stranger.

[angstfactory]

OPEN - Masquerade

Fitzroy may have come stag to the grand reopening of Midnight Mirage, but that wouldn't prevent the male from having a damned good time. In fact, he had intentions to ask just about every person he saw in attendance for at least one dance before the night was through. He loved to dance. And it was a masquerade! If anything, the night was made for bold choices.

He sidled up to the next person, already a couple of drinks and several dances in. "And you!" Fitzroy greeted, with a wide grin as he tossed up his cane and caught it about the middle in a dramatic flourish. "I would be honored if you'd join me for a fresh turn?" Here, the British male gestured the walking stick towards the area where a number of couples were already dancing. "Or," he considered then, because Fitzroy felt a bit off inside and as such, knew a break was important too, "at the very least, allow me to fetch you some libations?"

[ogallchoir]

Humans, since Fionn had only just begun to know them, had always been delightfully dedicated to finding new ways to throw a wonderful party. He'd never fault them for that, alone; change was one of the few eternals. It was only that in their search for the new, they'd forgot so much of the old, and, packish, grasping creatures that they were, embraced so much of the same. Lost their wondrous variety, to a point. Still, this particular theme, quaint as the notion was, had left a nostalgia as lovely as his lace draped over the evening, had him dwelling, unusually, on days gone by.

Unusual, because Fionn, of course, did not miss anything. He had plenty of practice, after all.

And this stranger, manners as dapper as his styling, had simply sidled up to the rhythm of Fionn's fine mood. "Oh, why not both? Come along, then..." Those quick hands of his found their place, sweeping the fellow along. Fionn led, gladly. For now. "I can't say I've been asked to dance so graciously in quite some time." Longer than this partner had been foxtrotting, certainly. Still - "You step so well, too! What other charms do you have to share? I must know."

[ogallchoir]

It's been an age (or three, but who's counting?) since Fionn's happened upon a masquerade of any caliber. He'll be arriving in...

A deep-necked, open-chested and bare-backed lace... robe, very finely filigreed in warm white thread. It's probably thread? Not spiderweb harvested under the summer sun, or anything like that.

A many-layered necklace, stacked wrist and ankle bangles, rings (some clawed), and a mask, to match, all green-blue with patina. (He has maintained his human glamour for the occasion, besides allowing the true shade and length of his hair to show - so behind that mask, he appears to have two eyes. Though if you look into that one a little too long, you might regret it.) Somehow, despite all the trinkets on him, he moves so, so quietly.

A shoulder mantle of terribly soft fur, shifting from a golden brown-red to... the same warm white of his hair, actually. As a matter of fact, the darker shade is rather like the colour he keeps for his human glamour's hair.

Long, wild braids, linked and woven by more patina'd jewelry. Long long, like hanging down past the roots of his tail. Which he doesn't have. But if he did.

Bare feet, flecked with what might be flakes of that patina? He appears to suffer no discomfort for walking about shoeless.

[ethanxwaldmann]

Watching as his fire danced around his hand, Niamh clapped her hands again, this time bringing up some of her own flames. She let them play and flit around them, burning away some of the dead brush. Tempted to just let them burn because a wildfire might be fun, she forced herself to keep them under control. She didn’t know him, but . . . well, if he was from her father’s court, then she probably shouldn’t give him a reason to consider her an enemy. And if he was from her mother’s? They wanted to kill her anyway, so it’d be best not to waste her strength and power on playing.

Still, so far he’d been friendly, and Niamh was too relieved to have another fae around to start asking a lot of questions.

She giggled as he introduced himself, and she made a quick curtsey with that smirk of mischief that always got a laugh from her mother and a sigh from her father. “Greetings to you, Fionn Ó Gallchóir,” she offered, doubting that was his given name. He wouldn’t lie, of course, but didn’t the older fae all have names given to them from multiple sources? They’d all count as truth. She wasn’t old enough to have collected many. Name, name . . . well, she had her nickname, of course, and her last name should be safe enough. Stars above knew, but Manannán mac Lir had lots of descendants, and he’d probably already guessed her father was a light fae based on what she’d already said. “I’m Nia mac Lir.”

[ogallchoir]

Free with her power, even here; the cheery, thoughtless extravagance of youth. Or of a long, venerable line - how deep did her blood run, how brilliantly dark or brutally bright with the magic of their kind and kingdoms? He'd have to taste it to know for certain. Someday. No simple pixie, this. Of that much, he had no doubt.

