Difference between revisions of "Log:Spontaneous Synod"

2 October, 2017

Rather accidentally, all three of the regional bishops end up at the Wayhouse. After getting acquainted, they talk about maybe doing some charitable work, as is only right and proper for those of their order.

The Wayhouse

After spending a few days tending to the practicalities of moving to a new town--finding shelter, buying necessities, getting settled, looking for work and learning the roads--Louisa's finally made her way around to the Wayhouse in the hopes of acquainting herself with the local Lost community, ostensibly one of the reasons she gravitated to this little New England town of all places. Of course, most folks are busy sleeping or tending to their own lives at 9-something on a Monday morning, which leaves the horned woman all alone in the living room. She's dressed for the cooler weather, an army green v-neck sweater paired with jeans, boots. Comfortable and casual. At the moment, she's fussing on her phone, though there's a mug of coffee close at hand, still steaming.

Nathania walks into the living room and gives a little start. "I didn't... expect to see... anyone here... at this hour. They're usually... asleep, or working." She gives a warm smile. "I'm... Nathania Winters, Bishop and... Winter of the Freehold... of Fate's Harvest. I'm also Waylady's Hand." She extends her own right hand, empty at the moment, her left hand clutching at the messenger bag strap across her body. She's dressed in a pale blue sweater with cables on it, and blue jeans with boots on her feet.

It's not until Nathania speaks that Louisa looks up from her phone, just one more glance down at the device to turn off the screen and shove it in her pocket distracting her before those pale pretty eyes are set entirely upon the winter courtier, her warm smile angled the stranger's way. "I'm not entirely sure what I was thinking," sounds awfully apologetic. And sweetly southern. And strangely compelling. There's just something about that honeyed voice that draws one in. "I suppose I'm still an optimist at heart, and hasn't it paid off?"

On her feet, she's terribly tall, just over six feet ignoring the horns, but she wears that presence amicably as she takes Nathania's hand in her own for a fairly gentle shake. "Louisa Dalton. Bit of a wandering Bishop myself. There a lot of us in the area? A lot of need for us?"

"There's... three of us, including... yourself. Myself, Sid Spokes of... Dusk, and you, now." The slight rag dolly stares up, up, up at the tall Minotaur. "It does seem... to be a need," she admits, "although no one outright... asks, you understand." She gives a wry, frustrated grin. "They rarely... do." Then she answers the indirect first comment. "I don't understand... why you're apologetic. The Wayhouse is open... to any Lost in the area. Freeholded or not." Her smile smooths, evens, warms. "And I'm always... happy to make... a new acquaintence."

"Summer." She'd forgotten that bit, hadn't she? Not that it's difficult to note the summer heat brushing up against the ragdoll's still, chilly mantle. Once introductions are done, Louisa settles back into her seat and plucks up her coffee, all sweet and black, taking a little sip while she listens. "They seldom do," comes with a knowing smile. "It's always hard asking another to share burdens we feel are rightly ours, and nothing's ever more ours than our guilt or sorrow..." Or whatever else, a lazy little flutter of fingers barely lifted from her mug gesturing an unspoken et cetera. "Had I given it more thought, I might've come by in the evening when the place is likely to be busier, but it seems fate's smiled on me all the same." She takes another sip then wonders, "May I ask what the Waylady's Hand does?"

Nathania smiles and nods. She'd noticed that opposite Mantle, all right. "It's nice to meet... you, Louisa. And, Fate can be... fickle, but it seems to like... you. Today." She grins. And then she laughs a little. "Functionally, not much... beyond what... a regular Waykeeper does. I am a diplomat as well, if necessary." A wry grin crosses her features again, this one amused. "I'm sure they... love my speech patterns. People get frustrated.... with me, as I'm sure... you can understand. People are so... impatient."

Louisa smiles a little wider for that qualifier of 'today,' knowing full well that tomorrow might not be the same. Again, a touch of apology creeps into her features as the title 'Waykeeper' is used, her head dipped a little. With a little clucking sound, she addresses the latter part first and notes, "People find all sorts of reasons to get frustrated. I wouldn't let that worry you none." Sip. "Do Waykeepers guard the trods or... watch over this house..?" There's an implied 'or' there to suggest she could come up with a number of other guesses. "I've visited a good handful of freeholds over the past few years, but that's not a title I've encountered before."

