Sometimes, Teagan doesn't drink in the scary bar by Cat-22. Sometimes, they go exploring other bars. So, they are currently slouched in a booth in one corner with a pitcher of beer in front of them, grumpily staring across the room. That backpack is at their feet, with one of the straps looped around their ankle. Nofuckingbody is snatching that bag again.
Candice is modestly dressed today-- is she ever not? Today's dress is like something from the 1950's, in navy blue with polka dots. With her pale skin and blonde hair set up, she's a touch hard to miss, entering as she does with a vaguely curious, searching look, peeking here and there and smiling at random people as she floats through the room (not literally) looking for a place to sit-- and spots Teagan. Blinks. "Oh! You're you!" She says, looking Teagan over before staring down at teh feet, "And you got your bag back! I'm so glad." And she does look quite, sincerely glad.
Haruki's friends with the owner here. He's friends with pretty much everyone mind you. Friends with the bartender. Friends with the cook who sometimes does special orders for him. Haruki and all of his super friends! So today he enters, all cheerful and heads straight for the bar, asking if any of his friends are around only to get a 'nope'. He does peer around just in case. And now he's sort of obliged to buy a drink of some sort. Club soda. It's usually club soda. Who comes into a bar and orders a club soda? Haruki usually. He does at least tip well. And it's only then that he spots Candice, who he flashes a smile at and there's Teagan as well who his memory has sort of blocked out so nice smiles until a bag is mentioned. "Hi!" That's more for Candice but offered in that direction anyway.
"Today I am," answers Teagan, leaning back in the booth and raising their eyebrows thoughtfully. "Tomorrow I might be someone else, who can say?" That seems to be a pretty legitimate statement from Teagan, and not just a flippant one, but they're the Gender-Neutral Regent Of Sass, so, tough call there. "Yeah, it was the bag or a body, so Clio handled that pretty well. Once she got it, she got it, and then I got it." A broad, toothy grin follows. "Directly to the face."
And they wouldn't have it any other way.
"I didn't actually meet you. Just saw you hiding behind Count for a while. Siddown, I've got beer." Their pitch-black eyes shift toward Haruki, and their face shimmers, features shifting subtly. "Hello, magician with a lick of sense." That may or may not be a compliment. "The beer offer extends to you, too."
"I'm good, thanks," Haruki smiles, gesturing with his water. "So. Um. Yeah." He says inarticulately in response to the bag talk and everything because it's so awkward. "How're things?"
Candice...blushes. And to Lost eyes, it's not an all-around coloring, but rather, an odd concentration of pink at the center of her face, and small rays that form on the outer edges - like the patterns of a flower. "Yes. I do wish I could have been more helpful, but-- well, I'm a bit fragile." She admits, sitting down without qualm now that she's been invited. Her attention goes towards whoever Teagan is looking at-- and brightens when she sees Haruki. "Oh! Haruki! Hello there! Are you sitting too?" Look at how bright and expectant those eyes are, Haruki!
"Oh, I ain't blaming you," Teagan replies easily, flipping their hand. "If everybody were a hammer, what would we do when confronted with a screw?" That sharp, even-toothed smile of theirs flashes briefly, and then they turn their attention toward Haruki easily enough. "Don't be so damn awkward, kid. It's fucking fine. I got in a fight with Clio, we drank beers, we had wings, it was great. Speaking of, I'mma order some wings. What the fuck you guys want to eat?" Apparently the Darkling is in an expansively good mood, for them, anyway, because they're buying food for people and offering to share their beer. They flag down a waitress and do, indeed, order wings, comma, lots of, with many different sauces, and another pitcher of beer. "Thanks, doll," they drawl at the waitress. "So, like, what the fuck are your names? I kinda prompted there, but the hint dropped to the floor and broke and no one picked it up."
Haruki will join them, yes he's sitting down with Candice. He smiles. "I think sometimes the most helpful thing is to well just get out of the way of those who can actually do things. Or well just not add to the problem." He smiles at Teagan. "I'm good. But thanks for the offer. I'm glad everything's good now. I'm Haruki, Magician." His name was already said after all.
