Log:September Court 2017

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September Court 2017

Lulu, Ash, Ashe, Byron, Cassian, Etsy, Helah Morgenstern, June, Logan, November, Ziv, Annapurna, and Polk.

13 September, 2017

The September Freehold meeting. The last Court of the 2017 Sun Queen. The major topic of discussion is a mortal being ensorcelled without an apparent source, which must mean Gentry activity. There's also talk of bad dreams sweeping through the mortal population.



Logan steps in through the many-wooden door.

Another session of court under the Sun Queen.

Does anyone remember the elegant decorations, the music, the scrumptious spread under Queen Pook? There's no such thing under the Sun Queen. The tables and chairs are unadorned. The refreshments consists of water, to be poured into tin cups. The only piece of decoration seems to be two signs which read 'NO ALOCHOL', one near the entrance, one near the water.

Welcome to the Sun Court.

A mermaid and an otter arrive. No, not that otter, this is the shorter, hedgebeast otter, who is currently draped around Etsy's shoulders like a stole. The mermaid in question drifts -- as if their feet barely touch the ground -- and leaves no footprints in their wake, only a scattering of sea salt. She drifts in as if on currently only she can feel and settles down at one of the tables. Her usual 'profusion of thrifed clothing' is gone, replaced by a delicate sea-green silk dress, over which she wears her Courier's white sash. Love is giving the Spring Siren your AmEx and not asking questions about the bill.

Ashe had arrived just a little earlier, having to replace a book in the library that others couldn't get to. She wasn't in a bad mood though. The Shadowsoul was dressed in her normal black dress, boots and Uvall adorning her head like some macabre fashion statement. Her hedge beast bat loved being weird and it fit the Autumn. But there was a larger creature with wings that Ashe was standing by her chair and waiting for.

One of the new faces, Polk, shows up. He's wearing a casual buttonup shirt and khakis with a zippered hoodie left open. The man sort of looks like he might be on the way to or from the office for Casual Friday. Moving in, he looks around but does not move for a chair. Standing off to the side with a view of the door, he mostly seems like he is here to observe, hands clasped in front of him lazily.

Logan is on time, but not so timely that anyone will question his timeliness. He's dressed in a Hedgespun uniform of sorts, more plain than he'd normally wear, that's in a blue that matches his eyes. His light shines out brightly -- but not too brightly, a little more shadow muffling it than usual. Giving a smile to the room, he takes a seat at a table and sits there in expectation, his posture straight and his manner confident.

Fortunately June didn't decide to bring mead. The NO ALCOHOL signs kind of make that a non-starter, and she'd probably have managed to break half the bottles and make a mess before Court even started. When she comes in she's so focused on trying to be sure she doesn't trip and fall on her face or otherwise cause a scene that she stands out for the sheer focused look of concentration on her face while she enters and heads directly to the nearest place to sit. She barely notices who's even there in her focus on that one task: don't embarass yourself.

Ash comes lumbering in (no pun intended), his long legs carrying him along at a steady pace despite his plodding gait. He doesn't really look at all dressed for court having no hedgespun items or finery. Instead he is simply dressed in a thick leather jacket, designed to protect against the thorns of the Hedge rather than to make any fashion statement. He holds a long walking stick in one hand and has a heavy knife suspended from his belt. He pauses for a moment to glance about the room before making his way over to Etsy where he gives her a slow nod of his head and in his deep, grinding voice says, "Good evening," managing to turn 'evening' into three syllables with the slow and deliberate way he speaks.

Clearly, Byron had to take care of something at the paper before heading over, since he wasn't already here with Ashe. But regardless, the huge obsidian lug does finally lumber his way in, slowing down for a moment to read the sign and spock a brow as he turns his attention around the area. Focusing on the shadowsoul and her little companion, he starts across and murmurs, "No alcohol? Aww, and I was looking forward to stupid drama before things broke up." Flashing a momentary smile, he finds a spot by her chair to take a seat on the ground, stealing a kiss before finally settling.