Fionn didn't rush the child any as she considered her answer, as she should. Names were worth considering, among their sort. Humans, they gave theirs away so freely - such that most hardly held any power at all, for whoever bore them or anybody else.

His brows jumped up as Nia chose her introduction, at last - oh, the stories that name held. "mac Lir? Of Manannán himself, or his great hosts of children, siblings, cousins? I've met but a few. They all gave truth to the legends, though." And Manannán, his ilk, were the stuff of legends. They had been remembered, however thinly, by mortal things. Spoken and written of. His family, for all their airs, could hardly claim such a thing. They'd been too precious with themselves, too aloof, far and away from the peoples of this place. Before his time, at least. Manannán - he'd been a god. "What an honour it is, to know another." What grand stories might she have to share, the epics of a rich legacy? What a meal she might become, made up of a light hardly dimmed by the unbelieving ages...

[lenavvard]

God, but he did speak in riddles. Folding his words over back onto themselves. It was like that carnival game, a pingpong ball hidden under a cup. Robby didn't think she had any chance of following the ball, of choosing right. "I wouldn't say it's idle." No, she wasn't researching demons as a lark, some frivolous whim to pass the time. "But seeing as I hardly know anything about them, aside from what the Church has to say, I'd think any information might help." It's not like she knows anything identifiable about her demon, anyway. No name or title -- she doesn't even know enough to know what might be identifiable.

She isn't sure, even if she could ask about her particular demon, that she would want to know.

"No, I probably wouldn't. I probably wouldn't even be here, in this town." Would she have turned and left home, if she had better information, better answers, as to what exactly was going on with her, post exorcism? But she was there, in Raven's Peak, with a stranger in a bookstore, asking for any help she could get.

A near stranger, anyway, as now she had his name. And she took the seat offered too, perched on the very edge of it -- like she expected to be ushered away at any minute and didn't want to get comfortable. "Just New Jersey." Far enough while still somehow seeming like it was in the area. That was the thing about the North Atlantic Coast. That was all she offered before she asked it back. "How far did you come?"

[ogallchoir]

Pleased, Fionn gathered her answers with a grin. She wouldn't call it idle. Good; she'd have been a liar if she did, he suspected. And there were few things a human could do that offended him so terribly as lying. (When he couldn't even return the insult! Cruel. Enough to drive him mad with envy.) And she'd take any information? Daring. Delightful.

Where would she be, though? Did she have a destiny awaiting, before her story tangled around whatever it was, precisely, that had sent her careening away to Raven's Peak? Or - she was young, still, in human years. How long ago had her path swerved? Had she already been dreaming of where she might go, whatever purpose she'd discovered, or hoped to on the way? Did she clutch them close, still, those hopes? Or was it only fear, mortal fear, that kept her from giving up entirely? Whatever the answers might be, Robby's troubles had remained mysterious enough to bring her before him - and for that, he'd be grateful.

(For now, at least. She could always change his mind.)

Sharp elbows perched on the velvety arms of his chair, Fionn leaned forward, chin set atop his steepled fingertips. Rapt. "New Jersey," he echoed. What was the nature, he had to wonder, of her home's relation to Old Jersey? A charming little bailiwick. But Robby had not struck, so far, as the work of any island-stuck village. Before he could ask her over again, dig deeper, she spun the question right around. And to that, Fionn blinked and beamed. "Farther than you've ever been, I suspect." Not, necessarily, further than she'd ever go. Probably, but. His days of Seeing any of the many futures a soul might stumble through were behind him. And, hopefully, ahead. Once that eye of his was home again...

Anyway. "You have a church, you said. Which one? What did they tell you, of demons and their works?" Churches - and all the rest of these human faiths, they'd spun together so many since he'd first come bounding through the veil - were such tale-tellers. It would do well for him to have some sense of what Robby, student of demons, believed.

[ogallchoir]

[fadedstarsfms]

Camila tended to have trouble sleeping. Maybe it was the dark magic she grew up with causing problems early or maybe it was some form of lingering hold her parents had on her. But either way when she did her dreams were always nightmares and sometimes it was easier to just avoid sleeping all together. She decided to explore the town at night, thinking it was less crowded than normal so she didn't have to worry about being around too many people, when she came across a beautiful park even in the nighttime.

