The Roller Rink has been infested with flatfoots. Or, at least, with places for them to sit. Vorpal's among those places, having popped himself down in a computer armchair and idly turning himself in circles with his foot while he waits for the others to arrive. There's folding chairs, beanbags, and all sorts of other easily transportable sitting spots. And a sofa from Dielle's apartment that Jon probably carried down himself to show off and give them someplace comfortable to sit.
There's also a card table set up with pitchers of ice water, a few varieties of soda, and fresh fruit. The mortal kind, for the most part, though there is a bowl of blushberries, discretely tucked among the bounty.
Lucky's already taken up residence on one of the beanbags, a big red floofy one. Despite the cold, he's left his coat at the door, sitting around in a pair of jeans and a black tank top, tracing out some kind of pattern with the heel of his boot. He's managed to get himself a beer from somewhere. Or maybe he brought it in with him. The brown glass bottle is currently balanced on his stomach, while his eyes sort of just wander around the room.
Dielle has tucked herself into a beanbag with a ginger ale in a bottle. There's a few folded blankets, in case anyone's cold, because it's Vermont, but she, herself, is wearing a football shirt and jeans, and these slipper-socks that have rubber things on the bottoms to keep slippage to a minimum. Her own beanbag is blue, and one of the oversized ones that'll fit two.
Who happens to love roller rinks? It may be the brightly-lit Golden Boy with the corona of shadow around him, who probably had to stop himself from rolling in here on skates. Logan is bundled up in a blue ski parka, lined jeans and duck boots, looking every bit like a native New Englander and not like the California boy he actually is. Grinning his beautiful grin, he moves to pour himself a glass of ice water. "Hi, everybody! So good to see you all again!" Some of them he hasn't seen in a long, long time.
Jon was the cold. Unlike the rest of the mnormal populace he was in gyn shorts, a tank top and flip flops. It was finally some decent weather for the Frost Giant with rime in that short cropped beard of his where he wasn't condensating all over god's green earth. He walked over and picked up the beanbag with dielle in it and walked it a few feet over to set back down so he could park his butt on the moved couch and prop his feet up on the arm of her fluff.
Iris is wearing a long, flowy dress that leaves most of their upper back exposed, and is carrying a black hoodie with rainbow sleeves slung over a shoulder. It looks like they should be freezing, especially since they're a cold-blooded reptile, but they don't look like they're finding the chilly winter day to be particularly bothersome. They're even wearing sandals. The bared upper back and shoulders the dress provides are probably to accommodate the wings, which like the rest of them are covered with brightly rainbow-colored feathers.
"Shalom ya'll," Iris says, lifting a free hand to wave enthusiastically while offering a grin that shows a lot of really sharp teeth. Mich like the multi-colored talons that tip the fingers of the waving hand.
Joel seems to be comfortably ensconced in one of the beenbags with a blanket wrapped around him, turning him into a bit of a burrito which leaves him no arms for drinks or food, but that seems to suit him just fine for the moment. He hasn't been around in a while, having been gone for several months and only recently returning to town.
Someone who hasn't been much in public lately follows her motleymate in to Aspire, accompanied by one of her other motleymates. Gisa's wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt that reads 'Fully-Automated Luxury Queer Space Communist' across the front, because when your motley's name is a fucking meme, you can just wear it. "Shalom aleichem," she rumbles, her ponderous footsteps carrying her over toward Dielle, toward whom the ceramic woman extends her arms. Gisa is unnervingly perfect, her copper-wire hair completely perfect in its braid. Even the flickering flame in the four-armed character on her forehead burns with an annoyingly perfect flame Fucking Pilgrims. "Dielle," she greets, before taking a seat next to her and patting her lap absently, though not in the direction of the unicorn.