Candice still looks a bit glum. "I really do need to work on being a bit less afraid of being hurt." She fusses, scooting so Haruki has room to sit as well-- not that the downright willowy girl takes up much room. "And I'm not really terribly hungry, but I wouldn't mind some wings as well. Oh! And if they have cider, I'll take it chilled." This with a curious glance towards the waitress, to see if she says yes or no, "And a pitcher of water too, please." Another smile, from the odd flower, before she looks back at Teagan, "I'm Candice Ellison." A moment's hesitation, before she reaches across the table to offer her hand to shake. "I'm not from here."
Apparently Teagan requires introductions, or maybe they're just kind of pushy sometimes, who can say? "You did pretty good trying to fix shit. I was pretty impressed. It's not often someone like you tries to get involved when people like me and Clio get in each other's shit." They click their tongue against the roof of their mouth, adding, "We had beers and wings later, so, it was all good, man. Good to meet you, Haruki-magician." Okay, now that's just them being a fucking smartass, but at the same time, they extend their hand across the table to be shaken. Which probably isn't all that reassuring, because closer looks at Tegan's hands shows a wicked deep scar that crosses the palm of their hand, and what look like bloodstains on their fingers and dried blood under their nails. That isn't like actually dried blood and is just a thing with their mien, right? Totally. Must be. Whether or not Haruki accepts their hand, it's eventually extended to Candice as well, to take her proffered hand. "Candice Ellison. Nicetameetya. Neither am I."
The waitress accedes to the requests, and off she goes!
"Why?" Haruki asks Candice. "I don't like being hurt either. I think that's good survival technique, rather than throwing yourself into danger. There's nothing wrong with being cautious and taking care of yourself and avoiding pain." He does grin at the smart-assedness. He does his best to feign not noticing the offered handshaake, oh look his hands are full with his drink. Rude.
Candice has no problem accepting the gross blood hand-- and while her hands are red-tipped, they are neither bloody nor scarred, but soft and smooth, as one might expect from a flowering with such petal-like skin. She doesn't put too much effort into the handshake, though she does frown and reach both hands over in an attempt to study the scar, if given half the chance. She even rises out of her seat to lean in closer, with nary a bit of politeness. Haruki talking serves as a distraction, and she looks up, faintly puzzled, before, "Oh! Yes, well. I'm really not much help in a fight, I know that. I don't mind having to stay out of the way-- but it's the running, you know. I really wish I was able to stay inside, even though I knew neither you or Clio would actually hurt me." Those red eyes! Look how earnestly and sincerely they look at you, Teagan, so full of faith! "After all, you weren't angry with -me-. But I'm a coward when I haven't put down roots."
There is no wet blood on Teagan's hands, at least, and none of it seems to flake off or get on Candice. Teagan rolls their eyes, black catching silver highlights from the light above the booth, at Haruki not accepting their hand, and turns their attention to Candice pretty fully, leaning in themselves toward the handshake. "Very nice indeed," they confirm, slouching back in their seat after releasing their firm grip on her hand. "Yeah, that makes sense. There are ways to help in a fight even if you can't get in the middle, but if you get scared and run off, then, yeah." The corners of their mouth curl up a little bit at that look of faith, and their reply is likewise apparently sincere: "I only hurt one kind of person and you don't look like the type. Who knows, I could be wrong, but I don't think I am." Coincidentally, they shrug out of their jacket, and settle back in at the table. Their t-shirt is black and sais in red letters: MISGENDER AT YOUR OWN RISK, and their arms are covered with spiraling tattoos with what look like hash-marks scattered through them. But not at all coincidentally, the back of their right wrist is is tattooed with, in typewriter font: this machine kills rapists.
Oh look, here's the cider and more beer!
"I was told there's more to fighting than just fists," Haruki says. "You can fight with words, with passion, with other things. Of course not so good when it gets violent and all." His lips quirk as he reads the t-shirt, amused. He sips from his water, lazily and nods at what Teagan says.