Her head was cocked to the sky, never having seen so many stars like this back home. Camila jumped when someone else called out to her. "Yeah this is the first time I've seen them here. Damn fog has been covering them up too much." This was the first time since Camila was in town that the fog seemed to dissipate at least enough for her to see the stars. "I think there are stars here, yes? I haven't seen them before but I'm sure that's due to the weather."

[ogallchoir]

How she hopped. A grin flitted over his face, fast as any hare. His walk, though, stayed slow, steady. The first time? One of these mortal things that stayed holed up away from the world, then? Or - a terribly new arrival, like Fionn? No, no. Not alike in that way. Not fae. He'd have noticed. Even with his Sight so poor, he knew his kind when he found them. She was something else.

What, he'd find out. If his fellow night-wanderer remained interesting enough to bother with. The tilt of his head mirrored hers as he came to a stop. The weather, yes. Humans often chunnered on about it, through all ages and in every place and tongue. "Speaking of. I don't suppose you've heard any word at all as to what might be... up, with all this?" He swirled his cigarette-hand through the thickness of the grey, grey air, then paused, that grin sneaking back for a conspiratorial whisper. "I've been told some terribly strange stories." And, hopefully, she'd have more for him.

[ogallchoir]

Well, well. Head cocked, Fionn carried on the park path he'd found himself roving. Just another sleepless night, for him. Like so many others. Often, he'd while away such hours by finding someplace new to be; not this time. There was too much to be done in Raven's Peak, yet. And, so, he'd wound up wondering who might be coming his way through the fog-battened dark, a silhouette that seemed hardly more tangible than the smoke trailing from the cigarette he'd treated himself to. (An excuse, to keep his fire burning close. That's all.) Any human thing out at such an hour had to have a story. Perhaps they were mad. Or a poet! A prophet? A bard...

"Out star-hunting?" He called ahead, brightly; the pebbled path was oddly quiet under his drifting steps. "I am. I've been missing them. Terribly." All smothered by this not-weather. A pity. They'd likely have been the loveliest thing about this peculiar town. The stars were the loveliest thing about most human places. When you could see them at all. "You do have stars here, yes? On a usual sort of evening, about this time?" Once the human world had turned at least a few of its ever-buzzing lights down. They could be pretty, yes. But, like so much of humanity's creations, like humanity, on the whole - there was simply too damn much of them, an excess that dusted some of their charms away. This particular park, at least, seemed happy to let a few shadows lie, no streetlights jammed in to ruin them; seemed auspicious, that two midnight ramblers might meet in the depths of one. But, then again - auspices were beyond his Sight, now.

@fadedstarsfms

[ethanxwaldmann]

Niamh clapped her hands, giggling in harmony as the dandelion burned away. “You’re fire too!” she cheered, delighted to see it. She’d rarely ever met one of her element. Then again, she rarely met too many of the fae anyway. With both sides doing their best to either ignore or hunt them down, her parents tended to avoid them – keeping Niamh safely away from them as well. Most of her fae friends came from the rebels, the mischief makers, and the ones who preferred a more solitary lifestyle. Well, some of her father’s friends and family came around, even though they disapproved of her mother – but they treated her with a distant politeness. They would often help teach Niamh, or tell her stories, so she had a slightly more positive view of the light fae.

Those from the Unseelie side always seemed to want to kill her.

When he asked about her family, Niamh hesitated but decided some of the truth couldn’t hurt, and it wouldn’t be lying to leave some of it unspoken. “I don’t know,” she admitted, her brow furrowing as she glanced around the fog. “I’m not even sure how I got here. But the trees and the water don’t seem to have news for me, so I don’t think my parents are here.” She shrugged. “Or at least – not yet.” And since she didn’t have any contact with the rest of her blood family, she couldn’t really say anything about them. “I know more than me got pulled through because I could hear them that first night, but I don’t know who all they might be. I didn’t recognize any of the voices. And you’re the first of us that I’ve come across here.”

[ogallchoir]

Fionn flourished a burning hand. "Indeed I am. All the best lessons are found in fire, I feel." Was she simply that giddy a creature - not uncommon, among their kind - or was their particular gift unusual, in her kingdom? Her family? Her family which she seemed to have lost. Along with any explanation for how she and all the rest had wound up cast adrift in this mortal place. So, it truly had been some sort of... mishap? Accident? Curse?

