#baronyofthesilverwolf

Home again, at last!

The flight home was MOSTLY uneventful. Citrine did take full advantage of first class' luxuries. At some point during the flight, one of the flight attendants does a double take when their snack carts started moving on their own, spoons twirling and forks stacking themselves into precarious towers. The bewildered attendant glances around, but by then, Citrine is innocently hidden back in Thistle's bag. It was blamed on turbulence... on an otherwise smooth flight. :face_with_rolling_eyes:

Upon landing, the cold spring air of Upstate New York is a stark contrast to the warmth of Oklahoma, and coats are quickly pulled tight against the lingering chill.

Art doesn’t linger long—he needs to check in with his parents, given his age, and bids a quick but sincere farewell before heading off.

Thistle, on the other hand, has a standing excuse to remain a while longer. Diane had agreed for her to visit as part of an independent study in art and folklore, a plausible reason to stay at the Barony should she choose. For now, the decision is hers—to settle in for a time or return home.

As for Gwen, she soon finds her Marigold in a sitting room, comfortably settled among an assortment of recipe cards. The warm scent of old paper and spices lingers in the air as Marigold carefully reviews her notes. A cane set alongside the chair close at hand, and the smell of the herbal tea that she takes for her aches is a reminder of why Gwen took the quest...

The dogs go nuts as Gladiola returns. Briar and others took care of her, but they know her and adore her and while she pats and pets and checks.. she does so with great haste. Ivan will have bragging rights as a canine travel buddy. Gwen picks up the pace and moves to find her mother, the prize in her hand "Mom? I'm home"

Marigold pushes herself to her feet with a bit of a wince, a gentle grimace as she stretches out her stiff legs. Her movements are slower than they once were, but there's still warmth in her smile as she reaches out for a hug.

"Welcome home, darling. It's so good to see you. I was worried, you flying all that way with the way the news is going on about aircraft these days," She fusses.

"I know, but if I can survive Thistle's driving I can survive anything" She jokes even as she hugs her mother firmly "It was... I wasn't at my best on the trip for part of it, mom, but in the end it all turned out all right, more than all right. I got you something."

"Oh? One of those pretty woven blankets?" She guesses, slyly, trying to catch a glimpse.

"Oh, or a basket? I've seen examples of native weaving." She claps her hands together in delight. "You know you didn't have to bring me anything, my dear. Just you safe and sound."

"I got a lot of gifts for everyone, but there's something I really want you to try on, if you please?" She holds out the White Buffaloo calf womans' gift

"Oh, it's lovely!" She leans in to look at it, "And I didn't even know that native tribeswomen knew embroidery. This is masterwork quality!" She pushes her readers up so she can get a better look at the stitching. "Are these... gladiolas? And Marigolds? When did you have time to have something custom made?" Marigold is beaming at how lovely it looks.

"I won it in a quest," She says honestly, "I think it's good medicine"

While not medicine in the Nunehi way, it might be the other "Please, try it on"

Marigold continues to hum softly as she spreads the length of magical cloth across her hands, inspecting its delicate embroidery with growing appreciation. The flowers seem to shimmer in the light, their vibrant threads almost alive with their own energy. She tilts her head thoughtfully, the wheels in her mind turning.

"It’s too wide for a ribbon, but perhaps a shawl," she muses aloud, fingers running along the fabric’s edges. "No... A sash might work better. I could wear it across my shoulder, let it flow a bit. Or as part of a dress around the midsection, oh, but that's better for maidens who HAVE a slender midsection..." She chuckles as she ponders.

As the matronly boggan holds the fabric up, stretching it across the sitting room to gauge its drape, Gwen notices a slight shift in her mother's movements. Where moments ago, she had struggled a bit with her joints, now Marigold moves with a fluidity that seems almost effortless, her shoulders relaxed, the stiffness gone from her posture.

Her mother isn't displaying her usual discomfort—no grimaces, no hesitation.

Marigold steps back with a satisfied smile, admiring the length of fabric before her. "It’s a beautiful piece. I think it will suit me quite well." She glances over to Gwen, her expression softening. "I’ll have to incorporate it into something wonderful. It’s just too lovely to sit idle."

Leaning over, she kisses Gwen on the cheek. "I love it."

Not even realizing as she carefully admires the cloth. Which looks delicate, but in fact is quite sturdy and robust, safe from snags or tears that might endanger a lesser fabric.

A beaming smile and the troll asks "Mom, it's got a magic that may help your joints, at least while you wear it. I Hope I haven't crossed a line, when I said medicine, I meant it in at least one sense of the word. How are you feeling?"

Marigold freezes for a moment, the sudden realization dawning on her as she glances down at her hands, moving them with a fluidity she hasn’t felt in years. Her knees bend with ease, her joints no longer creaking with protest. She takes a deep breath, a soft laugh escaping her lips, though it’s filled with disbelief. "I… I didn’t even notice…" she murmurs, her voice thick with emotion.

Then, before she can stop herself, a few quiet tears start to slip down her cheeks. She wipes them away quickly, but more follow. Her breath hitches, and she shakes her head, wiping at the tears with a free hand.

"Mom? I didn't mean to trick you or anything, but you've been hiding so much pain, and I know you're being brave but..." She notes the tears and hugs her mom "It's why we quested, mom. To help you. We love you."

