, still looking at the table for a moment before raising his head and looking around the room, "Liam was well-respected and had much knowledge gathered in his centuries of living. I think it only fitting, therefore, to have someone with several centuries of living to take his place. I nominate Odalric of the Trod of the Elm." He motions toward the gallery and Odalric steps forward. He's dressed in a long robe in colors of green, gold, and brown. His blonde hair is in one long plait and he holds his chin high as he steps forward. Aoi, without pausing, says, "I second the nomination."

Cinnamon whispers to Shane, "Now?"

Shane carefully nods toward Josie, who is standing up, "There's another consideration. The council seats are hereditary." There's some nodding around the room and most of the 'exposure' contingent are looking somewhat puzzled. Marcus, however, is looking like he's grinding his teeth. It's Killa that speaks, "That's true, pup, but as far as we know Liam and his wife never had children... and no one could find any offshoots from earlier."

Cinnamon nods to Shane, then simply watches in fascination. It looks like the 'hide' faction has everything well in hand -- nothing for her to do but stand up when poked! Public speaking is not her forte. Consequently she'd planned out what to say for two or three potential occurrences. She'd not realized the friendly faction would handle it all for her. But then Shane murmurs, "Time for your entrance. Josie is just making the room for you to do so. Go on."

Cinnamon gasps, "Oh!" She looks flustered -- she'd not planned for this! She shoots to her feet, then pauses, uncertain what to say. Finally she smiles and waves shyly, calling, "Um... hello? Up here. I'm... er, Liam's relative?" She glances around nervously, realizing she also has to get down to the chair. She murmurs quietly to the people next to her, "Er, excuse me, please?" as she sidles out to the aisle... then sighs and starts down the stairs to the floor. She feels like her cheeks are burning with embarrassment, as she hears all the whispers and (worriedly imagined) titters around her.

There's a moment of rustling... then a general turning in Cinnamon's direction. Josie lolls her tongue in a grin as she looks back at Killa, "He and his last wife had no children." She motions for her friend to come forward as the snake shifter shoots to his feet, scowling, only to have Aoi rest her hand on Killa's elbow and get him to sit down... for now. Cinnamon keeps her gaze on the stairs, determined not to trip and fall... and humiliate herself even further, darnit! Marcus and Aoi are talking intensely together. After all, they've both met Cinnamon and she gave no indication at the time that there was anything so extraordinary about her. They had assumed her to be some sort of household spirit. Athala, sitting with Thorn, is smirking slightly... and somehow even a smirk is lovely on her face.

Thorn blinks. Cinnamon?! Cinnamon is Liam's inheritor?! He feels a draft and realizes his mouth has dropped open. He closes his mouth quickly. [I hadn't even realized when I met her...! Oh faith, this is going to be fascinating to watch!] He glances over at Athala and her smirk, and wonders.... did she not want Odalric to be named to the council? It's possible. It's possible that Odalric didn't want to be named to the council, either! Athala leans to speak close to Thorn's ear, "I do believe my cousin got a little overconfident." There's cool amusement in her voice. Thorn can't keep his eyes off the proceedings; he's concerned, especially from Killa's reactions, that someone is very put off that their plans have been shot to hell and back. "It seems that way, Lady," he says, still a bit gobsmacked.

Cinnamon sighs in relief as she gets to the floor, then walks carefully and with slow determination around the table to the vacant chair. A small, terrified part of herself wonders if the table is magical and that's why it takes so long to walk around it -- it's growing, to prevent her from getting there! Fortunately the majority of herself is breathlessly nervous but determined to see this through... and so she finally stands next to the empty chair. She takes a deep breath and raises her head, saying carefully, "Good morning. I am Cinnamon O'Donnell. I've come to f-fill this... this ch-chair." She tries a weak smile as she adds, "It's... really nice to say hi to you all. I hope we can all work t-together well. Umm..." she glances at Elias, whispering, "So... do I just sit?"

Elias smiles warmly at Cinnamon and says, "Just a moment." He looks around the table, "Does anyone wish to contest this?" He's quite sure someone will. Aoi's warm and pleasant voice speaks, "I do have to say that it's surprising to me that Liam would keep a descendant secret. He was a proud man." Killa's voice is a hiss, "He was a vain man. I say that until we have proof, this girl has no right to the seat."

