A common place to find Gisa: at the hearth. She has food spread out, having invited her favorite people to join her for dinner, or at least, a selection of them. There's Chinese food in great abundance -- vegetarian and meat options, several containers of rice, and 3 different bottles of soda with cups alongside. The golem sits patiently on one of the benches at those curving tables around the ever-burning hearth. Goylomim are patient as the earth itself, and she sits with her hands in her lap.
Dielle comes into the Freehold, and smiles widely at the ceramic woman. She's wearing her typical clothes: jeans tucked into cowboy boots, a flannel shirt, tucked into the jeans, and a cowboy hat with a rainbow band and a peacock feather in it. "Gisa! That smells really good! You been here long?"
The inside of the cavern was cozy with the ever burning hearth there, and then someone let a roach into the kitchen. His arm was still in a sling but after a week he seemed to bewalking much much better. His fingers were covered in chalk which all looked various shades of grey due to his mantle desaturating absolutely eerythign it came near like some sort of virus Rainbow Brite would be sent to combat; Murky and Lurky be praised. He was dirty like he popped out of the ground which is, lets be honst, entirely likely. His expression left him looking more than a bit strung out. Still he stopped at the door put one hand in in the other, then in reversed and dropped them both face down. Peace. Shalom. Signed not spoken, but he knew she knew.
Nana scooters her way into meeting room, carrying a bundt pan on a tray in her lap. Bitsy, her little terrier comes trotting along beside her at a merry little gait. Ageless, a good Yorkie, unlike Bitsy's aged owner. She whirrs her way over to the table and sets the tray down amid all the other food. Not that bringing food was required or requested, of course. She adjusts her shawl for comfort before wheeling her way over towards Gisa and the others, leaving a trail of leaves in her wake. "Well. Good evening, dears."
Oh, the interaction of Dawn and Autumn: what a delightful thing. The sense of change overlapping the scents of Autumn means the air zaps with barely-suppressed ozone, crackles with the smell of a dry-leaf forest fire about to catch, and conversely the sharp smell that promises early snow, all chasing to overlap one another. Gisa's hands rise up and she signs in response to Rorschach: Peace. It is Shalom, and she says the same aloud. "Shalom. No, the food and I are just arrived." Slowly, she creaks to her feet, examining Rorschach first. "Are you well?" The bug's arm is in a sling, after all. "Bubbe, hello. Thank you for your note. Please, join us. I have fleischig tonight." Her head slowly turns back and forth. "Bubbe, this is Rorschach, and Dielle. Dielle, Rorschach, this is Nana, and her pup." Introductions made, she goes back to looking at Rorschach with what is probably worry.
Dielle smiles at Rorshach, and gives him a thumbs-up along with raised eyebrows, a wordless query into his health. "Nice t'meet you, Nana, and Nana's pup." Never let it be said that the Southern girl has bad manners until she chooses to display them. "What does 'shalom' mean? And that looks like Chinese. Not "flayshig." She's mangling the word that Gisa just said, but she is a woefully ignorant woman when it comes to Judaism.
-> >> Rorschach to Here << <-=========================================
Rolled 1 Success
< 1 3 4 5 6 7 9 >
======================-> >> Manipulation + Subterfuge No Flags << <-
-> >> Gisa to Here << <-==============================================
Rolled 0 Success
< 2 3 3 5 6 7 >
==================================-> >> Wits + Empathy 0-Again << <-
Rorschach tried to answer for Dielle by doing his best Prudence immitation, that was to say a certifiable, bona-fide, and article gen-yoo-ine Hippie maing a peace sign. Duuuuude. He peeled the collar of shi shirt(s) back revealing two scars: One being from where his throat was torn asunder long ago. The other a very noxiously aggrivated wound to his left shoulder that was closed but still stubborn. For Dielle: Boy dun got himself bit by a varmit. (She can beat me later for that). But to the question Gisa asked he stared and almost a second too late nodded. Fine? fine. He was... he was fine. He asked a odd question to her using only two gestures. One pointing at Gisa, and then a sign like 'hang ten' only insted of wiggling like a surfer was pulled doward. He paused and looked to Dielle and then Nana and-ack... dog... nice dog. Niiiice dog and hesitantly wiggled a wave hullo.
