Notices


Childermas Surprise: (Come One, Come All)

   
Erin regarded Sasha with a peculiar, narrow-eyed expression. "A semi-reformed serpent at best," she corrected, then quirked her lips up. "How much I mind, Sasha, depends on what you get up to when I'm not looking."

"Well, don't get into any trouble I have to deal with, and don't cause any trouble you can't fix," Erin said, taking another sip of cider. "I'll consider your generous offer, but I know you steal his keys when he gets drunk." Despite her words, she put her arm around Sergei's shoulders again, raising the glass up to his lips.

"Don't mind our little dragon. He is just trying to aggravate you," Erin noted to Daphne.

Quote:
Originally Posted by Kaitou Kage View Post
Ben trotted cheerfully over toward Erin's party. If one didn't know better, one might think he was smiling. He nudged Erin playfully with his snout and then sat back on his haunches, looking from one member of the little group to the next.
Erin smiled, then grinned, then began to chuckle, and finally started giggling madly. "Benbear!" she giggled, and due to being slightly tipsy, pet him on the head. "Hello!"

"Stick around a bit, I want you to meet my friend!" Erin exclaimed to Sasha and Heather. "This is the most talented and handsome Benjamin Bear. He's quite friendly, say hello."

Ben

Ben nuzzled Erin's hand and then sat down beside her. When Erin introduced him, he sat back and grunted a friendly bear greeting and nudged the moth girl affectionately, then looked questioningly at the others.

Ilkin

"There's someone I haven't gotten to talk to in some time," Ilkin said. He led Deb through the crowd, balancing carefully on his hooves. Though he didn't especially stand out in a fae party, he did cause a couple people to double-take. Not many in the Freehold expected to see the Mage ambassador wearing nothing but fur and horns -- though to his credit, Ilkin actually looked good as a satyr.

"Robert," he said warmly, "How have you been? Allow me to introduce Deb Church. I haven't seen you in a while. Have you gotten any new jobs lately?"


“You’re very welcome, Jack. Enjoy it in good health.” Underwood glanced from one Autumn King to the other, then smiled and clapped his hands decisively. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave the two of you to it. Have to work the room a little – can’t call myself an ambassador if I don’t know the locals, right? I’ll be back around later on. In the meantime –”

There was the requisite round of appropriately polite thank-yous, see-you-in-a-bits, hat-tips, bows, and possibly-handshakes. Presuming that Jack-of-Crows let Underwood escape relatively unscathed, the reporter let out the breath he had been holding only after he had walked away – and while he was no longer facing the Patchwork King.

Sparky played the intro to “Thriller”, in MIDI.

“You said it, brother.” The reporter looked around the hollow absently, trying to get a read on the crowd – then paused, eyes narrowing at one particular face. The reporter walked back across the yard with some measure of decision, stopping in front of Seth and LeNoir.

“Evening, gents.” He looked down. “Evening, cat.” Back up at LeNoir, with a wry smile. “She friendly? Hope she’s friendly.” Underwood seemed less panicked by jaguars than the average changeling reporter – though, granted, that was a difficult comparison to quantify.

“Whoops – manners.” Handshakes for the two humanoids. “Name’s J. T. Underwood, Winter Court Reporter. The freehold across the pond sent me over as an envoy – you need anything from the boys in New York, you just ask, okay?” He looked at Seth. “Hope you don’t mind me asking, pal, but I could swear you look familiar… Any chance you’ve been in Queens over the past couple years?”

Quote:
Originally Posted by Othello
"Othello is fine, now that the cat, as they say, is out of the bag." The Marquis de Carabas said with a cheshire grin. He quirked a brow at Lauren. "Not that this specific cat has ever been in the bag to begin with."

"Do you know the origins of that saying?" Othello said, sidling smoothly around Lauren to regard Oleander brightly. The werewolf didn't quite bristle, but Lauren could see the danger signs. "Or are you buying a pig in the poke?"
Lauren quickly drew closer to Oleander and wrapped a reassuring arm around his.

"I think so," she said, eyeing Othello with a bit more suspicion than she had previously. "It came from when people would sell cats in a bag, instead of pigs, when meat was scarce. Sometimes, people wouldn't really check to make sure they were buying a pig, and they opened the bag... and the cat got out."

Quote:
"Miss Mary Mack / All dressed in black / she's got a knife / stuck in her back." Mary recited softly. She was a pretty girl, but there was something ever so slightly off about her voice. It was hoarse, rough, damaged perhaps. It sounded as though she was always speaking in a loud whisper, or that she had hurt her throat very badly. "She cannot breathe / she cannot cry / and so she begs / she begs to die."

"I chose it for myself." Mary said, smiling darkly. She brushed a stray bang from her eyes. "I'm young because I'm always young. Sweet seventeen, forever and ever, till it rots and stops being sweet."
Lauren frowned as Mary recited her rhyme. "Er... that's not much like the one I was thinking of, yeah." She wasn't really sure what to say to her now, whether Mary hated the subject of her age or if she was just like that. "Well, it's very unique," she commented finally.

