It's evening in the back room of the Jewish Bookstore, and Gisa is settled on one of the couches like she owns the damn place or something. She is leaning against the arm, a pillow tucked between her arm and that of the couch. Propped on the end of that same couch arm is a half-full glass of red wine, balanced neatly. One ankle's propped on the opposite knee, forming a platform on which she can rest her book -- a battered volume that's clearly well-loved and quite old, with post-its sticking out of various pages and notations in the margins. Things underlined. That sort of thing. Her right hand balances the book, holds a pen, turns pages right to left occasionally, and sometimes makes a little note in a margin or underlines something. Thoughtful Golem Face. The shin on her forehead glows with a gentle, steady light.
Through word of mouth, the rumor mill, and all of those other wonderful ways that information gets around (whether true or not), Iris heard that if she was coming to town and wanted to meet other Dawnites, the back room at this one Jewish Bookstore was the place to go. The problem with those kinds of rumors is that every once in a while, they don't turn out to be accurate.
There are two ways to handle that kind of thing. Tentative hesitation when wandering in, and hoping you get it right, or just bolding strolling in like you belong, even if you're not in the right place at all, and figuring that whatever happens you'll work it out.
Of course the latter is what the dragon goes for. Iris strolls in like SHE owns the place, even though she has never before laid eyes on it, because honestly wherever she chooses to go is precisely where she belongs. She's wearing a loose, billowy tie-dye maxi dress, which would be colorful on anyone who wasn't as outrageously bright as she is already, covered in bright rainbow plumage and pearlescent scales, and when she enters she fixes unblinking reptilian eyes on the stranger on a nearby couch. "Ah! You look like someone I should meet," she declares as she heads over, the smile she wears bearing terrifying draconic teeth. "Mostly because I came here to meet people, and you're the only people I see around. Congratulations! You get to be the first person in town to meet Iris." She pauses a moment, then points at herself with two taloned thumbs. "That's me, of course. What are you reading?"
Glitch comes in from the bookstore.
The golem is used to expansive, bright personalities. Even though Alonso is technically a Darkling, he swashes and buckles his way through life. And then there's Logan, who's literally a golden boy, and, and, and. It comes with being part of Dawn, one supposes. So Gisa sets her glass aside without being very surprised about all of this showboating and glittering, and closes her book, holding it up. Babylonian Talmud, apparently a volume labeled Sanhedrin. "I am reading today's daf yomi," the golem answers, setting the book aside carefully. The volume is old, leather-bound, and battered with use but carefully tended and obviously well-loved. "You are Iris. You are the second rainbow Iris of Dawn that I have known in this town. It is a very Dawn name, one must suppose."
Her accent sounds like all the Amazons in Wonder Woman, or, more precisely, like she is Israeli. Gisa pushes herself to her feet and offers one of her warm ceramic hands -- it's like shaking hands with a coffee mug, let's be honest -- to Iris. "I am Gisa Cohen, golem of Dawn, member of the Fully-Automated Luxury Queer Space Communism, and Custodian of Fate's Harvest."
Iris has just entered, and Gisa is greeting her. Tadah!
Iris's eyes, multi-hued and serpentine, with long slitted pupilis and no visible whites, watch the book as the golem turns it to show to her, and then as its gets set aside. "Interesting," she says after a moment, before her eyes return to Gisa as nictitating membranes slide briefly across them and then back. "Or so I must assume, since you were interested in reading it. I honestly have pretty much no idea what those things you said are, but the book itself looks old and well read. A certain kind of treasure, that seems to imply. Maybe some time you'll explain more of what it's about?" She sounds like she might be serious, even though. Then she smiles again, with what passes for lips on a dragon. "Some other time, though. Right now there are more important things, like meeting one another, and I must say, Gisa, that I am mabsolutely in love with the name of your motley. I assume that's a motley?" She reaches out to clasp the golem's hand, delicately, because her claws are very sharp. It's about like shaking hands with a snake. If snakes had hands. And feathers. "More thoroughly, I'm Iris Drake, dragon of the Dawn, Templar of the Bloody Rose, and Gilded Aspirant of the Sacred Band of the Golden Standard. Iris is a very Dawn name, I do suppose, and a very rainbowy one. I came to town because I heard there was a new Freehold, new-ish anyway, and when I heard it sparked memories. I think I'm actually from here."