Vorpal beams from behind the caul of shadows hiding his eyes as the others arrive, waving to each as they arrive, familiar or not. "Welcome! Grab a drink, some fruit, whatever suits you. Apologies for not providing more carnivorous fare, but I'm more familiar with "wash and put in bowl" than "chop and season and cook and dress and plate." Not a cook, me." It seems the room is still in informal "find a comfy place and grab snacks"- Srs Bsnss is yet to occur, if Vorpal's lazy posture and friendly, hasteless greetings are any indication.
"Shalom! I don't believe I've had the pleasure, but we'll do intros here in a few once I stop feeling folks buzzing around or on the approach," Vorpal offers to Iris. "And good to see you again, too, friend!" This aimed at Logan. "Don't think I've seen you since the Ashen Hunt. Grab a seat, we'll get to what'll pass as "business" here in a few." Gisa and Alonso get waves as they arrive- EVERYONE does, truth told.
Dielle is giggling from Jon moving her beanbag, and Gisa gets a big ol' hug. "Hey, darlin'! Haven't seen you much! How are you doin'?" She's greeted those already seated when they came in and she waves at Logan and Alonso, too, as they come in. She then uses Jon's legs as an armrest and soda-bottle-cooler.
Alonso arrives with Gisa, more or less. No logo shirts for him, nope. Just a blue work shirt and a pair of sturdy jeans. His duster is worn to help deal with the chill, and his obnoxiously overlarge hat is worn to keep the light from his eyes. He offers Vorpal a polite, "Good evening, comrade." Then heads to a chair beside Gisa. There's a tip of the hat for Dielle as he takes his seat, and a quick wave of greeting sent over Iris's way.
Jon watched the gathered with a stoic reserve. THere was quiet but heartfelt, "Hey, Gisa." To the lady with the rainbow bread, then to Lucky and Logan though it was to Joel, teh other seldom spoken Dawn, his eyes went to for a long moment. Missing. Returned. Cosmically no worse for the wear at least. Well he wasn't the walking Wyrd and making sounds like an old Studebaker and that was good. Ask him, he's... almsot a Doctor. "Joel." Good talk. Good talk.
Lucky stands up, taking his own beanbag and moving it over closer to Joel. Right next to Joel's, in fact. Probably overlapping it a little bit. He flops down, the material floofing around him briefly as he leans over to nudge his friend, offering him a bright smile. "You look a little chilly," he tells the other man. Since Vorpal says that they're holding off on intros, Lucky waits for the appropriate time, though he does give a little upnod to some of the folks that he knows. Gisa and Alonso get a little wave, and Dielle gets a bright grin, accompanied by a knowing look. There's something terribly amusing to the odd-looking elf, there, as he looks between her and the giant. Maybe he's had more than one of those beers.
Iris basks in the attention of the greeetings they receive, whether many or few, and then makes their way over to the lap that Gisa patted -- namely, the Golem's very own. There, the dragon takes a seat and lets out a relieved "aaaah" as they start soaking up some of the warmth. They don't NEED it, Eternal Summer is wonderful, but it's still nice. Then, for good measure, they kick their sandals off lift their feet up to drape legs across Alonso's lap too. Perfect. At that point attention turns toward Dielle with an added, "I love your hair. It couldn't be better."
Joel gives a nod of greeting to Jon, dipping his head. He glances around at the other familiar and not so familiar faces, studying Vorpal for a moment or two. Then Lucky is plopping himself down next to Joel and Joel puts his feet up on Lucky's beanbag so he's 2/3 on his own and 1/3 on Lucky's. "I am a little chilly," he admits and returns the nudge with a sidelong glance.
"Hello, not-God," Gisa greets Vorpal somewhat drily. It's impossible, really, to get a read on the golem's expressions, because she has none. Her arms get wrapped around Iris, because when you are a life-sized warm-coffee-mug of a hugging experience, your lizardy motleymate uses you as a basking rock. That's just how it works. "I took a trip home," Gisa explains, "as I must always. Iris had not been, and she is a little old for Birthright." This is probably Gisa's version of a joke. "Also we had to spend some time in Catalonia. We have been fortunate that Pilar is so good at keeping up the commune. Indeed, your hair is very good, Dielle." Her eyes slide their fiery gaze around the room, mostly sticking to the people near her.