-> >> Dielle to Here << <-============================================
Rolled 3 Successes
< 1 1 2 4 7 8 9 10 >
=================================-> >> Wits + Empathy No Flags << <-
"Well, hello, dear," Nana says in a voice that quavers just a touch with age mingled with enthusiasm. As though she's truly pleased to be meeting Dielle. No hand is offered for shaking, though. Sitting in a scooter makes those sorts of politenesses difficult. "Oh, this little rascal. This is Bitsy. Say hello Bitsy." And the pup obligingly barks. Then waits expectantly for a treat that never comes. Poor thing. Then her attention turns to the filthy cockroach that is Rorschach with an equal share of matronly warmth.
"Oh, you poor dear. You should let one of the Springs have a look at that shoulder," is Nana's advice. The dog seems nonplussed, what with no treats forthcoming from the bipeds.
Picking out a small piece of chicken from her plate, Gisa crouches -- ever so slowly -- to offer it to the dog. (Puppies don't have to worry about prayers. Puppies are whole and holy in the sight of God. Fact.) She straightens up, and agrees with Rorschach, "It means peace -- but also hello. As 'aloha' is 'hello' and 'goodbye' and 'love' and other things." Her shoulders rise and fall slowly. "Fleischig. That is, the meal has meat in it. So Bubbe will not be cross if she brought something with cheese in it and I do not eat any." She takes Rorschach at his words, apparently. "But I will say blessing, and then we can eat. This is for everyone."
Without waiting for anyone else, she does just that. "Barukh atah Adonai, Eloheinu melekh ha’olam, shehakol niyah bidvaro."
Dielle gives Rorshach a very long, even look, like she's trying to figure something out, but then returns her attention to Gisa as she says the blessing. She doesn't bow her head, but instead, watches with interest. She's kind of a right little heathen. She repeats the word "fleishig" to herself, without saying it out loud, just mouthing it. It's almost like she's tasting the word.
Rorschach really didn't know what to do so the filthy bug kept his dirty mitts off the food because Nana was looking! He looked back to her and signed a few things, paused, and pulled a pencil from behind his ear and flipped open a notepad past a couple pages that looked like there was one thing written on it over and over and over for about four pages like he was in trouble. Fresh sheet achieved he showed the memo to Nana which read: 'She is looking at it. Have to wait for medicine to work. THen she can fix. Is slow. Rat-things are dumb. Whose Nana are you?' he looked around for actual tots. He looked back to Dielle looking at him and he pointed to her and took a halfstep back from Nana cautious, curious and trying to understand the room like paranoid persons do.
The Nana in question reaches for his glasses which she wears around her neck and has to place them on her nose before reading Rorschach's note. "Oh. That's terrible, dear. Just terrible. I do hope you're not in too much pain?" She starts to remove her glasses again while adding, "Oh, I'm everyone's Nana, dear. Yours, too, if you like." That smile returns, despite the prior discussion of festering injuries in need of treatment and cleansing. The prayer passes over Nana without much remark, apart from a small nod at its conclusion. Well said. "Oh, the dish I brought is a jell-o salad. With sliced carrots. I think that's fine with either sort of meal, yes?" Hey, she's trying. "But you didn't call old Nana all this way to discuss kosher tables and boo-boos, did you?"
The golem doesn't seem much bothered either way over whether or not anyone takes note of the blessing -- it's just what you do, and more importantly, it's important to her. Gisa shakes her head slightly. "I got your note, Nana. About the memory. I wanted to talk to you about that, and I wanted to ask people like Dielle, and Rorschach, who are smarter about people, and have been at the Freehold more consistently, if maybe they have some idea about what to do about Beth's murder." Beat. "A jell-o salad will be lovely, thank you. What would you like from the table? I will make you a plate."
Dielle starts digging in to the food. She looks at Gisa, with big eyes, at the comment about being smarter about people, and then sits back with her food. "Well, my thing would likely be finding the murderer and...well, you probably don't want to hear what I'd be likely to do to them. Depending on why they did it. That would be a thing I'd want to hear." She glances at Nana, as if she wants to comment on having one, but nope, she's keeping that to herself. She glances at Rorshach again, taking in his clothes and then frowning to herself, like she's trying to remember something. "Why do you look familiar?" she says to him. "Wait. Beth. That's the Spring what got found outside the freehold, right?"