Glitch enters just in time to catch the introduction, thankfully. The pixellated young man is wearing just a dark t-shirt with some logo too faded and worn off to recognize, dark jeans covered in curious faded stains, and matching sneakers. While everything's been washed, Glitch included, the sensitive-nosed might still catch the faint hint of copper lingering on his clothing. They'll probably encounter a hint of marijuana smoke before that, but none of it would reach the nose of mortals or the unenhanced. He listens to Iris's introduction, eyes on her, face shifting and scrambling with glitches every so often before he raises a hand nonchalantly in greeting. "Hey," he beeps, to both.
"Some other time, I would be happy to discuss with you the significance of the Babylonian Talmud. It is essential to undertanding who I am," agrees Gisa, tipping her head forward slightly. She is ... unnervingly perfect -- and for Glitch's edification, she wasn't always like that. This is new, how exactly, almost surreally symmetrical and clean she is, how perfectly imperfect the curly fine copper wires of her hair are braided back, just ruffled enough, how rhythmically the fire in her shin and the flames in her eyepits pulse.
Pilgrims, man.
"That is the name of our motley, yes. Currently just the two of us, Alonso Triste and myself. He is a Dawn also, and an avowed Communist, whereas I just grew up... in a commune. Before the first official kibbutzim were in Israel, my family was there." Her shoulders roll easily at that, and her handshake is brisk and professional, but not overly so. This is someone who shakes hands a lot and has practiced how Americans shake hands. "Are you? We shall have to find you a Waykeeper. That is, if you intend to stay."
Then Glitch arrives, and Gisa offers to him, "Shalom, Glitch. Please, come meet Iris. I will contact Logan." She produces a cellphone from her pocket, fires a quick text.
"Awesome!" Iris says, when promised that Gisa will tell her what's so significant about what she'd been reading. She seems to mean it, even if she has other priorities right now. The rainbow serpent turns her unblinking eyes toward glitch then, and the long, brilliantly colored feathers that pass as hair for her shift and puff out a bit as she regards him. "Hey," she says back, grinning with wicked draconic teeth. "Right back at you. Glitch, is it? It's nice to meet you." She turns back to Gisa and says, "I think the closest that I've been to communal living is letting someone else sleep on my hoard once. Admittedly, I don't think they enjoyed it nearly as much as I did, and it never happend again. More's the pity. But the whole fully automated luxury queer space communism meme. Them's my peeps. It's good to have goals, and all of that. And, well, yes, I intend to stay, so probably best to do the needful when it comes to checking in." She makes an airy wave with a taloned hand. "I'm sure it will all be fine."
Glitch doesn't quite catch all the conversation about queer space communism, but he folds his arms and beeps in greeting. "Same," he offers in his tinny digitized voice, before looking over at Gisa. "Did Alonso tell you what went down in the Hedge?" He shifts in place a little awkwardly, as if not sure where to go or sit, examining both Gisa and Iris with curiosity. Since Gisa's new now.
"It is, in fact, pretty awesome. Especially in the old sense of the word." The Fireheart's eyes flicker amusedly, a subtle gesture, and she asks, "Can I get either of you something to drink? Wine? Beer? Water? Coffee?" Her hands fold in front of herself, ceramic fingers clicking one against the other. Her smile is brief, and her diamond teeth glint in the light. "Yes, that is very much Alonso. You will want to meet him. He spends time at Cat-22. I do not agree with everything that they do at Cat-22, but healthy debate and disagreement is part of a healthy mindset, I think." She tucks her phone away after a brief text exchange. "Logan, one of the Waykeepers, will be by tonight if he can, if not, he will meet with you soon. He is Dawn, and I am not certain if he is a recruit or a full Waykeeper, yet. But it has been nice to be able to refer people to him." Her forehead wrinkles up at Glitch. "He came home and fell asleep after a shower. We have not had a chance to speak yet. He barely woke up all day. What did happen in the Hedge?"
