Thurgood sounds an awful lot like how Etsy sounded yesterday when he answers the door and shows Cordy in. She's referred to as 'Miss' and asked her name and if she would like a 'beverage, miss' as he leads her in to the house. What name she gives is how she's introduced when he leads her to the central hall, where Etsy's sitting on a divan in front of the fire, knitting. Diva on a divan, the jokes make themselves. She's wearing a comfortable blue-green dress, her hair spilling over her shoulders, shoes and mrbl underneath the divan. Her feet aren't, at the moment: the long bones of her feet have stretched out and thus her lower extremeties are fins at the moment. She's humming to herself, something sweet and poppish.
This turns out to be terribly disconcerting, and Cordy meekly accepts that she's not going to get out of being called Miss. She asks for some water and thanks Thurgood sincerely, if with confusion for the way he speaks, and follows into the central hall. She smiles at the mermaid as she arrives- a little thing, shy and fragile, that smile- and walks over before realizing she hasn't taken stock of the places to sit, and pausing to look about for the best place to seat herself. "Hello, Miss Etsy. You are a knitter? I did not know."
"Mmm, yes, I am doing a knittings, almost all the times, when I not having a things for my hands to do. My friend Nathanias teaching me," agrees Etsy cheerfully, wiggling her fingers and trilling, "A thank yous, Thurgoods. Please tell Reggies we are having a guests if he wants to do a socialize. And I will have a beef broths please."
"Yes, Miss Etsy. I'll inform Mister Danger that we have guests straightaway. And beef broth, very good." Thurgood buttles off to see to the mermaid's requests, and Etsy sets her knitting down in her lap, stretching her hands out toward Cordy in greeting as if they have been the best of friends forever. To be the focus of Etsy's rather singular attention is a bit like having a spotlight turned on you, full-force, and with her Mission on hold until everyone can get back together again, well, her energy has nowhere to go, so it's turned on Cordy. "Welcomes. We have met so much oddness of places, yes? Is good to have you here. This is a Lazy Otter Downs, which we did not even name the hills, it was already named!"
"Lazy Otter Downs," murmurs Cordy as she settles into an armchair. She looks so painfully out of place here. The setting is fine and luxurious, and Cordy... well. She's got a certain sense of finery to her, but it's very, very different. Utilitarian. Her gloves, her skirt, her blouse, all hedgespun, and that alone -suggests- finery, but in truth, it's all just useful. Etsy has style and elegance. Cordy has soot smudges sneaking up her arms and wandering her clothes, and she smells of smoke. Clean forge smoke and rich bonfire blazes, but smoke nonetheless.
"You are having beef broth? Are you ill, Miss Etsy? And is Nathania a local?"
And yet there's a wildness about Etsy that, even surrounded by all of Reggie's finery, can't be suppressed. She's a mermaid, she belongs swimming with the sharks, not lounging and knitting. Of course, her dress is blue silk, and hand-sewn, so... The inherent contrasts of Fairest, or some shit. If Etsy notices that Cordy looks out of place, it doesn't show: she's as gracious a host as a person could hope for. "Yes, is not a loveliest names?" Her smile is close-lipped, not showing those piranha teeth. Her Mantle sprawls out around her, all little green runner vines and small white flowers.
"Oh, no, not sickness is me. I would make myselfs betters if I were sicks," she assures Cordy, picking up her knitting again. The needles move between her hands as she keeps her eyes on Cordy, not -- apparently -- needing to look at her hands to knit. "Am just a carnivores!"
"A carnivore?" Cordy inquires, head tilting- which flops her ears to the side a bit. "I do not think I understand. I am sure you eat meat, but- if you are not ill, why are you drinking broth? That is what you do when your belly is sour."
"If I did a drinks of a tea, or other drink which is a hotness like humans do on cold days, it would make my stomach do a sours. I like broth. It is delicious. I am drinks a broths instead of drinks a coffees, or drinks a teas, or drinks a ... soda pops... " explains Etsy, continuing to knit, her shoulders rolling casually. "Hot chocolates makes my stomachs a little bit hurts, but sometimes is worths it. I do like a chocolates."
Cordy is... well, clearly surprised by all this. "... oh. Um. Okay. Well- well okay. I was just curious. And chocolate is very good," murmurs Cordy, fidgeting in her seat. "Is it safe to discuss things here? Or should we stay to safe topics?"
