Log:Holiday Theory, With Snake
| Holiday Theory, With Snake | |
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| Participants | 28 December, 2017 Kelsey fetches Sterling presents! Of a sort. Not from him. |
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| Kelsey does not simply show up at Sterling's door after Winter Court; there's a little bit of polite back-and-forth arranging a time. ... Kelsey is, however, precisely on time when the occasion arrives. "I come bearing gifts," the Fairest says brightly when Sterling answers said door. "Or a gift. More or less. Not actually a gift from me, but I didn't think to check if you did holidays last time we talked. Silly of me. If you do, I'll make it up to you later."
What answers the door is, in fact, a middle-aged woman with glasses and unruly raven black hair with surprisingly little grey. For a moment, she looks surprised to see Kelsey, blinking several times behind the spectacles, before going to open the door wider for the Fairest. "I ah... haven't in a while... unless I am doing something for charity," she admits, closing the door against the hallway once Kelsey's inside. "...I never really have anyone to celebrate them with." Her voice has something of an awkward sound to it.
Kelsey's smile flashes, but only after the middle-aged woman in question shows recognition, and opens the door wider, and speaks aloud. He slips inside quickly to leave the door open as little extra time as possible. "That's a common situation," he agrees. "Though it occurs to me that I didn't ask which holiday, either, and it's a silly assumption to make. Edmond asserts that Christmas is now a secular holiday in this country, though, so perhaps it's all right." He produces a little plain business card case, cheap folded black plastic; it's thin enough to suggest that its job is probably to protect one or two single cards in case Kelsey falls into a predatory bramble and his parka is shredded in the struggle to escape, or something. He offers it to the middle-aged woman in question. "So in the telephone-operator game style, there was a Mr. Collier who mentioned that you were interested in the clinic in town, along with one of the local ongoing medical issues. There's a Dr. Garreau he says he mentioned to you, who's interested in some of the same things. Also opening up a homeless shelter? I'm a little confused on the details. Still, Dr. Garreau gave me her card to pass on to you, so perhaps we can get the two of you a chance to chat."%r
"Working with the homeless shelter, and opening up a low-cost clinic; but it appears there is already one," agrees Sterling, not reaching for the card case until it's properly opened. When fshe accepts it she doesn't immediately look within, instead studying Kelsey, "Ah, yes. Mr. Collier... I remember now. Forgive me, I fear that in my old age my memory is beginning to go." Her lips, however, do turn upwards at her own self-deprecation. "As for Christmas... I have heard it has become more secular. I, personally, do not believe in any... ah... gods that most would consider," she admits, in something of a quieter tone. As she speaks, her mask begins to unravel, seeming to dissipate into the void of black that makes up her mien, split apart by lights both bold and dim, like lightning lancing through the night sky. "I suppose that would be acceptable; it is what my family celebrated when I was young."
There's a little twitch of Kelsey's eyebrows at the mention of old age, but it and his murmur of "Surely not" are the same degree of playful as the curve of Sterling's mouth. "It seems as if there might be an opportunity for teamwork, all the same," he says. "She's mentioned that she's not particularly concerned with affiliation or the lack thereof. So -- whichever your plans happen to be, there." There's a little fluttering gesture of his right hand, as if to suggest that the actual answer is not so important at the time. Or at least that he's not actually prying. The timing of her release of her Mask is an interesting thing; Kelsey turns his head and shifts his weight, as if looking at her from a slightly different angle might yield something else. "Well," he says. "Twelve days or something, aren't there? Perhaps we have a little time. I honestly don't think I've set foot in a church since I was six or seven. And Edmond ... I'm still trying to get an idea what Edmond believes in. Other than bright colors and doing what he thinks is the right thing."
"Something involving snakes, I believe," offers up Sterling, somewhwat opaque in that pronouncement. She glances inside the card case, and then slips it into the interior of the tailored, grey blazer she's wearing, secreting it into a pocket there. No concerns about a 'feminine silhouette' for her, apparently! "That is what I would guess, involving his reaction to Ferrum..." As this is said, she turns her head in order to look around the room - it's impossible to tell where exactly she's looking with eyes of white stars and lightning. Or, at least they burn like such. Back to Kelsey, she wonders, "What of yourself? Do you celebrate holidays? And ah... forgive me. Please, do come in and have a seat." She sweeps an arm towards the sitting area, little glimmers of lightning coming off of it. "Can I get you anything?"