Ziv stops near the doorway, looking at one of the signs that says 'NO ALCOHOL' and appearing to be vaguely disappointed. Afterall, what is a party without alcohol? Even if sometimes it leads into ranting or teary confessions (which are more her bag, being a Winter). A wing curls up in order to touch her chin, and then she shrugs and continues in. For once, she's wearing something a little more elegant and Fae - that is, a wispy dress of white that's thankfully more opaque where it doesn't hang along her small wings.

Pausing just further, and right in the path with her lack of attention, she takes stock of the various faces - dark eyes roving around and taking note of those she knows and those she doesn't in kind. There are a few other Custodians, at least.

Perhaps in homage to Helah's Court, November is quite, quite colourless today, clad in a monochromatic affair of white leggings, four-inch heels and an asymmetrical black and white chiffon tunic with butterfly sleeves. The faerie Ancient's icy flesh, transparent, glitters with the subtle iridescence of fractal frost normally lost in the flow of the too-Fae Fairest's aurora where she stands off to one side of the entrance. She may or may not be breathing, though her uncanny stillness assuredly does not apply to the queerly liquid strands of drifting, thigh length hair which blithely ignore the fact that floating isn't natural. She simply waits, observing the dancing of the many-coloured fires in the hearth with an expression of mild interest.

Not entirely uncharacteristically, Cassian arrived alone, and slipped through the place like a shadow spreading outward on some timelapse video. Finally, he settles at a place where the others weren't--As was the custom of shadows. His showing was more whimsical than anything else, having no interest in formality or any great need to represent a Court that, at a glance, seemed to be particularly absent.

Without any ceremony, any cue, anything at all, the council starts in. Every season is there, plus the moon, and dawn and dusk. They move orderly enough to the front, where the tables have been set up with just as little adornment as everything else. They, at least, have cups of water already set out before them. Following behind the last in line - Winter - is the Queen herself, Helah Morgenstern.

Helah takes to the front, and remains standing as her colleagues sit. She looks out over the gathering, considering for a moment, before she speaks. "Quiet, please," she says. Her voice is not terribly loud, yet it seems like it's coming from everywhere in the cavern all at once. Helah will wait a long moment for that quiet to come, and then she starts to speak.

"Summer is almost at an end," she says. "It has been a quiet season. A season where we have grown bigger, grown stronger. A season of securing what Spring has brought us," she says to her Freehold. "We have had so few incidents, and for that I am thankful," says the tiny Wizened. "Fall will be upon us soon, wherein the Wyrd will choose one of Autumn or Dusk. In order to prepare for this, I will spend my last week as Queen ending Summer's business, so that Fall might come as easily as possible."

Helah pauses once more, waits a long moment, and then makes a small wave of her hand. "Does anyone have any announcements to bring before the Court?"

Ashe gives a smile to others that she sees and knows, her stitched smile pulling a little as she does. She then looks to the door and see's Byron come walking in and she smiles. She smoothes her skirt out and settles down into her chair as Byron gets to her. There's a quick kiss to the gargoyle, "Good evening, darling." she murmurs to him. Then she settles back into the chair to see how Court is going to go. She listens to Helah as she speaks and there's a look between the Autumn Councilor and the Dusk Councilor as there is talk on one of those Courts being crowned soon. She then focuses back on the Queen and gives a shake of her head when she asks if there is business.

About to say something to Ash in return, Etsy instead ends up just raising one webbed hand to wiggle fingers toward Ash in greeting when it becomes Business Time. The petite mermaid offers him a close-lipped smile, dropping her hand onto her lap and turning her face toward the Monarch. Nothing from her, it would seem.

Byron rolls his shoulders a bit and tucks his wings in close, reaching out to give Uvall a little scritch, then loop his arm around Ashe's chair. Turning his attention to Helah, he as well lightly shakes his head, offering nothing that needs any resolution from crown today, at least.

Polk watches the Queen, looking her over as well as the council, but then lets his eyes move over the rest. Taking in faces and miens. Mantles. He eventually looks back towards the door and once again to the Queen as she speaks.

Still quiet, and newbish, Ziv shuffles along towards an empty place at one of the tables and plops down. It's probably by design that she's ended up more near Ashe and by extension Byron, though she knows a few people present. There's a smile given for the Shadow Soul, and a dip of her head in greeting.

