There were few things as formal or prestigious than a conclave of insects sharing tea, sugar, and bread. One might not think those distantly related to things that dwell in earth and tree, water or hive would have such an eloquent array of manners in their arsenal to tend so such events.
But hello, here we were.
The destination this time around was not in a quaint rabbit hole left unoccupied by a hare or a bee’s hive condo dangling over the hedge in majesty. Still, spectacularly as it was, there was a clearing in the hedge beneath a canopy of leaves to darken the area for those that dwelled underground should they attend.
There was a round table, with linens and small plates, and a series of small ant-like hobs that seemed happy to convey things from the next underground. Fancy! There were tall chairs and two padded stools and an assortment of mismatched furniture.
C. J. Grillo is formal even in his everyday life. Catch him on the street, and it's usually three-piece suits and impeccable manners. For a conclave of bugs with the highest of teas, he's really gone all out. Where does one find a purple suit coat and bright green collar that matches his tweed? And with this, the Willy Wonkaiest of top hats, cocked at an angle, with his ever present umbrella on his arm. The Dawn cricket's aura of change breezes in just ahead of him, and his large eyes with their swallowed pupils goggle at the spread. "I was aiming for fashionably late, but fashionably early is probably the better thing," he muses, mostly to himself, as he turns to wait to see who else might arrive.
Any excuse for a party, not that Brittany needs an excuse, though. She breezes in, a hand reaching up to do a last minute check of her hair as she looks around to see who has already arrived.
Luna arrives in rare form, without her hoodie on. She never goes anywhere without it, except into dangerous places where she might need her wings, perhaps. She's not one to just walk into the hedge unprepared, after all. Saying she was nervous to be walking about the hedge is probably an understatement.
But her journey was uneventful, arriving at the little borrow. She bows into the hole, and glances at her clock, and frowns, "I expected to be here 5 minutes earl-why is my clock running backwards?" Luna grumbles, and pockets her malfunctioning watch. Luck is always with her. Always. Just not necessarily the good kind. A faint smell of autumn travels in her wake.
Rorschach made the effort to be on time even though lunch was rudely landed smack in the middle of the day. Where he got a dark Grey linen waistcoat from and shiny black shoes instead of the combat boots which some professed were soldered to his feet? Who knows. The cockroach was cleaned up for this though it seemed to do him ill-favour. His right arm was in a sling and the spry wriggly roach seemed to move very carefully. His mantle crawled like inky tendrils sucking the colour from all it touched. His other hand lifted to his temple and he flourished the faintest of nods which was a lot being taped together. There was a smile to those gathered from the gaunt creature.
Tiny ant hobs seemed to be working in unison bringing plates out one by one all acting as separate hands of one ‘body’ setting the table and places as people joined.
"Hello, ladies." Grillo tips off that extravagant hat once Brittany and Luna arrive, waiting to sit down to give them room to choose. But when his attention lights on Rorschach, he steps closer curiously. "What in the world happened to you, my friend? You look half-squashed, you poor thing." This doesn't quite draw him out into the light, either; he's with the cockroach on the greater pleasures of being nocturnal, so seems to gravitate out of the light wherever possible. "Is this our whole company today?"
"Hello." Brittany replies to Grillo, flashing him a bright smile before she makes her way towards the table, waiting to see if there are any sorts of assigned seats before she grabs one. She chooses one of the tall chairs, draping herself across it before she looks around, "This. Is. Fabulous."
Luna blinks a little towards Mr Roach. That doesn't look great, though someone had already asked about it. And there's others here too, so, then she looks towards the other arrivals. Luna, having arrived last, hmms towards Grillo. "I think perhaps it is. Not quite the bug collection I had expected." Luna then takes a moment, and focuses on listening to the insect's tongue, since Roach seemed unable to communicate normally.
Luna herself takes a seat, then glances curiously towards the really cheerful one here, before turning back to Rorschach. She smiles, and squeaks towards him.
Rorsch sat carefully and from the inside breast pocket of his coat, collar of shirt even buttoned because proper, pulled a weathered notepad and from a back pocket gingerly retrieved, a stylo fountain pen. It was a formal event. The reality was they were likely not his either if rumors were to be true. He wrote on the notepad, ‘Sir, fine suit. Madames I am glad to see and meet you. They call me Rorschach. Happy to make your acquaintance.’ he noted to Luna and whomever else present in a rattling cicada-like trilling clack, <<Rough night in the hedge. Squirrels are exceptionally territorial this spring. I do not know if they all speak, but welcome any assistance.>>
The tea pots started to come up. Green ones, red porcelain, blue bone china, and others. There was a bit of a rumble as tea pots came up with presentation out of the kitchen below. Then there was a POP when a very large Turkish long necked teapot came up through the hole and had hoses and spigots around it like a great tea houka, each a different brew and set upon a small carousel. Sometimes the hedge acted in a forgivable fashion.