Nathania grins. "That's... very true. They do." And then her eyes go wide in apology. "Sorry!" she says. "Waykeepers... make sure... people know... the rules of the Freehold... before pledging, and get the Crown... in touch with potential... Pledgees. We keep the ways of... the rules." She shrugs at her awkward wording. "Mind if... I sit? I want to... knit some."

Louisa's smile grows warm and grateful for the explanation. This time, whens he dips her head, it seems to be in thanks rather than apology. Then, soon thereafter, there's a nod for the question. "I don't mind at all." She takes another taste of her coffee, a little longer this time, thoughtful, before venturing, "Have you been in the area long? Do you like it here, this community?"

Nathania settles in across from the Minotaur and pulls her messenger bag off her shoulder as she regards the question. She digs for a drawstring bag, pulling it out after a moment. It's patterned in little black scottie dogs on a red background, with a black ribbon tie. "I do like... it. I've been... here..." She considers. "Maybe a year, now. I'm kind... of fuzzy on the details." She grins crookedly. "Smart as a whip, but... my memory's... not that great." She winks and taps the side of her head. "Fluffbrain." Then she pulls out some knitting, what looks like a sock in bright blue.

Louisa chuckles quietly for that last word, though there's a faint deferential dip of her head there, too, an assurance that she's laughing with, not at. "We all lose a thing or three along the way," she murmurs in that sweet voice of hers. "Especially on the road we walk." She's quiet a moment, watching Nathania start up her knitting, watching those fingers work with a faint air of appreciation. "I've been on the road for, mm, five years now, thereabouts, trying to find something that could feel like home again." It sounds like there could've been more, but she just lets that thought trail off.

Nathania looks up, hands still working. It's a long glance before her head dips again. "That's true. We all... lose something or other." Then she nods. "2005? I think? is when... I got out. Years blur." She points the needle in her hand at her head and draws it away with a twisting motion, as if she were making yarn out of the 'fluffbrain'. "Well," she adds brightly. "I've gotten... my luck's fill for the year. My husband, whom I'd thought... taken again, is back. You can have... my excess luck for a while." She grins and winks, only half-joking here.

"Two thousand eleven," Louisa offers, marking the year she stumbled out of the Hedge and back into all of this. Though her smile holds, her eyes dip down to consider her coffee, veiling a touch of melancholy which a winter surely recognizes. It's gone by the time Nathania's speaking to her own good fortune, her smile wider for that lovely news. "I'll be sure to make good use of it," she promises of the luck. "Can't help but wonder if you sent it over early. I had the good fortune of meeting someone with a voice like mine--" No, no, there's no one else with a voice like hers, so easy and sweet and very hard to ignore. "--just this weekend. Little piece of home all the way up here. I'll take it as a good sign." Though it's only coffee in hand, she lifts her mug as if toasting to their shared luck.

Nathania smiles and dips her head. "Where... are you from, with that sweet... tea... Southern accent, if I may?" The dolly is curious, but adds hastily, "If it's... too much, please, tell me not to pry." She grins a little, crookedly. "I am from Maine; born there, fell... out there, too." She shrugs. "But even I got... wanderlust, and I'm probably... the most stable Bishop in... the history of Bishops." She's teasing, button eyes sparkling with real swaorvski crystal, mirthful.

"Not at all," Louisa promises of potential prying. "I'm from Georgia, not far from Macon. Don't imagine I made the news all the way up here, but back home?" Her lips purse as she makes a little face. "I was gone for eight years, reported as a missing person. Who eventually stumbled back out from wherever she'd been all in tatters and full of trauma she couldn't talk about." She flashes a faint smile, some assurance that it's all fine no matter how grim the talk gets. "I was all over the local news, like it or not, but the harder part was seeing my family, all the hurt and confusion in their eyes, their need for answers I couldn't give. We still talk plenty, mind, it's just an awful lot easier over the phone." She pauses a beat then pushes on. "You think we might be able to arrange a little synod?"

Nathania listens, eyes full of sympathy. She gives an uncertain smile which blooms into something more positive. "With Sid? Probably. Let me get... in touch with him later. He's probably... not awake now. I don't know him... well, but he strikes me as... the type... to sleep in." She grins and shrugs.

"Actually something of a night owl myself," Louisa offers to Nathania with that easy smile of hers, a little waggle to her coffee cup to suggest that's the only reason she's upright now. "By necessity as much as nature. My preferred profession favors late nights." Her horned head cants a bit as she wonders, "Don't suppose you know of any bar or venue looking for bouncers?"

Nathania considers. "I don't," she says finally. "Oh, except... that Poppy over... at Alchemy is... friends with the manager as well... as an employee. It's as good a place... as any to start?" she offers with a shrug.

