Log:Mothdust and Tears

Mothdust and Tears
Straight answers are not in my repertoire, Franklyn.
Participants Franklyn & Lulu	7 October, 2017 Franklyn goes to Gathering Wool to get some insight from mystic Mothling Lulu about her latest Sleepwalking episode. It does not work out as it did in Franky's head -- but she gains some valuable insight into the complicated lives and moral approaches of fae.
Location Gathering Wool - Mercy Plaza
Lulu is tending Gathering Wool, which is to say it's late and it's closed but the door is unlocked. When Franky finds her Lulu is balanced, carefully, on top of - from bottom to top - a book cart, books, an upside-down milk crate, another small stack of books, and a delicately pointed toe as she reaches for the ceiling to sticky-tacky up a large thistle craft work spider over a display of 'packaged' do it yourself crafts that were once popular at schools but have been discontinued for a variety of reasons that fall under 'parents'. On the speakers some Sisters of Mercy plays and a couple of lamps have been changed with black lights casting the whole store in a sort of eerie ultraviolet. Lulu's skin glows softly under it as do the two stubborn white locks. But her eyes and hair - which due to Autumn has deepened into a rich Mahogany color - do not give her a strangely almost alien appearance. It doesn't help that she appears to be clothed in a leotard and tutu. Woosh: in flounces Franklyn. No forewarning, no phone call, no dark omen to herald her arrival --- or /is/ there? Who knows what Lulu gets up to in her spare time, besides moth-tending and reorganising of craft displays. When Franky does make it past the front door and over to where Lulu is, it's on the hushed soles of velvety slippers. No clogs today, she's dressed in weather appropriate-ish clothes: multi-tiered peasant dress in gauzy linen n' crochet that reaches all the way to the ground, and a very cozy looking long sheepskin coat with a big high collar and some embroidery along the outside. Huh. Maybe she's here to pick up some more sewing supplies. Psych! Franky's here for the drams. Only... only if Franklyn planned on coming in here all frantic and feral, she's failing to deliver beyond that fatigued flounce - looking up at Lulu basking in the black light as she leans precariously on that stack of unstable materials. Franky? Blinks, looking every-inch like a person who hasn't slept well or ate properly in, oh, like two months or so. "...If you fall, it doesn't matter, right? I mean, you can't ever like -fall- fall, yeah? You've got like... A thing?" "No, gravity and I are no friends. I do not have wings. If I fall, I fall. Like anyone else." Well, not entirely true she could put forth the effort to float to earth like a leaf on the wind but we've all seen how well that works out for some people. Lulu gets the pipe-cleaner and thistle spider up, it's googley eyes wiggling under the blacklight as she carefully balances atop her perch. Getting up was easy, getting down is going to be the hard part. Twin matte eyes turn to regard the mortal from her lofty position, light as air and hands resting atop the curve of her hips just above the tutu as she peers down. "Count's upstairs, I believe, if you wanted him." The moth adds helpfully. She has had no signs of why Franky had come, no boney fingers of Fate jabbing her to ensure she's alert and aware. So she's not; Lulu looks exhausted... utterly exhausted. Franklyn pauses after Lulu speaks to her - lips twisted and brow furrowed with curious contemplation. "...That seems particularly unfair." She concludes after a moment's reflection. "Like all potential unrealised." Ah yes. Potential. What would Lulu know about Franky, besides the fact that her dreams are riddled with Gentry-poison? She's Ambitious. Tremendously ambitious. It is her Virtue - and one she should probably embrace more often, seeing as Franky's Vice? Outweighs her Virtue two to one: she is Stubborn, -and- she is Paranoid. Only right now Franky is staring up at Lulu with that same hazy incomprehension. "Why would I want him?" The Mortal's nose wrinkles a bit and she shakes her head. "I came here to see -you-, Lulu." Green eyes scan over the pale seafoam form of Lulu's bod, momentarily distracted by the flutter of her tutu. Their shared exhaustion? Is noted. Franky's lips compress -- and for a moment, she looks genuinely sad. Guilty even? Definitely troubled, and hesitant, like she wants to say something, share something, but she just... Isn't. For whatever reason. Paranoid and