Candice settles back down in her seat, taking her cider for a delicate sip, pausing to consider, then taking another sip. She nods at the commentary, "Exactly. It's why I need to work on my bravery-- at least while inside." A small, rueful grin. "I'm not really a fighter of any type. I rather enjoy the sidelines." Her eyes go to Teagan's shirt, reading, and there's a glance at the wrist, but the gaze focuses on the shirt again, "Do you have a preference today?" Pointing, right at the shirt, "I'm inclined towards 'She', I think, today. Would you mind terribly? Oh! Haruki," She looks towards the adorable one, "Who are the Lefyreves?" Pronounced so wrongly.
"Sure. Sometimes there are machetes, or guns." Total deadpan, there. Teagan refills their beer, and nearly chokes at Candice's question, and after a bit of coughing and clearing their throat, answers, creakily, "They. Always they. Never any binary pronouns. I accept xie, em, zir, they." Perhaps they had more to say, but they're coughing around the throat full of beer they just accidentally got.
"They're one of the local families," Haruki says. "They've been here forever. From France originally. I don't think I've met any, they keep themselves to themselves. They sell maple syrup." He smiles and nods at Teagan. "Okay. They. So you're nonbinary then." He states the obvious.
Noel enters the bar.
"Did you drink too quickly? Be careful!" Candice says, looking ever-so-concerned for poor Teagan. "I know it is very tempting to drink quickly, but don't go TOO quickly, it's very bad for you if you drown on land. People just won't understand." Yes, Candice, this has absolutely nothing to do with you. "I have some lozanges if you keep coughing, it's honey and will soothe your throat." So helpful! Before she turns towards Haruki, "I met one! He was very nice and he was fishing, and told me about the maple trees. I want to know if they're herbicide-free so I can buy some maple products."
"Hmm." Teagan clears their throat again at the mention of the Lefevres. Is that an indication of feeling one way or the other, or just more beer stuck in their throat? "No, I'm fine, Candice, thank you. I just -- no one has tried to call me 'she' in a very long time." It's tough to tell if they feel offended by this or just confused. "Genderfluid, non-binary. Genderfluid." This to Haruki, rocking back and forth, and their face shifts and shimmers again. So, when Teagan says genderfluid, they may actually mean genderfluid.
Whatever else they may have continued with is interrupted by the arrival of wings with sauce, and yet more beer. The trio are sitting together at a back table. Haruki has water, Teagan is on their second pitcher of beer, and Candice has cider. Candice and Teagan now have wings.
"Have you met Ian?" Haruki asks. "He has this commune that's all organic, herbicide free produce. It's really nice out there too. He has these plants that eat fish and then the fish eat the plants." Yes, Haruki's mightily confused about the circle of life. "And it's all natural and things. I don't know if the Lefevres maple syrup is good." He smiles at Teagan, nods, but whatever he was going to say is interupted by his phone ringing. He checks it and stands up. "I'm going to have to get this."
"I haven't." Candice says, looking intrigued. "I might try to find him, then, for food. I don't have to, but it would be nice." Teagan's table is an odd one: a pale, pale flowering in a navy skirt with white polka dots, a mortal magician and an 80s punk rockstar of indeterminate gender. She does look faintly sad at Haruki saying he has to depart, and reaches up to give him a pat on the arm, "I hope it's all good news." She says with a smile, before turning towards Teagan, "Really? I can't imagine why. Though, I suppose it's just because I don't have too many female friends and I might secretly be wishing for more." Said with total solemnity, too, as an actual, valid reason. Self-psychoanalysis?
Noel arrives because it's a bar and there are things like beer and other human beings. Her hair really walks into the room; she's got it in two puffball buns on the top of her head, flowers peeking out of the crown of her head. She's wearing a black t-shirt that reads #blacklivesmatter in Times New Roman font, a pair of shorts that are CERTAINLY not fingertip length, and a pair of black and white Nike Airmaxes. She looks bright, vital, and terribly interested in the small gaggle of beings that has presented itself. And so, she's marching that way with purpose. Her chin is lifted, her expression bordering on joyous when she spots them, the Lost, her people -- her plum painted lips quirked up at the corners.