Erin, Daphne, Ben

Quote:
Originally Posted by Erin
"A semi-reformed serpent at best," she corrected, then quirked her lips up. "How much I mind, Sasha, depends on what you get up to when I'm not looking."
"So. We shouldn't get caught. Gotcha." This was Heather who spoke, not Sasha. She grinned back at Erin, and slipped her arm around the dragon-man's possessively. "I'll keep an eye on him, promise."

Quote:
"I'll consider your generous offer, but I know you steal his keys when he gets drunk." Despite her words, Erin put her arm around Sergei's shoulders again, raising the glass up to his lips.
"Only because I let him." Sergei protested, taking the sip from the glass. If he and Erin intertwined any more, they would fall over. "He has so little joy in his life."

Sasha maintained a dignified silence to this.

Quote:
Originally Posted by Erin
"Stick around a bit, I want you to meet my friend!" Erin exclaimed to Sasha and Heather. "This is the most talented and handsome Benjamin Bear. He's quite friendly, say hello."
"I'm Russian. I have enough trouble with bear stereotypes." Sasha said, eyeing the monstrous thing dubiously.

"Coward." Heather said, running her fingers through Ben's fur. "Where'd you two meet?"

***************************************************************************

Lauren

"Well then there you have it." Othello said, still smiling that Cheshire grin of his. It was the kind of smile that made you want to check your pockets, and in the process reveal exactly where it was you kept the wallet. "So do you know what you're getting into when you attract the attention of the Jack-of-Crows?"

"We were friends, a long time ago." Othello observed. "When I was less sane and he less mellow."

Quote:
Originally Posted by Lauren
"Er... that's not much like the one I was thinking of, yeah." She wasn't really sure what to say to her now, whether Mary hated the subject of her age or if she was just like that. "Well, it's very unique,"
"People say something's unique when they can't think of anything else to say about it." Mary Mack observed. She didn't seem to mind it very much. "It's like calling something interesting. It doesn't mean anything."

"Miss Mary Mack / All Dressed in Black / With Silver Buttons / All down her Back." Mary recited, looking at Laurne suddenly. It was a very direct sort of look, just two dark eyes and in them a bottomless pit of something. Something strange and fey. "Was that the one you were thinking of?"

"It's alright. I'm insane. Everyone says so when they don't think I can hear." Mary said with a small smile. "You can run away if you want."

***************************************************************************

Ilkin



"Ms. Church, a pleasure to meet you. And you, young Mr. Spike." Robert Hammond was dressed in a neat, pressed suit of black, with a spiderweb design all over it. He looked rather dapper, actually, if oddly angular and with sharp, metal fingers. He smiled at Ilkin. "And I helped with the decorations here, and with the cake."

"You're a cook?" Deborah said, quirking a brow.

"I'm a man-of-all-work, you might said." Hammond said. He grinned, a very malevolent looking smile indeed. "I am looking forward to the end of this party. It shall have a Surprise."

***************************************************************************

Seth, Underwood

Quote:
Originally Posted by Underwood
"Evening, gents.” He looked down. “Evening, cat.” Back up at LeNoir, with a wry smile. “She friendly? Hope she’s friendly.”
"She likes people very much." The tall, hatchet-faced Mexican man said, which was not exactly the same thing. He looked good, provided one liked men and was not frightened by the prospect of a gruesome, gory death. Admittedly, for a form like that (Underwood could, were he so inclined, have used the dark-skinned man as an anatomy model), gruesome death seemed a fair price.

"My name is Jean LeNoir, Master of Elysium in the Kindred Court of London." He said, taking Underwood's hand. His flesh was chill, cold to the touch. He smiled, and there was just a hint of fang in that smile, like some old Aztec god with blood on their lips and curved fangs nesting in their mouthes. "And this is Xicohtencatl."

The jaguar sat on her haunches and regarded Underwood. Possibly she regarded him as a meal, though really, Underwood was entirely too mechanical to be tasty.

Quote:
Originally Posted by Othello
"So do you know what you're getting into when you attract the attention of the Jack-of-Crows?"
"No," Lauren answered cautiously. "I don't really know much about him. What's he like? And what was he like?"

Her grip on Oleander's arm tightened slightly, and it was no longer entirely for his benefit.

Quote:
Originally Posted by Mary
"Miss Mary Mack / All Dressed in Black / With Silver Buttons / All down her Back." Mary recited, looking at Laurne suddenly. It was a very direct sort of look, just two dark eyes and in them a bottomless pit of something. Something strange and fey. "Was that the one you were thinking of?"

"It's alright. I'm insane. Everyone says so when they don't think I can hear." Mary said with a small smile. "You can run away if you want."
"Yes, that's the one I remember." Lauren was even less sure of what to say to her now, but it was clear she was going to have to make a choice. "I really don't think insanity is going to send me running," she said with a strange sort of smile. "I think your name is creative, how about that? Did you make up the whole rhyme yourself?"