Ferrum. The snake has a name. Apparently this is a source of silent glee for Kelsey, given the grin that the word elicits. He steps inside with care when so invited, keeping an eye out for signs of lurking co-resident of unknown size and temperament. "Grew up with the technical Christmas excuse for keeping in touch with family members. Haven't actually done anything in ages. I used it as an excuse to give Edmond a mildly horrifying sweater, though, which of course delighted him. Which is honestly the only reason I started remembering the season existed as more than an excuse to drink and complain about mall music. And not this time, I think, but thank you -- honestly, it's our turn to play host for you, isn't it?"
"Is it?" wonders Sterling without much concern, one way or the other. When Kelsey looks around, he will in fact notice a very large snake that's lurking around the doorframe from the bedroom, looking up curiously. It's an immense python of some sort, beautifully black and white, and easily four times the size of Sterling herself from end to end. For now, though, the snake seems to be watching - perhaps drawn by the mention of its name. "And... ah... Hopefully you didn't give him anything that clashes too terribly with his skin. I imagine anything... patterned presents a difficulty on Edmond."
Kelsey bows solemnly toward the lurking snake, which is basically equally four times the size of Kelsey himself. Fortunately, the bulk of the parka renders it more or less impossible for him to do the flourishes, and he refrains from attempting in view of the furnishings. The parka is also removed before he seats himself -- which he does only after having located the snake, and said to it solemnly, "Good evening." It's arranged over his knees, and he leans down thereafter to fish in one of the pockets again, his bright hair splashing against the fake-fur of the hood. "Oh, no, of course it was patterned. It wouldn't have been nearly horrible enough to delight him, otherwise. Someone's already taken the step of changing the background from black to blue for him. Which we will all regret, because now he wants to learn how." The fishing expedition results in a small box, which he holds up toward Sterling. "Which reminds me. He couldn't come with, he's helping some of our neighbors deal with a plowed-in car with a dead battery. But he asked me to bring this for you."
"Oh! Hello!" Unlike Sterling herself, the snake for whatever reason very much has an American accent. With the greeting it slithers nearer, up along the back of the couch and then down onto the cushions of the piece of furniture, lifting its head up to better look at Kelsey. The tail is waved as if it were a hand, and the hedgebeast says, "I don't think we've met, but I think I heard my name. Hi, I'm Ferrum. And you are?" "He's perfectly friendly," Sterling states, with just a touch of exasperation to her voice. The starry Wizened remains standing, voicing just a hint of a groan at the idea of Edmond having access to COLORS. Nothing good can come of this. But then... Kelsey has a small box taken out and offered to her. She blinks once, the brightness of her eyes dimming before she reaches out in order to take it, looking perhaps somewhat... abashed. "I have nothing for him," she laments.
If she opens it, then inside, cushioned in suitably bright red tisue paper, is an apartment key. Kelsey himself has glanced back to the snake, returning a wave for a tail-wave; he'll look back if and when Sterling actually moves to open it, but in the mean time, there's another party to the conversation. "I'm Kelsey; I dropped by before, but I understand there was something particularly interesting on the television at the time. The doctor and I have a friend in common."
Sterling, at first, looks dubious about what Kelsey has to say involving the box - she's even frowning, sparks tracing along the sides of her neck and down her arms, turning into tendrils of lightning. That fades, however, when she opens the box in order to reveal the contents; and she actually smiles. Apparently when she does, more of her face lights up, like the silver of the moon behind the clouds peeking out at the edges. "Ah, I see," she says, accordingly, reaching inside to take the key out and examine it briefly. "I will certainly do so, then." "Lots of interesting things on television, and she doesn't usually like it if I come out when she has guests. I think she thinks I'll scare them away," says the snake, slithering its way over nearer to Kelsey. If he doesn't balk at the contact of the reptile, it will actually get near enough to whisper in his ear, "Think she thinks the same about her face, though."
