Log:First Court of Moonter 2020
|First Court of Moonter 2020
3 January, 2020
Zillah's First Court (this year) is Called.
Stoneheart - The Broken Hearth
November steps in through the many-wooden door.
Adithan steps in through the many-wooden door.
Lilium steps in through the many-wooden door.
The vagueness of the shadows within the Broken Hearth are deeper, darker, than they otherwise might be. The reason for this being, of course, the hostess of the current gathering. The Moon Queen herself is a shadow made flesh, a void highlighted by shimmering scales and the vague presence of the heavens. Lower case h. The light of the fire's flickering flames do nothing within her presence.
Given that this is a Moon Court led gathering, there's alcohol a-plenty, along with other things to indulge in. Vices should be celebrated, after all.
Amity steps in through the many-wooden door.
November is not alone today, in more ways than one. The Waylady's radiance has an echo, albeit not an icy one, in the silver-scaled Lilium she escorts into the broken hearth. "...and here we are," that too-lovely, too-musical voice concludes, colours heard as much as seen within the too-Fae creature's icy flesh. "The Broken Hearth, our meeting hall, as it was for the Silver Tree before us." A graceful, slender limb lifts to indicate the shattered ceiling and the litter of crystalline growths where the Hedge had begun to reclaim this old Hollow. "We keep it, cherish the brokenness, as a reminder to us all that even great powers can fall: our own, and Theirs."
Without question or clarification, she strides toward the white table, crystalline ice splintering scintillant rainbows in the light of her own making, despite the Moony shadows. She blows Zillah a kiss a long the way, and settles in with a rush of delicate frost over seat and table alike in her vicinity, colours rising from it like mist.
November joins at White Table (#9).
Clarice remains politely to herself.
The diminutive Captain of the Harvestmen takes a post towards the exit. Mice don't often scurry close to where others are indulging; rather, they wait for their moment to steal what they can. Why should the Winter Mouse be any exception to that? The proximity of other changelings and their glory has her visibly on edge; her jaw is set, her stance is loose, and her hands, wrapped as they are, are balled into tiny mouse-fists.
Or it could be that there's a //cat// nearby.
Amity is dressed in sober clothing, cools grays, blues, and whites to match the season. Her one small change is her scarf, a soft woven black garment from which little specks of gold and silver glint when the light catches it correctly. She doesn't exactly lurk, but she keeps herself at the fringes of the gathering, her whole being as still and upright as one might expect from a statue. Or a servant.
Likely surprising nobody familiar with her, there's the click of stilettos against the stone floors as Poppy makes her way into the hall. One really has to wonder if she actually walks through the Hedge in those things - then again, Fairests. Who knows. The siren winks and flashes Zillah a cheerful, if sharp, smile as she makes her way past the table of alcoholic offerings, expression turning idly curious as she considers the contents. Despite the fact that it's court - or perhaps because it's Moon Court - she's dressed in a pair of black leggings patterned with purple tentacles, a black, long-sleeved shirt with cold shoulders, and a pair of black stiletto boots that zip up to the knee, decorated with silver buckles; around her neck is a black choker with an inverted silver triangle pendant.
Adithan Varma-- known by most here as Edmond of Summer-- comes in looking calm and pleasant, but extraordinarily well-dressed, even by his standards. He's wearing a sky-blue silk kurta, embroidered in sunny yellow and gold at the collar, down the front, and at the cuffs and hem in a complicated floral design; with it he wears a white mundu with a broad gold band at the edge, hanging down lengthwise with the wrap, and what certainly looks like a long pale yellow scarf, though it's draped over one shoulder instead of hanging around his neck. He's barefoot, his baked clay feet soundless on the mossy floor, and his shaggy mop of curly black hair is windblown and artlessly pretty, and he's painted a white rounded-V tilak on his forehead, breaking up the night sky of his face. The only thing breaking his frankly royal appearance? His damn nerdy glasses.
Trailing the heavy, humid ozone-scent of a subtropical summer night, he waves to the people he knows, and gracefully nicks a plate of something ridiculously chocolate that smells fairly strongly of cannabutter on his way to November's table, where he sketches a bow and gives a mischievous smile before dropping himself into a seat there.