June gets herself into a chair without mishap, somewhat uncharacteristic, and then the show gets started and she watches with rapt attention. Being at Court always makes her feel like she's way out of her depth, but it's also pretty cool. Since she doesn't have business she stays quiet and just looks around to see if anybody does.

Ash turns his attention from Etsy over to Helah once he has exchanged brief pleasantries with the mermaid. He doesn't make any move to take a seat but simply stands where he is, becoming eerily still and looking even more like a tree than he usually does as he waits to see if there are any announcements.

November allows a hint of blue, a blue which precisely matches Logan's attire, to wisp through her being, a nonverbal precursor which may very well be missed, given the typically shadowed hall of the fire-lit Hearth. The Waylady steps forward, eyes on Helah, and offers the Queen a dip of her frost-crowned head and, polite, a graceful intimation of a bow. Respect, yes. Tricks absent tonight, she gestures for Logan to rise while requesting of the Queen, "I call upon the Queen and membership of Fate's Harvest to witness and welcome the ascension of our latest Waykeeper. The Wayhouse stands, and looks to grow stronger." Her words bear a hint of Ireland's lilt well-salted with New England.

Logan stands gracefully, his smile given to the Waylady as he, too, offers a low nod -- bending a tad lower than November -- to the Queen. The light around him beams out just a touch brighter. "I am honored to serve the Wayhouse and the Freehold as a Waykeeper, upholding Hospitality to all who seek it," he says, his clear, boyish voice ringing out with just the right amount of hope and solemnity.

Helah, still standing, gives a nod to November. She waits until the announcement, then her attention shifts to Logan. She watches the man for a long moment, and then dips her head. "Thank you, Ms. an Nua. Thank you, Mr. Brenner," she says. "You may sit," she says. She takes a quiet moment to look over the court, then she speaks once again. "The last time I stood before you all, I spoke of Logan's mistakes," she says. "Since that time, he has proven himself dedicated to this Freehold and capable. I say this before you all because there is no shame in having one's failures brought before the sun. There is no shame in improving oneself. Logan has done well, and I wish you all to hold the same spirit he does," she says. Her dark eyes shift back to Logan. "I look forward to your continued work, Mr. Brenner," she says.

Helah pauses, then she gives another look around. "We will now move to introductions. Some that are new to the Freehold, some that have returned. Mr. Polk," she says, and makes a gesture. Then she sits.

Polk hears the call and looks over to the Lost and dips his head deeply in respect. "My name's Anthony Polk. Most people just call me Tony but whatever works. Fae-Touched with a bent towards Dawn and Summer. I escaped about fourteen years ago in Australia." His voice holds a low, casual drawl to it. Southern US, not Aussie. "This will be my fourth Freehold. I've also been with one in Miami, another at Bar Harbor as my most recent. I'm mostly a fixture in the defense groups that each Freehold has, but I didn't bring most of my tools this evening as I figured it would be better to keep a low profile when greeting most of you all for the first time. I'm experienced fighter and can teach quite a lot to those who are interested. Guns, blades, blunt, hand to hand. I also have a lot of good friends in law enforcement so if the Freehold runs into problems there, I may be able to help out depending on the severity and context. Thank you for taking me in. It's good to be here." The last seems more directed to the group at large rather than to any one member of the court. Or courts.

Helah waits until Polk finishes, then she stands. "You'll want to speak to Ms. Holland," she advises. A pause, then she looks elsewhere. "Ms. Allendale?" she says, with a small gesture towards Ziv. The floor is hers. Appropriately, Helah sits back down.

For the most part, Ziv has been sitting quietly and politely where she plopped herself down, wing-hands folded into her lap and clawed feet (for once without shoes) tucked back under her chair. Her ears swivel every so often, taking in not only the voices of those speaking but their echoes off the walls. A grin is offered in Logan's direction as he's announced, and she bobs her head in a familiar fashion towards him.

