Ma'at, Bastet and Hera are currently battling it out with Dave and Thoth for loudest rotation. The hammering drums of the two dryers against the whompa-whompa of Ma'at and Bastet. But none of it compares to the god awful sound that's coming from Hera. The industrial sized washer with a couple of big comforters. There's no one here at this hour, Cian's just taking care of the hotel orders. Using 'the good stuff' means it smells like something more stringent than bleach even.
The neon of the Open sign is off, and there's a singular line of halogens above that run down the center bank. The Darkling? He's up on top of the countertop sitting cross legged with a large pad of paper on his lap. Earphones are in and for once he's not wearing shades. His fingers are busied with a couple of pens at the same time, scribbling against the pad. Grey flannel PJ pants, dark grey hoodie and black fuzzily socks that look just a little too small for him.
This evening, two figures enter the shop. One is Candice, the fair (not fairest) flowering in a pink button-up blouse and orange skirt, a canvas bag over one shoulder, and the other the hard-to-miss Teagan, the pair chatting amicably as the enter, "...see that they're related. Do you know about the Garreaus? I just learned today that they own a Vineyard: I'll have to ask if I can visit it, it sounds lovely, and grapes are such interesting plants to deal with." Is Candice filling Teagan's head with random things about areas she plans to visit? Probably.
Does Candice care about the fact that the laundromat is probably closed? Not in the slightest. She tries the door anyway, and finding it open, just goes right in, looking around in the darkened laundromat and waving one pale hand, "Cian! Key!" She calls out, heading right in his direction. Teagan? Well they can follow along or not!
Squires of the Broken Bough pretty much always look like something that the cat dragged in: they look tired, beaten, scarred, calloused. All the time. Teagan, at the moment, looks like something that the cat dragged in, then dragged back out, and then dragged back in again. If they've gotten proper sleep in the last week, they're doing an admirable impression of someone who absofuckinglutely has not. The ever-present backpack hangs from one shoulder, their worn leather jacket creaks with their movement, and there's a flash of color from the text on their shirt, but other than that? Battered black jeans, black shitkicker boots. It's easy to have a uniform when you live out of a backpack.
But they're in good company. Whether or not Candice allowed Teagan to drive the both of them over in the utter shitheap that is their car, they have arrived. Teagan is quite okay with walking. They follow after Candice, asking, "You think they'll make good wine? Not that it matters, if it gets you drunk." They raise one battered hand that always looks like it's covered with dried blood, waves it toward Cian. "Hey, friend. We should talk."
Cian is stuck in his music, until his dark eyes catch motion and he's startled into paying attention as Candice slinks on up to him without a care in the world. Reaching up to pull out an earplug, he blinks with a flinch at hearing the rattle of the machines dueling for supremecy in decibles. No, Count will not fix them, don't even ask. The pad is quickly flopped over to be covered and he puts his pens to the side in an effort to avoid questions. Seeing Teagan behind the flower, he offers a brief wave, then points at the door and makes the universal sign of turning the lock.
Hopping down from the counter top onto fuzzily socks he makes no noise as he moves to meet Candice. She is used to the way he greets her, so he slides his fingers along her hips and ducks in to snuffle at her neck and leave a trail of smooches to the corner of her mouth. Blinking towards Teagan, he tilts his head expectantly. Letting them go ahead and explain with a nod. A glance to Candy - clearly trusted.
Candice smiles when she's noticed, and once she's checked behind her to make sure that Teagan's still following, she continues forward to meet Cian. She is, indeed, used to the way he greets her-- but most of the time, there isn't an audience! SPeckles and splotches color her cheeks, faintly purple-pink, but she returns his kisses with a peck on his cheek and a hug, "How are you?" She asks-- but is unsurprisingly drowned out by the machines. She's not one for yelling, after all. So she holds up a hand, spelling out C I A N and then O K? because the alphabet's full of the basics! What more do you need? Otherwise, she's happy to just settle in and eavesdrop on business.
Turning back to lock the door, Teagan follows after, giving Cian and Candice their time to make their hellos with one another -- sniffing and petting and all the like. "I promise to use sign language today when it's convenient to make it easier to talk to you, and if I don't, well, I'll be super shitty at it for the rest of the day. So witnessed and all that shit." A simple pledge for a simple purpose, and then Teagan adds, "So, hi, anyway. Do you want a drink?" The backpack is swung around and unzipped: there's a bottle of wine, a bottle of pre-mixed appletini and a bottle of whiskey in there. They left the first bottles at Green's, so they had to go buy another couple of bottles thereafter. These are all new, except the appletini, which is about a quarter gone so far. They trundle over, setting the three bottles up on the counter; the rusty, bloody machete in the bag isn't hidden -- they actually pet its handle once and coo at it like it's a child before zipping the bag shut again.