"No!" Iris answers to Glitch, both as if she fully expected that this Alonso she hasn't met yet might have actually told her this thing, and that she laments it hasn't happened yet. But she doesn't sound annoyed, just like for some reason she actually thought he was asking her. "Not yet, anyway. It is the Hedge, though, so I'm betting it's the kind of thing someone will have to do something about." With some mild implication that she might be someone. Then the dragon turns her attention back to Gisa and says. "So, basically, in the same way that I'm awesome. Yes, I'm familiar with the sense." And she sounds entirely serious. Dragons. "I'll take a coffee, if you're offering, and I hope that I meet this Alonso soon. It sounds like I might like him. I don't know what this Cat-22 place is, but I do think that debate and disagreement are important, it's just when people can't handle being disagreed with, or conceive off the fact that they might be wrong, that things become a problem. Alas, I spend far too much of my time dealing with the sorts of people who are... well, suffice to say it was a good day today and I only received four death threats for daring to be different without hiding it. Anyway," she changes topics without hesitation. "Can you explain the whole Waykeeper thing? I didn't really do very much research before I came here, I just came and figured I'd work it out as I went."
Glitch is a bit socially disadvantaged. He watches the two ladies converse with a sort of flat stare, mouth hanging open a little bit, eyes flicking back and forth like a wimbledon match as so many topics are discussed. Once Iris is done, the taciturn little thing shoves his hands further down in his pockets and looks to Gisa. "Miranda brought a party of us through. We ran into a pack of mobs," he beeps out, tilting his head to the side, stretching his neck as his face shifts a bit. "Handful of soldiers. Two big vehicles shooting fire. We oneshot them and went home." Straight to the point, and perhaps maddeningly oversimplified. He lifts a thumb to rub at the side of his nose. "Smelled fucking awful."
"Ah, yes. I am familiar with those kinds of days," agrees Gisa, and she breaks from where she was standing to go over to the small coffee maker and start loading it up. "Coffee, Glitch?" There's half a glass of wine by the chair she was sitting at, and a volume of the Babylonian Talmud on the table by it. Apparently the golem was, well, being a golem before she got visitors. She's changed since the moth last saw her -- she's creepily perfect now, in the way that Pilgrims often are. Perfectly symmetrical, and even the ruffled bits of her and the wildness of the coils of her copper hair pulled back in its braid? Too perfect.
"Alonso is my motek." And if you don't know Hebrew, you don't know that means sweetheart, but it's not hard to guess from context. "He works here at the bookstore with me, and the two of us are the ... well, the Space Communists, Mina has made that the short form of our motley's name." It's not hard to guess that Iris is already being eyed up as a potential Space Communist. Look, Gisa's literally eyeing her up. Elementals aren't subtle, and Iris is awesome. "What kind of soldiers, Glitch? What are 'mobs'? Were they Lost? Hobs? Animals?" Beat. "Shooting fire?"
Logan comes in from the bookstore.
"Mobs?" asks Iris, the winged serpent (or dragon for short) covered in rainbow feathers and pearlescent scales. "Like in the World of Warcraft sense of random pointless enemies that probably respawn after you kill them?" She smirks a bit. "Sounds like the kind of thing someone does need to go deal with, but someone might have done it already." Then she glances at Gisa, back at Glitch, and adds, "but the shooting fire thing actually sounds pretty sweet. For anyone not set on fire, of course."
"Only two space communists?" she asks as her reptilian gaze sweeps back to Gisa. "I know this is a small town, but that's a shame." She makes her way to a couch and sits down, slips her sandals off her feet, and situates herself so that her legs are folded up beside her and she's leaned on the chair's arm, completely at ease and comfortable despite being surrounded by strangers, in a strange place.
At the door of the back room appears another Lost. This one is clearly as Fairest as Fairest can be, with golden-toned skin and an aura of bright light that shines out arond him, shot through with shadow. Logan is dressed well, but not so well that it's inappropriate for a nice Vermont summer day. A lightweight, medium blue unconstructed blazer is paired with medium wash jeans and a navy t-shirt covered in white microdots, plus there's blue dressy-casual shoes on his feet. No socks. Logan really makes this look work, however, in a way probably only a catalogue model could.