"Poppy at Alchemy," Louisa repeats, committing the names to memory with a nod and a grateful smile. "I'll take any old lead I can. Not a lot of call for what I do in smaller towns like this one, but I've never really settled right in the city." As if they were all one city. As if all cities were the same. There's a contemplative silence for a second as she finishes off her coffee before she nods to what Nathania's making, "What's that going to be?"

Nathania smiles. "Socks." She grins. "I knit... a lot. It's sanity. Keeps me from... being anxious. Well. More anxious," she amends with a warm chuckle. "And yeah. Poppy's good. Tell her I... sent you."

"I will," comes warmly from Louisa. The minotaur sits in the living room with Nathania, both of them dressed for the cooler weather settling in. While the winter knits a bright blue sock, the summer gets to her feet, empty coffee cup in hand, and asks, "Would you care for anything from the kitchen?" Nevermind that this is her first visit to the Wayhouse. The southerner's settling in just fine. Her voice, sweet as sweet tea, possesses a particular quality that hooks the attention and draws one in, like a siren's song.

Nathania beams up at Louisa. "You'll... do just fine here," she tells the Southerner. "I'd love... a cup of coffee, double sugar, double cream?" She then eyes Louisa's feet through her shoes. "What size... shoe do you wear?" she asks bluntly, "and what's... your favorite... color?" Because Nat knits for people. It's what dolly does.

"My feet, such as they are, don't take well to socks, darling," Louisa answers the offer, "but should you maybe find your way to maybe knitting up a scarf? I'm awfully fond of greens and browns and yellows." With that, she's slipping off into the kitchen to fix up a couple cups of coffee, both extra sweet, one extra pale. It only takes her a minute or two before she's making her way back out and setting that second cup down on the table nearest Nathania.

It was fall and that was apparently not enough reason yet for the satyr to bother being completely dressed before showing up in public. Cargo shorts, Vans on his feet, and a set of abbs and a mop of hair later and the Romancer was appearing from the kitchen pulling a shirt on. "Ca-caw, ca-caw, flappy flappy." He swung by the Dolly dropping a smooch to her cheek and then pointed to Louisa, "Oh hey there. Welcome to..." He squint, "Oh havoc, this is Monday isn't it?"

Nathania nods thoughtfully. "I can... knit that." She eyes Louisa, as if trying to take in her personal style. Girly? More rugged? Lace or cables? Probably cables, given the winters in Vermont. The wheels, as they are, turn in the dolly's fluffbrain. "Thank you, Louisa." She smiles up at the Minotaur. She blinks at Sid, but tilts her cheek to accept the kiss to her plush face. "Yes, it's... Monday. Sid Stokes, meet... Louisa... Dalton. We're all three Bishops. Impromptu Synod time, I guess." She smiles contentedly.

Louisa hasn't yet reclaimed her seat when Sid makes his way in, amusement touching her features as she watches the satyr dip in to give the dolly a kiss. She draws her coffee mug down post-sip as the introduction's made. There's a nod for the Mondayness of it all then another for her name. "Sid," she echoes, putting a face to a name now. "A pleasure to meet you." With all three bishops gathered, though, she accepts that this has some little smidge of seriousness to it and settles back down onto the couch. "Might you bring me up to speed with what's been happening lately?"

Sid wrinkled his nose. To call hima beautiful trainwreck was really underselling his condition. At the end of the day the Romancer with the hangover was what he was, and that was at least pretty decent of a good mood. "Woooo Synod? Scraps and piles we should move this to the back yard. There's a good heap of leaves piling up. We can make a nest-fort and complete the stereotype in one fell swoop." Let's be honest, stunt-boy wanted to jump off the shed into it. It took no oracle to see this. For now he dropped into the courderoy chair and got comfy. "Lucky and I just got back from Santa Barbara so my news over the last month is...limited but there's a rash of bad sleep kickin around. Nightmares. Fear's high hittin Autumn."

Nathania nods her agreement. "I was.. almost captured by.... loyalists... the other day. That's still under investigation, and seems... to be... limited to me as the... target to get to my husband, Glitch." She wrinkles her face. It's a flat face, so the nose wrinkling on its own doesn't happen. "Bad sleep. Loyalists." She wracks her brain. "I'm probably... missing a lot."