Dielle returns Lucky's knowing look and says, "Are we all here? Or are we just getting started anyway? Hey, y'all, how are you? And thanks for the hair complements. Been stayin' out of the sun so it won't fade."
Vorpal glances around, gauging about when everyone seems about ready to get started, then raises his voice after Gisa's reintroduction to her motleymate and friends. "Good evening to all! Do forgive the irony of our court meeting nearer to sunset than sunrise, logistics is as logistics does. We're Dawn, we all know that, I won't belabor that point. I'm relatively new to the area, so I can't say as I know whether we have an opening prayer or anything like that, but if someone wants to -say- one, I won't object. And no, it doesn't need to be to me." This last comes with an upward quirk of the corner of his mouth towards Gisa.
"So. In the interest of getting us started, I will- with introductions, specifically. I'm Vorpal- God of the Hunt, Templar of the Bloody Rose, Agent of Awakening, Lieutenant of the Harvestmen, and everyday run of the mill Greenie. I'm from the same town a lot of the relocated folks came from, specifically November, Calliope, Nathania and that lot. Came here chasing November and have been working around here ever since. I'm running Aspire, which is one of our projects- where better to help foster Hope in an unexpected environment?- and you're all welcome to pitch in if it appeals. I'd like everyone to introduce themselves, who they are and what they do, and any pet projects they've got going on that the rest of us should know about or might be able to help with. After that, gonna break down the big happenings around here that I know about, and open the floor for anyone wants to share things -they've- heard about that the rest of us might not know."
Lucky stands up next, because it's best to just get these things out of the way. "Mine's gonna be shorter than that," he assures everyone. "Judge Lucky Donovan. All-around nothing terribly special!" He raises his beer to Vorpal, a little 'cheers' to the man with all the titles. "Just got back from business out of town. Nice to see ya'll again. I'm not caught up on all the local gossip and haps, yet, but hopefully that'll change tonight. Gimme a ring if you need me." And with that, he once again flops down on the beanbag, getting comfy as he offers Joel the brown bottle.
Dielle doesn't get up, she's comfy. "Dielle Henner. Captain of the Harvestmen, Watcher, and Sister of the Family of Silent Nights, which means any of y'all want something beat up in your dreams, come talk to me. Or if you need kitten therapy and that's not a euphemism. Oh, and I'm fuckin' fantastic, if y'all don't know, but now you do." She grins and sort of settles in further into her beanbag.
Introductions? Certainly! Iris slides their feet off of Alonso's lap, but only so that they can rise to their feet, step over Gisa's shoulder, and balance, standing upright, on the back of the golem's chair. It's a precarious place to stand, but the dragon balances well enough that they might as well be standing on solid ground. "Hi, everyone!" comes the kind of voice that draws attention like a magnet draws iron filings. It's a decidedly feminine sounding voice, but in the dress they're wearing Iris also pretty clearly doesn't have boobs, so who knows. "I'm Iris Drake, and a lot of things that can basically be summed up with one word: AWESOME. I was born in Fort Brunsett a long time ago, and came back when I remembered enough to know this was where I came from originially. My motley and I have a couple of projects, including the Jewish Bookstore and a local commune called A Common Treasury. We are the Fully Automated Luxury Queer Space Communists, after all. We have to have a commune. If you want to know how you might be able to help with that, and give the exploited workers some hope that there might be a better way, let us know."
Logan, meanwhile, has flashed his beautiful grin at those who've greeted him in turn. He listens to the others when they introduce himself before stepping forward to offer his own intro. Iris' introduction seems to particularly amuse him. At this point, he's doffed his winterwear, revealing the blue and white graduated boat neck sweater and blue jeans he wears beneath. He's still standing, water in hand, light and shadow bright and dark around him. "I'm Logan Brenner, Waykeeper and Custodian. Retired technology and entertainment professional, I suppose! I'm happy to assist with newcomers in town -- I live right up the road from the Wayhouse, and am always interested in making transitions run smoothly. No pet projects yet, but you can bet I'll have some brewing in the near future." He winks, very slightly, but Logan is the kind of person who can pull that off.