"Hi! Sorry for the delay," he says, glancing around the room with a brilliant smile, looking to Gisa first. "I can't stay long, but wanted to at least pop in after I got your text." Now that he's here, hands resting lightly on hips, he fills the room with light. His blue eyes move from Glitch to Iris, the ones he doesn't recognize, but he waits for Gisa to introduce.
Glitch nods to the offer of coffee. At Gisa's questioning he shifts in place and fidgets more, a slight twitch in his shoulder. "Mobs. Spawns. NPCs. Monsters. You know," he says, before Iris chimes in. His eyebrows lift and he points a finger at her before looking back at Gisa. "She gets it," he beeps out. "They were Hobs. I think. Short like the other...like the villagers." A glance back to Iris. "Like I said, we took them out. They had big armored vehicles with a driver and a gunner. Two of them. They shot fire." A beat as he looks at Gisa. "A few people got set on fire," he beeps, then waits a few more moments before adding, "They were ok."
Lulu's head pokes in from the door and she looks around, dark lightless eyes widening a touch as she looks around. "Hello?" She calls before her eyes finally land on Gisa, Glitch, Iris and Logan. She blinks wide eyed for a moment before simply fluttering in with a brown paper package with twine wrapped around it and fluttering immeidately over to Gisa to practically hover in her presence before even bothering to say Hello.
"So far, we have only two Space Communists, it is true. We thought about a third, previously, but we need someone who understands that some things cannot be communal. The difference between personal and private. But that is a conversation we can have at another time." She finishes up the coffee, makes up another one for Glitch, and greets, "Hello, Logan. Would you like coffee? Wine? Beer? Water?" She brings the coffee over to Iris, setting it down by a chair and going to fetch a sugar bowl from the counter and a blue creamer pitcher from the side of the fridge labeled MILK. (The other side is labeled MEAT.)
"Oh, you have other duties, no need to apologize," Gisa informs Logan, waving a hand absently. "Iris, this is Logan. Logan -- are you a full Waykeeper now, or a recruit still? And Logan, Iris. I think you've met Glitch, yes, Logan?" Her eyeflames flick back and forth.
"That is quite the thing, Glitch. I am glad you happened along when you did, all of you. It does sound like a problem. Someone ought to tell the Harvestmen, and put together information for the Custodians so that they can research it and see who these 'mobs' belong to."
Gisa leans over to kiss Lulu on both cheeks in greeting. "I have matzoh soup, Lulu. Would you like some?"
When brought a coffeee, Iris takes the coffee. She nods graciously to Gisa, settles into her seat again, and takes a sip as she listens to people talking, and watches people coming in. The rainbowy dragon is wearing clothing almost as colorful as her, with a long flowy tie-dye maxi dress, and... well, that's it since her sandals are on the floor in front of the couch. "Text," she says. "So you're probably Logan, the Waywhatever? Waykeeper, right." Gisa just said it. "I'm still not sure what that means, but I'm guessing some kind of welcome wagon, and I'll probably find out the details shortly." She smiles, though with her sharp teeth it's not really as great for diffusing possible tension as she might think. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Iris Drake, dragon of Dawn, Templar of the Bloody Rose, and Gilded Aspirant. I think that's most of the important stuff. I come in peace. Well, at least toward the Freehold, but probably not its enemies."
Logan takes a few more steps into the room, continuing to smile. "No thank you, Gisa, though I appreciate the offer. I think Glitch and I have met, if briefly. And Lulu." The smile is aimed in their direction before he settles on the colorful newcomer. All that light he brings in with him certainly illuminates her colors well. He moves forward to offer his golden, manicured hand to Iris for a shake. "Logan, yes. Logan Brenner of Dawn, Waykeeper...still Recruit, for now, but that should be changing shortly." He smiles over at Gisa, but these words are meant for Iris. "I'm also a Custodian. It's great to meet you as well. What brings you to our Freehold?"
