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Oct 24, 2023

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Hidebehind Cosmetics PARTIES: Ren and Regan SUMMARY: Regan asks Ren for help in fixing the necklace she uses for a glamour. The two of them go to Hidebehind Cosmetics for some help, where a spellcaster has experience in this area.

The dumpster child had proven both helpful and resourceful, but Regan had not found herself warmed up to the fae. In turn, she suspected the child distrusted her to some extent, too. Cliodhna would have insisted that the two of them had a bond deeper than anyone else could understand just by virtue of the wings on their backs, but Regan didn’t appreciate that kinship and she didn’t think Ren did, either. They had both been twisted in polarizing directions only to have been bent toward an uncomfortable center again.

Her skin already itched as she waited on Amity for the child to arrive, backpack looking out of place over her winter coat (or at least more out of place than the winter coat alone). A couple of passing individuals sent their biting bugs toward her, but she was looking for a mop of red hair and a perpetually confused expression. As her skin prickled once more, she tightened her grip on the defective necklace in her hand and turned, finding herself face to face with the dumpster child. Her clothes were ill-fitting and not the cleanest, but the stench of garbage was not on her, and she seemed more… open than before. Not immediately regarding Regan with as much wariness. But, she thought, there was still some. And it was returned. Regan’s eyes narrowed slightly but she did not turn away from the child, despite wanting respite from her proximity and that maddening tingling. “Hello. Seeing you is… well, I see you.” Could it really be called a pleasure? “I appreciate your attention to this problem of mine. I– really, I do.” She squirmed in her coat. “Here, this is for you. From the sewers. Emilio will want to know that you received it from me, I think.” Regan slipped off the rather juvenile backpack, which she’d done her best to dry, and handed it to Ren. Respecting the child’s wishes, she had not looked inside, though her mind was rife with speculation.

“This is the place you mentioned, right?” Regan pointed up at the Hidebehind Cosmetics sign, a confused wrinkle across her forehead. It was just… a cosmetics store? Not even a jeweler? Regan knew that getting her necklace fixed might mean suspending her disbelief. A little. But every day it was stretched thinner and thinner, more taut, and if Ren had brought her here only to have someone tell them they needed magic, she might just pop. “Someone told you about this place?” Her wings twitched uneasily under her coat. “What… did you tell them, exactly? Your contacts. Are they like you?”

Ren very much disliked walking through crowds in Wicked's Rest. It was a necessary evil sometimes, especially when there was an agreed upon date and time for meeting up with someone. Punctuality was a virtue, one the other fae seemed to share. She felt the creeping dread long before she even saw the oversized coat, still out of place even as the weather began to turn, not that it was ever something the young nymph was going to point out. Lord knows she didn't fit in with the humans. It was hard to imagine how much worse it could be if her glamour failed her.

The speculation alone was enough to drive her to help Regan. That's all this was. That's all it could be. While the medical examiner was perhaps the most tolerable of the other fae Ren had met, there was still something in that divide that she couldn't bear to cross. It was complicated enough trying to think of Cass as a friend. More of a… circumstance Ren found herself in. The allgoods were a group of friends, by extension that meant they were too, right? Van wanted them to be friends, and the entomid didn't want to let her down. Ren still wasn't exactly sure her definition of the term matched the other's though.

"This appears to be the place, yes." Ren nodded once, curt and to the point. She stood at attention without even realizing. Feet shoulder width apart, arms neatly behind her back, where her fingers could fidget unnoticed. "My contacts are–" a group of youths whose responses, while quick and surprising, were not nearly as calculated or curated as the nymph would have liked. "Not entirely vetted for complete accuracy, but are bound to secrecy and that will have to be enough. They cast wider net than I would be able to alone."

Something about this whole interaction reminded Ren of relaying information back home. Of talking with Jericho, one of the only other wardens besides Darya that she ever worked with. "We will proceed with caution. This is only first step."