"I like to get to know a guy a bit before we start nesting together," Louisa teases Sid sweetly, only a vague tinge of any genuine flirtation in those words. More, she just settled in with her coffee and is rather happy to sit and sip for a bit. When both report some of the trouble the local freehold's seeing, she frowns faintly and nods. "Bad sleep bring troubles we can help with, and I've always got my sword to help deal with the Loyalists." With a tip of her head, she looks between the two and wonders, "Any chance the two might be related?"

Sid gave a toothy grin to the minotaur. Humor, the Dusk respected this. Still the news from Nathania got the arch of an eyebrow. "How long ago? How far out? Where was this?" A faint glance back to Louisa he answered, "There's always a chance. Some of the nightmares seem to suggest that anyways. The problem is there's so many //fraternizing// Loyalists it's hard to know which ones are teh source of the problem. There needs to be like... jut three. It'd be easier to suss this all out that way. Kick that one guy's tail, call it a day." He wasn't looking for the word fraternizing, and either was too polite or tongue-tied to say otherwise but the spirit of the cussing stood. The expression, for what it was worth, regarded Nathania with seriousness waiting her answer. "Glitch, huh? Good guy. I like em. So spill, stuffings. What happened?"

Nathania considers. "Maybe. I don't... think so, though. It doesn't... feel that way. However, I've been known... to be wrong," the Winter says, knitting, letting her coffee cool a little more before sipping from it. Then she glances at Sid. "Crystal.. waterfall. Cliffside. Two Fridays... ago. CB Alexander... was there, for as reliable... of a witness... -he- can be." She doesn't roll her eyes, but the gesture is implied.

Louisa listens to the pair, her sweet smile skewed left for that little bit of not-quite-swearing from Sid, equally amused and appreciative. One might almost count it as manners. Between the two of them, she gets a maybe yes and a maybe no, which leaves her solidly at simply 'maybe,' a nod given for that assessment. "If there's anything I can do to help with the hunting," she offers to Nathania, the dip of her head pointing those might-be-sharp horns of hers forwards, like she's ready to point them at trouble. "Any thoughts on what might need done to help the community, both Lost and otherwise? Anything folks need?"

Sid took a deep breath and muttered something about... those sons of benches? That can't be right. An index finger and thumb rubbed at his forehead where his stubby horns protruded. No smart ass answer to this one. Thoughtfully he offered, "We listen. We take what we know to the Watchers. We look to them to sort it out."

Nathania nods to Louisa. "I'll let... you know," she promises the Summer. She then nods in agreement with Sid. "Watchers are... the dream watchers here," she explains to Louisa before she has to ask.

Louisa looks between the two thoughtfully for a moment, considering each in turn. In the end, she offers a little, "Mm," to make the end of some sizing up she may well have been doing and sets her half-drained coffee mug aside. "Alright. If you'd both be so kind--" And who wouldn't when asked by that lovely southern sweetness? "--I'd like you to tell me a bit about what drives you, what you're passionate about." There's some sense of purpose behind those words, as if it's more than merely curiosity.

Sid pulled one knee up, brow furrowing, head tilting at a faint angle. He hugged it loosly. His chin set on his knee and his head tilted to Nathania. Okay she was first apparently, or the stuntmanwas still taking that moment to process everything, though that smile that was filled with bullshit amounts of charm warmed back up, "Yeah and how'd you meet the digital dude?"

Nathania sighs patiently. "I'll go first," she acquiesces, "but only... if... Louisa returns the favor and tells... us about herself." She looks toward the Summer inquisitively.

Louisa's pale-eyed attention drifts from Sid as he dodges to Nathania as she does so as well, a small breath of laughter accompanying a little dip of her gaze as both prove evasive. "How are we to be charitable with others if we cannot give of ourselves, mm?" Her smile warms, though the look she gives both of them edges just a smidge toward sternness when she looks back up. "I am a peacekeeper," she explains. "I am most at home in the center of a storm with the world raging around me, something still and steady on which others might rely. It's why I prefer the work I do." For Sid's benefit, she adds, "Bouncing, helping to maintain the right environment so that everyone can enjoy themselves." She dips her head and goes on, "That said, I can work with just about anything. If neither of you have projects in mind, I might suggest a clothing drive with the weather getting chillier."

Sid dipped his head in a nod. Hey that was sensible. He lipcked his lip and asked, How can we know what is needed if we do not need? How can we ask others to trust if we cannot?" Take that philosophy! He couldn't argue with ehr "In the center of a raging storm there needs to be a rock and to that peace we gravitate; not running from, but running to that which threatens to strip us bare of all we are. Defiance in the last of us so others don't have to suffer as we have suffered, or have a bridge back when they have. I like your plan, Louisa." Hell he even smiled wistfully.