Stubborn. "Well the world is far from fair," Lulu says simply. "Life doesn't hand out participation trophies you know, and Gravity is no one's friend. Picks on people while they're down you see, or brings them down, picks on them when they're most vulnerable. Gravity is one of realities biggest bullies. Will push you down the stairs drunk and make sure you lose." When Lulu is asked why Franky would want Count and Franky wrinkles her nose Lulu stares at her. Just stares with the sort of abstract Alien curiosity, observing the mortal for a moment before drawing her shoulders back and her eyes lift to the ceiling. "I think you enjoy being cruel. Luckily for you, most seem to enjoy that." She tells Franklyn from her precarious position. There, glowing in blacklight, Lulu's trim frame is exposed by the leotard and layered tutu though she's not wearing slippers, she bends a bit at the knee and backflips off the books and lands neatly on her feet, in the fifth position and then smooths her fingers over the organza. "There's tea down here thankfully. What's on your mind?" Franky's head tilts to the side as she listens to Lulu, her expression glazing over a little -- why, it's as if the Mortal Millennial is just tapping out on the Gravity lecture. Unfair, Franklyn! Maybe she's not entirely disengaged, though, because towards the end she starts to blink and raises a hand to rub at the back of her neck, rolling her head side-to-side to loosen up as she chatters onwards; "Is it a bully, though? I thought it was like one of the weakest forces in reality, like, compared to stuff like electromagnetism and nuclear fusion or whatever." Fingers are placed over Franklyn's mouth, beetle-shell green manicure glinting as she tap-tap-taps her lips thoughtfully. "Maybe that's why it is a bully -- because it is usually those who fear they are they the weakest that go out of their way to seem strong, no? I've never been pushed down the stairs by anyone who wasn't, essentially under all that rage? Scared." Brief pause, then Franky rolls her eyes, tongue clicking - like her snarky indifference and a dismissive smile would erase the memory. "Gods, what am I even talking about? I'm so wiped out..." Not so wiped out that she can't narrow her eyes a bit, head tilted as Lulu stares at her. Expression? Unamused. No more smile. Paranoid and stubborn. "...Enjoy being cruel? I'm not sure if I follow you, Lulu -- from my perspective---" Franklyn blinks and stops!, as Lulu goes through that impressive display of acrobatics - and in an instant, all that unamused frowning evaporates from her face and is replaced with delighted interest, all bright and shiny and glowing in the blacklight. "Aah! Did you study-- uh, no of course-- what? Oh! Yes, tea..." Franky hesitates, and that rapid-cycling expression darkens again with concern this time. "...I..." The hesitation is real. She's not being dramatic, well, not with any real effort behind it. Franky is troubled; guilty, worried, oddly sympathetic as she looks at Lulu. Wait. Is that embarrassment too? Yes. "...Thought you should know, but now I feel, uh, strange bringing it up, but... I lost time yesterday." A beat. "Sleepwalking." Another beat -- then very quietly: "I'm scared." "Gravity is more than use the force that keeps your feet on this Earth." Lulu moves to the little break area to where a tiny electric pot and some cups are kept along with an assortment of tea boxes in varied flavors. "It also keeps the earth revolving around the sun, and the stars in a galaxy, and hearts in proximity of those that would destroy them. The world isn't just ruled by science, or perspectives, I thought you'd have figured that much out by now. There is only one truth, all it's variations and versions are mistruths.." Not 'untruths' but 'mistruths'. "You should be. But we're almost done. You were very bad off.. They've been after you for some time I imagine. But I'm sure you know by now, Teagan and C.B. having figured everything out. They'll save you.. Chamomile?" Franklyn squints a bit, as Lulu speaks to her about the nature of the universe -- she's trying to follow, but also perhaps unpick the obvious meaning in tandem with the -less- obvious meaning. Poor Mortal. She looks a little confused, underneath that cautious scepticism and failed attempt to seem accepting and polite. Too tired. Franky is too tired to put on the actor's mask. "Yes, but are you talking about gravity in terms of celestial relationships..." Squint. Squint. "...or earthen ones? Because if you're trying to say I've