Difference between revisions of "Log:Big G vs little g"

26 October, 2017

A chuppah, a visitor, the Red Queen, and who, exactly, is behind those Foster Grants -- err, shadows.

MT07

When one has volunteered to be a Waykeeper but is not yet a Waykeeper, hanging about when the person one is apprenticed to is scheduled to be about? Is a thing to be done. Especially when that Waykeeper has something that the golem really, really wants to have. Gisa has been here all morning, and so the Wayhouse is filled with many delightful smells. Cookies have been made, casseroles have been made and put in the freezer, and one is out on the counter now. Gisa is taking a break now with a cup of coffee, a dish from lunch set in the sink. There's a vegetarian lasagna on the counter in the kitchen with a bit taken out of it. Also, Gisa is reading. Or at least, that's what she ... seems to be doing. Who can even read, flipping the pages that quickly? (Answer: Firehearts.)

Nathania walks in and sniffs. "Hello?" she calls, before spotting golem. "Oh, Gisa!" She hands over a box wrapped in silver and blue paper. "It's been.. done for like, a week. I haven't... had time to catch... you," she says apologetically to her friend and mentee. "Everything smells.. so good in here." She moves to peek into the kitchen, assuming Gisa takes the package. And if her hands are empty, she fills them with a plate of vegetarian lasagna with a bottle of water on the side.

"We just opened the commune," explains Gisa, adding, "I have been so busy that certainly it is not, as the kids say, 'on you.' Settling everyone in the farmhouse, getting Allen over weeping with joy when he sees the workshop... " there's some wry joy in her voice, the subdued way that an Elemental has of expression such things. The box is taken, and the golem's eyeflames flicker brightly, sharp and delighted. She settles down on the couch to open it without saying anything else.

Nathania settles in across from the golem, watching with big eyes. She's nervous, even as she hides it with eating slowly. "This... is delicious... lasanga, Gisa." But eyes are on her friend's face, afraid she'll be disappointed.

GAME: Nemo spends 1 Glamour

Carefully, Gisa detatches the paper and ribbon: she's as methodical in this as she is in everything else. Or, possibly, just taking her time in unwrapping something she has been waiting to get (in one form or another, waiting) for a very long time. Once the box is opened, her face literally lights up: her eyeflames flare enough to ghost briefly up over her forehead, leaving the faintest soot-marks, and her cheeks glow as if lit from within. (They are actually lit from within, so.) She carefully picks up the large, beautifully-knit lace object (what it is probably isn't obvious to most folks, it's not a garment, after all) and turns it over in her hands. "It's... " A golem, at a loss for words? "It is beautiful."

GAME: Nemo spends 1 Glamour

Nathania smiles warmly at Gisa. She's even blushing, a little. "You're... very welcome, my... dear. I was happy... to do it," she says softly, setting her plate and fork aside to lean forward, watching Gisa with excitement.

The lace chuppah is examined at length, turned in Gisa's hands, and then ever-so-carefully folded and put back in the box. "Thank you so much, Nathania. On behalf of myself and Alonso both." She rises from her seat and crosses to hug Nathania briefly -- a big show for such a reserved person -- and then settles back down again, closing the box and setting it up out of harm's way. "It will not be very long now."

Nathania hugs back, delightedly, before picking up her meal once more. "I'm excited for... you. May your wedding.. be the joyous occasion.. you deserve, both of you."

The front door swings open, swings shut. Happens all the time around here! That's totally, completely normal. The shadows slowly spreading into the room from under the interior doorway, though? Those are... less so. Very much less so, as they lurch into the room in juts and streamers, as if sporting actual slender limbs that drag the body of shadowed space further and further into the living room. Meanwhile, the perfectly normal sounds of someone tapping their boots to clean them within the mudroom itself is easily audible. Whoever it is happens to be taking their time- and humming idly, it seems, though they seem out of tune- and it gives those shadows all the time they need to creep right up to where the women sit... before giving each a polite berth and spreading around them to leave each in a little island of light. Gisa is particularly well supplied with space, almost as if she is literally radiating their anathema. How about that?

It's no surprise to anyone when the door opens to admit someone. They're skinny, tallish, dressed awfully plain in tired denim, old hiking boots, threadbare hoodie. They're looking over their shoulder as they enter, face hidden by the hood- and the moment the door closes, they- no, he, the voice and figure suggest rather strongly it's a man- he sighs in relief and releases the deathgrip he has on his Mask.

The instant he does, even the strong presence of Wyrd in the room is immediately and thoroughly -dwarfed- by- whatever this guy is. He doesn't radiate Wyrd, he SCREAMS it. His presence is somewhere between November's and Calm's, bearing the former's distinct sense of ancient, deific power, and the latter's intensely powerful- one might even say sublime- degree of strangeness. But where the former two seem safe enough in a subjective sense? This fellow does -not.-

As his Mask returns to normal, the shadows leaking into the room coil up around his form, swallowing it entirely. He's still visible, but the shadows are thick and swallow details- though they shift lazily, hiding nothing in the end, save everything above his mouth. The shadows never free his eyes. And where Gisa's light blazes through the weakest of the shadows, his form flees, leaving a phantasmal outline exposed, and occasionally displaying the slender bones beneath. His hands are no exception- in the light, the skin vanishes and exposes prehensile blades where phalanges should be. The only things that do not flee the light are the jagged, elegant whorls and lines of his scars- and his smile. Even when the shadows drift over his face, the smile remains, wide and eager.

"HELLO," cries the man as he turns towards the two, extending his arms wide in... what would be welcome, if he'd been there first. "I'm sure you're both aware, but the de-LIGHT-ful contract of Hospitality's Hold is in effect here, and should I, or either of you lovely ladies deem fit to violate hospitality, whoever did shall be noticeably marked in a rather embarassing fashion. That SAID," he proclaims, turning to face Nathania and steepling his fingers with a sound like knives rasping against a honing steel, "I have been looking for -you- for quite. A. While."

The sound of knives doesn't fade. In fact, it lingers, in its own way, every sound a change. A scalpel carving away sick flesh. A hunting knife butchering a carcass. A chisel, ripping through stone to create art. A pocket knife, whittling away extra wood. The fellow is Dawn- and he is -strong- with the Court.

GAME: Nathania spends 5 Glamour with reason: HH

GAME: Gisa spends 2 Glamour

-> >> Gisa to Here << <-==============================================

Rolled 3 Successes 
< 2 2 4 6 7 7 8 8 10 >

===============================-> >> Dexterity + Wyrd No Flags << <-

-> >> Gisa to Here << <-==============================================

Rolled 4 Successes 
< 2 2 4 6 7 7 8 8 10 10 >

============================-> >> Resolve + Composure No Flags << <-

There are a lot of things that scare goylomim. However, there are very few things that actively make goylomim show that they are afraid. That said, the ... literal invasion of the room by shadows? Gisa rolls lightly up to her feet, and then the golem strikes her fists together and is surrounded -- perhaps not surprisingly -- by lambent, orange flames. They lick over the ceramic form and her fists, once they draw apart from one another, have jagged spikes on them, protruding from between her knuckles. Take note: she is short, with spikes on her hands. Jewish femme Wolverine or some shit, if Wolverine could surround himself with flame.

When the figure reminds everyone of Hospitality's Hold, Gisa's face does an expression best written as emoji: :