Appears to be the place. Meaning that Ren had not been here before. Regan’s meager confidence in the situation took on water and sank, but she had exhausted all other options, and now that she had the tiniest sliver of possibility in front of her, she wasn’t going to turn it down without at least trying. “Your contacts sound unreliable at best, but even a broken clock is right twice a day.” She paused, taking in Ren’s Russian accent, and realizing she may not have heard that saying before. Also, had she bound them to secrecy? That would be surprising. Regan imagined Ren responding to geas with only vitriol. “So we proceed. But with caution.” She repeated and nodded in agreement.

Regan liked steps. She could do steps. But no matter how many steps there were, she wasn’t sure she could see the forest for the trees right now. How was a cosmetics shop supposed to help? Was Ren thinking she could just smear several bottles of concealer on the wings and that no one would notice them? No… she was cleverer than that. Regan pushed through the door and was both surprised – and not – to see what looked like an ordinary cosmetics store. Perfume hit her like a wall and a couple of employees maintained the appearance of keeping busy by moving things around on the shelves. There weren’t many customers inside. It was an odd type of store for Amity Road. Candles or artisanal soaps would probably do better here.

A dark-haired woman wearing a Halloween prop of a witch’s hat sauntered toward them with cheerful, blush-covered cheeks. Her lipstick – surely purchased here on an employee discount – was a shocking, sunset orange, making her look like one of the pumpkins they had on the counter. “Hi there!” She waved, “Are you and your daughter looking for anything? What can I help with?”

Regan’s head swiveled, wondering who the woman was addressing, since it couldn’t be the two of them. But there was no one else. And her eyes were looking straight into Regan’s. She turned to Ren, whiplashed. “Help.”

Words weren’t something Ren was great with. Nor was thinking creatively on the spot. The added bonus of being around new people, being around the other fae, and all the nonsense twisted up in her mind made her freeze. Wide eyed and staring at the shopkeeper with what could only be described as morbid shock. Too much stimuli all at once. But thankfully, she had been in a situation not too different. One where a stranger had taken on the role of her ‘sister’ in order to diffuse a problematic moment.

Confidently, Ren stepped in front of Regan. “We are closer to cousins.” Closer. Incrementally. By the sheer virtue of being fae. It left a sour taste in her mouth, especially after the way the nix by the river had used the same phrasing. It was, however, not a lie. Obviously this was the thing that had made the store clerk in the gas station relent, obviously. No other tactics necessary. Being family made people trust you. “We are in need of aid, yes. We have been referred to your establishment in search of… unconventional cosmetic. Not something applied with brush. Or perhaps someone who can fix a cosmetic that has been… disrupted.”

Perfect. Absolutely flawless. A master of subtlety and charm. The young nymph turned to look at Regan for approval, hoping that this would somehow win some points with the banshee. Something Ren wasn’t even sure she wanted to or why. But hey, weirder things had happened.

Ugh. Cousins. Regan had heard that one before, and she did not like it any more coming from Ren than from Teagan. She started to shake her head, but realized the path of least resistance was not refuting the comment. Better cousins than mother and daughter, even if the thread connecting the two of them was frayed. And what was that look Ren was giving her? Why were her eyes so big; why did she seem to be waiting for something? Was Regan supposed to take money out now? No… she tilted her head back in response, and the way Ren was still watching her made it dawn on Regan. It was the same way Regan looked at her grandmother, early on. Ren did want something, and it wasn’t money. “Oh, um… yes… that was a sufficient description. You have done well, uh, speaking.” There. Was that enough? Seemed to be.

Now it was the employee staring at Regan, like her eyes could bore right through the winter coat. She must have made some kind of sense of what Ren had conveyed, even if it went above Regan’s head. Code speak, maybe. “Oh, why didn’t you just say so!” The woman chirped, and Regan noted her nametag said Lizard. “Plenty o’ folks wander in here searching for our more unconventional products. So what’s your disruption? Wait, don’t tell me! I like to guess.” Lizard hopped over to Ren and studied her with an exaggerated scrutinizing expression. “Your cousin is supposed to be taller, right? Looks like someone took a few inches from her. We can help with that. Well, actually, we just sold the last of the Embiggening Spray to a young lady who wished to be a foot taller, but, you know how magic is, all fickle, and last I heard she came back in the other day after growing a third foot.” Lizard chuckled like all of this made perfect sense. Regan turned her head, slowly, to give Ren yet another look that said help.