Alonso rolls up to his feet and nudges his hat back enough so that he can actually set his eyes on the various faces in the crowd. "I am Alonso Triste. A Pilgrim of the Endless Road. Most recently I had been maintaining patrols in the hedge to check the advances of the mechanical hobs that had been raiding through the loop trod. That threat has been dealt with, by all reports. So I am back to being a general vagabond and listlessly drifting between here and Catalonia. Like Iris, I am a member of the Fully Automated Luxury Queer Space Communists, and am active in a Common Treasury. Bit of a jack of all trades, so if you need help with just about anything... I can probably help. And am happy to offer said assistance, in any case." He considers saying more, doesn't, and then nods his head once. "Thank you." And promptly seats himself.
Joel manages to wrest an arm free from his blanket to take the bottle that Lucky offers to him and takes a swig before handing it back. He doesn't get up, either, because to do so would require unwinding himself from the blanket that he's in. So he salutes the group with his beer and says, "Joel White, Eternal Echo, writer, bartender, used to run Club Carnivale until my uncle made some bad decisions and the place got taken and torn down. Back in town after a brief backpacking trip around Europe. Not really up on the latest either so.. getting back in touch.. no real projects other than starting over."
Jon blinked at Vorpal and said simply, "God DAMN that must have been hell to fit all in a scan-tron when you were in 5th grade, buddy. I thought my name was long." He paused and looked to Gisa furrowing his brow. "Sorry." He didn't often apologize but sometimes he made concessions of respect. He didn't get up because at his height he was still visible across the damn room. There was no point. The Jotun, regardless of his size was quiet sponen, but the lower register of his voice carried, "I liked that place, Joel. You had a good gig there. Good to see you guys back. You guys need help setting something up let us know, man." Sometimes he spoke. Since he was o that role he said in short, "John. Ihrck. I'm Dielle's sherpa, but also a Dream Doctor. Was working on medical school but that's a bit on hold. Been, um, been working on youth programs for other kids in the system and that Looking to start some support meetings for folks newly out of the hedge. That first year's kinda rough, but if you guys want to play some ball or whatever hit me up. I'm down for it."
A small gesture with both hands from the golem, dismissive, when Jon apologizes. "It is all right. My faith is my own." This, apparently, is all there needs to be said about God, damning, and goylomim. "Gisa Cohen. I opened the Tamarack Falls Jewish bookstore which the motley now owns in trust. The back room is open to Freehold members and Dawns, though in an emergency it is open to those who need it. There is a kosher mini-kitchen, a sleeping space, spare clothes, and a shower available there. And, yes, I am a Fully-Automated Luxury Queer Space Communist. In case you missed the shirt." When she speaks more at length, the fiery-eyed golem sounds like she'd fit right in on Themyscira. Or, you know, in Tel Aviv, since the Amazonian accents in Wonder Woman were really all just Israeli accents.
"Name was a -lot- shorter last time I had to worry about number two pencils, man," Vorpal retorts at Jon with a laugh. It's easy, unoffended. "Alright, so if I caught everything properly, sounds like between us, we've got a commune, the Jewish bookstore, Aspire here, plans to start support meetings for new Lost, and hands in just about every pot the Freehold has to offer. That's pretty clutch, if you ask me. Good job on everyone for being involved, and for those of you who offered to -get- involved. Easy enough to talk to those in charge of the projects, or if you're feeling shy, Heather and November and I should all be willing to bring your interest to the parties in question."