Tasia makes her way in with a slow saunter, in no hurry now that she has arrived. Her gaze moving about from person to person to take in and appreciate their various spender, horror, or simply otherness. The dazzling rainbow of unnaturally vivid colors holds her attention for a good bit until she can blink and forcibly look away and in doing so gives an 'omg so cute' expressing smile to the mouse. Once close enough, she pauses to give a deep curtsy to the sitting crown, or maybe it is in respect to the other, more powerful demonette.
Widget? Widget is totally unsure where she's supposed to be right now. That's not going to /stop/ her, though. The gremlin is comfortable in the way a kicked dog can get comfortable, at a warped sort of peace with the fact that they might get kicked, probably /will/ get kicked, but between now and then they have something to eat. Like these little sausage things. Widget has had like a dozen of these little sausage things.
The rusty girl is dressed as expected, that old boiler suit, feet bare, the only color that isn't brown coming from a red rockabilly style headband. She wanted to dress up a /little/. Sure, it's been used to mop up sweat and oil and blood and- Stuff. Lots of stuff. But it's color.
Crouching by the fireplace, Widget picks through her paper plate o' snacks, wide eyes peering at everyone who comes in. Oh. New faces!
"Are you sure it's alright for me to show up empty handed? If I'd known there was a thing, I would have made treats," Lilium murmurs aside to November, and then takes a long look around, repeating "Silver tree," to herself, closing her eyes a beat as if trying to picture it. She's wearing a full on haute couture silk princess dress with train and all, fading from gold through silver to pewter hues, only the cloak is off the shoulder, the dress backless, as if bespoke to enhance the argent wings rather than cut up to allow them. She drops into a full on courtly curtsey to Zillah, held rapt for long moments as she studies the Moon Queen, serpent to serpent, before gliding over to pour a pair of elaborate chocolate and coffee and cream liquer drinks, and moving back to November's side to offer the other to her. Adithan? You have company in the barefoot and unseasonably dressed departments.
Lilium joins at White Table (#9).
Adithan joins at White Table (#9).
Did someone say cat? Sense cat? Imply cat in the vicinity? Well, never mind. Tom, whether you want him or not, has clearly arrived, and in a pre gaming haze of chemicals and liquor. The pre party parties, after all, are as Moony as can be, and Moon's foolish kitty cat wobbles in with pupils wide, so wide. Does he sniff in Clarice's direction just as he comes in, even if this is incredibly poor judgment on his part? Hell yeah. Does he throw up the horns to Zillah as a sign of his fealty? Of course. Does he meander around tables as if he's lost his way to the seat he meant to find? The right chair was right here! Where did it go? And of course, for old time's sake, he wears his TEAM MOON t-shirt. All class, Tom
Clarice, the Winter Mouse, eyes Tom from afar.
They are clearly opposites: he, in all of his rum-tum-tugger bravado; she, with all of the sociopathic calm of a steel-cut Itchy. There is no doubt a potential for violence, and violence is something which Beasts of all shapes and sizes are especially good at. There is little that is cute about the way she glades at the cat. Except, perhaps, the way her ears flick snow off of their rounded ends irritably, or the way her naked tail (yes, a tail) lashes about from one side to the other.
Woe be to anyone seeking to pick up her little butt.
There's another face here who hasn't been seen in awhile: a brilliantly golden one at that. Logan enters with a smile, dressed in a white uniform with gold trim that could pass for a Disney prince's outfit. He's got some sort of rapier strapped to his side and everything. He offers that smile to quite a few people he recognizes, and quite a few he doesn't, as well, before taking a poised seat at a table.
