#baronyofthesilverwolf

The broken record repeats, rattling off insults. The same things, over and over.

Gwen looks for the object of glamour with the most inspiration, the one that proves lies to the words

Her heart is pounding in her throat.

She swallows, pushing down the knot of fear for just a moment - to dart around the chimera and blindly grasp for the thing she felt, though she doesn't fully understand or know what it might be.

Thistle moves forward, into the heart of the nervosa! It keens and squalls, lashing at her with it's words, like being buffetted as they land, but with each one, she might realize that she's... not numb, quite, but... she's heard this before. It repeats the same insults, but it cannot say anything new, it cannot create. Each repeated word hurts less... it's just babble, at this point? The ember of glamour is just out of reach, but maybe if she reaches a little further...

But as she digs into the project bin, it redoubles it's efforts. "FAILURE!" It shrieks, trying to envelop Thistle in dark miasma. Gwen sees this, and may try to... what will Gwen try to do??

Gwen grabs a series of beads, and tries to loop it about the things neck, and strangle it! She doesn't know who made these, but she likes the look of them, it's a mirrored gradiant on a leather cord.

She knows she ruins what she touches, that she's inadequate, that she's a failure. But... but Ted isn't. Randy isn't. Even Flynn has some merit.

Her fingers brush against something warm.

She gives it a pull!

Gwen hisses and tries to strangle the thing "You lying sack of shit. You hoard everything because it's stuff you will never be able to create. You're just a echo of envy, flat sad after birth of jealousy"

Nervosa-Blaine writhes and screeches! "UNWORTHY! TRA-----!" It tightens it's grip on Thistle even as it's voice is choked into nothingness. Flailing hands beat ineffectively against Gladiola's stone skin, scrabbling and failing to make purchase.

As Thistle wraps her fingers around it - something small, and cragged - she knows the feeling of clay, rough and unfired, but this is old, and crumbling, a faint beat of glamour within. It gives a PULSE, and warmth flows through her! The feeling of comfort and joy when she molds something new. The pleasure of pieces fitting together. The rumble of Gertrude's engine stirring to life under her hands. The click of beads strung along in a pattern that will make Bluebell smile. She may not be perfect. But Thistle realizes, that this is NOT a Failure. It is an urge to create anew, to try again, to strive - for if something were perfect, what need would there to create, to continue to IMPROVE? NOTHING, No NOTHING is ever perfect to a Nocker... because there is always room to fix it! Inspiration floods through her!

One final tug from Gwen, and under her strength - the Chimera quails, quivers, and shatters!

Little pieces of glamour shimmer and disappear back into the artwork, gleaming with the remembered effort of Dreamers who created it. Not all of it... most of it drains away, fading, even as the corpse of the chimera oozes, sputters, and fades. But some.

"Thistle?" A startled look "What did you do? You..it got more fragile when you... I don't know what you did but it got more fragile"

The troll is grinning

"I... I found some clay?" She looks down at the piece in her hands.

"Clay? Well it lit you up"

The hand-formed sculpture is oblong, and just about the length of her palm. Rounded with a slightly pointed end, and crumbling, rawware that has gone too long without being fired. Even now, it threatens to crumble in her hand. The warmth that she felt within is almost gone. A soft beat.... pause... and it pulses again, fainter, irregular, slowly growing cold.

The door rattles as Ted pounds on it, then it falls open, the boy falling in with it. "Dios mio! The door was stuck, and it suddenly popped free..."

"Our end too, Ted" She says

Ted doesn't seem to notice anything in Trina's hands - it must be chimerical.

"It just..." She trails off. "Hi Ted."

"We should go, I heard voices down the hallway. Let's get before someone accuses us of stealing, ay?"

"Yeah, sure. Gwen? Can you take the big box, and we sort it out elsewhere?"

She grabs it "Sure ., And good idea. Let's move

"

A faint beat from within the crumbling clay, then it goes dormant under her fingers.

"But we really wanted your opinion on the new MOMA exhibit..." That's Karen's voice, extra loud, though normally she's so soft spoken! "THAT? Derivative drivvel, I don't know why they utilized public grants..." Mr Blaine responds.

Ted's eyes widen, and he points for them to go down the other hallway! Operation Distraction succeeded!

Trina tucks the fragile thing on top of another box of stuff, and grabs it to haul.

For some reason, though his voice grates and irritates Thistle, it doesn't have quite the same impact as it did. Blunted, perhaps.

And Gwen follows Ted's directions. She makes a note to help Karen later get some energy back if she can.

Thistle hurries. Her steps feel lighter, despite the cargo.

"Good work, gang" She approves

Gwen and Ted walk off with the supplies, back to the classroom where they can be assembled into part of the project.

In her own smaller box, cushioned atop a rolled up watercolor page, something about that little chimerical clay piece just feels fragile.

Maybe she can fire it?

The freehold kilns, especially...

And there is Art! He waves to Randy, who is left speaking with a gangly brunette in the hallway outside the theatre prop room.

"Trina! What'd you get?" He pauses, forehead wrinkling. "Something smells weird." He says, though that's not a 'sniffing' face, it's his 'glamour concentration' expression.

Looking at the piece, she thinks it could use a kiln! It's old, or dried out, there's a chance it might crack under the heat, but left out, it certainly will crumble and fall apart.

"You're glowing." He says in an undertone, as he reaches her side. "More so than usual!" Indeed, Thistle does feel energized.

A blush "Ah, I got a very important Text" From Chuck but that's important "See you guys later? "

Art smiles. "Go to your paramour. We'll handle things from here!" He says, oblivious to the threat they just faced.

"I'll have to tell you when it's safe."

A DEEP blush as Art reads her like a book "Thanks, Art. Trina was amazing" And she moves off towards the bleachers

"We got a bunch of stuff. Hell, some of my pieces might be in one of the big boxes..." Not her 'dreck' or her 'shit."

"Yeah? You wanna go look through it now? I think study hall hours are over soon, though we have a little bit of time. Or we can meet up again tomorrow with the crew."

"Or are you ready to head out?"

"Can we go to the big house?" She picks up the fragile bit of greenware.

He leans over to look. "Yeah, sure. You want to call a ride, or take Gertrude? If you don't mind me riding with you."

Blink. "Why would I mind you riding with me?"

"But... maybe Knight's Heart. It would be hard for you to hold on AND help me hold this without it breaking..."

He grins. "It's polite not to assume. Baroness Nadeen has been correcting my manners."

Snort. "She hasn't even tried with me!"