A smile slides across Etsy's face, then, and she offers back, "A curiousness is okays. I am an interestings, so of course would like to ask a questions about a mermaids." Etsy's sea-change eyes glitter, like silver fish are swimming through the water that is her eyes, and one of them closes, a sly little wink. "Oh, yes, it is fine to talk about anythings, here. Thurgoods is oathed with my fiances, Reggie, so he will not say anythings."
The butler appears at Cordy's elbow and delivers her water without saying a word, then sets Etsy's mug of broth down on the side table by her. "Right, Thurgoods, you are an oatheds and safe to talk arounds?"
"Indubitably, Miss Etsy." Beat. "Will that be all?"
"Yes, thank yous. Please remembers the salmons for mrbls in the mornings, and to reorder the abalones?"
"Yes, miss."
This has got to be a really weird gig, even for an extremely British butler.
As Thurgood disappears again in the way of all unobtrusive servants, Etsy asks, "What do you want to do a talkings about?"
Oath or not, Cordy seems a little uncomfortable leading into a conversation while the everpresent butler delivers Etsy's mug. She waits until he unobtrusifies himself before speaking.
"I was wondering what you thought about the White Hand and the Keyfork Marshket. Feck seemed to want us to go to the Marshket first, right? With... with the wurm..? What do you think about checking out White Hand first instead..? Maybe it will be safer?"
The mermaid's fingers tighten around the mug, and she closes her eyes for a moment. "I do not know if I have any particular opinion about whethers or nots Feck had a particulars agenda. I did do a leadings of him in that ways, and I did it for a purposes. I only had three questions to try to get him to dos what I wanted him to dos," Etsy explains, her eyes opening again. "Which was to gives me a message to delivers."
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"Yes, you seemed very intent on that, and very proud when you managed it- why is that, Miss Etsy?" Cordy asks, squirming back into the fluffy armchair. She pauses, and wiggles, and listens to the creak, and- for a moment- is rather transparently thinking of how to repair the creak. Then her attention is back on Etsy.
"Have you ever had a hearings about the Guild of the Sacred Journeys? Sometimes we are called as Sacred Couriers?" Etsy asks, lifting her mug and taking a very delicate sip of her broth. Her eyes half-lid, closing with a contented sigh as the warmth of the broth spreads through her.
"No, I have-" Cordy pauses and squints at Etsy. "... wait. Broth is- it is very much plant-filled. That is how you make it taste good. Do the herbs and spices and vegetables not hurt your belly?"
"I have not heard of them, no. Are they a-" She fishes for the English word. "... Entitlement?"
"Not necessarilies. And the flavors of this broth come from hedge plants, which do not hurt my stomachs, because I am a fae things. My motleymate, Regina, is a Knight of the Knowledges of the Tongues. She is the best cook that ever has been. And she makes this for me specials." Etsy takes another sip. "But I do like beef broths plain." What a weirdo.
"Yes," agrees Etsy. "They are an Entitlements. And because I have a messages to delivers, I can find that persons to deliver the message to. Is not like -- I could not point to it on a maps? But ... I know. Like a game of hot-and-cold."
Cordy blinks and widens the forgelit lamps of her eyes, nodding slowly, wobbling her ears. "Oh. Yes! I understand. Like- like listening to the elements, but instead of that, it is your entitlement, whispering "this is the way" or nudging you back on course if you start to leave it."
"You have a whole motley? I bet that must be lovely," murmurs Cordy, shrinking back into the chair. "Perhaps one day I will find a motley. But I think probably not. I move often, and my work is... it worries some. Many. So I think perhaps it safer to stay on my own. But- but I am happy, for you!"
The mermaid tips her head to one side, and then the other. "It is a little bits like that, and a little not. I cannot explains it. It is just... a knowings," and that's all she can really say, or is willing to say, about it. "But I am an agitates. I would go right nows if I could," she sighs. "But is a bad ideas."
"Yes. It is called an Adventure Time! It has an exclamation point at the end, is very importants. Is me, and Lumis, and Billy Rays, and Reginas, and Calms, and Reggies, of course you meet a Reggies, that is also my fiance. Maybe you can do an Adventure Time! Who knows." Another sip of broth. "Well, I am a messengers, so, maybe you can find a motleys that gives you a safe base." Beat. "What kind of works?"