"Melek Tawuse, the peacock angel" Seth said with a smile, eying Underwood up and down with the expression that suggested a mentioning of Queens suddenly set him wondering if this was someone who would want him dead. But it was mildly that the Jack would invite Acamoth cultists, so that was probably off the table.

Plus, the Tabernacle of the Maiden of Shadow with a Rain of Tears Alongside were no fun at parties.

"And yeah, New York's my old home. Former Lictor of Manhattan, with consultations in all five boroughs." As he shook Underwood's hand, his grip was far more warm, suggesting that he in fact possessed a pulse. "Good to see I'm not the only New Yorker here."

There was a pause, then a look to LeNoir "And hon, my invite is due to a delightful act of hubris that I'll have to introduce you to sometime. It'll be...interesting."

There he went, using that word again. It could probably mean just about anything, from genuinely interesting to perhaps life threatening.

Lauren

Quote:
Originally Posted by Lauren
"No," Lauren answered cautiously. "I don't really know much about him. What's he like? And what was he like?"
"Well. According to one popular tale, our Jack-of-Crows was once the fellow who became famous as Saucy Jack." Othello said, stepping back, his smile fading away as he regarded his nails. They were a little sharp, just barely shy of claws. "Leather Apron, the newspapers called him, and the Whitechapel Murderer. In short, he was the Ripper, a down-at-the-heels surgeon with a few screws loose in his head and a love for murder, knives, and women. And he slit them from stem to stern, Mary Ann Nichols, Annie Chapman, Elizabeth Stride, Catherine Eddowes and Mary Jane Kelly, and he laid them out as neat as you please."

"And the kidney went here and the liver went there, and he fried them with sauce and it tasted very nice..." Othello said, his voice almost a sing-song little rhyme. He grinned at Lauren and Oleander. "But our little doctor got the attention of a murderer even more fearsome than he, and it was into the sack and across the Thorns, into Arcadia, and for fifty years he labored on a farm, plowing it with knives and watering it with blood, until one fine day his Lord Farmer had a stomach-ache, and called old Jack over. Jack was a doctor, you see."

"Well." Othello said, tilting his head to one side and still smiling that Cheshire grin. "The Jack was a very bad doctor, but he was a very good knife-wielding maniac."

Quote:
Originally Posted by Lauren
"Yes, that's the one I remember." Lauren was even less sure of what to say to her now, but it was clear she was going to have to make a choice. "I really don't think insanity is going to send me running," she said with a strange sort of smile. "I think your name is creative, how about that? Did you make up the whole rhyme yourself?"
"No. I heard it... somewhere. It's a real rhyme, not one I made up. But I've kind of lived it, so I guess it's mine now." Mary Mack said, her voice hoarse, so contrary to the expectations of what one saw in this sad-looking girl. She smiled at Lauren. "Well, if you don't mind crazy, maybe we can be friends. Most of my friends call me Mack."

She stuck her hand out to Lauren, very business-like.

Quote:
Originally Posted by Mack
"Well, if you don't mind crazy, maybe we can be friends. Most of my friends call me Mack."
Lauren smiled and shook her hand. "That sounds nice, Mack. What do you mean, you lived it?"

She was not quite sure she wanted Mack to answer, because it probably wasn't going to be good, and Othello was doing an excellent job of creeping her out already. She stared at him as he spoke, thinking he was far too cheerful for the subject matter. Her sense of unease grew as he continued. Even if his story wasn't true, he had a reason for telling it. Her grip on Oleander's arm had turned vice-like.

"Oh. Well..." Lauren struggled to find something witty to say. "I didn't know that," she finished lamely. "But he's different now, you said? I mean..." her eyes darted around the party anxiously, "surely he's not running around murdering women if this many people want to come to his party." Even she knew it was a shaky justification.

Quote:
Originally Posted by NeoTiamat View Post
"I'll keep an eye on him, promise."
"I have no doubt you will," Erin said, not sounding convinced.

Quote:
Originally Posted by NeoTiamat View Post
"I'm Russian. I have enough trouble with bear stereotypes." Sasha said, eyeing the monstrous thing dubiously.

"Coward." Heather said, running her fingers through Ben's fur. "Where'd you two meet?"
"You're Eastern European," Erin said, waving her hand dismissively. She grinned up at the bear. Even with Ben sitting on the floor and Erin sitting on the counter, he was taller than she was.

"We met as a friend of a friend," the moth said in answer. "He is a friend of a diplomat to the changeling courts. And he is absolutely a lot of fun. A fine, upstanding bear." She nodded. "My fine Mr. Bear, this is Sasha Zmeyevich, who is also fond of athletics, though perhaps not so keen on them against a bear, and Heather Harte, who may be more amenable, but I should warn you is trouble."

"And you have met before, I think. Mr. Morozov," Erin said, gesturing between the bear and Sergei. She knew Ben would get the importance of an alias. "Though there was not much chance to talk then. I have no doubt tonight will be just as raucous, though I hope it is much pleasanter."




 

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