Log:Spring Court Meeting: November 2017
| Spring Court Meeting: November 2017 | |
|---|---|
"What are the positions?" | |
| Participants
Czcibor, Verily, Reggie, Etsy, Amber, Crystal, Alistair, Isolde |
2017.11.06 The Spring Court holds its meeting for November. |
| Location | |
| The Spring meeting was open to all Springs, not just Freeholders. So this meant it was held in the private dining area of Harvest Moon after hours. Roderick was on hand to escort people through the private entrance. Once inside it's warm and well lit and the tables are set up for people to sit. There's also food that's been prepared and set up. As well as drinks. Ranging from coffee and tea to wine. Isolde is seated at one of the tables wearing her scrubs. She didn't have time to change before the meeting. The southern twang is strong in this one. "So then the fella, he tells me he wants a gun that'll kill a moose at two miles. TWO MILES. Fella reekin' of some lame-ass Wall Street cologne, prolly got two grand wortha 'I've totally been there an' done that but not really' quasi tactical gear." A chomp down onto the cigar in the edge of his mouth and Billy Ray snorts at Isolde. "So ah kicked 'em the hell outta m'shop an' told 'em to git on down to Gander Mountain in Gainesville or somesuch. Anyway. City boys. Right?" He's sitting in a chair, kicked back, smoking with jeans and tshirt on (Guns n Roses, 1987 world tour) and hiking boots, trucker cap down low and cold Bud tallboy in hand he's sipping liberally from. Coat is to one side, heavy pistol on one hip, spare mags, multitool. The southern twang is strong in this one. "So then the fella, he tells me he wants a gun that'll kp reggie etsy=ill a moose at two miles. TWO MILES. Fella reekin' of some lame-ass Wall Street cologne, prolly got two grand wortha 'I've totally been there an' done that but not really' quasi tactical gear." A chomp down onto the cigar in the edge of his mouth and Billy Ray snorts at Isolde. "So ah kicked 'em the hell outta m'shop an' told 'em to git on down to Gander Mountain in Gainesville or somesuch. Anyway. City boys. Right?" He's sitting in a chair, kicked back, smoking with jeans and tshirt on (Guns n Roses, 1987 world tour) and hiking boots, trucker cap down low and cold Bud tallboy in hand he's sipping liberally from. Coat is to one side, heavy pistol on one hip, spare mags, multitool. Looks like Isolde isn't the only one to arrive straight from business; Amber walks in at a brisk clip, dragging a black suitcase on wheels behind her and eyes hidden behind stylish sunglasses despite the hour. She parks the case just off to the side of the door, then makes a beeline for the table with refreshments, pouring herself a glass of white wine. Nevermind that she fills it well above 'polite' levels. Roll the dice and which reflection of Crystal do you get? Tonight, call her 'she', as that's how the chance landed. She's shivering a little when she comes in and makes to join the party, as her weathergirl chic involves very short skirts, which is only somewhat mitigated by a very big coat. "You can feel the cold coming. I miss warmer climates," Crystal says as her way of greeting. Also here straight from business, maybe, though a lower-rent version than Amber, who she trails inside and perhaps is talking to on her way in. She's got sunglasses on, which mitigates the mirrored gaze. A little, anyway. Easy to overlook, easy to blend in, as mirrored-faces are good at. Alistair has been contentedly seated at a table with a bottle of wine set before him and a glass half filled. In his lap is a lute which he strums negligently in a recreation of early music. The music wafts through the air with romantic refrain though it occasionally pauses as he takes a sip of his chosen beverage. As others stroll into the room, he smiles and tilts his head along with the music as if to greet them on cue. Business? What's that? There's a sports car parked outside and the person who floofs out of the passenger side of said electric sports car is dressed in a Hedgespun dress and battered silk slippers that might fall apart at any second. She doesn't so much walk as drift from place to place, her feet barely seeming to touch the ground, and leaving not so much as a footprint in her wake. Graceful and drifting: our Etsy. How much magic does it take on a regular basis to just do that? Who cares! Fairy magic is for mermaids. Her dress is an Empire-waisted, long dress that looks like Carribean-blue waves are crashing across her body; her eyes are currently the same color and the dress seems to match her eyes. At her feet, a corgi-sized otter trots alongside her, occasionally shooting dirty looks at the other person who accompanies Etsy. Did you know otters can give dirty looks? Well, they can. Under the floofy feather-like eyebrows, the mrbl occasionally shoots looks like daggers at Reggie. "A Billy Rays!" trills the mermaid, floofing toward her motleymate. He gets first greetings. "Hello a Billy Rays!" It's hard to be a tough guy when you're getting hugged by a merms, maybe.