"Heard a few folks, like Logan, mention wanting to or planning to start projects of their own. I'm happy to help, but it'd likely benefit most projects to have someone a little more normal than I on the frontlines. I highly encourage everyone to talk to each other and figure out what you want to help with- the worst thing we can do is Stagnate. Find a project and help it grow- even if the project flops, it'll build -you- up, and everyone you support."
"As for news- like Alonso said, the thing with the Broken Dolls was settled. There's a matter of a Door where the camp was that still needs to be checked on, though. Dielle and I will probably be involved in looking into that, so if that's something you're interested in, let one of us know. Other current issues include the possible fascist leadership of The Soundless, a Freehold made up of the surviving members of the last freehold from Tamarack Falls. One of their deserters says they pressgang folks into the Freehold, and have such an iron grip on their members that this dude had to fake his death to get out clean. There's research into new markets that don't have any ties to them, as well as the next nearest local Freeholds. That's all being headed up by Fate's Harvest, but they've opened the doors to outsiders who want to assist, if you're interested. Similarly with a hunt for information on a Gentry seen -in- the Wild Roses- I'm part of that, and if you're willing to risk encountering Loyalists and Privateers, we could use anyone interested. To be clear, though, this guy -showed up- in the Market, and it's not beyond reasoning that It might drop in bodily. Think long and hard before you volunteer for that particular project."
"There's also a dream plague going around, poisons. There's a task force of Dream specialists working on figuring that out. If you want to get involved, I can hook you up with the folks in charge.
"That's the current events that -I- know of. If anyone's got something I missed, by all means, bring it up. It never hurts to be more informed."
Lucky listens carefully. "So, like... I've got some skill in... pretty much all of that," he tells Vorpal. "Maybe not the greatest of the great, or whatever, but I can probably get in on one of those, if you guys are looking for help. Just point me wherever you think you need people the most."
Iris stops balancing on the back of a chair, and instead hops down to the ground so that they can sit down on the rock of warming again. Gisa, that is. With a soft, contented noise the dragon returns to listening to conversation.
"Fascist leadership?" That gets Alonso's attention, to be sure. Though it makes his eyes narrow in suspicion rather than widen in surprise. "That's quite the accusation to toss about casually. What makes us suspect the soundless are, of all things, fascists?" Alonso lets Iris up without complaint, and promtly resumes his sprawling lounge. "I've made a bit of a career fighting fascists, so... it's not an idle question, you see."
Dielle is sitting back in her beanbag. "Dream poisons ain't a thing anymore, actually," she says. "But Vorpal, I ain't entirely clear on the Soundless thing, I came in late to that, maybe you could explain it better than me?" She leans on Jon's shin, then stops. That shit is BONY.
"'Fascist' /is/ a strong descriptor," Logan agrees, though he's still smiling, because that's what he tends to do. "I'd be curious to hear more about that as well, as I was rather involved in the Soundless matters earlier on." He gestures to Vorpal and adds, "Thank you for the thorough run-down. For my part, I've been assisting in the hunt for the new Freehold. We are not a big search party, so I'm sure some extra hands in that regard would be welcome. Although I think we've handled things pretty well regardless."
The golem's head slowly turns toward the word 'fascist,' and Gisa actually has a facial expression for a moment. Their eyebrow rises slowly, their mouth set in a flat line, rather than just a neutral one. "Indeed," she agrees with Alonso, absently wrapping her muscular ceramic arms around Iris again; as gestures go, it is a chaste and familial one, and she leans her head on Alonso's shoulder far more affectionately. As golem gestures go.
Jon held up a finger, "Okay let's roll it back from labels here for a moment. what's the set up, what's going on, go back to the iron fist. Can you describe this fisting that they're getting?" Soemtimes it's jsut important to break it down to the building blocks. His eyes went to Dielle like 'what woman I'm right here' "Dee you want me to move over for you or sit down there?"
Joel listens and nods his head, taking in all of the projects that are being mentioned. He glances over toward Lucky for a moment and then he nods, indicating that he too would be willing to help out. Though Jon's question draws one eyebrow upward as he looks over in that direction.