Cian still does what he's going to do, the hug and peck back bring a smile and he rather enjoys the brief bit of blushing. Flower patterns! It's amusing every time. Candy tries to say something, but it gets garbled in the spin cycle and he blinks staring at her lips a moment. Then she signs, basic, but she signs. Getting the jist he smiles and nods. He's peachy! Dark eyes flicker back to Teagan and he hears them uttering the promises to the Wyrd and he just nods once, approval probably. Fingers leave his hoodie pockets and he speaks to them without trying to out do the machines, <<So what is the occasion, Teagan?>>
Candice is enormously pleased with herself as she manages to sing properly enough to communicate. Hurray! She turns towards Teagan, watching them unpack their gear and supplies, before lookign around and finding a nearby folding table she's going to jump up and sit on, settling in and letting her feet dangle. Her eyes are focused on hands, watching them and trying to make everything out with her growing knowledge of ESL.
Candice learns, but Teagan cheats. Pledges are the quick and dirty way to be able to communicate. <<The occasion is me needing a drink. And you and I share someone who is having trouble. I promised not to throw them to the wolves, but if my guess is right and you're the one holding their pledge... it's hardly throwing them to the wolves to talk about their problems... which sound like our problems... and I imagine they may have already talked to you. Seriously, though, do you want a drink?>> They dig more in the bag, coming up with a small pack of red Solo cups. <<And is there ice? This appletini stuff is good but without ice it's not as good.>> Their attention turns to Candice, long and appraising. <<You capable of keeping your mouth shut?>> It's not meant harshly, even though the Mirrorskin's expression is... inscrutable.
Cian decides to take up purchse on the folding table near Candice, if for no other reason than he hasn't seen the poisonpetal in a bit, and Motleymates gotta be close. Propping himself kinda on the table and kinda on Candy, he watches Teagan carefully when they bring up booze and mutual friends. There might be a hint of a thinned face but he nods once, <<My secrets are her secrets, she won't tell anyone, it's already Pledged.>> Then a moment to think and he shakes his head, <<She didn't pick me to make the new Pledge with, but I know that she did do this to keep from being put on a Winter's list. I think the words she used were: she wasn't ready to turn us into something about necessity.>> The Darkling is clearly confused by this but he continues after an exhale. <<Just give me the alcohol straight, I can get some ice though.>> he pushes away to fetch said ice from the break room. It gets delivered in a metal bowl with some Red Solo cups. <<However I have Promised to keep her safe. So if she's having problems then they are our problems. What is going on?>>
Candice grins as Cian half rests on her, and runs her fingertips through his hair-- he's got it long, and she's bored, so he may start getting a teeny viking braid as they talk. At Teagan's signed question, she turns towards the mirrorskin-- and Cian is already answering, so all she does is give a soft, slight smile, before looking back at the working hands. Before he leaves, though, she taps his shoulder and signs, <<Water please?>> before turning to Teagan. Awkwardly, she adds, <<Apples? Is it C I D E R? >> Because when you don't know the sign, you can always spell things out!
<<Do you know what is going on with Green?>> That's what Teagan asks, first off. <> There's a brief flicker of what might be surprise or respect or both across the Darkling's highly flexible face. <<It's difficult to talk about something without knowing what you already know about what's going on with her. Trying to balance discretion with ... sensibility.>> This is not always the easiest thing, and it's not the easiest thing for a Summer, either. Their hot, shimmering Mantle has distant scatters of gunfire in it, and a burst of radio static. "No, it's appletini. It's like a martini, but with sour apple." It doesn't exactly fit their image, but then, Mirrorskins always were delightful liars. They start pouring out the appletini firstly, ice for themselves, straight for Cian, and some ice for Candice's drink. Those are delivered after Teagan zips their backpack back up, leaving the bottles on the counter -- there's that handle of a machete sticking out of the backpack until they zip it closed -- and shucks off their jacket, setting it aside before putting the backpack back on. Their t-shirt reads: Not A Boy, Not A Girl, Not Your Problem, and there are great whorling tattoos all up and down their arms, full sleeves, scattered with hash marks, five to a group. On the back of their right wrist, in a typewriter font, are the words: this machine kills rapists.
Then, they deliver the drinks, looking for a nearby surface to sit on. The washer will do, if need be.