“Aaanyway,” Lizard said, waving a hand, “Maybe I can whip something up for the little ladybug.” She turned, expecting the two of them to follow, but Regan stayed rooted in place. “It’s not–” she started, wondering how to explain. She had been wondering before, and at that point she hadn’t known this woman lacked all rationality. Now it was harder. “It’s not for her. It’s for me. And she’s, uh, tall enough. Look, I just need – I have these – on back, kind of like –” Regan made a grasping motion, “-- like, um, growths?”

The big green eyes still hadn’t blinked, if anything they seemed to gain a sparkle when the elder fae approved. A fluttering shaky sense of pride filled Ren’s chest. Quickly diminished by the shop owner’s comment and how it confused her. “I did say just so.” Her brows furrowed close together. She thought it was clear, and the woman understood so why say something like that? Lizard went on to say a hell of a lot more things, speaking in a manner that was slightly hard to follow. To translate while still trying to take on more information.

Physical cues were a little easier. She seemed… on board? Maybe. It at least seemed positive, like they were in the right place and this mission wouldn’t be a failure. It would be an annoyance, sure, but not a failure. Ren scowled at the nickname. “I am not a ladybug.” Did the woman somehow know the nymph was an entomid, or was it a general term she used for any feminine person of short stature. Even so, if she knew and purposefully used the wrong insect then this was an insult of the highest order. One Ren tried her best not to care about, considering the importance of their job here. Helping Regan get her glamour back.

“If this is correct place then let us speak plainly.” That part was out of the way. What use was the coded speech if this was the right shop. This Lizard understood. So why not cut more directly to the chase? The trio went further into the store, and Ren made sure not to say too much until they were far enough away from earshot of anyone who may not understand.

“Wings. She needs to hide wings. Cannot cast glamour. Had a necklace that was for this job, but does not work.”

Regan’s brow furrowed in disgust at how bluntly Ren spoke of her failure. Did she not understand how much of an embarrassment it was? Cliodhna never limited her berating on the matter. Leanbh, why is such a simple thing so hard for you? Fate has chosen you, yet you do nothing but disappoint her. It was true, but at some point, stuffing her death-given wings into a stuffy coat every day brought far more shame than needing to rely on the necklace. Even Cliodhna would have conceded to that point. Regan sighed, her shoulders slumping, and she fished the necklace from her pocket, though she was not yet ready to hand it over to Lizard. She had done her best to clean it, but the sewers certainly made it lose its shine.

Regan wavered between her feet with uncertainty. Her instinct was to refute what Ren had said, but then they would get no help, and she would be left with only an aching stomach to show for their efforts. Despite Regan’s astonishment that someone believed any of this, Lizard beamed with understanding, nodding enthusiastically and ushering the two of them into a private room toward the back of the shop. She closed the door behind them. Regan decided, then, that Ren’s forwardness was appropriate. “It used to… when I got it, it used to hide them completely; all I needed to do was wear it. But rats stole it from me, and when I finally got it back, it no longer worked. Now it does nothing.” Lizard gestured to hold it. “Lemme have a look. It sounds like we just need to put a little more oomph into it, get its magic juices flowing again.” Regan frowned at the word she so loathed, but she looked at Ren for permission of sorts and then handed the precious necklace to the stranger. “I do not speak in metaphors. You will have to be more precise with what you intend to do. But… yes, if you can fix it, I would appreciate it.”