misjudged the 'gravity' of the situation..." Squint. Frown. "...Lulu, I'm getting the feeling you're irritated by me, or think I've done something, and you're being indirect because..." Before Franklyn's anxious rambling thoughts can be spilled all over the floor of the craft shop like a busted bag of seed beads, Franklyn blinks twice at the mention of 'they'll save you', and puts a hand to her chest. Shocked. Scared. Incredulous. Blatant. "WHAT?!" No chill. Franklyn has no chill, not one degree, as she chatters on - hands weaving in the air to accentuate her speech, "Are you fucking =KIDDING= me?! /Figured it all out/!? Lulu, why are you =wounding= me, so? What have I /done/ to you, that you think for one second I'd eat that line up? Teagan is =a monstrous psychopath=, C.B. is in no way a master tactician-- /FIGURE/ it =ALL OUT=?!" Oh shit. Franky. Lower your voice... She starts to pace, doing little loop-de-loops as she paws at her hair and chest in a failed attempt to self soothe. "/Save/ me. Absurd. Ridiculous. Nobody can save another person - they can only support them - and even then, how far? Not far. Jesus, fuck, fuck, why would you =do= this..." Sooo... A maybe on the chamomile? Lulu is quiet as she listens, placing two bags into cups and turning the water on to heat. Picking out Lulu's meanings is hard, it's like trying to find a specific knot, a special loop in the interwoven pearls of the fabric of a tapestry that's been woven since the beginning of time. "If that's the meaning you take of my words, Franklyn, perhaps it's important that you heed it." Lulu is exhausted herself and tired there is no collecting, there is the scattering of moonbeams through gauzy wings that occasionally land ideas in her addled brain. "Let me assure you, Franklyn, that you do not mean enough to me for me to become irritated with you." She blinks tilting her head towards the mortal with her fluffy brows creeping up. She looks strange, sleepy, in her dark hair. But then Franky's going on and a pale tiny hand snaps up, reaching to grab Franklyn's chin between thumb and forefinger. Her other hand offers the tea, "Answer this question for me, Franklyn. A little girl, enamored so with a butterfly, catches one and pulls off it's wings so that it can never fly away from her again. Her brother tears the wings off a fly to cripple it and watches it walk around without it's wings unable to fly away to safety. Who is the cruel child?" "...That is not an answer." Franklyn says cautiously, turning to look side-long at Lulu; her expression that of hesitant, guarded uncertainty. "...What have you been told, which would have you assume that I would need to do that? Because I feel like, that I'm being totally sensible, and sensitive, to the situations I find myself in? Don't play Oracle of Delphi with me -- if I need to know something, /please/, =please=, tell me?" Franky has stopped moving -- her hands pressed to her chest as she stares at Lulu with those big green eyes of hers. The indifferent words have her narrowing those eyes a tad, but her lips twist with a bitter smile. Ah yes. Truth. "...I suspected as much; I know - I'm just a vessel. Thank you for your candour." Bitter. Biiiitter. But not dishonest. Not angry. It's like Franky expects to be non-important, for whatever reason. What she does not expect? Is for Lulu to grab her chin. Green eyes go wide as saucers as she listens to the little alien Mothling in front of her, body rigid and frozen. "...!" The tea is left ignored, as Franky tries to parse the words that filter up at her -- her body starting to tremble at a high frequency. Poor sleep, bad eating, no medication, tonnes of anxiety: Franky is struggling to find an answer. When she does? Rapid fire blabbering: "...I refuse to make that choice! They are -both- cruel, the intention behind their actions does not justify the end result!" Lulu smiles. "Straight Answers are not in my repertoire, Franklyn. I could tell you what you want to hear but it would not help you. It would not save you. That's what heroes are for.." And Lulu? Little tutu wearing Lu.. is no Hero. "We are all vessels for potential, Franklyn. That is not why I do not have the capacity.." She pauses and shakes her head. No, that isn't the right word, "The .. ataraxia to care that much for you. You need an Earthy creature for such things." She hasn't moved, so close, wide feathery lashes which have also darkened brushing her brows as she leans more in her fae features twisting with curiosity. So close, face to face, that Franklyn