#baronyofthesilverwolf

Hot pink! "I dunno! They just do that!"

"Huh. I mean.... not normal. But.... not bad. Unique. Got a lil flare there, Shells. Early, all things considered."

"Well, I wasn't ever normal."

Willy cackles. "None of us were. Ok. Questions."

"Oh, an' I'm just sayin' -I- don't got time to be flittin' around. You want to? More power to ya."

"Cause you got stuff to make, yeah." This time a greenish shift.

"Not sayin' the social flittin' can't be useful. Like ah said, even _-I- sometimes gotta do it. But mostly, happy to be workin'."

She looks over Willy's workshop - gaze lingering on the projects set about.

"You always been here?"

"What about nockers who don't make stuff?"

"-ALL- nockers make stuff."

"Or fix stuff." as an afterthought "Most of the time fixin' it makes somethin' new anyway so... still makin'."

She frowns at that.

"What if a nocker can't?"

"I heard a word for that, somethin' 'bout a moron. ALL nockers make.... or fix.... stuff."

"Right." Resigned.

A thought, and she perks up a little. "Do you do magic? Art says faeries can make spells and things. Whatsit - cantrips?"

"Yeah. We do that too. -USEFUL- stuff."

"Like what?"

"The big nocker Art is Infusion. It's the best one, and it's all ours."

"What's it do?"

"Helps us -MAKE-." she says, leaning in with an avid glimmer in her eyes..... then she sits back "But..."

"But?"

"Well. You've got a far stretch to hoe yet. Maybe you need some other learnin' first. They tell you the Escheat yet? Musta done....."

"The escheat, yeah. The laws. Like how the Baron guy is in charge, and I gotta keep stuff secret, all that."

"They said I'll need a whole year of lessons, but I'm not sure in what."

"Fae stuff. Society; I mean, like, who's who and what's what."

"Yeah. Like - Bluebell kinda talks funny?"

"Like... riddles, or poems. She doesn't talk straight."

"They didn't tell you 'bout Naaa..... pooka?"

She shakes her head.

"I know the elves are sidhe, and Marigold's a boggan, and there's the two satyrs and Gwen's a troll."

Willy doesn't spare the eyeroll; she might be looking into 1995.

"Al's a redcap. He's the cook at Chatterbox."

"For fuck's sake...."

"...and furkin' terrifying, even though I know he's still Al. The teeth, right?"

"Ok. Listen up an' take notes if ya'll need ta."

"First, the Lords n' Ladies don't like 'elf.' Thin-skinned. So... forewarned. An' the goats are horny as fuck so if you wanna keep whatever innocence you got.... forewarned. Boggans...." grudging "... some of them can Make. Most just chatter an' gossip. Trolls are a little dense, don't make much, good for standing behind."

"Gwen is a rock, yeah. Kinda fascinating, really - like, muscles under the granite? I've not done stone sculpture yet, but.."

"Redcap? Shit, stay clear. Murderous mother.... lovers."

"Al is an alright guy."

"They can eat -anything.-" Willy clarifies "Wood, cement, rocks, poison.... don't matter none."

"They sure as dead mouse turds can eat -you- iffin' you piss 'em off."

"Nuclear waste?"

"How's that work?"

Less concerned about the possibility of death versus the mechanics. "Super acid? Some kind of pocket dimension?"

A dry look; the Sahara in her eyes "Go ahead, poke at it. Ask one of 'em sometime. Test the Dreamin'. Some shit even NOCKERS don't do but....ya'll go on."

"I.. uh.. ain't about to go pestering Al none."

"Good."

"But he does make a pretty awesome burger."