Glitch takes the coffee happily from Gisa. 'Happily' to those that know him, being that he took it immediately and quietly and started sipping it. To everyone else his expression still seems to be titled "Resting Bitch Face In Squares." He slurps at the hot caffeinated beverage before saying to Logan, "I heard the Waykeepers are the people to talk to about threats to the Freehold. Threats that get dealt with via weapons." There's a beat and a murmur. "Unless that was the Harvestmen."
Lulu's eyes widen and her smile breaks out, "Yes please, Gisa. I brought you something. I hope you like it." She offers the Golem the brown package before looking to everyone else and then lifting her hand as if to cover her face but instead ends up gnawing on the sleeve of her oversized sweater. She takes all the new faces in curiously her head tilting a little and one hand lifting to smooth aggressively at her hair. She's wearing some sort of Bohemian off-white loose linen dress under a large fluffy-soft seafoam sweater that blends with hair color and skin tone making her look all the more fuzzy and diffused. She smiles a bit to the new faces but her expression is empty, nigh vapid and her attention seems to flutter between whomever is talking or being the most flashy at any given time. It means she's staring at Iris a lot. "I'm Lulu! No titles, no one interesting. But it's very nice to meet you." She offers airily to the group at large as she goes still other than fidgity fingers.
"Indeed you are; I meant no slight to you as a Custodian. It's simply as a Waykeeper that I called you here," Gisa clarifies, tipping her head toward Logan. And, indeed, since the last time Logan saw her? (And Lulu.) Gisa has been... perfected. She's absolutely symmetrical, utterly clean. Neat as a pin, to the point that it's kind of freaky. And then her attention is turned to Glitch. "Waykeepers are the welcome wagon, as Iris deduced. The Harvestmen are the ones who deal with threats via weapons, though I do not know their status. I heard that their leader stepped down recently. You should perhaps think about becoming one. Dielle is one, and so is Jon, if I remember correctly."
The brown package is taken from Lulu, and Gisa's eyepits widen. "Thank you, Lulu. Shall I open it now?" She raises one eyebrow. "Lulu is of Dawn, and she is lovely." The package is carried to the counter and set aside for long enough for her to take out a container of matzoh ball soup and put some in an orange bowl (from the MEAT cabinet, of course) and put it in the microwave.
Iris rises from her seat on the couch when Logan approaches with an extended hand, and does do with a fluidity that makes it seem more like a serpent slithering to its feet. Well, if serpents had feet. She passes the cup to her left hand with haphazard deftness that makes it seem like she might be in danger of spilling since she pays so little attention, but the liquid barely quivers, and when she takes Logan's hand she's careful of the razor sharp talons at the ends of scaled fingers. "Nice to meet you, Logan," she says sincerely. "I came here because I heard of the Freehold, and the name of the place it resides in brought back old memories. I'm pretty sure I was born in the area. I figured I would come and check it out." And out of the various threads of conversation she seems to pick up something that, for whatever reason, is important. "Nonsense," she says as her gaze turns to Lulu and her nictitating membranes briefly slide across her eyes in a reptilian blink. "I'm sure that you're far more fascinating than you give yourself credit for, Lulu. It's nice to meet you too." She turns back to Logan and adds, "I do intend to stay a while. I bought a home already and everything, and it's quite a hassle to move my hoard when I relocate, so I don't do it often."
Gisa corrects Glitch before Logan can, so he just nods to Glitch when she separates the Waykeepers from the Harvestmen. It's possible that Logan may notice the change in Gisa, as well, though he does not comment on it. Too polite for that. Besides, he is busy shaking the hand of the newcomer. Funny, but he doesn't seem at all put off by Iris' talons, and shakes her hand as deftly as one can when trying to shake someone with razor-sharp appendages. The contact is fleeting, however. "Well, if I can be of any help, or if you're hoping to join the Freehold, do let me know and I'd be happy to help you out." He holds out a business card to her, retrieved from inside his blazer. Then he lets out a small, musical chuckle, looking over to Lulu. "I think Iris is right, Lulu. Title aren't everything!"