Lizard looked at Ren with a raised brow, as if she found Regan’s comment highly confusing. “Well, let’s see ‘em then.” Regan bristled. “See what?” The look she received made the answer seem obvious. “What? Why do you need to see them? Can’t you just fix the necklace?” Lizard rolled her eyes. “Would you tell that to, I dunno, a tailor? No, they’d need to take measurements, right? And I need to see what I’m working with here. I bet your cousin has no problem with it!” She turned to Ren. “What do you say, ladybug? Show your weirdo cousin how it’s done?”

Few things made Ren more uneasy than a small closed off room. She should have been used to them, should have been able to keep her palms from sweating, her toes from tapping in her boots, her antennae from twitching underneath her– Oh. Oh no. The nymph’s stomach sank like a lead balloon, but if that is what needed to happen for the shopkeeper to be able to fix the enchantments, then she wasn’t going to be the reason Regan went without.

After a sullen moment of silence, the human visage that surrounded Ren dissolved. Shrinking her even further, revealing a humanoid insect that greatly resembled a praying mantis. Today it was more pink than her usual green, closer to an orchid mantis than the common brown or emerald. Maybe because there were far too many bright colors in this weird place. It was like her body felt the need to camouflage even as she was shedding her disguise. Her ‘cheeks’ flushed, a vibrant purpley color amongst the field of white and pink, and her head turned away. Not wanting to look at either Lizard or Regan as she was being studied.

“But— her’s is not exact same.” She admitted, sounding slightly different coming from the buggy mouth. “We are more… distant cousins than this. Her wings are hardly thing to be shamed from.” Ren would have given anything to be more like Regan. If she still had to be fae, if she still had to be this awful thing… couldn’t she at least have been the kind that looked more human? The kind that didn’t need to worry as much when they went to sleep. Avoiding any situation where she could be exposed. Too ashamed to look in a mirror when her face was her own.

Regan couldn’t stop the sound from pushing out of her lungs. Not a scream, but an abrupt, high-pitched gasp that cut through several glass bottles that lined the shelves of the small room. In Saol Eile, the others often spoke about fae who looked otherworldly. Faun, Regan had seen. And Teagan, too. But Ren looked the least human out of all of them, and the alien sight of her – unrecognizable in this form – made Regan’s head spin. Ren was a bug, a pink bug, and Regan could only stare and take in every jagged edge of Ren’s strange anatomy. It was no wonder she did not like being what she was. Regan gulped, then, finally, managed to pull her attention off Ren and set it firmly back on Lizard. It was easier when she pretended there wasn’t a giant praying mantis person in the room next to her (and Ren seemed to prefer it that way).

If Ren could exist in such a manner and let a stranger see her this way, then…

And oh, Fearg an chinniúint, Ren’s mouth. If Regan didn’t think Ren would shrivel into nothingness at the request, she would have asked the child to come into the morgue for an examination. This, today, was favor enough. Lizard, however, seemed delighted with all of this, awe plain on her face.

“Okay, I – okay. No, they are not precisely the same. I’m not… the shame is in my failure to do what she can do.” With a huff, Regan unzipped her coat and let it fall to the ground, her sore wings immediately spreading out and giving themselves a stuttering flutter to shake themselves out. They flicked back behind her, and Regan looked expectantly at Lizard, who seemed to be studiously absorbing all of this information. Remarkably at ease, though. She herself wasn’t fae, they would have been able to sense it; so how was she so comfortable with this? “What do you need me to do?” Regan asked, impatient. “Oh, just stand there! This is perfect.” Lizard immediately pulled out a tape measure, circling around Regan to get a better look. “Do not touch them,” Regan said, hissing a warning. With Lizard attending to her back, she dragged her gaze back over to Ren… whose eyes kept dancing away. Shame. Regan recognized it well. On some level, she realized Ren had done this for her, and she was deserving of more praise than earlier, better praise. But the bug… Regan swallowed thickly again, pushing through the quiver in her gut. “I am glad I found you in a dumpster. You are… good.” Regan said quietly, for it was true, and the best compliment she could confer.