See, at least Lilium's wings -fold-. November, being an unfortunately more story-typical faerie 'queen', does not have that blessing. She sits sideways in her seat, and, length-requiring, keeps the ruddy things partially raised to avoid the floor. Upon seeing Adithan on the approach, her colours briefly flirt through blues and golds and summery hues to match the prince, his bow accepted and returned with a polite dip of her head. "I had hoped to see you here. Will Kelsey be joining us?" Toward Lilium, she adds, "If you've a mind for gifts, go hand these to the cat and see how quickly he falls over." A few fresh chu chu culms are slid over the table toward the scaled Fairest as she tips her head Tom-ward, trading goblin fruit for chocolatey drink.
Logan sits down at Blue Table. (5)
Once the sometimes-bartender finishes mixing herself a drink - something involving several diffeent bottles, should any be keeping track, Poppy starts making her way towards a table. Familiar faces are offered a cheerful grin and wave, newer faces interested looks. Is she humming? She might be humming idly under her breath, the oddly choral harmonics seeping beneath the general chatter. Tom's appearance is rewarded with a smirk, opalescent eyes glinting wickedly for a moment as she goes to intercept the Moon - perhaps also to intervene before any /more/ inappropriate impulses interfere with court.
Woe? Woe, one says? Let there be woe, as Widget, for whatever reason, decides Clarice is the person she's going to talk to. Not to pick up so much as sort of crouch near, as there's a lot of powerful people here and it probably wouldn't hurt to be near one she's reasonably sure won't pitch her into those groovy flames.
And so the imp scuttles over, all respectful-of-distances-like, stopping juuust close enough to quietly hold up another plate of meaty snacks and some flavored water. It was a Moon operation, so it was kinda hard to find something other than artificial grape.
Tasia emits a surprized "Ha!" before her normal hand can fly up to stifle the sound. This just after the cat gives the horns to Zillah. Burning eyes closing she shakes her head while laughing and turns to head for refreshment. And then she sees Adithan and gives a wave with her stone/glove hand along with a quite friendly smile. Settling in to people watch again, Poppy getting a curious glance before her gaze turns back to the tots ador mouse. "Hmmm. Wonder if ear chewing the captain of the guard would be breaking my oath..."
The sheer amount of glamorous individuals is enough to make Amity nervous. She's positioned herself as near to the edge of the room as possible without being rude and seems to be doing her best to meld with the wall. Pointedly, she's also just not looking at any of them directly because, ah... no thank you, she doesn't need those reminders. It's bad enough being near it without staring.
Tom flashes fangs at Clarice in a benevolent sort of way -- beatific, just to complete the Tom and Jerry opposites of it all. Someday his brain will tell Tom: call Clarice Jerry! It will be FUNNY! This is probably in fact how Tom loses one of his future nine lives. Instead he only gets out: "Heeyyy! How you doin'?" before wiser heads intervene. "POPPY! Have you seen my chair? It's pretty fucking high." A purry giggle. "Like me
Spying Adithan's approach and meeting it with a look of curiosity at first, Liliun's smile widens at the exchange between he and November, then when the fruits are passed to her, she looks between those and Tom, lifting a hand to guilelessly, and wordlessly, offer one, rose petals accumulating slowly in her lap. Each and every individual present is offered a smile in turn, however brief, it is warm and genuine, held until eye contact can be made, between sips of her drink. In some cases, as with Amity, she does eventually see the futility of it and move on, but the gesture must be made! Something about a playmate not wanting anyone to feel left out, undoubtedly.
Tom flashes fangs at Clarice in a benevolent sort of way -- beatific, just to complete the Tom and Jerry opposites of it all. Someday his brain will tell Tom: call Clarice Jerry! It will be FUNNY! This is probably in fact how Tom loses one of his future nine lives. Instead he only gets out: "Heeyyy! How you doin'?" before wiser heads intervene. "POPPY! Have you seen my chair? It's pretty fucking high." A purry giggle. "Like me ." (better!)
Logan stands and leaves Blue Table. (5)
Those that greet Zillah are greeted in return. Be it the blowing of a kiss, the eclipse of a wink, or the returned horns to her fellow member of Team Moon. It's near impossible to tell what the shadow-snake is wearing, under all of that darkness - if anything at all. Beyond heels. Because those click with each slow, hip rolling step that she makes. She moves like the serpent that she is, a grace and sultry slither to her.