There's a Bud put down and a hug for Etsy, even spinning her around with a grin. "How in the holy hells are you doin', Miss Etsy! An' Misser Reggie. And yer fine friend there. Y'all wanna Bud or somethin'?" Reggie is dressed in an obnoxious sky blue suit, dandelion yellow shirt, and blaze orange tie at the moment. His usual aviator look is dispensed with in favor of the company. Still, his outfit is probably as loud as a Spitfire's engine. Figuratively speaking. The decidedly otterish fellow waddles and totters along after Etsy, his large brown eyes wide and alert. "Good evening, everyone. So good to see you all." He gives the room a wide, sharp toothed smile, accompanied by a glint off his incisor that comes accompanied by a quiet muted sound of a bell. "And especially to you, Billy Ray. Largely on account of having Esther wrapped about you at the moment." "I can be arm candy," Crystal tells Amber. "I'm good at it." There are some people who just have confidence even in a crowd of those who stand out over them; that's the little mirror-mirror Fairest to a tee. She shrugs off her coat just before accepting the wine, and her answer about where to sit is given by her claiming a seat somewhat opposite Billy Ray so as to look him over with interest. One can't miss the twang. It's interesting. Plus, he's being mauled by a merlady. And surprise -- she's got a freehold token. That decision only took her months to make. Isolde gives a smile to Billy Ray, "Didn't they realize this isn't a really big city?" she asks him. Then there's a look to the others that start to come in and there's smiles and waves given, "Come on in and get something to eat and drink. We're going to try to keep the meeting short this evening. I just wanted to get everyone together and talk about a few things." she admits. "And it's good to see everyone. I think we might have a few late arrivals." she admits as she looks at the time. "Ah still plum think that Yankees ain't got no right with no high powered rifle. Prolly drink a latte foam cappa-macchino with it an' whatnot." Reggie gets a man hug after Etsy - pull in, hug, backslap from the short wizened, a hug that slips a pint bottle of good gin and tonic into the the other man's pocket smoothly. He settles back into his seat as Isolde starts to speak, waving to the others. A big noisy smooch to the top of Billy Ray's head, and Etsy floofs back to Reggie's side, leaning in against the dapper Beast casually. This only makes the silvery-blue hedgebeast otter glare even more at Reggie. "Oh, pff. Us having a Yankee backgrounds can do a shoots with a big rifles, Billy Ray. I will take it as a bet with you, can do a shoots." The mermaid winks at her motleymate, and raises a hand to wiggle webbed fingers at Amber. "Hello Amber! Did not have a seeings for a long time!" As Etsy stays settled in against Reggie, her ridiculously strong Mantle splays out around her, little vines with small white flowers and a wash of Spring morning air, salt-tanged with the ocean. "Who is a friends?" Alistair continues to play in the background as he watches the three meet and greet as boon companions do. It brings a smile to hs face seeing such divergent souls unifying thusly. "Truly, a woman of confidence can be so much more than an arm. A woman of notice should command the room. Let others be the candy in their dotage." He chuckles and gives Crystal a nod of recognition. Amber grins brightly at Crystal, even as she claims a seat next to the other woman. "I thought you might," she offers in that low, rumbly purr of hers. She lifts her glass then in salute across the room, flashing Etsy a smile to go with it. "Too much business lately, not enough fun!" she offers as explanation. "But this is Crystal..." She starts to say more, but Alistair's comment seems to tug her attention instead, one brow lifting as she studies him curiously. Manhugs are received with a chuckle from Reggie. Mainly because he follows this up with a noisy kiss right on Billy Ray's cheek. Basically undoing all