As soon as the attention shifted away from her the walls came back up along with the glamour. Ren’s face beet red and warm with the embarrassment. She swallowed hard, trying to steady herself enough to look back, catching a glimpse of Regan’s wings properly this time. The alleyway was a frantic haze, she only had a split second to see the appendages and they were hard at work dragging the both of them away from the nest of awful little gooey demons. They were actually quite beautiful. Resembling those of a cicada. Even that was better, Ren thought, than the often faltering wings of the praying mantis.

Though, that wasn’t the nicest thing to say. It wasn’t the insects' fault that she was like this. They were still perfect and that was maybe why she found it easier to admire the other fae’s appearance even when she couldn’t stand to see her own. Ren settled into the corner while Lizard was fussing over measurements and the notes she took down. In a way it reminded her of the journal she had so fastidiously kept until fairly recently. Regan should have had more than one page by now. Their interactions kept coming up, and she was well connected through the town even if she didn’t believe in… anything. That part still didn’t make sense to the younger fae. It seemed odd that the one raised around her own kind should at least be more open to things like magic than the one built to destroy it all. It surprised her. Not half as much as the compliment that followed though.

Disbelief struck the entomid like lightning. Rooting her in her position and spinning her head around on a swivel. “You do not need to say such things.” Ren’s eyes darted down. Regan didn’t seem to like the fae any more than she did but that didn’t stop the fact that she was one too. That alone was enough to tangle up any positivity with the endless pit of self-doubt that seemed to consume Ren. She didn’t know if the other was just trying to offer consolation, or her version of a thanks for the help that the nymph was happy to give.

“Is there–” Ren turned, addressing Lizard directly this time. “–way to make glamour… permanent?” Is there a way to make her human is what she wanted to ask. If people could become monsters, maybe the reverse was possible too.

Why was Ren asking about that? Well, the answer was obvious. Ren did not want to look this way, ever, if she could avoid it, and Regan understood that desire. She wanted to quash the question, but some part of her kept an ear pricked for a response, chest tightening at the thought of an affirmative answer. Lizard seemed almost saddened by the ask, giving Ren a watery, sympathetic smile. She tangled the chain through her fingers, pendant swinging. “There’s no permanent way, I’m afraid. Magic will provide, but at a cost.” She looked toward Regan. “You probably could not wear this for long, am I right? Did it make you feel ill? Or stop working?” Regan was surprised by the question, and nodded. “Yes, I can usually get about eight hours from it before things begin to hurt.” And another several before they became agonizing, she wanted to add, though it was probably best not to admit that she was willing to subject herself to such pain for the sake of hiding.

Lizard looked at Ren, and Regan noticed that her gaze did not seem nearly as reluctant as Regan’s. “I could make you something, ladybug, but you are unlikely to get more than eight hours out of it yourself, given your appearance. Probably less. Still,” she shrugged, “there are benefits. It takes concentration to conceal yourself, right? You would not even need to think about it.” She seemed to understand Ren might need a second to consider the offer, and turned her attention back toward the necklace in her hands. “Shall we?” Her grip tightened, and she closed her eyes, chanting something Regan could not fully hea or understand. A glow trickled across the chain like it had been warmed by fire, traversing down the metal and finally reaching the pendant where the light seemed to spark. The necklace held the glow for a moment before it began to fade, following the same path in reverse – the pendant dulled, and the chain slowly cooled, warmth fading. With a grin, Lizard’s eyes popped open. “There! All juiced up. Give her a try.” She pushed the necklace into Regan’s hands, and Regan’s fingers curled around it. It weighed the same as before, of course, but in a way it still seemed heavier.