"It -is- a very strong descriptor. The guy who faked his own death to get out claims they force every changeling in their territory to join, have a rather extensive Secret Police thing going on- I'd like to share more, but I don't have details past that. I wasn't there when he shared what he knew with the Freehold, but at best, it's all second hand. We -don't- know for sure that's what's going on, because we don't have anyone on the inside there. We'd need someone -not- pledged to our Freehold to be willing to pledge- or be forced to pledge- to theirs, to know for sure, or at least to pose as someone who IS pledged. What I -do- know is that the current Freehold Crown considers this a credible report, and the Soundless aren't welcome in this territory anymore. The known members of the Soundless Freehold- which as I know it boils down to our informant, and someone named Samantha Whitaker, are to be escorted off any Freehold properties that aren't the Wayhouse, and if you see any unfamiliar Lost, there's a phone number to report the sighting. They might just be new Lost or new to the area, and by all means, approach and be friendly, but they want an idea of who's wandering around the town that isn't a known quantity." Vorpal pulls out one of the cards with the number, offers it to the others. "Unfamiliar Lost are allowed to be here, they're not gonna be accosted or anything, but it's not a secret that the Soundless do -not- like the way Fate's Harvest operates."
"In short, the Crown would -like- to hear about it if we see strange Lost in the area, doesn't know whether the Soundless are doing what we're being told they're doing but considers the information we got credible, and if you want to get involved in one of the responses to that- in looking for allies and alternatives to the Market, for instance-" Vorpal nods towards Lucky, his volunteering was noticed. "-then we'll get you in touch with someone who can get you involved."
Dielle moves over on the beanbag, a clear invitation for Jon to join her. "Really? Fisting?" It's a whisper but it's not actually that quiet. But she upnods at Vorpal and says, "And whatever you do, be /careful/. We're not that eager to lose members, y'know?" After the fisting comment, that sounded worse than she intended, but she ignores it gamely.
"Obligatory membership is sensible," Alonso responds with a shrug of his shoulders. "If you don't want to belong, move along. Laxity in eforcing freehold membership allows for the sort of infiltration and observation we've endured by the Soundless. As you rightly point out, there's no real way of knowing who is Soundless and who are simply new, or passing through. Obligatory membership need no be something you do at gunpoint. But it certainly does provide better control and awareness of who passes through your boundaries. Put more bluntly, I'm not entirely in favor of how Fate's Harvest operates, myself. Historically."
Lucky looks back and forth between everyone present, chewing on his lip a bit. "I mean, don't get me wrong. I'm never one to say no to a good revolution, especially when it's needed. It's kind of what we do. But, like... everyone here -does- remember that we're voluntary subjects of a seasonal monarchy. Right?" His eyes look around the room, curious. Anti-democratic principles of enforcement aren't exactly strange to the Lost.
Jon looked to Lucky and shook his head, "Actually not everyone. The COurts aren't dependant on membership to a freehold for survival and there's a toooon of folks out there who run their own game. Not everyone here is even. Dawn's business and a freehold's business are not always parallel and any one of anyone could besoundless and playing it chill. My question is: is the guy that faked his own death oath-broken?"
Iris clears their throat and points out, "not all of us have joined the Freehold, so it's not exactly true that we're all voluntary subjects. Which I suppose also means I might be able to volunteer to go spy on the Soundless, except for the fact that I don't really do covert, or subtle, or flying under the radar. I kind of stand out." The dragon shrugs and tells Alonso, "even if I do agree with you that the fact that I'm allowed to run around unsupervised might not be the best idea, I do take advantage of it and haven't ever sworn the Freehold oath."
Dielle says, quietly, "I dunno, Jon." A little louder, she says, "Anyone who wants to try volunteering should prolly go talk to Charlie O. That includes the fact that if you want to try, he can release you from your freehold oath for the purpose, since Iris is way, way too awesome to be subtle." She nods her head at Iris, with a grin of camaraderie. "And Jon's right: freehold and court ain't the same thing."