Nathania perks up. "I have... tons of already knit.. stuff to donate." Then she settles back, ready to answer the question with a small laugh. "I should've just... gone first. I'm sorry," she says sincerely. "I am a Winter because I believe... hiding is our safest course of action against Them. However," she adds after the briefest pause, "I am the thaw... in the coldest Winter, the slight warmth... of Spring.. near the end of... the last melting blizzard. I'm not... traditional in... the slightest." She laughs again and gestures to herself. "I am what I was... created to be. Comfort. A friend. Someone to hug... when life is hard. I embrace my role... wholeheartedly." A pause. "We could volunteer... at a soup kitchen, too."

Louisa dips a fond nod toward Sid as he expounds upon her words, as he articulates his understanding of who she is. There may even be some glimmer of delight for that little smile of his. When her attention shifts to Nathania, her smile widens, and she assures, "Very few of us are truly traditional as all that." Just look at her, a summer who looks to soothe and calm, with no temper on open display. "We all find our meaning as we need." When the dolly proposes adding a soup kitchen, she laughs warmly and adds, "I'll leave the cooking to one of you, mm? If we wanted to do a concert now, I could help there, but no one should have to suffer through my cooking."

Sid tilted his head to the side and just listened for a while. For as bombastic as he could be he really liked to just listen. With his cheek resting on his pulled up knee the Satyr took a log pause and offered to them, "I was doing a stunt show and touring when our caravan was run off the road and Loyalists killed or took all of us." He paused and set his jaw for a moment and just watched the coffee table thoughtfully in the middle of them keeping it causual. "I did my durance. I finally got out trying to get back to my family. Wound up instead in teh middle of a desert where there was a war going on, and so I hid in the trod until a Blackbird named Saul found me. He... helped me out. he helped me reconnect to people. He tried to help me find the rest of the family but turns out? I was the only one that survived." He took a long pause before admitting, "It'll be one year ago late November. But I lost everythig... again... and it was ... well it sucks. Still sucks pretty much every dang day but Saul gave me something to do with that. His health ain't all that great and I made him a promise that I wouldn't let his work die with em, ya know. it's important. I can't help //me// but we can still help someone."

Nathania smiles and nods at Louisa. "Very... true, my friend. Very true." Because Louisa? Quickly becoming not only knitworthy, but friend. And then she laughs, too. "Well, okay. I can... cook. But I said volunteer, like on... the line, or something. I hate burning holes in my ... fabricskin. It hurts." She rubs her arms, knitting falling into her lap gently before she picks it up again and checks for dropped stitches. Satisfied, she knits on as she listens to Sid, head canting to a side and a fluffy tear sliding down her cheek.

Louisa chuckles at Nathania's clarification, wincing a little at the thought of how easily that skin might catch flame, a sympathetic look given to the dolly. There are thoughts starting to take shape, but her attention turns to Sid when he speaks up, starts telling his tale. Her smile might fade, but the warmth lingers in her eyes as she watches him with delicately furrowed forehead, taking in all the details without interruption. In the end, she tells him, "First year does seem to be the hardest, darling," that lovely voice of hers pitched low and gentle. "There anything we can do in particular which might honor your mentor?"

Sid smiled faintly back to them. The Romancer was a Dusk and his grief was his skin if not closer, for at least his grief was his own. "I found some good people. In truth? I'm sad for them, not for me, but when Saul's star ascends? I think drinks and story under that sky he'd appreciate. I'm also down for the soup kitchen. There's um, the Dawn Court has some property they usually set aside for some stuff like that. They'll probably let us use it if we ask." He paused and admitted the irony, "I think every member of my 'extended family' is actually in that court. I know, kinda funny, but I think they'd be cool with us hosting there. It's public property so... it's a thought."

Nathania puts her knitting down and moves to Sid, opening her arms in silence. She smiles softly, gently, and in total understanding.

"That sounds lovely," Louisa tells Sid to his proposal of drinking and storytelling under the stars. When he talks about coordinating with the Dawn Court, she nods nods agreeably. "Sounds like we're getting something started," which sounds like what she was hoping to do. But then the minotaur's moving to her feet and explaining, "I've an interview I ought to get to, but I'm glad I was able to meet both of you." There'll be a few minutes spent exchanging contact information, exchanging pleasantries and promises of future get togethers, but she's soon on her way, off to go find herself some proper work.