Rorschach looked from Nana to Gisa to Nana to Dielle filling in the things and took a half step back vehemantly not taking culpability for this one. The name carried some amount of reputation in hte area and he seemed intent in taking credit for his things alone...though... it finaly got to him with break broken he pointed to himself and then curiously at the meat. The bug bit his lip curiously. Weirdly he wasn't apparled at someone being murdered so mucha s geting flack for the wrong things. He flipped open a notebook. 'Not Moon Court. Who was Beth? In hedge then?' read teh note.
Nana gives that most grandmotherly of answers, "Oh, a little bit of everything." She's patient in her wait for the plate, not seeming in a rush to get to eating. When the topic turns to business, Nana turns right along with it. There's an encouraging nod towards Dielle, "Oh, yes. From what I wrote down about what I saw? They're a group of very, very, very bad young men and women. I can't imagine what they'd have against poor Beth-- and, yes, that's her, Dielle. The poor thing. Tortured like that? Left naked, wrapped in a sheet? Terrible. Terrible." She lets out a soft sigh, head shaking in discouragement. "I thought the Spring Court would want to pursue the matter. They didn't answer my card that I left. Maybe they're already well beyond the help I could offer? If I don't hear from them soon, I was going to turn my memory over to the Harvestmen. It's their responsibility, really."
There's a pregnant pause. "Of course if we wanted to handle it ourselves, well. There's always Goblin Vows, playing with the yarns of fate. I'm afraid all of my solutions are so very impractical."
"Well. Yes. But how to find the murderer, that is the question," explains Gisa, as she starts making up a plate for Nana first with, indeed, a little bit of everything, including Nana's casserole. That's the kind of plate that she makes up for Rorschach, too, except he gets more meat. Then, finally, she makes a plate for herself. "I was thinking about talking to the hobs here, the ones that tend the fire. Maybe they know who her friends are, and then her friends can tell us where she hung out, and maybe from that we can find where she was killed." She's very monotone, as if reading from a card, very flat in all her affects. "I was thinking, Nana, maybe you could turn it to C. J. Grillo. He is a Dawn, like Dielle and I, and an Eternal Echo. His memory is perfect. He would not forget a single detail. So we could always recall it. He could. It's his job." From Gisa, that's an awful lot of words.
Dielle gets a stricken look on her face: was she supposed to wait for Gisa to serve her? SHIT. But she says, quietly, "Well, if you want practical, Nana..." And she withdraws a gun from...somewhere in her clothes. And she puts it on the table. "We can hide the bodies in the hedge or feed 'em to briarwolves. But I think Gisa's got the right idea on the memory."
Rorschach wrote on teh notebook looking a bit more empathetic to the older woman, "I'm withthe Harvestmen. I'd like to hear your story, Nana." It was wirtten but the look on his face was solomn. His head was not clear enough for all this right now. Survival never really waited until one was tip top though. He wrote out for Nana and shared withthe rest of the class, 'Am a finder. If we had something to go on it shouldn't be a huge problem. The problem is what are we going to find. Why? And are they withthe Silent whatever?'
Nana doesn't react to the pistol being produced beyond a small 'o' of the mouth and a slight lift of her bushy gray eyebrows. "Oh, no, dear. No, no, no. That will never do." Her head shakes slightly in disapproval before she explains, "Corpses make excellent fertilizer for hedgefruit. Never waste a good corpse, that's what I always say." Nana then turns her attention to Rorschach's writing. Once more she has to work her glasses onto her nose, but she doesn't seem cross for having to do so. Her lips move as she silently reads, and then she gives Rorschach a warm smile, "Oh, that's wonderful, dear. You see, I believe I used a clause of my Artifice contract to look into the past of the shroud she'd been found in. And that I saw several of the people that dropped her where we found her. Only I can't be sure, because I think I ripped the memory out of my skull and decanted it into a little vial. It's sort of a mauve color." There's a little encouraging nod at this point. "Of course, if I ever wanted to poison someone, I'd brew it, bottle it, write myself a letter saying it was an important memory for that person, and then strip my memory of the conspiracy and add it to the poison vial. So I'm never sure in these cases if I'm being helpful or trying to kill people. But if you're feeling lucky..."