That flame zigged between his fingers, wandering with his thoughts like a hare bolting loose. Then arced, flowing brighter, hotter, electric; the unthundered lightning he was so very proud of. Just another sort of fire, really. Wouldn't do to be wasteful, though. His ringless fingers snuffed it out. A wisp of smoke curled between his knuckles, and from his sharp nose, up, as he spiral-stepped lightly across the great roots of a creaking pine. "And what a joy it is to be Fionn Ó Gallchóir, the first to greet you! Would you bless me with your name? So a voice you do recognize might call you by it, for so long as you happen to stay." So long as she happened to be stuck.

[fadedstarsfms]

"What is the thing you missed the most? Anything you want and we'll do it together." Adelaide said with a laugh, she was always down for any form of chaos but especially anything that she and Fionn could get up to together. She truly was excited for them to be in town, maybe the fog wasn't the worst thing to happen to Raven's Peak.

"It's been way too long and frankly I've missed it." She pouted slightly, not even being able to place when the last time was. They certainly made a good team together and she knew that if Fionn was here with the demons it would have been even more fun. She nodded at understanding at the clarification of the question. "I've heard there were more of you but frankly I tried to stay away from most. Wasn't interested in having to watch my wording in fear of offending anyone enough to curse me." Adelaide joked but knew that the fae could be tricky if given the chance.

[ogallchoir]

Just one thing? Oh, dear. Choosing. Such a mortal preoccupation; a product of their limited time, he had to suppose. Fionn frowned, pondered that. "We could certainly drink someplace dry, if you've still the stomach for such things." Human liquor was lovely stuff, one of their more endearing inventions. "But, there's no greater hunt than that of a hunter themselves. Have you been plagued by any, of late?" In a world so burdened by unbelievers, such people weren't so common as they once were. But he'd never leave an opportunity to make them rarer still...

Of course she'd missed their good work, their grand adventures. Fionn pouted right back, then - found himself actually some sort of disappointed. Not in Adelaide. She was right to give his kind a wide berth, after all. Even if she couldn't lend him any direction to the next fae thing to catch and break the magic from, he'd find them. He wasn't even hungry, still, after that first bit of slaughter; it was just the fox in him snapping for more, having suddenly found itself among a host of chickens with blood on the air. "Wise, really. Terrible company, most of them." Fionn patted at Adelaide's hand, wrapped in his own as they roamed the greyed-out streets. "And where are you taking me, Wolf-Queen? What wonders does your melancholy homeland have to share?"

[hoosbandewan]

EWAN MITCHELL as AEMOND TARGARYEN House of the Dragon S2E3 - "The Burning Mill"

[mythtakcn]

It wasn't her best work by any means and sure, the meme was a little niche, but Emerson hadn't expected anyone to literally question her over it. "Uhh..." she started, staring back at the person who looked more than a little confused by her sign. She figured he had to at least know what the idea of D&D was, because anyone who didn't had to be living under a rock so she started off by explaining the meme itself. "Well it's a meme. So the two heads that look serious and scary, represent the person running the game and the people playing, and the goofy looking head represents the people who don't play at all. So I guess I'm essentially making fun of people who don't play D&D? Basically a joke...though it's less funny now that I've explained it." That was an okay explanation, right? She eyed the person expectantly, waiting to see if her explanation was good enough.

[ogallchoir]

A meme. Fionn had caught wind of such things, in the chatter of humans going about their days. He hadn't paid much attention; it seemed to have a great deal to do with all their little screens, the novelty of which had worn off rather quickly. Often, it seemed the human world spun on to some new thing while he was looking the other way, roaming someplace. They moved so quickly. Had to, he supposed. Wouldn't be fair to hold it against them, considering.

(Though he could always not consider, if it suited him.)

Dee and Dee, though. Playing Dee and - "Oh!" Fionn circled a hand through the fog-silvered air, as if to spin a memory from the threads of it. He never truly forgot; it was less that his memories became blunted and battered by time, like a mortal thing's might, and more that they were stashed haphazardly throughout the wild warren of his mind. "Yes! The game. The one that invited Satan Himself to drive you to madness and self-destruction. I recall. Ridiculous, of course." He scoffed, breezily. A truly bizarre hysteria, even by human standards. What a thing to believe!