Then when her name is called, her tongue slips out to wet her lips and she stands up, looking more than a little edgy in doing so. "My name is um... Ziv Allendale. I'm a recent return from the Faerie, within a few months, and this is the... second Freehold I've been to. I'm part of Winter Court, and am looking um... forward to working more with those here." She bobs her head faintly, then continues, "I'm also a new recruit with the Custodians." Her voice, carrying a generic American accent unlike Polk's sounds a little more confident there. "And uh... am planning to help with the library, as well as... acquisition of new information and studies. I'm... I can fight a bit, and am hoping for... more lessons in that. Other than that... I'm good with animals... particularly bats." She extends one wing, spreading it slightly. "And good at getting into small places and listening in. So... if you need a hand." She shrugs a little, seeming to lose some of her nerve and says a bit more quickly, "Thank you for having me." And she sits.

Logan sits when Helah instructs him to, then listens with his chin upraised, continuing to smile. His face is pleasant, if a touch unreadable, but he bends his head again when Helah acknowledges him directly, before turning his attention to the various new members introducing themselves. Ziv, in particular, draws his attention when she mentions the Custodians.

When Ziv concludes, Helah is back up. "Thank you, Ms. Avendale. I'm confident you will be an asset to the Custodian Elect. I'll simply ask you got get any misconceived notions about sitting on her head," Helah says, her tone deadpan. If that was a joke, she really needs to work on the delivery. Helah doesn't give much time to process it, before she's moving on. "Mr... Cassian," she says. A gesture inviting the man to speak, and with it, Helah sits.

"Only in emergencies or if she says it's okay," Ziv says in a -very- quiet quip.

Ashe's silver striations tick up a bit at Helah's words. Uvall even lifts his head and there's a look to Byron from the hedge beast before he resettles on the womans head. There's an amused look on the Autumns face. But nothing that seems like she might shoot Helah in the kneecap in a dark alley.

Cassian's eyes scan the room idly, looking over the individuals gathered carefully. The Leechfinger had trouble with crowds sometimes, and there were so many here... And then his name was spoken by the Crown. The shadowy orbs pause on the Queen a moment as the shadow seems to consider his options, now. Trapped! Rising, the knife-eared Darkling lifts from his seat a moment. He was taller than he seemed sitting down. "I am called Cassian," he says simply, his voice softer than might be great for a venue such as this. "I am one of the Dusk, and I've joined the Greenies. Despite the Grandmaster's efforts, the garden is sorely in need of guidance from the Woodbloods--Which I intend to rectify. I have a knowledge of the Hedge, Fruits, and their healing properties. I'm also a Hunter and have many services I offer to those traversing the dangerous areas of the Hedge," he says, before he lets a moment linger quietly. Then, abruptly, he sits. Because that was all, apparently.

Byron DOES manage to stifle the small smirk that starts to spring to his face when Helah talks about Ziv perching on Ashe's head, shooting an amused look over at the Shadowsoul. Perhaps saving him from sleeping on the couch tonight, the gargoyle says NOTHING...just reaches up to scritch on Uvall for a moment. Ziv is given a slow nod of his head in greeting, before his attention shifts to Cassian to wait and listen.

Webbed fingers wiggle at Cassian as Etsy watches everyone do their introductions, but the mermaid is content to be quiet and watch.

"Thank you, Mr... Cassian," Helah says as she rises again. She seems a touch displeased at that lack of proper naming convention. Even the weirdo Rainbow has a given and surname! "That will do for introductions. As for new information... We have had no noticeable activity from the Soundless. Samantha Whitaker is still visiting the area, but all information suggests she's... shopping," Helah says, with obvious distrust. "Logan Brenner has volunteered to keep tabs on her, as much as he is able while maintaining his roll as Waykeeper. We are not spying on her, as she is still pledged as an ally to this Freehold," Helah says, quickly enough. "If anyone does see Samantha Whitaker or Martin Bergman, they are to send word to Mr. Logan Brenner," she says, with another gesture to Logan.

Helah pauses, then slowly scans the gathering. "Is there any other news to share with the Freehold?" she asks.