Lulu waves again when Gisa introuces her. "If you like. I went on a trip and I saw a thing and I think it made me think of you, I think, so I traded some beads and a wallet for it. I hope you like it. I promise I didn't chew on it at all." She reaches up to scratch at her cheek before turning her gaze back to Iris and she grins wider, growing dimples and a slight luminous flush as she does. But she offers no hands for shaking, in fact, for the perceptive she leaves a fine fimilent of dust on things she touches. It fades but the iridescent silken dust lingers on things. "I have not met Waykeepers yet. Only the Soundless ones and Gisa friend, and Sid, and my motley.. oh. I've been meeting people." She tells Gisa, proud of herself, it would seem for some reason. Perhaps because she remembered. She remains relativly near to Gisa, but it's likely the promise of, "Sooooup." She cheers quietly to herself.
First, her duties as a host: Gisa looks at the package, but she doesn't open it until after the microwave beeps, and she can carefully remove the bowl from the microwave and take it over to Lulu, along with a spoon. "Careful, it's hot." She doesn't use a hot pad to pick it up; that is, one must suppose, the benefit of having literal fire in your insides. "There is more if anyone would like some." And then she trundles back to the counter to open the package. The lovely, lacy, open-knit bolero-style shawl in a rich, chocolate brown makes the golem gasp with delight. "It will go very well with my formal clothing, Lulu. Thank you so much. It is beautiful." A small smile, which for Gisa is almost as much as a grin. "I did not know you had a motley, Lulu. I am glad you have been meeting people also. I hope they are good and interesting people. And here, a Waykeeper recruit. If, indeed, you don't yet belong to the Freehold and would like to."
"Oh, I am thinking about it, naturally. Such pledges aren't meant to be taken lightly, though," Iris remarks to Logan with a rather casual shrug, because it's true, isn't it? "It's probably best if I take some time to be sure I know what I'd be getting myself into. Good things are worth waiting for though, aren't they?" Somehow, it's not hard to tell that she thinks she's the great thing, and it's worth the wait on the Freehold's behalf to get her. Dragons. "Quite right, though, about the titles." She grins at Lulu. "Most of the world manages to get by just fine without titles, and they aren't what makes a person awesome. They're just labels so people know what they're getting. Like signs at the grocery store to help you figure out which aisle has cheese and which one has the cereal." She lifts her coffee cup to take another sip, pauses part way through, then pauses and lowers the mug with a puzzled expression. When she brings a taloned hand to her mouth she deftly pulls a golden coin from between her lips with both fingers, looks surprised, then shrugs and tucks it behind her ear only to have it vanish there. Which is a good trick, since her ears are just holes in the side of her head and don't actually stick out.
Glitch quietly nods to Gisa at the mention of joining the Harvestmen, and sips his coffee. He watches the small crowd of Lost talk and slowly shifts to the periphery of it, finding somewhere to perch outside the excited chatting and social graces. His eyes close for a moment as he breathes in the wafting steam of the cup of joe, and he tilts it to his lips for a moment, before settling back into the overstuffed chair.
Lulu says, “Oh, just recently. They're going to help me remember things I dream about." She eplains to Gisa lightly, careful as instructed with the soup and not traveling far. The moth is a little bit clumsy but she's already but the bowl down somewhere to take a seet before she's bumping into things and finally coming to rest in her seat. "Oh. Well I joined the freehold. So that must mean I've met a Waykeeper." She deduces with Gisa's help and smiles gratefully at the Golem before turning her head to the side. "You're very welcome. I'm pleased you like it! It's such a lovely color." Once she's settled Lulu digs into the soup with hearty gusto that might seem abit out of place given her willowy and fragile form. "So..uhm. I didn't join Dawn long ago." She smiles at Gisa again and then the others. "Can I ask a silly question? Can anyone tell me what Dawn means to them? I know it's different for everyone but I always wonder.. Whats it like to be inside someone elses head." That probably could have come out better.”
Logan smiles over at Lulu, nodding Gisa's way too. Gisa is good at managing the many and varied personalities gathered here. Perhaps Logan, said Waykeeper, appreciates it. "Good," he says to Iris, with a nod. "I realize that it's not something to be taken lightly. But please, give me a text or a call if you'd like to speak further. I hate to do this," and this is, again, said to Gisa, "but I must be going. Busy day tomorrow. Thank you again for inviting me, Gisa." He is moving gracefully towards the door, but not without a big smile to all assembled. "Great to meet you Iris, again, and to see you two again as well, Lulu. Glitch. Bye now!" He waves, and ducks out.