There's a water bottle or four brought back with him when he returns with the ice and cups for the booze. He retakes his perch there and is willing to let the braids happen if they do. Besides, who would refuse Candice playing with their hair? I mean seriously. Signing to Teagan, <<I know that she was Pledged before, I assume to CB or to November. I know that she saw November's Mantle, and then all the sudden she could See you. And me. I'm beginning to wonder if there wasn't some clause she broke on accident. Otherwise that she had to make a new Pledge and that she was thinking of whom to do that with. Again my guess is CB.>> There's a bit of furstration and concern, <<I understand if you do not want to continue, but now I worry that's there's more I don't know and I won't be able to keep her safe from it.>>
Candice grins happily at her drink, taking a small sip, pondering the flavor, and taking another sip. She doesn't catch everything, but the gist of it-- and she seems more concerned with Cian's apparent frustration. Pausing in her braiding, she taps his shoulder so he and Teagan are both aware before signing, <<Close eyes? Let you and you talk? But my thought.>> A pause, as she considers her limited vocabulary, <<Girl Green kissed. C B. November. You,>> Cian is pointed at, and she smiles briefly, << Possible promise. All people kissed?
Candice grins happily at her drink, taking a small sip, pondering the flavor, and taking another sip. She doesn't catch everything, but the gist of it-- and she seems more concerned with Cian's apparent frustration. Pausing in her braiding, she taps his shoulder so he and Teagan are both aware before signing, <<Close eyes? Let you and you talk? But my thought.>> A pause, as she considers her limited vocabulary, <<Girl Green kissed. C B. November. You,>> Cian is pointed at, and she smiles briefly, << Possible promise. All people kissed Feelings involved? New for that?>> She shrugs, grimacing, <<Promise rules - make sure if promise-broken is true first. And keep you,>> At Cian, <<Safe too. Can close eyes if you two need to talk.>> And she proves this by actually closing her eyes and leaning against Cian, collecting her new liquor and having mroe of a sip, though she says aloud-- barely heard over the washer and dryer, but who knows-- "This is why I pledge so rarely with tricky humans."
<<This didn't happen because she was pledgebroken,>> Teagan answers, shaking their head as they climb up onto one of the machines, across from Cian and Candice. A swallow of their drink, and their hands flicker, calloused and the nails dirty with what looks like dried blood but never goes away. <<Mina,>> she spells out. <<That's the girl that Green kissed at the open mic night. And if kissing is the basis for who she might have pledged, let me rule myself out. She hasn't pledged me.>> The dark pits of the Harbinger's shadowed eyes glitter briefly, as with stars that appear from behind heavy clouds and diappear again. <<What I know on my own is this -- and I know this, from -- ways.>> They pause for a gulp of their drink, letting the sour taste of the appletini slide across their tongue. <<She saw my mien first. We were on a date. It happened right after November walked into the room. I thought November was responsible -- the coincidence was too great -- but it was not, I do not think, November. But what I do know is that a third party caused this to happen. And she doesn't want this.>> A wry smile, and they add, <<She'd rather not see this ugly face.>> Another swallow of their drink, and their heel bangs against the machine with an idle swing of their leg. <<And for something like this to happen without her promising to it, being aware of it, there are a lot of things it could be. But none of them are good.>>
<<Anyway. I shouldn't get too far into it if she is keeping you out of the loop. I promised not to 'throw her to the wolves.' I just assumed you were the one holding her secrecy pledge, because of the emotional connection she said you had. So who else can I consult without thinking that they'll go running to the Freehold I'm not even a part of, and making me a liar? If this is something Big? Powerful enough to just ... snaps its fingers and ensorcell a mortal? It's bigger than I can handle alone.>> Teagan gives Candice a little glance aside in a bit of agreement. They don't really pledge mortals as a matter of course either.
Cian looks back up at Candice and makes a face for a moment before shaking his head. The scowling is obvious but when he's tapped he looks up and then watches. <<My secrets are your secrets, Petal, that's what Motley means. You don't have to close your eyes. And I'm not sure what feelings are what. I just know that we are something.>> He explains to Candice before turning back to look at Teagan. Taking it all in he digests it thoroughly before shaking his head. <<I would hope I'm not a wolf she's afraid of, but I will not risk breaking your pledge. You've still been helpful. I have been wracking my brain to think of what might have caused it if it wasn't November or her. The answers are not good at all, and I worry that she's caught the attention of Them. Or something else I don't know about. I>> he trails off for a minute and the Darkling shivers just a little, <<Don't like when I have to be violent. None of this will reach the Freehold, that you have my promise on. If I can help I will. It's just convincing her to open up to me.>> he looks at Teagan with confoundment on his features, <<She is a contradiction in motion.>> Cue heavy, if a bit whistful sigh.