Logan is easy to notice, at any rate, and he smiles around at the room again as he's mentioned, turning up his light like a beacon for a moment instead of raising his hand. It's not one of his big, bright smiles -- just a small, pleasant, 'here I am' before his light dims to a more acceptable level again (don't want to annoy the Darklings too much, now) and he's back to listening to the rest of the courtly news.

Helah stops her scanning the crowd as she spots someone that, really, how did she miss that? She clears her throat. "Forgive me. Mr. Lefevre, would you like to introduce yourself?"

Ash has remained practically motionless since the court begun in earnest and despite his stature had already begun to blend into the background, so it is not surprising that he was overlooked. As his name is called, however, he stirs himself. Having already been standing there is no real preliminary motion to attract attention back to him and so to some it seems as though the large mass of roots and vines that were simply occupying space amongst the other assorted detritus of the Broken Hearth suddenly decides to speak.

"I am Ash," he says, his voice a deep rumbling noise, as if the side of a hill had suddenly detached itself and you were able to hear words in the noises it made as it slide downwards. He talks at a desperately slow and measured pace, almost as if he were taking pains to be sure to utter every syllable and if it wasn't for the fact that his accent could only be categorized as New England Avalanche it would be possible to believe that something other than English must be his native language.

"I escaped from my Keeper two years ago," he says, "and since that time I have been living with my teacher in Hastings, Maine where they helped me to reintegrate into society. I am one of the Autumn Court and a member of the Ancient and Accepted Order of Bridgemasons. My teacher heard of the refounding of the freehold here and has sent me to assist with the reconstruction." He takes a very long moment to gaze at the collapsed section of roof. "Like Mister Cassian I am also one of the Wood Bloods and have joined the Greenies in order to help them with the rebuilding of the gardens. I do not have the medical training that many of them do and as one of the Autumn Court I am not able to access the contracts of Summer but I am familiar with many different forms of goblin fruit and can provide medical assistance that way if necessary."

November tilts her head at Helah's latest request for information, eyes narrowing, before the icy Ancient speaks again. Her voice, trained, carries easily. "One whom I trust has reported the ensorcellment of a mortal without a source among our kind. The mortal had no obvious predisposition toward self-enchantment. Too, there are rumours of dreams..."

Lulu tried to get here on time but she's not the most mindful of creatures when she's feeling great, tonight the little Moth is obviously not. Lulu, looking restless and like she hasn't slept in too long drifts through the door. Dressed neatly in a simple butterfly sleeved sage dress with embrodery and simple roman sandals Lulu drifts in, shuffling snoozily for a spot bouncing lightly off the wall as she yawns, "Not Rumors." She responds to November's commentary as she finally finds a place to drape herself, a chair where she sags against an arm and yawns behind her hand tiredly and fusses lightly to make herself more comfortable. She doesn't say anything else instead she appears to be trying to keep her eyes open. She looks like she could use a nap.

Ashe's eyebrow quirks up at the mention of a Mortal being ensorcelled...without actually being ensorcelled, "That's...intriguing." the Barrow-Tender states. There's a look around and then back to November and then Lulu when she speaks. So many interesting things!

"Thank you, Mr. Lefevre," Helah says, to Ash. She stares at the big man a long moment, before she turns her attention to the latest person to speak. "Ms. an Nua," she says, inviting November to speak. And when November does, there's a slow blink of the eyes, and Helah's face is left blank. Moments tick past before she says anything. "Forgive me, Ms. an Nua, you said... without a source among our kind. What... does that mean?" she asks. And then Lulu is drifting in and speaking. "Ms. Petit..." the Sun Crown says. "Would you care to explain yourself? Explain... any... of this?"

When dreams are mentioned, the mermaid's lazy sea-change eyes open; they'd been half-lidded with all the introductions. Etsy doesn't say anything, but she's clearly listening.

Still, calm and evidently not at all concerned by the subject matter, November's response is a simple, succinct and mildly amused: "Every one of us has known those with the power to do so."

She glances at Lulu, interest piqued, and gestures for the sleepy moth to take precedence.