Grillo sits last, hat hooked on one corner of his chair and umbrella on the other, sweeping out his coat before sitting. The cricket is a dandy, and perhaps with the little swoop of coat, there's a hint of that powerful Mantle altering others in ways, little winds of change in his wake. "Oh, I want to try that. Several times over, possibly," he confides to the others. "Even if it's not the best thing on this table? Such points for presentation." He tips a hand to Rorschach. "Pleased to know you all. C.J. Grillo. I prefer the surname, if we're being casual about it."
"Pleased to meet you all." Brittany smiles at them all once more, reaching for some of the tea when it is brought around, "I'm Brittany Garreau, you can call me Brittany, or even Brit if you want."
Luna listens, then nods. "Sounds like we should stay away from hedge squirrels." Luna hmms, contemplating how to introduce herself. After a bit, she offers, "I am Luna. Pleased to meet you all." She smiles a little. Luna takes some tea too, blowing on it gently, then sipping at it.
The Roach’s skeleton smile warmed to the Butterfly and the Cricket in turn giving a small nod of his head. The small ants coming and delivering sugary foods and meal and all manner if tiny things in bite sized finger sandwiches for palettes still reasonably human, and some...beyond. The Roach scribbled out on a pad, ‘Ms. Luna was good enough to point portents in favourable directions, my present condition withstanding. Fascinating. Talented. Nice to meet others though. What manner vocations are the rest of us involved in I wonder?’ He wrote with serifs. It was a formal occasion.
"Vocation? Good word for it. I'm a writer. Journalist, more specifically, only recently freelance since I came here to finish my book," CJ says, after leaning over to read Rorschach's question. "It is a vocation for me, finding things out and making them clear." His antennae bend towards Luna. "Favorable fates from you, Ms. Luna? Thank you for that. I'll take your advice to avoid the hedge-squirrels." He passes one of the sandwich trays towards the Butterfly. "Is Brit what you prefer?" he asks.
"Vocation?" Brittany repeats, her head tilting momentarily before she laughs, "Well, I mean, I guess that you could say I was an actress. Or maybe...a dancer. Or singer." She waves a hand lightly in the air, "I perform, on stage, for the masses, however you want to put it." She then glances towards Grillo, "Brit is fine, I really have no preference."
Luna nods towards CJ. "I am a fortune teller. I know strange ways of seeing fate's little strands." Luna focuses her eyes, and seems to open them, looking towards something almost immaterial. "These eyes can see the little strands of fate when I unfocus. Better that to pluck them or guide them. Or in some instances, read them. Most of what I see is gibberish to a small one such as myself." Luna leans back, and looks to Rorsch, "Speaking of profession, I don't believe you had shared with me your vocation, Mr Roach."
The Roach cast a coy grin to the Luna Moth and wrote in the notepad, for sake of open conversational discourse, ‘Thought you knew!’ Hey he was beat to hell and back but one had to have a humor of it. He waggled his eyebrows, and perhaps the small bit of humor revivifying his constitution a tad. He wrote out, ‘Was going to be an author once, maybe more Kerouac or Frost than Kuntz and King. I find things for those that need. Street artist mostly but that doesn’t really pay. Do it for me though. Sometimes I stalk things that would stalk us in our sleep. So nothing terribly lucrative.’ For those that lived in the area his work could be found on walls unasked for or around corners where broken things were turning them into art; some comical, some political.
"Quite the crowd, quite the crowd." Grillo licks his thumb, then the edge of one small cake; then tastes the edge of his finger. It would be gauche at another table, but seems a somehow natural gesture at this one. His long fingers hook up his teacup next. "I haven't been around long. But...Garreau. That's one of those families that's everywhere around here? If it's not impolite to ask you. I seem to have heard the name a lot," he says to Brittany.
"We are, in fact, around everywhere." Brittany replies, lifting her tea up for a quick sip off it before she reaches for the sugar to add more. A whole lot more. "I'm from here, and so are most of those in the family, of course. But, yes, and I don't think that was impolite at all."
Luna chuckles towards The Roach. "I know many things, but I do not know everything. Sounds like you make about as much money as I do. Though, I am curious, did you happen to finish scratching off those tickets I allowed you to keep?" Luna smiles a little. "As far as we're concerned, I am also an Adjudicator of the Wheel. Though, not that I can really go talking about exactly what I do. If people went around knowing what I did, I wouldn't be a very good Adjudicator."