"Cian's got a cruuu~ush." Candice singsongs, eyes open as she reads hands and smiles. Maybe Cian can hear it: she is still close to him, and after lowering her drink, goes back to braiding Cian's hair. After all, while they all talk with their hands, she has only to listen, for the most part-- though she does offer, << Kiss are strong feelings. Not C H A N G E L I N G S do not promise with people they do not trust. You sure it is 3 person? Not oddity or gift or drugs? Drugs can show our faces.>> Candice seems to ask mostly as a matter of curiosity, <<Or stray power. Body-rituals in woods?>>
Amusement slides across Teagan's face, quite literally. There's a liquidity to their expressions, quite literally. <<She is, at that. A contradiction in motion. And apparently involved with large swaths of the city in one form or another.>> There's no jealousy or rancor in their gestures or their expression, just... mild amusement. Whatever Teagan might have with Green, it doesn't appear to involve what Candice would term a ~crush.~ <<Yes, I am sure that it is a third party. I can read the omens in the world, and the shift of Amanda Green's hair made it very clear: a third party is responsible. Not drugs, not an oddity of herself. This was done to her.>> Their hands spread. <<Don't worry, Cian. I like being violent. It's one of my very favorite things to do. So if someone has to be violent, it can be me. I know more that I feel like it is my place to tell you. You do need to convince her to tell you what she's figured out. Me? I'm going to work on the omens. See what they tell me. I'm not oathed to protect her, not directly, and I have no oath with her. The word I gave her was informal. But I am still... >> They stop signing, and turn both of their palms up, and outward, toward the pair. The deep, hard, ugly-looking scars that mark them as a Squire of the Broken Bough cross their palms and dig in deep, edged by what looks like scabs and dried blood, the scars cutting in so deep that it looks like they almost hit the bone. <<... what I am.>>
Cian might have heard it but he's not going to give Candice the satisfaction of a reaction. Nope. Not doing it! having his hair braided makes him forget a lot of things, including teasing him about his crushes. Looking back at Candy he smirks. <<I don't know of a drug that could do that, break the mask so easily.>> He sighs a little and blinks, <<Body-rituals?>> He can be attentive too, but Teagan has his attention shifting back to them. <<One does not tame a whirlwind,>> is all he says of Amanda Green and then is smiling a little to the Squire. <<I will still be violent, when the need presses, but thank you, Squire.>> Oh he's seen the scars, they're hard to miss, that and that constant death wish. <<I'll see what she knows. I still need to speak to November yet, but I'd like to see the bottom of this mystery soon.>>
Candice nods, accepting Teagan's words that hair alone can dictate and reveal these things. She pauses, before looking at Cian and signing. <<L O C A L N E W S. People-meat in the woods.>> Because how often do you learn the word for 'corpse.' At least, one hopes that's the reasonable explanation. <<Rituals and such. And not one drug. Not easy, not always. Moon, blood, madness, birth, death, must be right. But has happened to me." A faint shrug before she then looks towards Teagan and signs, <<Understood. Why Green?>>
The flowering hums to herself as she asks the last question, <<Are others close but not quite also suddenly seeing us? Or just her that we know?>>
<<Ehh. I am fairly certain -- without breaking her confidence -- that it would take something connected to us to make this happen. I thought it was November at first because I assumed it would take an extremely powerful Lost to do this. Perhaps this is. Perhaps it is something even more powerful.>> And then Teagan signs: <<Corpse?>> Because they're pledged to speak the language, they know the word, even if they'll forget it tomorrow. But perhaps Candice can learn, neh? <<Understood,>> they agree with Cian. <<You must follow your pledge. But understand that this is what I am. So I am glad -- happy -- to be violent first.>> What a strange creature Teagan is. Their brow wrinkles up, then. <<What do you mean, why -- oh, I see.>> The Mirrorskin's face shimmers and shifts, as if perhaps smoothing itself out against some potential reaction. <<Perhaps she is only the first. Right now, I only know of her, and, like I said, I only know of her because one minute she was holding my hand and smiling at me, and the next she was looking at me with disgust. It was -- pretty obvious.>> Liquid shoulders rise and fall.
Cian looks up at Candice and blinks, of course local news, he should have thought of that. He didn't though and so there is some chagrin as he simply nods. <<Maybe Amanda because she is close to so many of us, maybe because she can read omens herself, maybe because she's pretty, and shallow.>> He shrugs a bit and nods at Teagan, their agreement all he needs to feel comfortable for now. But there is that tired hitting him in the face with a yawn, when is the last time he slept? Who knows. An apologetic smile is given to Teagan, and then to Candice. <<More on these things later, I'm sure. But I need to sleep.>> He gives Candice's thigh a squeeze, salutes the Squire and promptly marches his ass to the break room where there's a cot for just that purpose.
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