The Wayhouse's living area is busy, guests watching a particularly loud and explosive episode of a crime drama on the television or chatting amongst themselves, but the dining room beyond it is set up for the evening's meeting, complete with a rainbow walking in from the kitchen with a tray of what appear to be completely mundane cheese, crackers, miniature grapes and rather expensive wine. Also icy water, and, all by itself, quite out of place, a bottle of Fanta orange soda. It has fruit in the name. That counts, right?
November, Masked, is a rather monochrome rainbow, all things considered, at least below the neck: a butter-soft leather bodysuit hugs the androgyne's everything, fashionable and practical, given the kick-ass heels on her equally pitch black boots. She surveys her offerings, strums slender digits against a hip, and nods, satisfied, before shifting her weight to prop a hip up on the table's edge. Now, to wait.
Nathania arrives, wearing a pair of denim shorts and a tank top in a sunburst yellow. Her shoes are sneakers, and she nods to the rainbow. "Evening," she greets the Waylady, before taking a seat and pulling knitting out of her ever-present messenger bag.
Logan is timely, as he usually is, but maybe it helps that he practically lives next door. Whistling a tune to himself, he steps into the dining room with a carton of fresh California citrus tucked under one arm: blood oranges, kumquats, tangelos, navel oranges, a few lemons for color. "Evening, November," comes his bright greeting as he finds a suitable place to set the carton down on the table. He himself is dressed in an orchid blue unstructured seersucker suit with a blue and white striped t-shirt underneath, with white sneakers of a rather nautical bent on his feet. Basically, he looks like he stepped straight out of a J.Crew catalogue. "Hi, Nathania." The dolly gets a greeting as well. "How is everyone?"
Amber arrives moments later, clearly not a fan of 'fashionably late' for these sorts of things. She saunters her way in with her usual commanding strut -- and then stops, eyes briefly widening as she gets a look at November's current outfit. Leather gets surveyed all the way down to those bad-ass heels before a low whistle escapes the Spring ogre's pursed lips, flickering firelights in her eyes dancing even more pronounced than usual. "If ever there were a night I'm glad not to have missed the meeting..." she murmurs, grin tugging at one corner of her mouth as she finally sets into motion again to cross the space and claim a glass of wine.
Maggie is here with Maxwell, her mentor. The woman is just being very quiet where she's seated. She's dressed in jeans, blue t-shirt, boots today. Maxwell and his chipper self (not) is dressed in black jeans, t-shirt and shoes. He seems like he's just normally in a bad mood.
See, the Fanta totally fits now. Clearly, November was prescient, and knew Logan would be bringing a citrus buffet!
...or she is reaping the benefit of blind luck. You know.
With a smile and a twinkle-fingered wave at Nathania, she glances up at the motion by the mudroom door -- you can see straight through from the mudroom into the dining room, and part of the kitchen -- and waits for Logan and Amber to step in before greeting, "That makes all of us, unless we're expecting anyone else this evening..?" Golden eyes glance about the room from face to face, seeking confirmation or otherwise that anyone else is coming.
The sounded of his busted up car can be heard well before he arrives. When he does come inside Raymond's out of breath. The pale-skinned Summer looks around frantically and when he spots all the attendants he lets out a sigh of relief. The horned fairest's wearing a red t-shirt with the bombastic image of a jack in the box the text 'Out of the Box,' a pair of blue jeans, and dirtied black sneakers. His gaze shifts to the one face he knows in Logan, and he gives a quick wave as he crosses the room to greet him. "I'm not late am I?"
"I'm not... expecting... anyone," Nat confirms, riiiiight before Raymond walks in. "Oh. Well." She grins crookedly. "Welcome," she says, taking a break from knitting to get ice water, some fruit, and some cheese. Then she settles back in and gets back to work, occasionally popping a grape into her mouth.
Logan is watching Amber watch November, a rather pleasantly neutral expression on his face, when the others show up. He grins wide at Raymond, waving to the horned Fairest. "Raymond! So glad you could make it. Don't worry, we haven't quite started yet." The Golden Boy puts a hand on Raymond's shoulder and announces to the rest of the room. "Everyone, this is Raymond. He's a new recruit. Potentially." He gives the shoulder a little squeeze before letting go, crossing to the table to pour himself some ice water.