that hard heterosexual delineation. He's happy to slip one arm around Etsy's waist when she settles in against him. It leaves the other one free for fishing out the bottle Billy Ray planted on him. Niiiiice. He drops it back into his deep pockets with a satisfied smile. Tonight is going to be good, either way! He offers Amber a cheerful wave, to boot. And Crystal and Alistair, by extension. Isolde gives a look to everyone and then there's a look to Alistair as he speaks and there's a smile, "He has a way with words." she chuckles to that. "Why don't you introduce yourself?" she offers her fellow Bright One. Billy Ray finishes his Bud, snags another one and opens it up, stubbing out his cigarette and exhaling politely to one side before he takes a long draw from his new beer. Crystal follows up Amber's half-finished introduction with: "Dorian. Crystal Dorian. Dorian Crystal." As if it goes both ways, which in a sense is quite literally so, though she doesn't pause to elaborate. That one name she goes by might be recognizable, however. If you watch the local weather channels. No, not the popular one. The other one, and only early mornings and weekends, odd hours to be sure. The gesture she makes to lift her glass echoes the way she points out a storm front -- that's ONE logical job for a Telluric, after all, weather prediction. "Names would be good," she says, nodding to Isolde. "This is a very different crowd from the last meeting I was at." After having lavished attention on her motleymate, Etsy turns her attention toward Amber again, smiling that broad-yet-close-lipped smile she has. "Am glad for the works letting you do a come to see! Missed a seeings of you. When seeings you last I was livings with... Angelicas? Yes. So longs ago." A handflip toward Crystal: Etsy seems as though she's swaying in a current that only she can feel, or maybe she's slightly drunk. Her head tilts toward Alistair, and her eyes go slightly brackish-green, the dress shifting its color to match. The otter at her side (the four-legged one) sits down, grumbling. "Should just have everyone introduce themselves," the mrbl mutters. "I can't remember people for her if I don't know their names." "As the lady requests." Alistair dips his chin to Isolde and sets aside the lute with a deft ease. Rising to his feet, he nearly floats to a standing position and offers a bow to the room. "I am Alistair Griffin." His voice is smooth as one might expect from crooners of a bygone year with just the hint of a French accent, "Recently come from Europe with my companion Lancelot. Now my reasons are my own but happenstance favors the bold and so I've recently come to enjoin myself with a name known to you, November. Vibrant as she is.. I find her manner quite infectious and her recent patronage of the Rising Sun Tourney is right within my bailiwick." He grins, "I am here for your muse and whimsy but also have a knowledge of the spirit world as well. Turn of phrase, flash of blade or crackle of the lightning of the will within.. I am your man." Billy Ray raises after a few long gulps from his beer, lifting his hand. "Howdy y'all. Names Billy Ray, Johnson. Knight a' the Honorable Order a' th' Third Hour. Greenie, Custodian in' trainin'. Gunsmith, inventor, token an' Hedgespun maker. Got a gun, archery, armor and blade bizness in town called Hold Mah Beer. Paramedic, do some work now an' then with our boss there at th' hospital." Thank goodness that mingling mantles can often cancel out some things of reality, though sometimes only as effective as a Fabreeze candle in a fish cannery. Grungy but not fashionable arrives the drifting seagull, Verily, dressed as either homeless or crazy or both. Perhaps the restaurant staff is quickly texting Isolde or perhaps this is normal enough for them that they don't have to. Verily has her hands in her long coat's pockets, long steps bringing her into the casual sphere of Springs. Whomever she is closest to may now understand the 'Fabreeze candle in a fish cannery' reference.