"Good luck," Teagan offers to Haruki, but who knows if they actually mean it or not? Their attention doesn't linger on Haruki's exit, though, swinging back to Candice as soon as he's left the table. "Well, consider me the best of all possible worlds. Girl friend, boy friend, et fucking cetera friend. I look good in heels and a tux, sometimes at the same time, and can murder a beer or a shopping trip." Maybe murder isn't the right word there, Tea. Or maybe it is. Who the fuck knows. They're sitting a bit forward now, eating wings in between words, wearing a black t-shirt with the words MISGENDER AT YOUR OWN RISK on it in red, and their arms are tattooed with swirling patterns with hash marks in between the elaborate patterns, and on the back of their right wrist are the words 'this machine kills rapists' in typewriter font. Underneath the table, there's a backpack with its strap wrapped once around their ankle. And then Teagan is sizing up Noel, and her very short shorts and her very woke shirt and all the things inside those two things. "Well good fucking evening to you too," the Darkling drolls as Noel marches right up. Their Summer mantle is radiant heat and the distant echo of gunfire and radio static.
Candice looks up, as someone draws ever-closer, and smiles when she notices Noel approaching. Her own flowering perfume is a warm, gentle, slightly cloying scent, and she offers a happy wave towards Noel, "Hello!" She offers, softer and milder than Teagan-- but who isn't? Her own mantle has been subsumed by Teagan's fiery summer aura. "I'm Candice Ellison. Would you like to sit with us? We're both nice, and that one's," She points to Teagan, "--a wonderful person, and we have beer and cider. I can only have one, then I need to switch to water." Wasn't this originally Teagan's both? Well, Candice apparently believes Teagan's a-okay with Noel. Clearly.
There's a faint balminess that surrounds Noel, her Mantle is early morning Spring all around. In her woke ass shirt, Noel seems to be pretty pleased with herself. There's a franticness behind her eyes; something that seems to always be going -- go go go. She lets her big, dark eyes dart between Teagan and Candice once -- she then smiles. She gives the toothiest smile; her own scent is very faint, but it smells damned good. Better than she has any right to; then, she glances at the drolling Darkling and she inclines her head graciously. "Hi, I'm Noel." ...and I love warm hugs does not follow but it probably should. "What are your pronouns?" She asks, matter of factly, very forwardly.. like it's just a thing you do. She turns herself to smile at Candice then. She looks at the beer, and then to Teagan.
"I accept any non-binary pronouns. They/them preferred, I accept xie, zir, em, et cetera. Never he, him, she, her. And calling me 'it' is deliberate provocation." Teagan's pitch-black eyes roll in their sockets. Clearly someone thought that was funny once. "Yeah, you can sit with us." A gracious hand splays out to one side, with a big scar running from side to side across their palm. They gesture to the other side of where they sit. Now they shall have lovely girls on either side of them in a booth. Yes, this pleases Gender-Neutral Regent Teagan, greatly! "I'll even buy you a beer. I'm Teagan." One name , and that's all. That hand is extended to Noel for a handshake. "Nice to meetya, Noel."
Poor Candice just looks blankly at Noel for a moment, "My pronouns?" She asks, highly confused-- but then she remembers, "Oh! Like Teagan did. I'm a girl." She clarifies, smiling warmly towards Noel. "So I suppose the standard. She, her, and so forth. Do sit and join us, we're both just having our first conversation, and it's going really well!" Which seems to please the pale, pale flower immensely, "We've both ordered wings, too, so you can share with us."
"What color do we wear on Wednesdays?" Noel takes in the information given from Teagan with a thankful tilt of her head. "If someone calls you 'it', I'd be happy to curbstomp them." It sounds so bizarre coming out of her adorable face, but she says it. . like some evil woodland critter. Still, Noel gets suddenly annoyed and pulls the rubberbands-and-knockerballs from her poof buns. She rubs her fingers over her scalp, sliding in beside Teagan. She floofs her hair back to maximum floof, obviously having gotten annoyed by it being all bound up. "I was talking to Teagan mostly, but thanks for the info." She looks pretty happy to share, pre-emptively putting some money on the table so nobody thinks she's just trying to drink up all the beer -- and pours herself one. "Thanks. I'll buy you a beer back." A pause. "Are y'all new or have you been around a while?" She wonders, making small talk.