Maggie gives a smile when Raymond comes in, but she doesn't interrupt people. "I'm not expecting anyone." she shakes her head. Maxwell gives a shake of his head as well. But when Logan introduces him there's a wave to him, "Welcome, Raymond." the Native American woman states with a nod to him.
Amber shakes her head, even as she moves to drape herself into a nearby seat. "Gang's all here," she confirms with a little smile, even as she scans around the room and offers quick nods of greeting to those she's met before. Raymond especially gets a long study over the top of her glass as she takes a drink, but in the end she only lifts it as if offering a toast in greeting.
November gives Raymond a quizzical, but interested look before the man approaches Logan. Silent question follows, answered by the golden boy's explanation. "Is he, now?" Those golden eyes shift back toward the horned Fairest's face, and she gestures toward the offerings on the table with a light, "Eat, drink, rest assured that nothing here is a gewgaw of my making," while stepping around to approach Raymond, a hand outstretched. It's not entirely clear whether she expects it to be shaken or kissed. "Welcome to the madhouse, lovely. What has Logan told you about what we do here, and what we do for the freehold as a whole?"
The weisse frau lifts a hand to his chest at Logan's reponse as a happy sigh comes. "Awesome. The babysitter I had cancelled at the last minute, and I had to see if a relative could take the kids." Now relieved at the timeliness of his arrival he turns back to the others, and offers a slight bow. "What he said, yes." He was going to go get something to drink, but then he catches sight of Maxwell. As if on cue he crouches down to get eye to eye with the dog. He was reaching up to give the dog a pet when November's query comes, and he turns his gaze to the variegated woman. "That you all help and care for the folks recently arriving."
Nathania watches the interaction between Raymond and November. She tilts her head, knitting away. "It'll be... good to have more of us," she says softly, to no one in particular.
"I'd amend my own words by saying, we really help any visitors who approach us or the Wayhouse," Logan says brightly. He's standing against the table now, one arm folded across his chest, the other holding a cup of ice water that he sips now and again. The light around him shines softly, shadow occasionally chasing after. He turns his smile upon November. "But I'm sure the Waylady has her own take on the subject."
Leaning against the back of an unused chair while she watches Raymond, November nods, agreeing, "We do that, and more. In a way, we're the soldiers on the front line of a typically passive war -- this is a wayhouse, a place of Hospitality, and a place where Loyalists or Fae can enter with impunity. All are welcome here, and must be made to -feel- welcome."
A particularly loud series of explosions in the living room prompts her to fall silent a moment, waiting for the yells and jeering to subside back into angry shouting from the screen, not the couches.
The rainbow smiles slightly as she continues, "We see those coming to, or through, the area, and other members of the Freehold report potential trouble to us. Breaches of the mask, threats to the Freehold... -We- are its face to the outside world. We are the diplomats and ambassadors, because we know the rules, inside and out, and we educate anyone who doesn't know them. We know who is skilled in what, so we can point others to them. Where the Custodians are a repository of history, -we- are a repository of points of contact. People. We are also the first point of contact newcomers are directed toward, and -we- are the members who arrange meetings with the Crown for new pledges."
She falls silent there, waiting, watching him, letting him digest what she has said at his own pace.
Raymond rises back to his full height as November speaks. He sets his hands behind his back, and remains silent throughout. The hullabaloo from the living room does briefly draw his attention, but nothing more than a brief askance glance. There is a slight tic at even loyalists and the like being welcome. He nods in understanding when she's done, and he lets out a breath as if waiting to breathe until the leader was done. "Yes, I understand that all, and I'm willing to do what's necessary in such a task."
Nathania nibbles at a slice of cheese, her knitting stilled for the moment, while Raymond speaks. She nods, approvingly, before getting back to work.
Maggie gives a look to Maxwell when he smacks her knee with his notebook and she takes it from him, a pen pulled out and she starts to take a few notes with a bit of a smile. She doesn't glare at Maxwell. Nope. Not at all.