can see the pretty little almost wine colored freckles that dot her glowing skin. "And whose perspective do you choose that answer from? The fly? The butterfly? The children? An impartial onlooker?" Like smearing a coating of soft, silky confectionary sugar the pad of Lulu's thumb drags across Franky's lower lip, smearing lipstick if there is any with the moth dust. Still holding, still intent. Franky can feel the suddenness of something; like she's about to fall over backward or like a package is coming in the mail. Like just before climax or the crescendo of a favored song. And Lulu barely inches from her face watching her with doe-eyed curiosity under impossibly long lashes. The explanation around straight answers, the words Franky might want to hear, the place for heroes, the potential for vessels, the reasons for Lulu's indifference... all of that gets stunned, searching silence from Franklyn, her eyes darting over Lulu's face, soaking in her features and trying to focus in on vanta-black eyes that just go on and on and on and... Franklyn is very still - not perfectly still, mind, because that trembling buzz of her body has not ceased up. Besides that, she has not moved, no. She remains still in Lulu's grip -- lipgloss smeared and left covered in mothdust, but Franky pays that no heed. She's trying to follow Lulu's words, glean the meaning from the weird. "...It is wrong, in every sense, from every perspective available to me, to take part of what makes a creature special and strip it from them in order to keep that specialness for oneself. I don't even have a word for it; barbaric, cruel, inhumane? None of those even begin to cover it -- it is abhorrent." There is a rising note of panic in her voice - a shrill warble, although the volume of her words stays a relatively low whisper. The tension in the air, the twist in her stomach -- not quite dread, not quite excitement, but not as simple as anticipation either -- that has given a wonderfully earnest quality to Franky's words. Stubborn conviction, passionate delivery. The seriousness of her tone cracks suddenly though, with an exasperated laugh. "'If you love something? Let it go.'" Franky is all too aware that it's cliche - but doesn't that make it funnier? Lulu scoffs quietly and lets go of Franklyn's chin turning away. "Your dreams are coming along. I will be scrubbing them soon though I think it's best if CB doesn't participate in that portion for his own safety as well as mine. Understood?" She asks as she picks up her own cup of tea and blows across her tea sending a small fluttering of iridescent dust across the ripple with the action. She doesn't sit though she gestures for Franklyn to make herself comfortable. "In no time we'll get you to feeling better, hopefully. Though you should have them continue to keep an eye on your mind." She points towards Franky's noggin. "Incase it comes back. They're pretty sure it will. As soon as I'm finished with you I'm going to need to scrub Amanda again." The tired moth shakes her head a bit with a twitch of her lips. "And it's if you love something set it free. The two statements have oceans of difference." Franklyn takes a step back as Lulu releases her chin -- but she watches the Mothling with careful, squinted eyes: all cautious scrutiny and clumsy self preservation. Is she scared of Lulu? Uhm... "If you have something you need to say to C.B., contact him yourself -- I am not a messenger, and I will not open myself up to misinterpret the intention of inter-fae communications." Franky seems to realise the intensity of her tone, and she clears her throat a bit -- hands pawing at her chest again, tapping up against her breastbone. Softer voice; "...But I understand, of course, of course, yes, for sure..." She does not sit -- nor does Franky actually accept that tea. Instead she does a little hop-skip pace around, skirt fluttering and fingers tapping. "...I wish I could know, like really -know-, if something had come into my dreams; I mean, I don't /feel/ it, right? I mean, I get -so- much chaotic noise, repetition, that..." Franky's rambling stops, and she turns to look at Lulu with a concerned frown. "...Amanda is unwell again? Why?" Then the frown deepens, and Franklyn wrinkles her nose and looks off to the side. Anxious -and- defensive? Check. "Let it go. Set it free. You know what I meant..." Lulu looks to Franklyn, "I am telling you because they are your dreams. You can still allow him to help if you choose but I'm giving you the option of understanding the consequences." She