Kelsey does not, in fact, balk at the contact of the reptile. Sterling said perfectly friendly, Edmond knows where he was going anyway, he's probably not small enough to be easily swallowed whole, and it'd be hypocritical of him to be concerned about the possibility of venom. Instead, he cocks his head a little at the near-whispering, shaking his head just enough to clear curls out of the way by trapping them behind a shoulder. The face he makes in answer may be lost on the snake, though. Stupid mammal tricks. "I suppose there's something to be said for being careful of local prejudice," Kelsey says with a little sigh. "It does cut down on one set of complications, granted. And I suppose -- no, I should ask. Is the winter a bad time for you to be active? I'm sorry for my timing, if so." It's only after that that he tips his head back up to look at STerling, and this time the smile doesn't disappear so quickly. "Perhaps we might get together for dinner over there, sometime. There's still New Year's. Or the week or so after."
"Nah. I guess I could hibernate, but Sterling's got somewhere set up for me that usually keeps me warm enough; and even if she's kinda cold it's usually pretty warm in here," if Ferrum had shoulders, he might shrug. As it is, he just kind of shakes his head to and fro, then flicks his tongue out in Kelsey's direction - it's kind of a blackish-blue. "So you're all good!" "There is. New Year's might be... interesting to celebrate," for a Telluric, Sterling doesn't really seem interested in the passage of holidays or special days like that. She tucks the key into her blazer, and then wonders, "Are you certain I cannot bring you some tea or something of the sort? It is cold outside."
Kelsey nods back to Ferrum, although if the snake's still at quite so close range, there's probably also a startled blink as tongue-flick comes close to turning onto tongue-lick. It's followed by another blink up toward Sterling. "I really wasn't planning on interrupting your evening so long. After all, I'm just a messenger tonight." And possibly an ambient snakewarmer, but that wasn't exactly in the plan either.
Ferrum is still pretty up close and personal - possibly because a Flamesiren is, in fact, a good ambient snakewarmer. But as Kelsey mentions this, Sterling comes over and starts to lift up the snake with a hefty and not particularly ladylike grunt - it is four times her size or so, afterall! And pythons aren't exactly the most slender snakes. "Ah, please then, don't let us keep you... I imagine that you have other things to attend to this evening." In the meanwhile, she's starting to gain a scaley scarf... stole... bodywrap...
Kelsey pauses and blinks up at Sterling. And by nature, therefore, also Ferrum. "Oh," he says. "I'd imagined that you had other things to attend to this evening. If not? Then I'd love a cup of tea. Or just company. I'm not much help with shoveling out cars, the snow shovel alone is stronger than I am. Add the snow on top of it, and they'd just wind up having to shovel me out, too."
"I certainly would not mind the company; I have completed the paperwork I had for the evening... and at current I have little else to--" Up until this point, Sterling had been ignoring the fact that Ferrum was giving her mummy wrappings made out of himself. That is, until she falls over, possibly due to wrenching of the snake in the process. In answer, her lips flat into a thin line, and she says to the python currently entombing her, "You are not funny." In answer, she gets snickering.
Kelsey leans forward to peer down at Sterling-on-the-floor. Then, once he's certain she's all right, he props elbows on his knees and chin on his hands, and lets green eyes go wide in fascination. "... should I get you a cup of tea, then?"
"...You could help me get this bloody snake off of me," it's apparent that Ferrum is actually quite a bit stronger than Sterling - or maybe she's just not very good at getting out of grapples? There are traces of irritation in the Wizened's voice, but she doesn't sound particularly mad. In answer, Ferrum cranes his head around to better look at Kelsey, with an answer of, "Oh! I imagine she would love a cup of tea... and some cookies... biscuits! Biscuits, too. And she does like honey in it, but not usually so much milk or cream... and..."