The reference has gone right over Teagan's head. "Uh. I wear whatever is clean or if nothing's clean what has the least stank on it," they reply, somewhat confusedly. The hand offered for a handshake, for the record, looks like it's got dried blood on it, and under the fingernails, in addition to that gnarly scar width-wise across their palm. "That hair is pretty fucking amazing." But they don't try to touch it because they're not a goddamned animal. "Yeah, you can share the wings. I'm gonna order a bit more." Their plate is nudged toward the table's center, for errybody to share. "My car broke down here a bit ago, so, I'm here. For now. Newish. I guess." When shit like that happens to Harbingers, they sigh and listen to the omens.
"I was driving by and the landscapes were lovely, and the woods looked promising, so I stopped and decided I would paint the mountain flowers." Candice says, smiling as she reaches for a wing. For all that she's a pretty, strange flower (note the comma), she has no trouble plucking the meat from the bones before biting what remains off, even biting the bones after to suck at the marrow. Between wings, she says, "I wouldn't call myself an artist, but I'm trying to become one. I paint natural things, just what I see. So I wanted to stay here a while."
"Oh, thanks." Noel gives her curls a proud little fluff. "We're going to have to watch Mean Girls." She says to Teagan very meaningfully. "Oh my gosh -- so your car broke down and you were like fuck it I'm staying? That's pretty fantastical, like some movie shit." Noel approves of these displays of going with the flow. She looks at Teagan's hand, musing -- registering that it may just be the way she was changed, just like Noels little pair of increasingly mousish ears. When Candice speaks, she turns and peers at the pale Disney princess devouring the flesh off of th chicken bones and cracking them to get to the marrow. The mouse muses to herself, and then snags a carrot stick from the inevitable carrot and celery sticks. "I was trying not to be the annoying vegan, but all I truly need in life are these carrot sticks." She bites it, gesturing with it not unlike a certain cartoon rabbit. "Candice, if you're like stopping and painting mountain flowers, you are a damned artist."
"When shit happens in my life, I find it pretty important to listen to the shit that happens. I don't know how long I'm here for -- I have a purpose in life and all that shit -- but I'm here for now." They reach for another wing and spend some time eating it, listening to the conversation flowing back and forth past them for the time being. "Mean Girls. Got it. Slumber party for movies." They may have just volunteered Noel to let them sleep somewhere. Like ya do.
Candice blinks at the talk of vegetarianism, looking up from her chicken wings with wide eyes. After licking her lips, she reaches to wipe her mouth with a napkin, "I'm sorry, does it annoy you? I enjoy proteins quite a bit." THe flowering says, licking around her lips. Noel ALSO runs off-- hopefully not meat-related-- and poor Teagan is left alone with just Candice! "She's nice. I like her."
Poor Teagan seems to be quite content to be alone with the Flowering. And their beer, and their wings! Lots of things to be okay with, here. "Well, maybe it bugs her, but I gotta eat. I'm hungry as fuck." And they're proving it, chowing down on wings without much caring that their face is a bit messy around the corners. And the BBQ sauce disguises the blood-stains on their skin. They make liberal use of the bleu cheese dipping sauce, too. Cheap, greasy bar food, beer, company: Teagan's as happy as they get. "Yeah, she seems pretty nice, honestly. I like her okay already. Even if she did run off like a scared mouse aluvasudden." Beat. "So, you paint flowers? Is that gonna, like, keep you here, or are you staying for the organic farming?"
Candice shrugs, not much bothering with the dressings-- she's meticulous with the bones and the meat, however, and yet...so carefully arranges the broken, drained bones in her napkin, in neat rows and stacks. Her pitcher of water arrives, and she messes around with two straws, connecting them together and putting the conjoined straws right in there, to sip straight from the pitcher, wiping her lips every once in a while. "I do hope she's the nice sort of mouse-- some of them chew roots, you know. I've never had a problem with it, but on occasion they're pushy and intrusive." She grimaces, before nodding at the question, "Oh, I can stay here as long as I'd like, or as short as I'd like-- I've freedom enough nowadays, so long as I call my parents every week so they don't worry. It depends if this place inspires me or not."
"Do they? I had no idea. Well. Maybe I did. I mostly live in cities, where a mouse means there are more mice, and probably eventually rats, and not much else." Teagan's pretty expert at disassembling the wings, though they don't eat them as expertly as Count and his three tongues, wtf, that was a thing. "But you are afraid if you don't put down roots? So will you be safer and more courageous if you do stay and put down roots?" An easy way to never have to talk about yourself and your own feelings is to just ask a bunch of questions while you drink your beer and eat your wings. This is a fact!