Lulu's eyes have closed, once she's comfortable she's starting to lean just so to the side. Even her hair seems to be droopy, listless and without life. She's mid-yawn when her name is called and her mouth pops shut with a light pop. "Like, I can't really eplain myself man. That's a really etistencial question that I don't know if I have the energy or, yanno like, capability of eplaining. I might totally blow my own mind.." She emits blowing her own mind with a dead-fish flop of a hand. Counter to her usual grace, "But anyway if we're talkin' 'bout dreams there's ke, yanno, there's poison in the skien man. The vibes were so totally harshing her mellow so folks sent her to me. Yanno, I've never seen someone's chi so malaigned. I mean like, it was really bad. So I'm doin' what I can and keepin' an eye on her now. But I don't know who taught her about Keepers, or who we were, or what we were or any of that. She's reluctant to tell me. But I'm takin' care of her now and will be to keep an eye on her Dreams for like..a while, man." See.. explained. Not really but Lulu doesn't really seem in any condition to attempt a 'reasonable conversation. The seafoam Dawn yawns again behind her hand and sinks down in her seat to rest her cheek on her arm.

Ashe's nose wrinkles and there's a look to November, "Do we need a Legate to see if there's something amiss?" she asks. There was two in the room, so it would be easy if needed. She just wasn't sure if it was overkill yet. Then Lulu speaks and there's a frown that pulls the stitches in her cheeks down sharply, "Hopefully it was no one sworn to the Freehold." she states.

As of present, Ziv merely appears to be listening to what the others have to say. The talk of dreams, and the situation surrounding them, draws a frown to her lips. One ear flicks to the side, and her eyes draw slowly towards the exit in an almost thoughtful fashion.

Byron blinks once as he listens, his brow slowly furrowing while Lulu explains. When it seems to be naptime again, he glances at Helah, then over to Ashe, shooting the shadowsoul a look, but then simply nodding in agreement with her commentary about hoping it wasn't one of the freehold, "Though we have had people that could not keep their mouths shut before, while I was in the Harvestmen."

What would a Court Session be without the Crown glowering at November? Who knows! It'll never happen! Because look, Helah is glowering at November. At least, until Lulu starts to speak. And then Helah's look goes... confused. Wholly confused. Blink. Blink. Her lips start to move, but it seems impossible for the monarch to process those words. Until Lulu starts to move on to the matter at hand. And then she just struggles to understand the near foreign tongue of California. "Mmm..." is the Queen's response.

Helah turns her eyes to Ashe, to consider a moment, then looks over, down the table, towards Charlie O. Is Winter aware of this? They are now. She gives a pointed look to her colelague, then looks back to Lulu. "Is the mortal pledged?" she asks. "Are you taking responsibility for it?" ... it.

Charlie O nods to Helah. Winter certainly is now. He leans in to murmur something to August Bordeaux, Autumn Councilor, then straightens to hear Lulu's elaboration on the tale.

Its hard to tell if Polk is listening. Most of his attention is on the people in the room and the windows. The failed roof. The door. He hasn't moved since he walked into the room and took that position.

Lulu's vantablack eyes lift to Ashe and she lifts a shoulder. She doesn't seem to know for sure and though there's worry in the usually soft impish expression there's not enough energy to really invest in them. "We're like, making sure we check on those other folks around us. I told the the only Winter I know, man." She bobs her head, "But it takes, like...time. However yes, she's pledged now and I'm takin care of her. Makin', sure no one harshes her vibe like that anymore, man." The sleepy little hippy's eyes go back to closed. Though she does add, "I have explained I will try to keep her away from the bad things as much as possible. She's not too happy about her condition, man. Real shook.."

"Shook," Helah says, nearly spitting the word out. "It should be overjoyed ot be alive and in the good graces of one that can help it," Helah says, with decided agitation. She takes a deep breath, then gives a nod. "I will be speaking to the others about this situation, Ms. Petit. Thank you for your due dilligance," she says. Then her eyes scan the room. "Has anyone else gotten word of bad dreams? Nightmares?" she asks the crowd.

A little shake of the mermaid's head, and Etsy offers mildly, "No Adventure Times is having dreams bad, and having no humans to having a watch over," with a yawn that echoes Lulu's sleepiness. What" Yawning is contagious. She absently rubs a hand over her cheek, and the otter at her feet adds, in far more standard English, "No one she's around, motley or no, has had that, and she does the dream-patrolling for the motley mostly. Wake up, merms." Otter pinch. Mermaid swat.