Unless whoever Verily is closest to has a seriously stunted sense of smell. Like a tin soldier, say. A tin soldier who is being kind of a jerk and wearing, over his coat, a fake Winter mantle because snowflakes are pretty and there's a lot of Spring mantle in the air at the Spring meeting. He stops next to Verily and asides, "I love this contract, it's trash and I'm trash for using it and I am rolling around in this trash." He can hear people doing things like introducing themselves, so he straightens up and lifts a hand, sounding very Polish and very cheerful. "Hi. Captain Czcibor Kowal der Landeswehr, independently wealthy hot air balloon operator, and I joined both the Greenies and the Harvestmen last week. I like drinking, Star Trek, healing, trolling, mucking around in the hedge, and messing with my mantle." Fortunately (???) for Etsy, she's not just Mantle Out The Butt but also a Flowering, so everything around her smells like sea air and lilies. Lots, and lots, and lots of lilies. All the same, she does step aside and a little closer to Reggie, a little bit away from Verily. Clearly she's just leaning in against the otter-in-a-blue-suit because they're so snuggly and fucking cute or whatever. "Hellos! I am an Etsys: Esther Swifts, but everyone has called me Etsy for ages and an ages and ages. This is Reginald H.S. Dangers. I am a Sacred Couriers and a Greenies and a Watchers, the oneiromancers of Adventure Time! It is very important to knows because Billy Rays did not tell you this that the name of Adventure Time! the motley has an exclamation points at the ends. ALSO he did not tell you he IS an Adventure Times and I am going to do a pout at him right now." Look, she just did. Look at that. Fairest fucking pout. Run away, BR, run away. "Anyways, is my Reggies, right here, who is not same as Reginas, who is not here right now. Regina Hazards and Reggie Dangers is both Adventure Times, but Reggie is otters and Regina is seals, is very important to know a differences. Our Keepers did a liking so much of vicious creatures for their arenas, good thing they also made mes so sweets," she laughs absently. While she speaks, she sways casually as she has been the whole time. "Reginald H.S. Dangers has no Freehold positions, and is the amazingness of a Golden Standard and also a members of Adventure Time! which again has exclamation points at the end. Because it is very much like Golden Standards, so incredibles. The end!" Alistair paid due attention to each as they introduced themselves. Etsy's 'odd' manner of speaking didn't so much as bring a raise of an eyebrow, he just nodded along at her explanation. "Well. I am glad to see that your motley has formed a tight bond. I can only hope that we three come to a similar understanding in time." He glances towards a wall as though looking beyond it. "I will simply trust that it shall as we are all folk of bright hearts." He gives a nod at nothing then looks to the rest. "We shall see to what end I shall serve this Freehold." A beat and he glances in a sweep across the room. "I am open to suggestions by way of need. From those who've been here a pace that might know." Verily turns her head, and there is Captain Tinpants. She stares at him, looks him up and down, and after about ten seconds she asks with light confusion, "So you're a dog?" This distracts her well long enough that it's another ten seconds before she looks away as if it's a surprise that the place is full of other people. "Verily Kittiwake. That's who I am but some of that is a pun. A Kittiwake is a kind of seagull." Yes. Yes it is. "Miss Etsy is right, ah plum didn't include the motley and fer that ah'm sorry," admits Billy Ray. "Ah'll owe her a rack - no two - racks of fresh grilled meat goodness this weekend fer my disrespect." Isolde gives a grin as everyone introduces themselves and she waits to go last. "I'm Doctor Isolde Garreau. Grandmaster of the Fate's Harvest Greenies, Sylvan Emissary to the Freehold and Claviger within the Court. Master Goldspinner of the Guild of Goldspinners." she offers. "Speaking of Freehold positions. If you are pledged to the Freehold and are interested in being a Verdant Advocate, Sylvan Emissary, Archivist or Sage Escort, please let us know. We have plenty of roles that need filled." she states. "It's nice to see the new faces." she greets those she's not met before. Crystal leans elbow on table and chin on hand to observe all these introductions, each more colorful than the last. "This is way better than Match-dot-com," she asides very quietly, maybe to Amber as most familiar face but also maybe not. She adds: "I've been in the freehold something like a week, and I almost didn't join, so I haven't found a use yet either. I suspect it'll be awhile." Then Isolde's proposing court positions, and she tilts her head thoughtfully. Amber smirks, and murmurs, "I at least take it to mean you decided to collectively swipe-right the lot of us, by joining." She