-> >> Rorschach to Here << <-=========================================
Rolled 2 Successes
< 1 2 2 4 5 5 8 9 >
==============================-> >> Expression + Wits No Flags << <-
It is at this point that Gisa stops eating for a moment and just stares at Nana. The shin on her forehead glows briefly brighter, then dims to normal again. It's impossible to tell if she's horrified, or impressed. Or both. Goylomim aren't exactly super emotive.
Dielle turns her now-widening eyes to Nana. It's not shock. From the look on her face, she suddenly really wishes this woman WAS her grandmother. That's distinctly awe and approval. "I have got /so/ much to learn," she murmurs under her breath. Much more fun than being a business major.
Rorschach reluctantly wrote a note that simply read: 'Roach. Can't die. Keeper saw to that bunk. If being electrocuted, poisoned, and irratiated didn't do it your cooking won't. We can try though. Could be fun!' And there a tiny cartook of a box-headed bug with mbent antennae and one arm of four in a sling and wearing tennis shoes giving a thumbs up. It was kinda cute. Well, for a bug. He didn'teat yet but with his pencil sill in fingers reached up and gently touched Gisa's arm and gave her an encouraging nod. DId he believe her squeamish? Naw. Dawns weren't generally so, but she's made it a point to be on high alert to protect the bugs from cats and this might impinge on the protecting of her own she seemed canny to upkeep. He thought about it and scribbled, "I think we might be able to track the shoud back other ways too. Four directions, finding, all sorts of ways. Ummm... did anyone else not... sleep alright by the by?' THe note was slowly panned around then upand he looked at all of them though his black eyes fell on Dielle as he asked. SO many puzzle pieces.
With that, Nana reaches down the front of her shirt and fishes in the industrial strength girdle she's wearing to produce a little dram vial of, yes, Mauve... liquid? Smoke? It has the qualities of both, roiling about inside the vial like a malevolent bruise. "I should warn you, dear. The memory comes with all the trimmings. But here you are. If the Grillo person wants it, he'll have to come to you for it. If you drink it, and can use Four Directions, so much the better. I just want a little fertilizer when it's finished." She holds it out towards Rorschach for a moment, then draws it back quickly. "There is the small formality of the price. What can you offer in trade?" There are, after all, Rules To These Things.
One of Gisa's eye-flames winks off and then back on again as Rorschach looks at her. She's okay. Honest. The golem goes back to shoveling food into her mouth as neatly as possible with plastic cutlery and ceramic hands. There's a subtle sizzling sound after she eats, as if her insides were just scorching the food and literally fueling the golem's fiery insides. She doesn't interrupt. You never interrupt Bubbe when she's doing something important.
At Rorschach's question, an inner connection gets made and Daisy's eyes open very, very wide. "No, I haven't," she says to Rorschach, once she's read the note. "But it's got nothing to do with this." She looks shocked out of her tiny little mind, and for the moment, even Nana's request for fertilizer goes unremarked. She tries to cover the confusion by making the gun go away again, and then moving some food around on her plate, but clearly, whatever revelation she's just had is bowling her over.
Gisa seems to catch up a bit with the conversation, and then just shrugs at Rorschach. Do golems dream of Jewish sheep?
Rorschach crawled up and perched on the stool eyeing the vial, hypnotized by it really. He held up something he hated to part with but seemed fair. It was an egg. A very beautiful egg that looked painstakingly dyed in various colours layer by layer in a very old Slavic tradition shared by Hungarian, Czech, and Ukaranian folk art. This, though, also had the smallest of moted fashioned within the dyed surface of the Pysanka. THat, was not ordinart art or egg. That, was a very cleverly crafted dream trap. He wrote on teh note to Nana not letting it out of his fingers either for being dangerous or fragile. "You know how to use this?' He wrote of the artifact. "Lay it where you will, if a Onieropomp crawls into the sleep in teh room it will rip them out of it and dump them here. I'll know, but it would be your to do with what you may. A favour? A curiosity for a curiosity and a favour gained from elsewhere. Is this fair to you?' THere was something in the thin, strung out man that harkened back to the assassin that he was, still lucid and very very alert to a point of not being at all the benign creature he passivly presents. But maybe if anyone thought that of any Darkling they should be the ones having their head examinined and not the Mooninite.
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