"Every story I've ever heard - and that's a great many - agrees that He's very fond of games. But He appears to prefer them seemingly-simple? Dice, cards. And, naturally, He needs no rulebooks. The rules are His to make." If the Devil was as the tales told, anyway. (Truth in theory was true enough to take the weight of a lie off his tongue.) After another, closer look at the meme, Fionn eyed the artist right back. "Which are you, then? The player, or the master?"

[lenavvard]

"Well. At least one. Meeting more would be better...experience. Though, I'd be very sorry for them in that case." Robby met one and that was more than enough (Did it count as meeting, really? Being possessed. Maybe -- she did feel as though she knew that demon. However much she would rather not.) "I don't...know enough about demons myself to know how many one would have to meet to make them knowledgable." Were they like people, then? As varied as the next individual? Robby's demon had seemed so. She was hoping it would be more like...a creature. Animalistic. Something that could be categorized down to a species and understood at least to that level.

"You said you believe in them." At least, Robby thought that was what he had said. He had a strange way of talking, but of answering questions in particular. It was hard to keep track of what he was actually saying, at the root of it, with his almost circular speech. "Why is that? Do you...know anything about them?"

Funny, he should say there was no real answer, ever. That is how he talked. She should just keep asking. And keep asking, like all the rest of her life, getting round after round of answers that didn't make sense or didn't hold up or didn't actually answer her question. It sounded like he was maybe speaking from experience on this point -- about answers only every being right enough. "I guess it would just be easier if there was a definitive right answer. And some way to tell that one from the other." Especially when it came to this. To dealing with the demon that may or may not still have some grip on her.

There's a strange...sensation when she takes his hand, Fionn's hand. Almost like pins and needles but lighter, more pleasant. "You could call me Robby. It's nice to meet you." The truth, she found. "Are you from around here?"

[ogallchoir]

Sorry? Yes; for mortal things, demons were, for the most part, a rather bad time. Was it for her own sake that she wondered about all this? She seemed the very worst sort of human to run afoul of a demon - gentle, guileless. But. Humans seemed, often.

This one seemed to be staying, books clutched tight and questions tumbling from her lips. Fionn closed the collection of poetry he'd been toying with, slowly, and slid it aside, hands lacing. Believing, in demons; he had said as much, hadn't he? Something to that effect. "I did. And I do. But there is so very much to know, and so many ways to know it all. I doubt I understand any of it as you would. But, if your curiosity is merely idle, and broad, then, yes. It's entirely possible that I may know anything you think to ask." Fionn smiled, wide, crooked. Intrigued. "Then again," those long fingers swept open, "if you were to have questions about a particular demon, one I don't happen to be at all acquainted with, I might know very little of them. Nothing especially useful, even. If that were the case."

As for the easiness of any knowing at all - "Wouldn't it just? And yet. If your troubles were easily solved, you would not be here, I suspect. Asking a near-stranger for their thoughts on the matter." A mark of some desperation, to say the least.

In her hand, Robby's human hand, he met and greeted every electric arc of life, abuzz as she was with it. For now. "Oh, no. Not nearly. But neither are you. Where, then? How far have you come?" Through what demonic trials and tribulations? Humans always ached to tell their stories, sooner or later. And he could wait. When he wanted to. Turning to wave her towards another reading chair, all overstuffed and welcoming, Fionn settled deeper in his own. The picture of patience, or a fine facsimile, at least. He'd practiced.

[fadedstarsfms]

Adelaide laughed when he swung her around slightly, never expecting a greeting of any less enthusiasm. The two always seemed to find each other at the most random times but Adelaide always knew fun times were to be had. She nodded and hummed in understanding, knowing it was something that Fionn normally did. "Well I can't believe you're here. This really is cause for celebration somehow!"

She shrugged slightly, knowing that no where was really her home but Raven's Peak was as close to it as she could get. But even then Raven's Peak didn't feel like home to her for a long time now. "Yeah many many years ago! Definitely did not look like this when I was still human. Though to be fair you can't see much of it now because of the fog." She laughed again and gladly hooked arms with him. "Oh god those demons were something else, you really missed some chaos. I've ran across a handful in my lifetime but nothing like this. The whole town practically seemed to be infested with all of them. But I took care of them don't you worry."