Polk looks back to the Queen and lifts his voice, just loud enough to be heard. "I have. Someone I know has mentioned a disturbance in their dreams but I don't have any details, but she is a Fae-Touched like myself. I'll be meeting with her later and she has contacted someone skilled in dreamwork, as well." Short and to the point, his eyes go back to looking around casually.

"Yeah, well, that's just like uh.. your opinion, man." She trails off at the end. Not that she's asleep but she's already poured for all the energy she's willing to expend on the matter. Sleepy moth; that isn't to say she wont still answer questions someone make just have to poke her to do it. With a nice sharp stick. <- Lulu

Helah looks to Etsy, then down to Etsy's feet. She takes a breath. "Thank you... Mr... Otterton?" she tries. And oh, that looks like it hurts to say aloud. Then over to Polk. "Thank you, Mr. Polk. Please let me know as soon as you have more information." Finally it's back to Lulu. Helah closes her eyes, then lifts a hand to rub at her forehead. Is it Autumn yet? "Anyone else?" she says, her little, omnipresent voice growing louder.

Where she sits, Ziv kind of fidgets, apparently growing restless. Maybe it's just that (at least some) Beasts aren't particularly good at sitting still for long. She kind of twiddles her wings together, raking the short claws at the tips over the webbing of the opposing one.

"I've had nightmares," June says, lifting a fuzzy hand. "Not anything other than the ones I've had since I first escaped, your highness, but it seems like since you're asking I should at least mention it. I don't think it's highness." She shrugs and admits, "they haven't been stronger or different or anything."

"Is the Mrbl, one name, like Prince," Etsy supplies, as the small otter lounges on its mermaid keeper. Awkwardly, the hedgebeast rises, bows: "Your Majesty," and then slides down kind of boneless into the mermaid snugglepile.

Polk nods his understanding to the crown and continues his quiet post.

"Thank you, Ms. Desrochers," Helah says. She doesn't acknowledge Etsy's correction, but she does offer a dip of her head to Etsy's otter. Helah waits a few more moents, then she says, in another clear, louder voice. "That concludes this session of the court of Fate's Harvest Freehold. Let us all go now and prepare for Autumn." Helah waits just a moment, then she's turning to leave.

"Thank you," says Ziv, towards Helah after the words from the Queen. She inclines her head, and then gets up from where she's been sitting to skitter on out.

Ashe's face is still a bit miffed with the news, but she gives a look over Helah as she departs and then over to Byron. She takes a breath and then smiles, "Late dinner sound good?" she asks him as she stands. Uvall stops being a bow and flies up into the air to follow the two of them.

Ziv heads out through the many-patterned door, leaving the hearth hall.

November waits until Helah has turned to go, and, mystery of mysteries, surely has nothing to do with the fact that hearts and roses and romantic, lovely scents and sounds begin to follow the Sun Queen out of the Broken Hearth. Her own expression never varies from its polite interest and seeming fixation on the snoozy Lulu, feet carrying her in a lazy drift toward the moth to touch her hair. Because that's totally something people do.

Byron grunts softly at Ashe and lumbers up to his feet, bending a little to scoop the Shadowsoul up to park her butt on his shoulder, "That sounds like a wonderful idea. I'm feeling waaaaay too lazy to actually cook." He glances up to check on Uvall before starting out with his cargo in tow.

Tony Polk watches things come to an end and he moves for the door, heading outside without another word. No flourish, no demands for attention, he just moves on as if the wind were guiding him that particular direction.

Ash heads out through the many-patterned door, leaving the hearth hall.

Look, dust, as much as dust can cot the crystaline cold demi-goddess' fingers anyway but the smoothing pronounces the eye-spots and patterns in the darkening blonde. Lulu opens an eye a crack but doesn't bother moving. She'll probably nap in the chair unless someone shuffles her along back home. "I didn't mess your topic up did I?" She wonders with distracted interest.