Rorsch shrugged his shoulder and jotted a note sipping a, ooh! Dandelion tea and moving all manner of tiny foods onto his plate. Fun fact: Writing your own dialogue meant you could ‘talk’ with your mouth full and not be at all rude. The note read, ’Your Honour, you are among friends here. Pretty cool. Big responsibility.’ He looked to Brittany and signed with his fingers an idle thought then asked in ink, ‘I went to school with two Garreaus. I think one was in yearbook with me. Sometimes hard to keep all details sorted. While ago’
"We'll try to keep it mum, Judge," Grillo says to Luna, with a zip-lip gesture. "Though should you need a particularly reliable witness and observer, I should give you my number. I understand those kind of obligations, a bit, through my own. I'm still getting a feel for the local area. Very different after spending so long in a larger city. Family ties matter more here, which --" He pauses, and grimaces. "Let's just say I'm thrilled that my own family is not local. They can stay in Boston. Yes."
"Well, that is entirely possible. We are all over the place, after all." Brittany replies after reading the comment, then she sips at her newly over sweetened tea. "I can see how that would be good, but I'm glad that my family is here. Gives me a sort of center, you know?"
Luna smiles. "No need to be so formal about it. I'm just trying to bring balance to a world that has none." Then, at the comment about family, Luna gives a nod, and rubs a hand through her head, "I second on that remark. My ties to my last life can stay behind. Painful as it is, it is for the best." Luna sits her tea down. She gives another nod towards Grillo. "I might need to take you up on that someday, Mr. Grillo. Perhaps you should visit my shop sometime." Luna takes out a business card, and offers it to Grillo, with a smile.
Rorsch nodded and pointed to Luna with a pinky off his left hand while he enjoyed his dandelion tea. Apparently he’d vouch for her, though the word of Roach may just be that. His antennae curled downward listening to them talk and wrote, ‘So near anything to see my mom okay. Things don’t go back though, but I hear ya Miss Brit. WHen things are good it can be incredibly helpful when the hedge is being cruel and unkind.’
"Don't misunderstand, I'm glad of my family. Just with distance preferred. If they were local, I would never go anywhere unchaperoned and I would be asked about my love life daily by my mother, instead of just altogether too regularly," Grillo says. He bows his head towards Rorschach. "You make a good point, for certain." He plucks up Luna's card, studies it, and after a brief smile, offers his own. "It doesn't say Lord Echo on it, but it's what I do. Court events and historian activities a specialty," he explains to the Moth.
"Very helpful, even if obviously they don't even know the half of what goes on in the world." Brittany agrees, smiling easily as she finishes her tea, setting the empty glass down. "Does your mother really do that?" She shakes her head, looking amused before offers Luna a sympathetic smile, "Are you from here, or somewhere else as well?"
Luna takes the business card, and nods a little. She seems... cold, apathetic towards the mention of family. One can almost see her hiding her emotions as she speaks, "I prefer not to share my past. It is done, and I have moved forth." Instead, she switches the subject, smiling towards Grillo. "Curious. I collect other's pasts and futures, while you collect history. Perhaps someone that can understand just what it means to hold so many secrets. I swear some days I would be a Winter Courtier if not for my obsession of meddling with fate."
.
The Roach left one memo on the prior topic but did not push it, nor elaborate. The first note read, ‘Yeah Moms do that.’ Really it was taking much concentration for him to sit upright in the chair, but really he looked at the sort of distant kin. It was worth it. The note further read: ‘I like being able to discern if what I think is true is true. And find me a Winter Courtier that doesn’t meddle. They meddle. They just don’t let you know they are meddling but we know they’re meddling. ‘Got to love them for that.’ He looked to Luna and nodded as if expressing her discomfort on the topic prior.
"Does my mother -- what?" And then Grillo transforms into an elderly Italian woman. Like on a dime. "What, are you hungry? Are they feeding you enough in -- where are you now, Vermont? You look thin. Eat something. I told Gina and Pop Pop and Benny, "He's looking thin." Now, babbino, who are you seeing? Are they nice? You find a nice one, it's not too late for the grandbabies..." He straightens. Clears his throat. "It goes on like that for some time. She'll visit someday. I'll have to bar her from following me here to the Hedge and serving you all the gravy. Winter Courtiers meddling, hah, nothing on that." He might just be really trying to make a little light. "I collect a lot of things," he adds. "Including impressions."
Brittany's brows lift a bit at Luna, "Well, alright then." She replies with a shrug, then she glances at Grillo, laughing when he turns into his mother, "She sounds fabulous, actually." Then, with that she gets to her feet, "While it has been great fun, I should be on my way."
Brittany's brows lift a bit at Luna, "Well, alright then." She replies with a shrug, then she glances at Grillo, laughing when he turns into his mother, "She sounds fabulous, actually." Then, with that she gets to her feet, "While it has been great fun, I should be on my way."
Rorschach looked to them and checked his watch. It was that time and the ants had become clearing the table. He drank the last of the dandelion tea and pocketed just one tart. That had purpose later. To what end he did not say. He wrote a note and held it to his chest for them to read and gave the slightest bow as much was still healing. All it read is, ‘My time is richer for having met you. Safe paths.’
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