Logan has that pleasant, neutral expression about him again as November explains further, nodding every once in awhile, though not interrupting. When Raymond says he's willing to do what's necessary, his bright, shiny grin beams out again and he claps a little. "So glad to hear that. Welcome aboard. November," and he turns to the other Dawn suddenly, "I'd like to mentor Raymond, if that's permitted."
Golden eyes warm as November smiles at Raymond, many-coloured ponytail sliding forward a bit too fluidly over one pitch-black shoulder as she dips her head. "Then welcome to the Waykeepers, Raymond, and thank you for joining. You'll want to learn the goblin contract Hospitality's Hold, but I'm certain one or another of us can help guide you to the Market. For the time being..." The rainbow glances at Logan, then back at Raymond, head tilting as if to ask Raymond whether he's amenable. Leaving the decision to them, she adds, "My agenda for the evening is: 1) what or who has happened recently that we should be aware of, 2) questions or concerns, 3) anything else we happen to think of. We've been lucky, but we can't assume that will continue."
Nathania looks up and nods to November. "Have we... heard anything... of note?"
Raymond's gaze flits to Logan, and then back to November when she's speaking again. He moves away briefly to get a glass that he soon fills with wine and grabs a handful of grapes. When he's done he crosses back to his former spot, and whispers to the mortal among them, "What's his name?" Then, louder he addresses to the group altogether, "I only know about the things I saw posted up in Stoneheart. Some folks being kidnapped, a guy needing some help with, like fake limbs, a guy with a lost dog and (that /really/ needs to learn how to write better). I'll admit that I /do/ and would need the help with market. I don't really go and deal with that kinda place often, and have only done it once."
"Well, Raymond, if you're willing to let me mentor you, the market can be one of the things on our list," Logan suggests. "Apart from the items Raymond's mentioned, I'll be leading an expedition to the north to investigate the potential Freehold there. We have the Queen's blessing, so to speak." Still smiling, because he usually is, the golden Fairest sips his water. "If you have any further information or resources you'd like to contribute to this journey, please let me know before we depart on Sunday. We plan for this to be a diplomatic mission, and we'll bring back as much information as we can." But he sounds completely relaxed and confident about the whole thing.
Slender digits scoop up a small bunch of champagne grapes, turning them about to catch the light from different angles. Upon hearing the dolly, November flashes a sudden grin, laughing quietly, and tosses one of the itsy bitsy grapes toward her knitting. "That's what you're all supposed to help tell me," she notes toward Nathania, "not to put too fine a point on it. I'm one person. You are a very small legion to help me help the Queen." With a glance around the room to extend the question to them all, she asks, "What have you seen when you were on duty here? Was there anyone we should keep an eye on? I've met a Carter who's a wee bit far along, myself. Charming devil. Red, horned, hooved. A bit like Vorpal used to be. He doesn't seem aggressive, and he did pledge with Heather, but we'd best be prepared to help smooth things over with anyone frightened by his appearance."
With all the Dawns around him the heat around Raymond isn't the most pleasant, and he leaves flaming prints on anything he touches. He dips his head to Logan, noting, "I'll make sure to catch up with you asap. I do have your number alrea-" He stops, hastily setting his glass down before he takes that first sip. "There was one other thing. I saw this guy in town. He could see what I was, but couldn't speak a lick of English." The fairest goes about hastily tapping at his phone until he finds what he's looking for, and then holds it out for anyone to take. It's the picture of a man wearing a tan suit and yellow tie, and despite how nice his attire is it's covered in something iridescent that changes with his drastic movements. "I couldn't get his name, and when I tried to see if I could get his name he yelled some stuff and took off... Somewhere. I'm not really sure."
It doesn't seem much like anyone has anything to say about his news, so Logan settles in to listening, his eyes bright with interest at the mention of the various newcomers. Then, the white ceramic Apple watch on his wrist vibrates, and he pauses to glance at it. "Excuse me," he says, leaving his water on the table and smiling apologetically at the others. "I have to take this. I'll try and return when I can." At that, he leaves the room without another word.
Sidestepping to get a better look when Raymond pulls out his phone, there's no sign of recognition on November's pale features, an inquiring look studying Raymond next, before she nods at what he says. "Do you have any idea which language he was speaking? Was he disturbing anyone else in town?"