Regan gave it a distrustful look that extended all the way to Liz. But, slowly, she raised the necklace to her neck and clasped it, appreciating the familiarity. And appreciating even more that her wings dissolved into thin air, like they had never been there to begin with. She blinked in surprise, hopping on her feet. “They’re gone!” Regan glanced over her shoulder. Definitely gone. All she could see was the mutilation she’d inflicted on her turtleneck, and the cold brushing against the expanse of bare skin on her back. Happiness was a juvenile emotion, not something she could afford to surrender herself to, most of the time. But now, she would allow herself the smallest bit of it. As she stared down at the coat she’d shed, her chest stuffed up with something she couldn’t identify, and she looked at Ren with shining gratitude. “Does this mean – it will just work now? It’s fixed?” She could hardly believe it. “It’s fixed…”

The answer came and away went Ren’s hopes. She’d never be rid of this curse. At least not for more than eight hours at a time. “What… does it cost to have one made?” Her question was timid, knowing full well she didn’t have much in the way of money. Or much of anything at all. But wouldn’t it be worth it? Wouldn’t it all have been worth it to not have to focus every second of every day on the fact that she was and never would be human. She could sleep and be herself, not half awake worried that someone could happen upon her in her most vulnerable state. She could be a kid for a while. Have a sleepover with Alex or Nora or Ariadne or even Cass. Any of the Allgoods.

If there was a price she could pay, she would.

“I am glad for you Medical Examiner Kavanagh.” A special moment meant a special title. “And pleased my contacts had right place to go to. I will let them know of this place.” That was how these things were supposed to work, right? Traveling by word of mouth. A soured part of Ren’s heart thought about it for a second too long. Drifting from the notion of shared knowledge for help to the idea that a place like this would have all the information she would ever need to complete her mission in Wicked’s Rest. They probably knew where the local Aos Si would be. Knew who needed special help, who were the weakest ones to pick off first. The training she’d been given was wasted on the empathy that’d been grafted onto her. Like lichen growing on a stone as it weathered the rain.

Ren nodded towards Regan, then Lizard, and scooted towards the door. Ready to leave and go home and be away from anyone and everyone. Even if she got an answer and even if it was something she could afford, the nymph wanted time to think it over before rushing into anything. Wanted time to reset her brain. Wash away the instinct that bid her to use Lizard and whoever else ran this place for her own needs. Selfish or Righteous. It would lead to heartache either way, so she needed to leave.

“We can go now, yes?”

Ren was… glad for her? Surely she just meant because the necklace worked again, and no broader meaning had been intended. Regan looked down, not sure how to hold such a compliment inside of her. It seemed neither of them were any good at that. Lizard – either through lack of observation or because she had the grace to know when to not involve herself – let the moment pass without comment, instead addressing a question Ren had asked. Cost, of course. This was not a free service, surely. But to Regan, it was worth almost anything. She would not balk at any amount.

“I’m glad you brought up the cost,” Lizard said, twinkles like starbursts in her eyes, like she was waiting, “I’m glad to help you both, but we are a business.” She looked up at the shelves, where the contents of some crackled bottles dribbled down to the layers below. A stab of guilt struck Regan, but Lizard did not look accusatory. “Some of my materials can be quite difficult to come by, but you will have an easier time accessing them.” She looked between Regan and Ren. “I need some pixie wings, at least eight, the tail of an argropelter, and one particular spell of mine calls for ‘faun flakes’. I would like for you to figure out what that is and fetch me some, if you can. And if you want a necklace or some kind of glamoured item, you will have to bring me the item in question and we will see then what my inventory is lacking.” She looked at Ren, now, mainly. “Does that sound fair? You folks like your deals and exchanges, right? I trust you to see this through.”

Regan gave Ren an uneasy look. She wasn’t opposed to trying to collect such things, but she didn’t even know where to start (or what an agropelter even was). Also, faun flakes? She only knew one faun, Conor, and had never inquired about his flakes. Should she? Regan gave a nervous nod, almost a bow. “We will try. Your help has been – I don’t know how you’ve done any of this, but Finniúint a bheith cineálta leat. I appreciate it. We will return with what you have asked of us.” With some reluctance, Regan plucked her coat from the floor and slid it back on; she would have preferred never wearing it again, but it was actually chilly out today, and she didn’t need anyone wondering about the giant hole in the back of her shirt. “Yes, let’s go… I must ask someone about their flakes.”

#writing #c ren #coming for conor's flakes