"My Oath to the freehold ended with the Autumn season. I have not bothered to renew my pledge," Alonso informs Lucky with a small dip of the head. "That does of course mean that I could potentially put myself forward to infiltrate the Soundless. But I don't believe I would have much success. Samantha is not unknown to me, and vice versa, and our opinion of one another was mutually terrible. I would suggest someone unknown to them as yet, if possible."
Lucky looks like he wants to argue the point. He's making that face. Anyone who knows him knows that there's about a thousand retorts there. But instead, he lets it go, waving it off for the moment. It's an argument in semantics for another time. Looking over to Joel, he says, "We're gonna need to unlock the cabinet when we get home." After that, he patiently waits to see what the rest of the group decides on the other matters.
Joel looks over toward Lucky at the mention of the cabinet and a brow raises, but he nods his head silently, not seeming to have any argument against it. He continues to listen to the conversations going around the room. "I'm not skilled in any kind of infiltration. My skills lie more around observation, crafting,.. I'm not really good at.. proactive engagement."
The golem may have just shut down: they're not responding to any of the commentary at the moment, just sort of sitting impossibly still. Maybe Gisa is just listening.
Jon considered this and looked to Dielle and shrugged looking back to teh rest, "I've been in Boston and mostly just keep my damn head down. You want company Iris... I can go. I mean honestly so long as they're not selling Lost out to the gentry I don't know I see why the hughe hullabaloo, but ya know, sure. We can go, we can see."
Dielle says, "Ok, first of all, no one's sayin' any of us have to volunteer. We don't. Vorpal's just puttin' it forward that it's a thing that's going on." She sounds mildly annoyed, but gods alone know why. "So, yeah...." Then what Jon says registers and she goes very still. In a damn fine effort of hiding any kind of reaction to that, she says to Lucky, conversationally, "Lucky, we're under what could damn well be called a constitutional monarchy. Ain't exactly fascist. If it was, I can think of a few people wouldn't be in the area anymore, or they'd be sworn in for all our safety."
Logan has been listening quietly, leaned up against a wall or pillar, legs crossed at the ankle. "King Charlie O probably has some ideas on the matter, anyway. It's his season and his court," he points out cheerfully, "though I agree with Dielle. Constitutional monarchy is a good way to put it. It's not a dictatorship, but the rules are ultimately up to the Council." Says the Waykeeper.
"Exactly. As Dielle said, I'm not -calling- for volunteers here. We don't know there's anything that needs policing, and even if there were, that's not our biz. I've been listing everything that's going on so anyone who hears something up their personal alley can look into it if they like. As I said before, the worst thing we can do is Stagnate. Hope can survive anything but that. On a court level, I'd recommend collaboration with each other to promote our own projects, deepen our connection to our own personal brand of Hope, and strengthen each other going forward. On -individual- levels, I'll back anyone who -wants- to become directly involved. I'm far too high profile to do any infiltrating, myself, but I -am- willing to act as protection or extraction if something goes wrong there, and I'll help provide fruits and such for anyone who wants to go on excursions."
"Are there any other new ideas to discuss? We're not the Freehold, we're Dawn, so matters such as whether Freehold membership should be voluntary or not is a personal matter to each of us and not something we need a concensus on."
Alonso's goes quiet again, his gaze flitting from speaker to speaker and back to Vorpal again. He adjusts his hat and lets out a terse sigh, then sinks back into his chair again. He plucks a cigarillo from his duster and begins picking at the loose bits of tobacco poking out from one end. "Nothing more from me."
Lucky listens for a moment, then asks, "Who was it that spotted this Gentry? What do we know about it? And what do we know about its interaction with the Roses?"
Iris seems to currently be content basking on the warm golem, but they do start gently sliding claws through some of the feathers that cover their arms, preening them a bit. The question gets a shrug, since they don't know the answer.