[ogallchoir]

"Celebration, yes!" How did the Wolf-Queen celebrate these days? And in her own once-home, this... odd little town? Fionn chuckled, brightly, and looked forward to finding out. Arm in arm - Adelaide knew, as few did, which of those glamoured eyes was real, what side to stroll on - they began to meander down the grey, grey street.

Demons? Well, well. Raven's Peak was fast becoming rather more interesting than he'd expected. "A shame. I'd have been glad to wage a bit of war with you. It's been too long." And a battle fought alongside wolves, nevermind the likes of her, one of the first, the grandest - ah, what a way to kill. With wolfsong on the air. "But my kind is what I'd meant." Fae, stumbling in from the fog. "Haven't you met any? I've never known so many to tumble through, anywhere, without meaning to. Terribly strange."

[ethanxwaldmann]

“Oh, good!”

Bright and cheerful, Niamh spun around in her excitement at knowing she wasn’t alone in the mortals’ world. Granted, she’d been having a lovely time playing the human, but who wanted to be isolated in the world? When his own glamor remained steady and strong, showing no flicker of his fae heritage, she nodded to herself. See? She knew he was older – his control didn’t slip at all. Her father’s voice echoed in her mind, reminding her about keeping her own face hidden at all times in the mortal world. Sighing, she followed her new companion’s example and brought her glamor back up.

But her powers wanted to rejoice as well, so she let a few little sparks flare, sparkling about them as she nodded at him. “Most of them don’t even realize I’m one the folk they’re all whispering about,” she giggled. “Worry, worry, worry about the fog and chattering to me about it all day . . . and almost no one seems to have caught that I came with it!” Though she thought a couple of the wolves might have figured something out. “Hmm?” Her head tilted at his question. “Oh! I’ve been here mostly. So much energy binding the worlds here, isn’t there?” Not to mention her parents would have put their foot down about her wandering too far elsewhere. Raven’s Peak had an odd protection around it, keeping the curious away and giving magic folks a place of semi-safety.

But no reason to spill all that.

“Ocean, mountains, forest . . . and all the magic one could need in one place,” she continued, still sparkling a bit as she eyed some undergrowth. Perhaps a fire soon? It would probably do some of these trees some good to clear it out. “I played the imaginary friend for some of the children,” she explained with a quick grin. “You’d think parents in this place would be more watchful, wouldn’t you? I was tempted to lead a couple of them off, but Father wouldn’t have been pleased.”

[ogallchoir]

Perceptive; and, yes, young. Enough to follow an elder's example without questioning it, to choose sensible caution over wondrous, if reckless, freedom. Rather seelie of her. Even if she seemed to have done some gleeful mischief since she'd arrived. Nothing too un, though. Harmless tricks.

When she could have sparked so much more, clearly. The smile that lit his glamoured face was every bit as bright as her glimmers of flame. Always a pleasure to meet a fae who shared his element. There was an understanding, he found, in that. And, they were the most delightful to duel; also, ultimately, the easiest to defeat. Should the time come. It always seemed to. But, this one - well, she was amusing. And there were so many other fae about, to pick and choose and hunt. His fox-nose would forget her trail, for now. What a state he was in, full up with magic and mercy!

At any rate, he gave her fire a delighted round of applause. And nodded, yes; the roots of things were tangled in this place, bound. She could see it more clearly than he, Fionn didn't doubt. Half his Sight had been stolen, after all. But even so, he could feel something of the warp and weft of power. All the magic one could need. Passing his human-seeming fingers across the tuft of a dandelion, Fionn chuckled at the human foolishness she'd found. "You would, and yet..."

The dandelion scorched up and away, every pappus burning out like a struck match. So quick. Fragile as those easily stolen children. "Did your father come through as well, then? Did all your family?" Or were they still in those elsewhere realms their kind forged for themselves? Was there meaning, at all, to who'd been ushered through the veil, here, and who'd been left?

Had any of his - he'd find out. Sooner than later, likely. How delicious it would be...

[lenavvard]

Robby would also like to know what might make someone qualified to speak on demons and exorcisms. Would like to find someone who was qualified, however that may be. "Having met one, at least. You'd think." God, could it be that Robby herself was the most qualified person she knew on the topic of demons? That was...depressing.

The more this strange reader spoke the less Robby felt she understood what he was getting to. Like those folk tales about atmospheric lights luring travellers further and further off their paths the more they tried to find the source of the flickering beacon. "But what if my questions aren't the right ones? And how am I supposed to know if the answers I find to them are right?" That last part was the real snag. Anyone could make up an answer to a question but that didn't mean it was true.