The rainbow waves Logan off, leaving him to his call.
"I don't really know any other languages," Raymond admits meekly. He rubs at the back of his neck then, chuckling before continuing on. "It sounded kinda like Japanese, but I could be way off it could be something from China. The closest I've ever heard to that is from, like, music and cartoons."
"I speak French and a few others, if it might help." Maggie offers up in a bit of a quiet tone. She didn't want to interrupt too much, but the Zoologist wanted to help if she could.
November nods to Raymond, and, then, to Maggie, suggesting, "Keep an eye out," to the room at large, "and report back if you happen to spot him." As an afterthought, she pulls a business card out of .. well, it had to have come from somewhere, to hold out toward Raymond. It has paint splatters on it and the Ninth Spectrum Paintball logo, along with a phone number written on the back in handwriting so neat it almost looks mechanically printed. "My mobile," she tells him. "Text me if you ever need me. I tend to have the ringer off, so calls are useless. Text will vibrate."
Glancing back at Maggie, she mentions, "On the subject of watching people, Maggie, I was wondering if we could borrow your fingers. Setting up a database, of sorts, to track healers, warriors, hackers, professions in general, names, contact information, et cetera. Rather than holding it all in our heads." The rainbow flashes the other woman a swift grin. "We do live in 2018, as Count is fond of reminding me."
Maggie gives a bit of a thought over something and there's a nod to November, "I could set up a spreadsheet and things. Keep it on a secure drive." she tells the Waylady. "And other folders and things. Probably what people specialize in. See if we can list people's numbers." she suggests.
Raymond takes the card after a bit of scrutinizing, and yanks out his wallet to stow it away for the time being. His phones moved back to his other pocket as he nods. "I'll offer what I can, and make sure to point both Sara and Elora your way when they get into town."
"I'm... no good here, but I'll... keep an eye out," the Winter chimes in, looking up from her knitting finally. Nathania's been quiet, thoughtfully listening, absorbing information as it comes her way.
November flashes Maggie another smile, and nods, agreeing, "That will do nicely. I'll touch base with you next week, see what we can get done. If you have any suggestions, please, take any initiative you like on it. I'd like us all to communicate a bit more than we have in the past." Glancing at Raymond, the rainbow's head tilts a smidge to the right, russet brows flickering toward one another in brief inquiry. "Sara and Elora?" Nathania, too, is given a nod.
Raymond was turning back to try to pat Meaxwell. He was so close when he hears the names called. He turns back around, and nods. "Yeah. My sister-in-law and sister by oath. They're like us, and should be coming into town some time soon. I went ahead of them since I wanted the kids to meet their grandparents asap along with all the stuff I had to set up at the shop."
Nathania is amused by Raymond trying to pet Maxwell repeatedly, and is grinning when her phone goes off. "Excuse me," she says, as David Bowie's 'Sorrow' starts to play. "I need.. to take this." She stands, stuffing her knitting into a bag which gets shoved into her messenger bag, before answering: "Hey, give me... a sec." And then, she's out.
Maggie gives a look to Maxwell as Raymond keeps trying to pet him. Maxwell, for his part is just watching the Summer with an amused look, "Excuse me. But what are you doing?" he asks him. The Chatelaine isn't sure if the other Changeling is alright or not. But he doesn't seem upset. "I wouldn't pet him!" Maggie pipes up with a chuckle as she moves out of swatting range.
November nods to Raymond, and, with a glance at the Summer vs. Maxwell, suggests, "Why don't we adjourn for the time being. If Logan doesn't work out as a mentor, we'll find you somebody suitable. Primarily, your 'homework' is to become conversant with the laws of the Freehold, more so than the average member. As you well know, given your recent joining, -every- prospective member is given the laws -before- we ever introduce them to the Crown. If they can't commit to our requirements, there's no harm in it, and it spares us the trouble of a member who doesn't want to belong."
Eyeing Logan's tray of fruit, she considers the living room, then leans over and scoops up the citrus tray. "I'll bring this out to the locusts, then. Meeting: success. Welcome again, Raymond, to the Waykeepers. Please don't hesitate to ask if you have any questions."
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