says simply, "And I have already told him, thrice; and he ignored my warnings. As you are free to do." She sips her tea lightly. Lulu is soft, sweet really nothing more than moonfluff but there was a time that Lulu was Autumn. There are reasons. "Is it hard to know?" She asks softly. "You cannot trust your own senses once they've been poisoned and you can choose to trust Count and I or not to at your leisure." " I hope you do not think that it, your suffering, would lift away like a veil from your eyes making everything shining again. Bright and unscathed. Like it used to be. " She shakes her head and then when she is 'corrected' for the semantics of her statement she says back without a hint of irony. "I know what you meant and that's why I corrected you. As for Amanda, I'm given to understand she's none of your business anymore so if you think otherwise that is a discussion you should have with her. I protect her. I protect her secrets." She takes a breath, "Her. And Teagan and CB for answers about why you must remain vigilant and forthcoming to your heroes. We cannot always expect answers to come at a comfortable cost. Put down the teacup, make an excuse.. and Go. I am sorry I've upset you." Frankly hesitates, going still as she listens to Lulu - as if moving around would make it harder for her to focus. "...You just said it would be unwise for both him and me, if he were to participate -- I respect that you are like, an expert in this. If he is not suited for protecting dreams? I believe you." Still, there is a little more hesitation - a jittery hand moving to push her hair back behind her ear before she chimes on quietly, "It is very... Challenging? To filter what there is, from what there is not -- but I trust that you and Count are experts at this. That is not up for question." The rest though... Franky frowns a little bit, fingers tugging at one of her necklaces as she listens. Concerned. Did Franky think everything would lift away and stuff would shine again? Possibly. Maybe. A girl can hope. This girl can also start to look confused -- oh, getting corrected may be a sting to her ego, but the bit about Amanda? Franklyn looks -really- confused. Genuinely. What's more is that Franky looks... Hurt. She /feels/ hurt. It emanates from her. "...Who led you to understand that was the case?" Franklyn asks after a moment -- said like it is very, very much so news to her -- watching Lulu carefully. Her expression twitches only a bit, a wince at the mention of Teagan, concern at C.B's name, then finally Franklyn speaks again - voice low, grim. "You heard what I said earlier -- and this is the second time you've said the word 'heroes'. I don't appreciate the implication, and I am growing suspicious about who has been saying what about me, when I'm not here to defend myself. Doesn't feel very heroic." "Defend yourself? Every one I know loves you, Franklyn. To their detriment most times. What would you have to defend yourself from. Certainly not attacks against your person on their part. However, I will not speak on anyone's behalf; it is why I'm encouraging you to go to the source." Lulu leans in to Franklyn eyes resting in all their abyssal majesty on the mortals face. "Heroes don't need your permission to be heroes Franklyn. There you go again; what -is- Freedom. Franklyn? Hmm? What does it mean to set something /free/.. Do you even know?" As Lulu speaks, Franky tenses up a bit -- there's a little blush coming to her cheeks, although it's more embarrassment or possible upset than it is flattery. No. Franky doesn't seem pleased - not one single iota. "=EVERYONE=? /Love/? To =their= detriment? What is /that/ supposed to mean?" Yeah. Franklyn sounds paranoid, she sounds a bit mad, she sounds like she's running on bad sleep and a hangover. "Oh, oh -- you won't 'speak' on anybody's 'behalf'," Yes, air quotes happens. Franky is getting flustered. "But you'll just casually drop the news that I am, apparently no longer someones business? SAYS WHO?" Franky! No screaming... "So why would you bring it up anyway? Besides to tell me that you won't tell me about it? Wow, Lulu, now =that= is cruel. Do you want my hair, next? Do you want my fingernails? You've already pulled at my sense of security -- why not finish the job?" Anxiety. Fear. Makes a person say crazy things. Franky's already half crazy. None of this helps. "Freedom, fucking freedom -- freedom is the ability to function without constraints of corrupt hegemony -- freedom is truth, and justice, and love given with consent, not