It should have struck her as odd that he didn't offer to exchange phone numbers or social media profiles. But there was a general air of oddness about him. Like he was just left of human, maybe. (Still, she didn't suspect demon. There was none of the chill that ran down her back and arms when she felt her demon. None of that awful tingling, like being watched, but inside and out.) Whatever he was, Robby had the sense that he wouldn't be one to place or receive phone calls. Certainly not someone with something so mundane as an Instagram profile.

"Three days," sounding far less certain than he had. As he took up his seat once more, the image of a woodland animal curling into its den. Something sly, like a fox or marten. "I didn't even get your name."

[ogallchoir]

"Just one?" A single demon? When there was such endless variety, one to another? She'd think one enough? His brows ticked high, baffled. Then lowered: intrigued. Here she was, rather keen on finding out the right questions and right answers of a matter few of her kind gave any credence to, these days, and... yet. So plainly unfamiliar with her subject. Just less than oblivious. Of demons and exorcisms. Lacking the comfort, as she'd termed it, of not having to believe in what all went bump in the night.

(A human saying that had always mystified him. Bump in the night. Who could hear hardly a thing, any time of day, amidst all their noise? This was a human world, now, and its sounds were human, too. Humans and their industry bumped in the night, and the day, louder than anything else. Than all the old musics of this place.)

Head cocked, Fionn considered her. And those wonderings. "Then you keep asking. Until you find a righter question. The same with answers, I suppose. The best most answers can hope to be is right enough. More right than the rest. For now, at least. Until a better one makes itself known. Or the times change, and with them, everything else." Rivers could change course in seconds, but would, given a millennia. In sweeping floods or drop by drop, everything changed, was changing. Always. "I'd think," Fionn tacked on, a ravenish half-echo. And helped himself to one of the books he'd stacked up. Only idly, to have something to busy his hands. So it was no interruption, when she spoke again. (Unusual, he realized, even as he blinked her way; most humans were, categorically, an interruption.) His name? "Mm. No, you didn't." And she wouldn't. Not his Name. But a name would do. Unfurling a wiry arm, he offered her a wiry hand to match. "You could call me Fionn." "May I know your name, then?" Not, can I have, or give me. Dangerous things to say, with humans. The number of times he'd wound up with a stolen name, on accident. Such a rotten pain to return, too...

[barbieaemond]

AEMOND TARGARYEN 2.06 "Smallfolk"

[fadedstarsfms]

Adelaide didn't mind the fog, she was used to living a solitary life and frankly the fog just added to that since it was keeping everyone off the streets. But she didn't mind going out and exploring in it. Which was why she got excited as soon as she saw a very old friend call out to her. "As I live in breathe! What the hell are you doing here?" She laughed and gave her old friend a big hug.

"I've missed you too what have you been up to?" Adelaide immediately wanted to be filled in on any fun things that Fionn could have been doing since the last time they saw each other. "This is where I'm originally from! I come back from time to time just to check it out and make sure everything's okay." She laughed and bowed slightly. "Your oversight is forgiven my dear, don't you worry."

[ogallchoir]

Through all the long, strange centuries - that she was still glad to see him. The fact of it wasn't a surprise, but. Sweet, all the same. Fionn even swept his long arms aside, braced for that ferocious embrace he'd survived so many times over the seasons they'd shared.

(He'd nearly bitten her, the very first time. It had seemed the most reasonable response. But open arms, he'd discovered, were a sort of nest, a kind of den.)

"Oh, you know. Happily hunting." A fine answer to both of her questions, wasn't it? Setting Adelaide back down - Fionn had swung the Wolf-Queen up and around, swirling through the fog - he rolled the foxish shoulders of his human glamour, wearing a wide, crooked, grin. And a dazzle of surprise, as he gave Raven's Peak another look. What there was to be seen of it, anyway, given the weather. "Is that so?" Such humble beginnings, but. The very best queens were just the same. "And is it? Okay? I gather you've received some entirely unexpected visitors." Unexpected even to themselves, it seemed. Most peculiar. "I hope they've been no trouble, for you." And if they had, well. Now she knew who to send to sort it out. There, that would be a worthy gift! A bothersome head or two. Like the old, old, old times.