Logan walks back into the bookstore.
"That's a marvelous question," says Iris to Lulu, with enthusiastic sincerity. "The flippant answer is that Dawn is awesome, and so am I, so it's a perfect match," she adds, but she clearly knows that the flippant answer isn't the desired one, so she goes on. "But in all seriousness, it's because when the morning comes I want to do everything in my power to be sure the sun rises. I see so much potential in the world, in the people that inhabit it, and I want to find every opportunity I can to change things to reach that potential, and to help people realize it within themselves." She's definitely passionate about this, and it shows. The brilliant crest of rainbow feathers that serves for her hair even puffs out a bit as she gets into it. "For me, Dawn is about the hope that those goals can be reached. Even if I have to lay down my life as one of the bricks in the foundation that future is built upon." She settles back on the couch, having stirred herself a bit for the impassioned speech. "I could go on, but that's the gist of it."
Settling back into her chair -- the one with the Talmud next to it -- Gisa frowns thoughtfully. "It is a very good question." She nods a little bit as Iris speaks, as though she agrees with it. "My family -- my mortal family, from Before -- were part of the first aliyah. Literally the word means 'going up,' but we use it to mean 'going back to Israel,' going there to live. My family went there after the Russian pogroms of the nineteenth century. Before there was an Israel. They went there out of fear and death, out of pain and loss, but they went there not just fleeing. Not just running away. They were running to something as much as they were running away. And that is the place that I grew up in. What we were running to. I lived under the spectre of what had been, what had been done to my family, yes, but I lived to see the desert bloom." She pauses, takes up her wine glass, and takes a sip. "I could have gone Dusk. Easily. Because I know that life can fall apart no matter how hard you work. That forces outside your control can ruin everything you have built. But I choose to build despite that, and to hope that this time, even if I have to run, I am running to something. I will make something where I land. I will, like my family, make the desert bloom."
Glitch listens, slowly sipping his coffee. His eyes fall silently on Lulu as the other two explain Dawn to her, and the mantle-less boy says nothing.
Lulu looks to Iris and leans in, light absorbing eyes widening and her brows lifting. The interested effect is only interrupted so she can dip her head and stuff an entire matzoh ball into her cheek and chew as she listens. Her mouth forms a tiny 'O' and she nods as she tracks Iris answer. "No that's a good answer. It helps, some, to gain perspective. Sometimes things can be so one dimensional. Thank you!" Of course, it's all a little slurred as her cheek is full of delicious.
A glance to Gisa an her head tilts and she nods in understanding. Her own mantle is negligable in comparison but her expression grows more deeply thoughtful and turns towards Glitch who remains silent. But Lulu does not press things, she's little more than a thought away of forgetting everything msot likely. "I guess I understand." She bobs her head but she seems to have a lot more than soup to chew on for the moment.
Iris may be rather dramatic in her own speech on the subject, but she listens with keen interest when others share (Gisa, in this case), and something in her unblinking reptilian eyes suggests she may be filing questions away for later. But, for now, she rises from her seat and says, "of course, what it means to you doesn't need to be anything like what it means to us, Lulu. There's no one right way, or wrong." Though, given the strength of her mantle, the court itself seems to like her own anaswer. "I should get going, though." She moves to Gisa and offers her the empty coffee cup. "Thank you for the coffee," she says. "It was good to meet you all. Don't worry, I'm sure I'll be back, and our paths will cross again." She slips off after that, only pausing to slide her sandals back on as she goes.
"As Iris says," Gisa offers after the dragon leaves, "There is no wrong answer, Lulu. Why did you change to Dawn? You were not when we met. I am very glad to have you in our Court, but. Why are you Dawn?" And then the golem's eyeflames slide to fix on Glitch. "And why are you of your Court?" Simple enough questions, accompanied by sips of wine.