"Lovelies," the Moon Queen offers up, black lips partking in a smile. "I'm so very glad to have you all here today. Some old faces, some returned to us-" a flicker of fingers towards Tom. Spirit fingers! "And some quite new. And it's my honor to serve as the freehold's Queen, once more. And give you all that wonderful heathen touch that we all so crave, clearly, after the fears of Autumn."
Logan sits down at Blue Table. (5)
That smirk just broadens at Tom's response to her appearance. "I am pretty fucking sure there is almost no way your chair can be higher than your ass right now," Poppy replies in a choral murmur to the stoned kitty, even as she reaches out with a practiced hand to guide him towards a table. That remark about Autumn is rewarded with a sharp grin, eyes gleaming as they flicker briefly towards the Queen.
Poppy sits down at Violet Table. (6)
Bright white grin November's way in Adithan's starry face, as his mantle cycles through toward a cooler and calmer summer morning, and then he briefly looks... not quite worried, but definitely a little apologetic. "Unfortunately not. They never like the cold months, and they are not feeling very well right now. But I shall inform them of the results of the proceedings on my return home." He glances at Lilium with interest, then lowers his voice and leans in once people begin to settle down-- but pauses deferentially as Zillah speaks. Then he whispers, hands together just beneath his chin and leans a little further in a tiny bow, "Namaskar. Adithan Varma of Summer."
Tom sits down at Violet Table. (6)
"Heathen?" the faerie rainbow challenges, colourful tone vividly amused. "Not in -my- religion." November's colours flirt through inky blacks and violet-rose-blues with dusts of gold, then settle back into a lazy echo of each person she sees within the curiously limitless space. Logan's unexpected presence is met with a swift smile, impish, before she twinkle-fingers a wave toward Poppy and Tom, then crooks a finger at Amity, wordlessly beckoning for the wallflower to join her.
Logan's face is a blank, smiling mask, but he notices November looking at him immediately. He turns his head just enough to glance back, smile widening, and smiles at the others at her table as well. Adithan, who he probably remembers, and Lilium. There's a glance towards Amity as well, curious. But Logan, it would seem, is alone for the time being.
The Winter Mouse takes in a deep breath, slowly.
Her eyes are distracted when the Moon Queen makes her announcements. On the mention of a heathen touch, Clarice's whiskers twitch, and her tail flops from one side of her to the other. Indeed. Icy eyes focus on Widget for a moment before returning to what's being said. Her job here, after all, isn't to make her thoughts known: it is to make sure that unwanted visitors are met with her own brand of "bouncing out the riff-raff."
-> >> Adithan to Here << <-===========================================
Rolled a chance die for a dramatic failure < 1 >
=======================================-> >> amity NF No Flags << <-
There is delight, plainly, on Lilium's features and she nods softly as she listens to the Queen speak. Shoulders forward as if to curtsey in response to Adithan's bow, she introduces herself as, "Lilium," a mononym without qualifiers. The stirring sweetness of the spring blossoms whose nature November's proximity keeps in a constant flux speaks heavily of spring however. Glancing between the colorful maelstrom that is the Waykeeper and Logan, she lifts a hand, beckoning him closer, more invitation than demand. The furrow of her brow and tug of her lips suggests empathy as she listens to Adithan's words about Kelsey. Which is good, because dragons' eyes reveal little human on their own.
Amity's eyes turn onto Logan for a moment as he whispers and her eyes harden a little. She leans towards him and murmurs in return, her expression still flat and a bit unreadable. Odd woman.
-> >> Lilium to Here << <-============================================
Rolled 2 Successes < 1 1 2 3 4 4 4 5 7 8 10 >
======================-> >> Intelligence + Expression No Flags << <-
That Amity ignores the summons prompts a brilliant flare of colours, satisfied mirth in every glittering line of the radiant Ancient's icy frame. November leans in, touching the back of Adithan's hand, and slides the chocolatey goodness Lilium had brought for her his way. Listening to Zillah, however, softens the vivid hues suffusing icy flesh, pure whites and golds and sky-pale blues dancing slowly within her aurora. "The Lover does seem a friendly sort, doesn't she?"