"Oh, does it prickle when you have a message and are not working to deliver it?" Cordy inquires quietly. The names, though- the names, one after the other, so MANY of them, clearly daunt the rabbit, and she shakes her head in that quick, ear-flopping manner she has. "... oh, no, I do not think- I do not think Adventure Time Exclamation Point is for me, Miss Etsy. I do not like Adventures. I could barely bring myself to take a walk and look for a market. I -wanted- to stay behind. To work."
"Oh. I make things. And sell them. And use what I earn to buy slaves. Then take them home."
Cordy fidgets. "... -send- them home is usually more accurate. I... I am not brave enough to see them all the way there. I... like thinking all the endings are happy."
The mermaid stops for a long moment, and she looks at Cordy in silence. "Adventures are not so much fun while they are happening, Cordy," comes Etsy's voice in its perfect 'this is somehow a song' way. "To call it 'Adventure Time!' and put an exclamation points on it is to remind ourselves that someday, we will be prouds of what we did. When an Adventure is happens, it is scaries, it is stresses, it is hungries, it is all kinds of things. Usually do not enjoys. But we put the smile on it, to remind us of why we does it."
"Except Reggies, he really does likes it, but he is Golden Standard." The affection there is as clear as a Carribean ocean: Etsy even sighs a little.
"That is a good works. Why would anyone not like this? It is a good way to works against Them."
"I like my sort of adventures," mutters Cordy. "In books, and libraries, and on paper and vellum, inventing and creating and designing and -making-, weaving stories into armor and shields and pendants, making their stories Bigger. Weaving Tales into Legends. That is my sort of adventure. The kind where nothing tries to eat me, or tear out my sanity, or makes... makes me hurt anybody."
"Some think I lie. Think that when they disappear, when they go home, anything could have happened. They think I am selling them. Or giving them to Them. I am not! But how do I prove such things, when they suspect I am breaking oaths and tricking their magicks?"
"You would like a Billy Rays," answers Etsy thoughtfully. "He likes those adventures, alsos. He is a makers. Has a great workshops. I should do an introduce." The last bit makes Etsy smile, a little sadly. "It is better to do a healings," she agrees. "Which is why I go. To un-hurt, as often as I can."
"Um. Well, you can do an oath. Or someone can look at you with Truth and Lies. It is not so hard to prove that you are doing what you say you are doings, reallies, if you do really want to. But I do see why there is a suspicious. I would not have so much suspiciousness of you, because I am seeing already how you are a terrible at lyings."
Cordy nods sagely. Super bad at lying. "But then people just say 'oh well perhaps the little tricky rabbit is simply VERY good at lying and PRETENDS to be bad at it." And I am Autumn, to boot, and then they wonder if I am not tricking their magicks with my OWN magicks, and it becomes impossible to convince them -because they are already convinced.-" She huffs- a tiny, breathless little protest- and crosses her arms. "I have relocated twice when people saw me at slave auctions and never saw the slaves I bought again. I try to explain but people do not listen, not when you are as Wyrd as me."
A vague shrug. "Well, once you are sworns in at the Fate's Harvest, if you were working for Thems, you would be dead. So that is the end of thats," offers Etsy easily enough. She considers. "What do you think the wurms is, that the bird was talking abouts? I should try to do a dreams about it."
"Wurms are dragons, but no limbs, no wings. They are like... halfway between snakes and draconic kind," explains Cordy. "That is, if Feck knows of what he speaks. Perhaps if there were those willing to deal with this wurm, get rid of it, the Keyfork Marshket will deal with us favorably?"
"Are you an oneiromancer, Miss Etsy??"
"Oh, yes, that kind of a wurms. Was not certains if it was that kind of a wurms or like the big worms from a movie about a desert planets and walking sideways with blue eyes." Etsy has had a strange media schedule since returning from Arcadia, to be certain. "That is what I am a thinks. But want to know abouts, this things, before we goes. Unlike a Reggies I do not run in all helters and skelters."
"Yes, did a thinks about becoming an Oneirophysic but I am too pretty to fades." What a fucking Fairest answer.
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