taken by force or applied as a shackle." Franky is on a roll - her voice is getting louder, and loud, and... "Freedom is clarity, and vision, and respecting an individual's personal agency and autonomy!" She's started to pace, her hands gesturing in the air as she speaks. Franky may as well be turning up inviable dials on the emotional thermostat; things are escalating. "Freedom is letting people /live/, without trying to control or cajole or intimidate or oblige another person to function under a set of rules they had no say in making, and NEVER AGREED TO!" Is there a poor unsuspecting craft spider near by? It may want to watch out -- not that Franky's going to kick it, not yet. It just -looks- like she /might/ in the future. Lulu stares at Franklyn. Her expression does not change from the openly curious expression from before. Damned bugs; staring at the world through dark eyes without a hint of any human reaction to even the mass wholesale slaughter of their brethren; or hand made replica of them. A blink is little more than a flicker-flash of seafoam over black. The volume drowns out Floodlands nigh in it's entirety and Lulu finally does perch, delicately, on the edge of chair so that her tutu doesn't get crushed. "There is only one truth. Everyone else’s versions are mistruths. Can you imagine a world where everything and everyone has that kind of freedom?" She wonders, almost absently as she looks at her nails absently and picks a little bit of dust off one of her pretty dark nails. "Yes, yes I can!" Franky insists, when she's paused long enough to take in some ragged breaths and let Lulu answer her. Her first words are positively -desperate- with conviction, her hands raised to claw at her neck, then dragging up her face, pressing into her eyes before finally resting on top of her head: pulling at her hair, eyes scrunched shut as the impassioned speech continues. "Yes I =can=, Lulu, and it is =glorious=, with people who really /speak/ to one another, really /share/, truthfully! 'When you love something, set it free'. Because if you =really= LOVE something, someone, you respect and honour their inherent right to choose their own path, whatever that means -- and when a boundary is set? You /respect/ that, and you negotiate it together, and you =work=, together, always, in a state of perpetual becoming and reflection, and you reach a place of, of, of..." Franklyn takes in a deep breath of air, looking up at the ceiling. "Serenity." In a blink of an eye, all the fire is taken from her. Franky's shoulders slump and she turns -- facing away from Lulu, looking down at the floor as she does an emotional one-eighty: what was a mere second ago manic impassioned, feverish desperation? Has flipped to an icy void depressive anguish. Like Summer Solstice flipping to a Winter Solstice - longest day to shortest - with zero warning. Zero warning. "...Or a person can just sleepwalk through life, either chaining or being chained by the obligations and expectations and pressures and demands of everyone around them..." Franky hmms, and turns - padding off towards the exit slowly. "...You've been very illuminating, Lulu. As always..." Lulu remains poised on the edge of her chair. Listening to Franklyn rant and rave about true freedom and she blinks slowly and her lips curl up a little but instead of happiness if Franky dares to look at Lulu's features she'll only see something wholly sad reflected in her lovely puckish face. Searching Franky with wide sweet eyes that the Mortal sees swelled with fat crystal tears that gather and without the mothlette even blinding roll down her face to gather up shimmering powder and drip off her sharp chin. -SO- freaking sad. "At least you're not entirely dead yet. Goodnight, Franklyn." Does Franky dare look? Well... Yeah she does a little - it's a subtle glance, more through hyper vigilant concern than straight up posturing. Franklyn doesn't check because she wants to, she checks because she has to - paranoid. Who knows what Lulu could be doing, she is an unknown entity of adorable whimsy, untapped potential, arcane secrets and, and... And sadness. All it takes it a glimpse of those wide sweet eyes, and Franklyn looks... Well the anguish does not evaporate, but a little frisson of alarm spikes through her, and she makes a warbled mumbling sound before finally realising she won't be able to say anything beyond a stifled chirp. Franky's choked up. Better fly away home. So she does - with a swoosh of skirts and a silent slippered step, Franklyn exits stage left.