Cinnamon smiles at that -- on this issue she's on steady ground! She pulls out the necklace from beneath her blouse and holds up the pendant so all can see. The pendant is a square-cut emerald in a platinum setting surrounded by small, perfect pearls... all on a golden chain. The heirloom is a truly exquisite piece of jewelry. The murmuring that was starting goes mostly silent. Nasteexo's interpreter/bodyguard speaks, "A piece of jewelry can be duplicated. That is no proof." His voice is almost inflectionless.

Cinnamon glances inquiringly at Elias -- then brightens, "Oh! I know. Er... who was it that said you couldn't hold the necklace unless you... meant well or something?" Cinnamon slides the necklace over her head and into the palm of her hand, then looks around consideringly. Hmm... maybe Killa? He seems the most angry about Liam having offspring -- so maybe the necklace will react strongly to him? Killa snorts and shoves his chair back, starting around the room, only to have Marcus stop him. Marcus steps back from the table and starts around it toward Cinnamon, "May I examine it?"

Cinnamon smiles at the pretty, over-confident man, "Sure! Though... I don't know what exactly it's supposed to do if, er... if... well, whatever it does if it decides it doesn't like you?"

It's clear by Marcus' expression that he's quite certain nothing's going to happen when he takes the necklace, "Unless there's iron in it, I'm quite sure nothing is going to happen besides me holding a pretty piece of jewelry."

Cinnamon hands it over, then watches in fascination as she murmurs, "No iron that I know of..."

Thorn watches consideringly. What sort of enchantment is that, that it couldn't be held by any who didn't mean well? What was Killa thinking, then? Either he didn't believe the enchantment -- that snort seemed to suggest it -- or he genuinely didn't think anything would happen. Thorn already believes Marcus wasn't likely to have been behind Liam's death, so he is also not expecting anything to happen when the necklace is put in the sidhe's hand. Thorn studies Aoi and Nateexo then, wondering if either of them are concerned about this necklace's enchantment.

When the necklace is put into Marcus' hand, there's a moment of almost no one breathing. Nothing seems to be happening as Marcus examines it. Well, nothing spectacular. Cinnamon, however, can see that Marcus is even paler than normal as he hands it back, jaw set. "It's very lovely." He turns and moves back to his seat, voice almost too level, "It doesn't look like a forgery to me. I've seen it before."

Killa sneers and says, "I demand more proof than a piece of jewelry! Even if she is a descendent somehow of the dragon, we can't have a mere human on the Council!"

Cinnamon says a bit indignantly, "There's nothing wrong with humans!" Thorn can't help but think, [Way to say the silent part out loud, Killa.]

Sparrow's Georgia drawl is amused, "Prejudice's showin' jest a li'l bit there, big fella." He finally uncrosses his legs and sits up straight, "Darlin', why don't you show the big creepy crawly that he's not the biggest reptile in the room." With that he stands up and reaches under the table -- apparently he stashed something there ahead of time. He brings out a large stone bowl which he seems to handle as lightly as if it were made of feathers. It contains a small heap of kindling. He sets the bowl down in front of Cinnamon, brown eyes shining cheerfully.

Cinnamon puts the necklace back on, then blinks at Sparrow. "Err..." She's not sure she can just cough up fire without reason... and she's a bit concerned at potentially being rude! She'd rather not, really... she'd rather talk things out! Plus she's really hoping her fingers aren't trembling visibly! She can feel the quiver in her knees already; she's clasped her fingers together tightly under the level of the table. Caradog is looking as blank as he can. Most of the 'stay hidden' contingent are looking calm or, in Sparrow's case, almost gleeful. Thorn, as are probably most of the onlookers, finds himself leaning forward, almost not breathing. Cinnamon gives Sparrow a nervous smile, then glances around the room as she adds a bit plaintively, "Can't we just talk this out like rational beings?"

Killa surges to his feet and is around the table in just seconds. He moves at breathtaking speed and one large hand snaps out to close painfully around Cinnamon's bicep. "This child is obviously being put up to this by the faction of the Council that would keep us hidden! That want us to cower in darkness and obscurity -- when we are more than worms and rabbits!"

Cinnamon gives a startled yelp! She takes a breath to reply -- but then realizes her arm is actually being squeezed a bit painfully. Politely she murmurs, "Mr. Killa, please let go." She's never in her entire life been truly physically menaced... and so it just doesn't occur to her that a polite request might not suffice. Both Shane and Josie tense up, the beansidhe leaning forward and the werewolf partially baring her teeth.

The snake shifter ignores Cinnamon's request and continues nearly shouting, "We are and have always been more than -- better than -- above the humans! We are gods!" The last is nearly thundered and his hand tightens again. His nature is as a constrictor, after all.