One of Gisa's warm ceramic hands comes out, resting on Alonso's arm gently. The golem says something softly in another language: lots of soft vowels and glottal consonants. Whatever she's saying, it's comforting, perhaps, or an expression of understanding. The golem's fiery eyes slide their gaze to Vorpal, then, patiently.
"I spotted it. Alongside Ashe, Neirin, Count, Uschi... Cassian. And Cassian," Vorpal explains. "It was summoned there on accident, by the repair of a token. It doesn't -seem- to be affiliated with the Roses at all- when we searched for signs of it starting at the market, we were led away from the Market entirely. It took us straight to Loyalists in its service, marked by its sign- so we know the search worked, but it'd have found anything in Market first. No connection there." Vorpal looks around again. "Any more questions or announcements?"
Alonso asides to Lucky, "It was a favor token of the Gentry. Once repaired, the Gentry answered the summons. My understanding is that it was accidental."
Dielle says, "I don't think I have anything else. Other than...where'd you get this beanbag? Can I borrow it? No, wait. I probably ought to just buy my own, never mind." She's loving the beanbag, it's clear.
Jon got up and picked up the DIelle in a beanbag and corrected, "What she meant to say she's formedd a symbiotic bond with this one and we'll get you a new one."
"What? We don't get to keep the beanbags? Is that a hard-and-fast sort of rule, or are we thinking flexible?" Lucky nods in approval at Jon picking up Dielle in the beanbag. "Flexible it is."
"I'm keeping my beenbag," Iris says with no room for debate. The thing is, Iris is sitting on Gisa, not on a beanbag. "Until it asks me to stop sitting here, anyway." They flash a grin at the golem, then at Alonso, and then attention returns to the conversation. "I don't have anything else to bring up, personally. It's good to see people getting together, though."
Vorpal snorts abruptly and breaks into laughter. "You can take them home if you like. If you don't bring it with you next time, that's your butt on a folding chair. Or leave'em here and be guaranteed a soft seat next meeting. Either's fine by me, fairy gold bought the lot."
"It's -very- good to see the Court together. There'll be another meeting, couple weeks time, I think. Meanwhile, help each other with those projects, come see me, Dielle, November or Heather, if you want to join up with one of the Freehold projects, and one of the Motley Which Is Very Difficult To Name Offhand if you want to help with the bookstore or commune."
Dielle giggles, suddenly much higher than she was. "Maybe next week, we could do another dinner or something?" She looks over at Jon from the edge of the beanbag and says, "We're definitely replacin' this one. Ain't right to steal." She looks up and says, "Me? Wait, what?"
"Yes, very good. I'm afraid I must be going, but I'm glad we did this again. Thanks for hosting, Vorpal." Logan flashes his too-perfect smile at the room, finishes his water, and starts suiting up his jacket. "Feel free to talk to me if you want more info on looking for new Freeholds." With that, a jaunty whistle on his lips, the Golden Boy turns and strolls out again.
Logan heads out through the double doors to the lobby.
Lucky stands up as Joel moves to dig some keys out of his pocket. Maybe they have a car? Or something. Either way, they give each other a nod, and Joel goes out to do something. Lucky glances down at the beanbag. "Ehn. Bringing it -back- sounds like work. You make a good point." Instead, he just picks up the other two and places them neatly next to the others. "See you at practice," he tells Vorpal with a grin. "Never fought a god before. This should be interesting."
"It has been a long time since we did a Shabbos dinner," Gisa agrees. "I can organize another one." She chuckles low in her throat as Iris refers to her as a chair. "It seems the meeting is coming to a close, Iris. You will have to stop using me as a chair now, so that we can go home."
"Of course," Iris says, rolling off of Gisa's lap and onto their feet again. "Thank you for your warmth." With a shiver, the rainbow-feathered dragon puffs those feathers up, then lets them settle into place. "It was good to see you all. Until next time, try to be awesome!"