"Anything for you?" Kelsey inquires of the enormous snake. "Since she could probably use her hands to deal with things like the cup. Human shapes are planned around appendages like that." He slips to his feet. The parka is set aside in the process, occupying the least awkward bit of floor space that still has a view of the television, and offering a potential alternate hostage. Not one that's as much fun, granted. Parkas neither squirm nor complain.
"Pringles! I think there's probably a can in the cupboard. You can just sit them next to me... but I guess you're probably right about how she can't have tea when I've got her arms..." In the meanwhile, Ferrum is curling his tail across Sterling's lower face to cover her mouth. Really, she just kind of rolls her eyes. In answer, there's a muffled, "I believe I will be getting an actual closure for the top of your terrarium..."
"You see?" Kelsey says down to Sterling. Brightly. Of course brightly. "You have a reason to give holiday presents after all!" ... and then he flees to the kitchen, quickly, because python curls may not be sufficient to keep Sterling from being able to aim a kick if she uses both legs. Unfamiliar kitchen means that it may be a little bit before he returns with biscuits and/or cookies, tea, and Pringles. But at least he already knows where to look for tea-related things.
"...That takes effort," Sterling remarks, muffled. "And energy. You will become bored eventually." The kitchen is neat and tidy! ...And a bit barren. There are pringles, biscuits, and other things in one cabinet. Others have such things as various dried grains, canned goods, et cetera. The tea has a cabinet all to itself, involving a large variety of types though most seem to be relatively British. There's a sugar bowl, covered, on the counter and cream in the fridge.
Kelsey's method of tea-selection is 'largest container that is placed so as to be easily accessible from Sterling's height.' It's likely a safe bet. If Kelsey can find a tray, then sugar and cream are even arrayed for fetching out; if not, he works from memory of how she made and doctored her tea last time, particularly if it's backed up by colubrine testimony. And finding the cream means getting a look in the fridge, which tells him about whether Sterling actually has a reasonable amount of perishables on hand. Or whether cream is the only thing in the fridge, which is also entirely possible. Changelings are like that. He's at least good enough that once the Pringles are found, he genuinely stops looking through cabinets. That Edmond's willing to give her free access to his apartment does not mean that Kelsey has been given free access to hers. Whether his return is made in one trip or several is also tray-dependent. If it's several, the potato-like chip bribe is brought in the first trip. At least Ferrum can be faced with temptation?
There is regular food in the fridge, but it's mostly vegetables and some things of the sort. Fresh, store bought meat. This one does seem to eat regular food, perhaps surprisingly, as opposed to strictly dining on hedgefruit. There is also a tray - a full tea service set. In fact, there's a few of them that Kelsey can find on hand, some looking to be quite old. But all are in excellent condition, apparently very well cared for. The trays are all large enough for him to make one trip. When the Pringles come out, Ferrum finally slithers off of Sterling. Is he pouting? It's fairly difficult to tell with a snake, unless they're actively moving around. Finally, Sterling sits up and brushes herself off before rising to her feet. "Ah, thank you," is said to Kelsey.
"Do you ever get the feeling we're the victims of a conspiracy that has only, so far as I can tell, even met once?" Kelsey asks Sterling as he offers her a teacup. The tray itself is ensconced on the most convenient of the small tables. "Because I don't know about you, but between Ferrum and Edmond, I'm starting to feel outnumbered."
Finally, Sterling takes a seat while Ferrum curls over part of the couch and drapes himself so that he can easily access the pringles can. With a bite to it, he pulls the top off, before sinking his nose inside and crunching sounds can be heard. Not usually a snake's fare... but hobs are odd. There's a slow, quiet breath from Sterling as she accepts the tea cup, before beginning to doctor it up. Upon Kelsey's commentary, she raises an eyebrow at him, wondering, "What do you mean?"
"I mean," Kelsey says, "that you have someone describing in detail to your guests exactly how you like your tea. I have someone deciding I am going to be social that day, and coming over in the morning to inflict coffee on me to that end." He settles back into a seat with his own cup, and eyes the noisy pringles can suspiciously. "Outnumbered, I'm telling you."