"No problem. Nice to meet you," says Logan to Amity. He's just unwaveringly pleasant. Then he continues on his way, taking a seat the White Table with a big smile before turning back to listen to Zillah.
Adi gives Lilium a quick qide smile, then sees Tasia coming his way. He listens, then whispers something back, almost laughing and then giving her an apologetic shrug. When November slides the chocolate gift his way, he blinks at it, and then slides it closer and makes exaggerated hoarding motions. He leans to whisper something to her quickly, before Zillah's words register and he stiffens and whispers something else.
Hm? Well, that's okay. Widget smiles up at the mouse, hazarding a stand. As in, she stands up. Just chilling next to the mouse, eating the meat snacks while very pointedly not eating some. Just in case.
She's likely one of the closest here to be considered riff-raff aside from...Tom, maybe? This /was/ a Moon event and he was acting like she figured they did. Hm. This was kind of f-
True Fae? Really? Still?
WEll, maybe a little too close to the mouse now. Shooketh'd imps tend to be a bit clingy.
Amity stiffens a little as a voice brushes against her ear and she turns her head slightly, as if searching for the source. There's little other outward sign that she has been startled. Except perhaps one hand briefly clenching into a fist.
November's frigid touch slides back, subtly squeezing Adithan's kurta-covered forearm in reassurance -- which, as an aside, proves that she must be using a clause of some sort to avoid melting, because his silk doesn't get stained.
Tasia ohhhhhs softly at Adithan, giving a longing look back to the table of snacks and drinks. "Dam." She blinkblinks at the burst of colors from November, first time being flash blinded has been pleasant for her.. And as Zillah speaks again she turns to give her full attention, sipping thoughtfully after the mention of a True Fae about. Lilium gets a shrug and raised brows, seeming to share the wtf.
The pronouncement of the presence of a True Fae does get a raised eyebrow and the briefest flash of horror across Amity's face. So brief that it's almost impossible to see. Good God, what a situation. The familiar voice from Lilium does draw her attention though and Amity looks the other woman over, staring intently from behind her glasses
True Fae? Whatever. Enemies from afar? Again, whatever. Clarice continues to listen as if these things did not matter to her. What does matter? She looks at Tom for a moment, frowns in his direction, and then goes back to being oh-so-casually-ignoring the presence of a //cat// near her.
Her fists of fury open and close reflexively.
"The Lover, as November stated, has been lingering around for...some time now. Much to my dismay. As much as she seems as non-hostile as they come, and lives up to her Title that way, I'm not particularly keen on her extending her vacation any longer. In short - she can fuck right off. She's not the top of my priority list, but she is edging closer." Zillah continues to slither-stalk as she speaks. And by the time that line of thought is done, she's by Tom's side. Fingers stroking along one of his shoulders, before she coos sweetly to him, "Witnessed."
Away she wanders, then, the shadowy spires of her crown stretching upwards in a little flare. "If anyone is interested in joining one of the action groups - The Waykeepers, the Watchers, the Harvestmen, the Greenies - please, do approach myself and the various heads. Make them earn those roles." Zillah grins, lopsided. "As for the Sun in Europe. I've had various reports from my sources there. The Vampires have begun to strike back. This is, well. I think we don't want a War - a true War - to come to our shores. We don't want to be the latest Freehold wiped out of memory to call this place home."
November, of course, is doing absolutely nothing, because she is an innocent and straightforward person who never makes magic happen. This is a lie. When Zillah mentions the heads of the subgroups, she lifts her hand, twinkle-fingering to call attention to herself as one of the above.
Sure, her English is abortive, but the imp gets it out either way. "Can make Tokens and stuff now. See?" Widget holds up what looks to be paper cup. Like, a kinda dented paper cup. Behold! As she takes a bit of her meat snack and dips it in and there is /lovely gravy on it!/ "Wanted water. But. Can make other things?"
...She's trying so hard, honest.
"I pledge my time, my talents and my fealty to Fate's Harvest.