winks at Crystal just before taking another sip from her wine, though she too looks more thoughtful at the mention of currently open positions. There's a yelp from Etsy not long after she speaks, and then she looks down to her side, her big sea-change eyes welling up with tears. A half-second later, she's fluttering off after the hedgebeast that's fast-waddling away from her. "I'm sooooorryyyyy!" she wails, because Etsy forgot to introduce the mrbl, and she limps a little because apparently the mrbl bit her ankle in retribution. They'll be over in the corner arguing quietly, apparently. Poor Reggie. What an awkward thing when your girlfriend's hedgebeast is angrily jealous of you. Alistair considers Isolde's suggestions with a stroke of his beard. "Indeed indeed. The pleasure is in the meeting but also in the purpose for do we not all seek purpose in our lives?" Call it a philosophical point that requires wine. He reaches for his glass and drains half of it. "But as was spoken before, now is not the time for politics." He chuckles and goes to pick up his lute, plucking a few strings with nimble fingers. Verily shakes a hand through some long locks of her hair and a few dirty-white feathers and down float from the greasy strands and don't quite hit the ground, sublimating from the gravity. She raises the hand, long spindly fingers and short, chewed nails with an undercurrent of dirt. "What are these things? I mean I obviously know what they are," she lies poorly while chuckling at anyone who doesn't, "but everywhere is a little different and you guys are so small it's cute. What do those do here?" Crystal gestures at Verily with her wineglass, nodding her head. "Is there anything we should know about what's wanted for those positions? Expectations?" she asks Isolde, though her gaze keeps drifting over to Etsy and the mrbl. It's hard to ignore that small scene, right? Right. Isolde watches Etsy go, "Oh dear." she shakes her head. Then she looks back to the gathered and there's a smile, "I can explain a bit on the Freehold positions, yes." she agrees. "Verdant Advocates, are like Lawyers who know the system and can get you out of trouble with the mortal law. For a price." she states. "Sylvan Emissary's are Ambassador to other Courts, freeholds, or other supernatural groups meant to maintain positive political and social relationships." she continues explaining. "Archivist's are responsible for remembering all of the traditional celebrations and all of their vital details, including timing, location, necessary participants and important related activities. They come up with ways to keep them interesting." she grins at that. "And Sage Escorts are Courtesans who express sexuality as an art form and use it to glean information, bolster weaknesses in the community or to soothe wounded souls." she tells them. The argument is short but vehement, carried on in half-whispered-speech, half-animalistic-body-language. The flowery floof apparently apologizes, but ends up ending the argument by baring a mouthful of piranha teeth -- incongruous to the rest of her sweet-as-peaches appearance -- at her hedgebeast and turning to limp back. She fishes a preserved blushberry out of her pocket and crunches down on it sourly, finding a chair and flumping down on it. No opinions from Etsy on jobs. "I did not introducings the mrbl," she offers with the sort of sourness that it takes a Peeved Playmate to truly encapsulate. "Excusings, please. That is mrbl." Her attention focuses far more politely on Isolde now, and possibly Ignoring her hedgebeast, who slinks under her chair, chastened. Clearly Czcibor is ignoring the 'dog' comment. He's shifting from one foot to the other. He's NOT RESPONDING TO IT. Finally he bends down a bit so as to more easily sort of irritable-whisper, "No I'm not a dog. People who are not dogs can also roll around in trash. Animals who are not dogs or human-shaped can also roll around in trash. Also Oscar the Grouch. So I am not a dog. I am Oscar the Grouch. And that was a good question." He straightens up and goes to get ... wine, he guesses, because there's nothing harder and he doesn't feel like getting his flask out of his literal hollow leg right now. It's absolutely necessary to have that wine at the very end of what Isolde says. It's also yet another case of Czcibor Kowal being extraordinarily glad that only his mask has the ability to blush anymore and he's not strengthened it. He downs his entire glass. Isolde looks under the table and wiggles her fingers at Mrbl, "Hello darling." she tells the otter. Then she straightens herself up. Just as her phone chimes. It's like the hospital can sense when she's doing something! She takes it off of her belt really quick, "I have to take this, but, if anyone would like to inquire about Freehold positions, just ask Councilor Pook or ask around. Roderick will make sure everyone is tended to. And take something home." she smiles as she rises. | |