"...It probably is a conspiracy, of a sort," Sterling states drily as she looks over at Ferrum, who for the time being seems content to munch on his Pringles. They must be his Pringles, because the only other food in the house has to do with cookies/biscuits, and even those were hardly touched. There are more than a few cans of Pringles in the cabinets. "...But it is nice to have someone who breathes some... hrm... life into the day, I suppose. I am... accustomed to being left to my own devices quite frequently. Until recent times."
At least one. The total number remains unrevealed. Ferrum will have to do his own investigations. On the other hand, hey, there are biscuits on the tray, too. "And I suppose that if someone's woken up by the incorrigibly cheerful first thing in the morning, it's fairly unlikely for anything worse to happen that day," Kelsey says in tones of agreement. "It is rather odd having to adjust one's concept of appropriate borders quite so ... fast." (It is possible that Kelsey is the only surviving American to use 'one' as a pronoun as frequently as he does.)
"Perhaps," Kelsey says, assuming a posture of wounded dignity, "Edmond cheats." He pauses and relaxes again. "Not by anything unethical, you understand. Just because he's so happy about all of it, it'd be like kicking a puppy. I'm not actually above kicking puppies when necessary, but it has to be warranted."
"I would agree," Sterling falls quiet again for a while, taking another sip of her tea, luminous eyes ever watchful on Kelsey. Little traces of lightning twist over her face, every so often, and then through the tendrils of her hair. "...What brought you to this area, Kelsey? I do not believe that I have asked..."
"This week, am I allowed to change my answer to 'terrible judgment?'" Kelsey sighs theatrically and drapes himself back-and-sideways over the arm of the loveseat, but is careful all the while that his teacup stays on the level. "No -- there was ... I don't remember much, you understand. But there was someone I knew, back on the other side. We got separated. This area is where I made it out; I followed someone else's trail and came out in the woods." He pauses to lift his head and glance at Sterling. "In the winter. In the snow. So coming back really is terrible judgment, I already knew about the godawful weather. But still. There's some chance, however ridiculously small, that they might have found the same trail, so when I was looking for somewhere new to stay, and heard a new freehold had started up here in the mean time, I came back here to lurk for a while and see if I could turn up any signs. Due diligence, I suppose. Yourself?"
Sterling nods in understanding, making no attempt to interrupt what Kelsey has to say. Ferrum is also quiet - this is his master's visiting time, really, and he doesn't have much to add. It's Lost discussing Lost things. "...I came to investigate the Gentry activity in the area," admits the walking X-ray nebula that radiates Wyrd, with a small lift of her shadowy brows. "And to assist, where I may; it is mostly what I do, these days. I find a place, set up shop... so to speak... for a time and then eventually I move on when I feel I am unneeded. Or when I become bored."
Kelsey tips his head toward Sterling, which in his current posture means nearly strangling himself with his own chin for a moment. He doesn't seem to be bothered enough to sit the rest of the way back up. "You've got the card," he says quietly. "I think she's the one doing things most in your field of interest right now, but she's not the only one, they're working on other things too. So if things don't work out with her, there are options." His mouth tugs at one corner; it doesn't touch his eyes, this time. "It's funny. Your answer's pretty close to Edmond's. But I imagine you know that already."
"Perhaps," Sterling states this obliquely while looking down at her tea, which might be odd in any other context. A walking, talking nebula X-ray staring morosely into her tea... She sips it again, attention drawing back upwards to Kelsey. "I will contact her soon, I believe, as I am able to do so. Did you receive the card from Collier, or have you spoken to her?"
"I happened to be sitting a few feet away when Collier was speaking to her," Kelsey says, "and volunteered to play courier if she wanted to pass a message on to you. She handed me the card to give you, and said you could call anytime."
"Ah. I am glad that my name is already known to her... that will make this less awkward, as she already seems to have some interest in my help," Sterling comments, sounding pleased on the topic. She has some more of the tea, and then she notes to the Flamesiren, "It is somewhat... odd. To have actual friends in a place. I usually keep myself distant from others, laying in to my work instead; but it is a pleasant feeling..." Briefly, her shadowy lips purse, and then she continues, "During my Durance, both parts of it, it was... ill-advised to truly trust others even if the second half there was more... camaraderie."