Lulu tilts her head and her brows knit a little before she smiles. "I don't know. I mean, I haven't stopped understanding fear or anything. Or needing it, I mean a healthy dose of fear is good for all of us." She says and the pauses to think, rolling her head to the side and her lips pulling into a thoughtful pout, "But .. I don't know. I saw that there was a better way. I was shown that sometimes people just need to be given a tiny shove in the direction of their potential and so many great things would happen. Sid and Lucky, and you helped me learn that I guess. And I guess all of that .. I guess it just.." She huffs and looks back to Gisa then to Glitch. "It was a brighter flame." She tries, exasperated with her own inability to communicate her change to Dawn. "Like you said.. to rather than from."
Glitch settles his look on Gisa, just as flat and quiet. His brow furrows as Lulu explains her beliefs in hope and potential, and then something like a smirk spreads on his lips as the answer comes to mind. "It doesn't matter," he says simply. Sipping his coffee.
GAME: Gisa spends 1 Glamour
-> >> Gisa to Here << <-==============================================
Rolled 3 Successes
< 3 4 4 4 6 6 7 8 8 10 >
====================================-> >> Wits + Wyrd No Flags << <-
-> >> Glitch to Here << <-============================================
Rolled 5 Successes for an exceptional success.
< 3 5 6 8 8 9 9 10 >
===============================-> >> Composure + Wyrd No Flags << <-
"I am not given to pointless gestures. It matters to me to ask. If it does not matter to you why you chose your Court, if in fact you have one, because I have never asked, then how did you choose?" Gisa takes another swallow of her wine, canting her head back toward Lulu. Her free hand reaches out to absently play with the knit on the gift that Lulu brought. "I am glad to have helped you in even a small way to learn your potential, and to run to." A pause. "It is interesting that a Dusk would help you learn to be a Dawn, but Sidney is a rather remarkable young man."
Lulu's head tilts again this time to look at Glitch. "Well, maybe not from there but from here it matters. Little things matter, big things matter. What is not solid here is solid here." She reaches up poking herself between those two white 'locks' of hair. "And therefore, it influences what is there, and then what the world. So it matters, perhaps not to you, but to something..someone...somewhere." She pauses a moment fingers lifted in the airs and wiggling as if she might go on, or she lost herself. But it's not something to dwell upon because she has Gisa's warming soup and so she takes another giant spoonful to chew on in muted pleasure. "Well, not every Dusk has given to nihilism, I don't think. And he seeks potential too just expects it, I suppose, to go up in flames."
Glitch doesn't look sure of what to say. He stands, and manages to loom, somehow, despite his short stature and the slouch, his eyes glowering across at the two and seeming to peer straight through. Setting the coffee down, he crosses the room, and for a brief moment there's no mantles anywhere, no murmurs of potential or lingering scents. There's just nothing. He doesn't look like he expects them to be surprised, expression almost anticlimatic, but he raises his hands slightly. "It doesn't matter, because it doesn't matter. I didn't pick my Court. I just didn't fit anywhere else," he says, an odd little intensity in his eyes. "It didn't pick me, because it isn't anything. It's just what's left when everything else is done. When the music stops. When the time runs out and the level ends." A roll of his shoulders. "I didn't come here to talk shit," he says, rubbing the side of his face and not really making eye contact with anyone anymore.
Lulu tilts her head at Glitch and blinks confused at him. She listens though her comprehesion is, often, in question. She pauses where she is, spoon balancing sa bite in it as she remains perectly still and considers the unusual pielate features. "That sucks." She says seriously, lips thinned into a little line, cupid's bow pulled tight and her little nose wrinkling. "But if fate is making it your bitch anyway, why not make the best of it?" She asks ever-so-helpfully before taking that arrested bite and chewing. For those who know Lulu well enough, the fact she pops off with random quotes when she's pressed for something she can't think about ro remember will recite poems or songs, or whatever she's read. In this case she adds some helpful big creen wisdom, "I mean, I have absolutely no idea what we're doing here. Or what I'm doing here, or what this place is about, but I am determined to enjoy myself. And I'm very intrigued, and, oh my, this soup's delicious, isn't it?"
|