"If I put down root somewhere, it becomes mine." Candic explains, smiling slightly, "My place, and that's very important. I can share it, of course, but I'll be responsible for it, from then onward." SHe pauses, sucking some sauce off a finger, and colors, blushing once again - this time, oddly enough, it's speckle-blotches of pale pink. "I don't mean literal roots, or um, figurative ones, or maybe-- it's hard to explain. If there's soil and trees and green, I know I'm all right, because I'll be around familiar things and have the home advantage. I don't need to um, make a place my home-- but if I do, it's that much stronger, for the garden I settle in."
More wings, more beer, and Teagan pours themselves another beer when they finish ... what is this, three, four? Clearly their constitution can keep up with it, or they're ordering really weak beer. Definitely not microbrew, that stuff's pretty hardcore for beer. Their black eyes fix on Candice, watching her as if studying a map for a future engagement with the enemy, and there's a subtle crackle in the air. "You don't mean figurative roots?" Tea asks, lifting their beer glass to wash down yet another wing. "I thought you pretty much totally meant figurative ones. I'm a little confused, honestly. That sounds exactly like figurative roots." And of course she means figurative roots here in this public place what else could she mean? "It makes perfect sense."
Candice has been sticking to her one cider, and the pitcher of water - but considering how darn fragile and delicate she looks, maybe she can't really handle her alcohol, and gladly lets Teagan finish it. "I mean figurative literal roots." Candice says, laughing, "I really can't make it sound sensibly. There's a difference between keeping a place, and becoming *part* of a place? I suppose?" Candice says, looking thoughtful. For a delicate creature, look at those bones! Picked clean of meat and marrow, neatly and prettily. "I guess they are figurative, either way, but there's permanent and temporary. I'm not a shrub, after all."
Their head kind of tilts back and forth a little bit, as Teagan tries to muddle their way through the phrase 'figurative literal roots.' It takes a bit. They're only so smart, and they have been drinking. "No, I understand it, I think. I mean, I can't really do it, it's not what I do, but I've seen people do it." Teagan finishes another pair of wings, and then flags down the waitress for more. Where do they even put all this food? Do they have a hummingbird's metabolism? At that last sentence, they look up and down Candice, and chuckles. "No, you're a delicate blossom, that is for certain. I get it."
Candice grimaces, at that last line, and looks mildly unhappy. "I used to say that phrase as a joke, you know." She sighs, "And now I suppose it's true enough. Undeniably." The smile on those yellow lips is wry, and resigned, "I've known a few shrubs, and I've been very jealous of them-- almost as jealous as I am of the wood-hearted. But I am what I am, and I've accepted that. Mostly." The huge pile of wings is much smaller now, between the two, but Candice pats her stomach and pushes the wings farther towards Teagan, while she pulls her water closer, "Are you planning on staying for a time?"
"You and your metaphors," Teagan offers wryly, sliding their black-eyed gaze around the bar. No, no one's near them, but the Darkling nevertheless gets a little antsy when the flower and shrub talk verges on 'too much Changeling talk.' It's pretty obvious. They pull the plate more toward themselves, sucks the meat off another wing, and then shrugs. "What, like, in the bar, or in town? I'm in the bar until the wings are gone." Possibly all the wings. "In town? Fuck if I fucking know, girl. I got a job to do, and I go where the job takes me, when it takes me." Plus, Harbinger's are sort of Fate's little bitches. But that's the kind of thing Teagan doesn't say out loud.
Fortunately, Candice both looks strange and is not shy about admitting she's an artist. Who doesn't expect them to speak in prose and poetry and incomprehensible philosophy? "Metaphors are the only way to see the truth and be unbroken. Truth is usually too visceral. It's why art can be so strange and weird and no one minds-- because it's supposed to reveal things. It's also why I prefer drawing landscapes and flowers. I'm hoping other people will see things like I do-- but that only happens when I make it far too blatant. I suppose most people aren't keen on metaphors."
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