When Killa reflexively squeezes harder, Cinnamon winces and tries to peel the man's fingers off her arm as she protests again, "Mr. Killa! You're starting to hurt -- please let go!" She's not really listening to whatever he's yelling about, to be honest -- she just wants the ranty man to release her arm!

In the gallery Thorn feels himself half-standing. This is intolerable and getting more so by the moment -- Killa is way more than just giving 'text' to the 'subtext.' He looks around, trying to find the vaunted bailiff that Marcus was so certain was all that was needed to keep the peace. For that matter, what are Marcus and the others 'revealers' doing? This can't be how they want to press their case! Killa's being an absolute asshole about it, and doing more to dissuade people than not. Not every supernatural being would be considered a 'god,' no matter what social hierarchy these fools set up! Athala murmurs in cool amusement, "I think we're about to see Shane in action..." Indeed, the half-beansidhe is leaning forward, his hands on the rail in front of him and his amber eyes flat. Josie's hackles are also up. Elias is scowling, but clearly daren't move out of his protected seat. All around the room tension is building.

Marcus hisses at Killa, "Sit down and shut. Up!" -- but the reptilian man keeps going on about this being a scam. Thorn finds himself thinking, [The others aren't going to pull him off you, Cinnamon. Make him eat fire.]

Then Killa turns and hisses at Cinnamon, "So just give up your little charade and leave!" On the last, his mouth opens wider than it seems like it should be able to, baring a mouthful of very sharp teeth.

Cinnamon happens to glance up in annoyance just then -- and for a terrifying heartbeat all she can see is teeth! -- coming right at her face! Instinct kicks in with a vengeance as she screams, "Get away from me!" -- and fire comes roaring out of her mouth -- directly into Killa's snarling face!

Indeed, no one was making a move to stop Killa... yet. It looked like Josie and Shane were perhaps going to -- but then... don't have to. The gout of fire coming from the mouth of the innocuous-seeming woman causes gasps and shrieks all over the room. Some people start scrambling for the door. The councillors closest to Cinnamon (Sparrow on one side and Jalil on the other) move with incredible speed. Sparrow gets his hands on Cinnamon's shoulders and pulls her back, laughing as he does so. Jalil grabs the screaming anaconda shifter and pulls him away from Cinnamon. Caradog leaps to his feet and roars something at the bailiff/herald -- which has that worthy sprinting for the door. Cinnamon yanks violently away from whomever is grabbing at her again, shrieking, "Let me GO!" She doesn't know who precisely it is -- she just knows she's going to do her best to roast them too!

Sparrow lets go and, wisely, ducks. He's still laughing, "Jes' me! Jes' me!" Josie and Shane have taken the opportunity to come to back up Cinnamon. Athala, in the gallery with Thorn, is laughing and shaking her head, voice just loud enough to carry to her thrall, "Oh... he made a very large mistake, didn't he?"

Cinnamon is drawing in a huge breath to flame over her shoulder -- but once she's released she just stumbles back from the table, panting nervously as she stares warily around at everyone. Her voice is high and breathless with fright as she shrills out, "Don't any of you ever grab at me like that again -- I am not your playtoy and I have had it with crazies today!" Ordinarily she'd be more polite, of course... but right now she's nearly terrified out of her head! Then she blinks as it registers who she was shrieking at; she gasps, "Oh! Sparrow! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to be rude -- you just scared me when you grabbed me by surprise!"

Thorn was... overall a touch unimpressed by the reactions of the people on the council. Killa should have been slapped down -- and hard! -- as soon as he started ranting, let alone grabbing Cinnamon. That's vastly overshadowed, however, by how extremely impressed Thorn is by the gout of dragonfire that Cinnamon did indeed make Killa eat! The human feels a touch giddy. That was probably the most amazing and wonderful thing he'd seen outside the trod in a very, very long time! "It seems so, my Lady," he murmurs quietly to Athala, returning to his seat. "Well, he wanted proof...." He's reasonably sure that someone who was not long ago ranting about being a god is going to get through getting a mouthful of dragonfire just fine in the long run. Probably not much more humble, though.

[Previous Log] [Index] [Next Log]

Last modified: 2019-Jun-12 19:53:32

All material on this site is
Copyright © 2019-2024 Reality Fault
unless specifically indicated on each document.
All Rights Reserved.
Administrated by Reality Fault Webmaster