"It's amazing what 'here, let me take over some percentage of this thankless job you're doing' does as a social lubricant. Only thing I know of that works better than alcohol." There's another of Kelsey's flitting, flickering smiles, and he inclines his head in Ferrum's direction this time. "Well. Only thing I know of that works better than alcohol that is not a giant snake." The smile vanishes, and he adds, "I don't remember much. But mine, too. I'd bet on most of them. But that's what we have pledges for. So we can make the step between 'stab anyone who notices you exist' and 'at least we're only being sabotaged by our own mistakes in wording and interpretation, and-or someone else's willingness to cut off their own foot.'"
"My Keeper specializes in those whose ambitions have failed them... either you adapt, become the lowest of the low, or you die. There is not terribly much difference between the last two, but I do believe dying would be better than the lowest of the low," Sterling's voice has grown more grim now, but perhaps surprisingly the lightning doesn't seem anymore animated than it had prior. It's all stated in a matter-of-fact way. "...You do have a point, however, between Gentry. I believe they attempt to make their own version of the world within their pockets of Arcadia." Another sip of the tea, before she reaches to refill her teacup.
"Adapt." It's just a word, but Kelsey's eyes harden, and the lilac shadows on his skin seem a trifle more real for a moment. Not more pronounced. Only as if they might be some actual thing; not full-blown flower petals, no, but at least body paint mimicking the promise of that softness. "... I can't say I understand. But I can imagine. Both of mine did the adapting for you, and either you adjusted to what they decided you were, or -- well. Not terribly much difference between the last two. I suppose that's more support for your belief."
Sterling smiles. It's a cool thing, mostly casting more brilliance from amidst the nebular shadows that seem to make up her form - certainly they're see-through at some parts, but it also appears that simply is her. Not necessarily just a covering. "Oh, we had our roles as well; but it... It is often said that things are a chain, such as the food chain. A pyramid to be climbed. A mountain to be scaled, climbing along the backs of others. That is what the Minister's realm is, if that makes sense?"
Kelsey's focus comes back to Sterling directly. "Too much so," he says, and his voice is quieter. Quiet enough to indicate he's already extrapolated from that back to her 'ill-advised' a few moments ago.
Growing silent now, Sterling merely watches Kelsey, as if seeing if he has much more to say on the topic. She, perhaps unfortunately, doesn't apologize for being a killjoy... but apparently Ferrum feels the need to comment on it. "Geez, Sterling, downer much?"
"It's not polite to show off your inherent superiority like that," Kelsey says more brightly to Ferrum. "Bipeds would normally feel obligated to answer that by messing with your hair or something, but I'm pretty sure your scales are immune, so we're reduced to impotent glowers." Note: impotent glower not in fact in evidence on Kelsey's part. "Fortunately, neither of us manages politeness all that often, so far as I can tell, so at least we're still all in good company." He takes a moment to drink the last of his tea, and glances back to Sterling. "It must be odd, living in a world that is only sometimes and locally shaped like a pyramid. If it were always like that, you'd know what to do. If it were never like that, it'd be easier to relax and get used to the change. But somewhere that relaxing is the right plan until it suddenly is the exact opposite -- that must be hard as hell."
"She's occasionally threatened to tie me into a pretzel," quips the snake, his tongue flicking out in amusement. He even chuckles! "...I mostly just remove myself from it, these days," answers Sterling, ignoring Ferrum's commentary about her being a downer. She is, afterall, a Dusk. It's an occupational hazard. "I can find enough to do with myself without subscribing to a local hierarchy, even if it often displeases said hierarchy. I find that flexibility is my greatest ally in what I do."
"You and Edmond," Kelsey says, with a light mock-sigh. "At least I can play interface, to a certain degree. I looked into the local hierarchy and decided I'd seen worse plans -- especially with the chance to opt back out every three months. We'll see. Who knows? Maybe the two of you will get the chance to tell me you told me so." | |