I swear that I no longer serve the Fae, nor will I while this promise stands; that while I am under its protection I will obey the principles and bylaws of the Fate's Harvest Freehold as ratified by Monarch and Council, in return for the support and safety they provide.
May I perish in exile, should I be forsworn."
Shimmers of glamour bleeding off her increase, wrapping like ephemeral ribbons to bind the Oath. With that, she remains knelt for long moments before rising only when bid to eventually. One... gets the feeling she was raised at some Court or other, it is all very practiced and seems to come more naturally than informality, in truth.
A heartbeat later, however, there's that formal request of her attention. And Zillah gives it. Lunar eyes moving over the other woman. Watching, as she goes to her knees. There's a tilt of her head, and a flicker of forked tongue. Reptilian, inhuman. But oh, that fanged smile. "Welcome to the fold, then. I look forward to coming to know you." She gestures for Lilium to rise, a small thing, before she lifts her gaze. "Anyone have anything else to add?"
Amity's eyes settle on November at last and she stares, expression flat and grim. All else seems alien to her.
Standing up after a moment, Adithan states clearly and calmly, his mellifluous voice turning the liquid cant of his accent to something beautifully ringing, "If it is true that vampires cannot bear the sun, then should they start a war with us, I am more than happy to turn them to dust with Summer's fury in service to the freehold." He somewhat ruins the effect by holding up his hand next to his head in the generally understood gesture for 'call me maybe'. "I am Adityan Varma and my contact information is in the Wayhouse."
Gosh, she's so tiny. Seriously, Clarice looks like she's //maybe// 90 pounds soaking wet. Dressed all in gothy-worn black and with a short mop of hair, the average person would be forgiven, perhaps, for just wanting to pat her on the head and give her a cookie. After all, if you give a mouse a cookie, it is less likely that she'll want to punch a hole in your face.
In response to Tasia, Clarice murmurs upwards at her.
After listening to Adithan and gracing the man with a swift smile, she raises her voice, adding, "For those who do not know me, I am Waylady November an Nua of the Court of Sacrifice. My Waykeepers will help to answer any questions you might have about the area, our laws, and points of contact for other subgroups within the freehold." The rainbow pauses, then appends, "Avoid the green cupcakes in the Wayhouse kitchen. A guest made them with Moons in mind, and they are positively riddled with unwise substances."
Poppy gives Widget's demonstration a briefly curious look, grinning for a moment, then shifts her attention to Lilium as the new face pledges, sipping from her drink. Glancing back a Tom, however, she smirks for some reason, murmuring something to the kitty.
Hello new face, want some snacks?
"That the vampires did not start this is good to know," says Adithan, dipping his head. "It seems that I have much to catch up on. I thank you for the clarification-- and, of course, Queen." This last is added with a wry little smile before he gracefully re-takes his seat. And then waits until no one is looking to finish his hash brownie. Even with bolstered confidence, anxiety can still be a thing.
"Ooh, spank me harder, I'm a bad kitty!" Tom crows, to whatever Poppy murmurs. TMI, fluffy menace. TMI. He's looking over at Clarice and Tasia and Widget as he says it, though it's clear it isn't really aimed at them except by dumb fuzzbutt accident, like when you knock everything off a Wayhouse counter while trying to climb the fridge. Not that Tom would EVER. Someone more self aware and less shameless might clear his throat, apologize...Tom just sprawls a little harder, and allows to Poppy, still too audibly: "Yeah, I've deserved stabbing before."
Hearing Tom across the room, November pipes up with a light, "I -have- missed that cat," to no one in particular.
Logan departs White Table (#9).
Lost were wyrd. Weird. Both. If someone contacted her for a Spankshanker 9000 it'd be one of the more mundane things she could see coming down the pipe. But Widget is nothing if not eager. C'mon. See? See the folder? It's got /plans/.
...She takes barter?
Amity remains where she is, aloof and silent, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Thankfully, the official part is over and so she pushes herself away from the wall. Perhaps she can go home now and curl up in bed and try not to think about all the people that have tried (or succeeded) to shove their way into her bubble today.