"You’ve… no, Gwen, you’ve done more than I could ever have asked for," she says softly, her voice cracking. She gently lays a hand on Gwen’s arm, her gaze filled with gratitude. "I was so afraid I’d have to retire soon. The signs were there, and… they even brought in Madern to replace me. Bless the lad, he's a fine boy, but it was a sore blow to accept that I'd lost my lieges confidence in keeping up any longer." She blows her nose (on a tissue, NOT on the cloth)

She pauses, looking at the cloth again, her fingers trembling slightly as she traces the embroidered flowers. "But now... I feel like I can stand again. Like I can do again. You’ve given me something I thought I’d lost for good."

"Madern has learned a lot, but he could never replace you. He was an apprentice and lucky to have the best mentor in the world. Heck, he's SAID so. SIdes, he's doing that weird food truck detective thing now. You're still the best, and if you want to hold off retirement for awhile, even though you earned it, then all the better. I just wanted the hurt to stop. It was a wild ride, mom, but we made it safe and sound. Actually I can't speak for the others, but it was good for me too."

Marigold takes a deep breath and pulls Gwen into a tight hug, her arms strong - stronger than before, when her hugs seemed... trembly, and delicate.

"I thought I was done," she whispers into Gwen’s shoulder, her voice muffled. "But now… I don’t know. Maybe not. Maybe I still have something to give."

"Mom, you're wise and wonderful. You'd have something to give if you were a talking head in a jar" She says stunned her mother would doubt, "You've given me more love than... I DO love you, mom"

"We all do. And you earn your keep with not just your hard work, but with your wisdom"

Marigold chuckles softly, though her eyes are still damp. She brushes a hand over Gwen’s hair, smoothing it in that familiar, motherly way. “Oh, sweetheart,” she murmurs, her voice warm. “Love is a gift freely given, and I’ll never doubt that I have it.” She sighs, glancing down at the treasure of spring once more before meeting Gwen’s eyes.

“But feeling like you earn your place… that’s different.” There’s no bitterness, just the quiet weight of experience. “Work, purpose… those things matter. A wise old woman can sit in a corner and give advice all day, but that doesn’t mean she still feels needed.”

She pats Gwen’s arm gently. “You gave me something I didn’t realize I’d lost. Not just strength, but the hope that I can still be useful. That I am still useful.” A small, wry smile tugs at her lips. “Now, if you ever put me in a jar, though, we’re going to have words.”

"mm" She ponders this "Sometimes I think I can be a bit blind to the honor of other kiths. This is like a troll needing a duty" Then she gives a deep chuckle as her mom swats her "Even if I put little holes in the top?"

"Just so! If anything, that'd be a good holding place for those little fireflies that follow THistle around like lost ducklings. I almost missed them while she was gone." ALMOST. Though Gwen knows Marigold would never really jar up the annoying neverlanders... she may very well be tempted

"Thank goodness for Pearl" Linnae's cat at least sometimes bats at them and keeps them from crowding the kitchen.

.....

Meanwhile, as this is going on, a voice bellows out. "THISTLE? You here?!"

Thistle is carefully unwrapping pottery.

"Who wants t'know?"

And, if there were any questions - there's certainly an uptick of Nevers in the hold.

There is the sound of muffled grumbling as Danica approaches in the hallway, swatting at a small cloud of ecstatic Nevers.

When she finds the nocker, she dives straight in without preamble. "I know you just got back, but I'm going to have to ask you to do a pickup for me. Wudlig has the night off, and I have to cover a briefing on a high-priority case. Can’t miss it without a damn good reason."

She exhales sharply, already shifting into problem-solving mode. "I got a call on my secure line. Down in Ithaca way. Suspected runaway - Kid might be one of ours—lost, scared, and possibly not fully aware of what they are. We need someone to play fetch."

She looks down at Thistle, waiting her response.

Blink.

"Okay, so not the scooter. We have an address?"

"And, hey, if I got 8 miles over the speed limit, could I just use your name? If not, I'll stick to seven."

"I am fully aware of how fast your car actually goes," Danica says, leveling Thistle with a look. "And I will be giving you a pass"—she holds up a hand—"ONCE. To go top speed and make it before this kid pulls a runner. You won't get pulled over." She says this last with certainty.

Without missing a beat, she hands over a slip of paper with an address scrawled across it. "Kid's camped out at a Laundromat. Get there fast, but don’t break anything—or anyone—on the way."

"I would send Gwen, but Marigold would have my head in a handbasket if I took her away just now."

"And if we could wait until next week..." She mutters under her breath.

Thistles expression slowly brightens into a 1000-watt grin.

"I got it!" She tips a salute. "Full speed ahead!"

Danica winces a bit, perhaps already regretting her decision.

"Seriously. I got a kid brother and a baby sister."

Danica relaxes a touch. "If it turns out he's just a mundane runaway, here's the address of where to take him. We just can't take that chance."

She gives her another note, this one of a local police station. "They have a social worker that can help him with.. well, whatever help he needs. But if he IS one of ours, you know the drill." A pause. "You DO know the drill, don't you?"

"Uh. Bring him here? Try not to drop too many f-bombs?"

Finger gun. "Roger that."

"If you have trouble extricating him, try to keep the hoodoo down to a minimum so I'm not facing a big paperwork cleanup."

"Ignorance intact, sure."

Her phone buzzes, and she snaps into it, "Then get the commissioner a sack of donuts and tell him to sit and spin! What? NO, don't actually say that! Just... stall him." She rolls her eyes upward. "Goddamn rookies."

"We have a name? Or just.. a kid?"

"He said he was looking for family up this way, and name dropped the Stables. I had to think fast, and I'm clearly a wits secondary character, so he may be going by 'Ling' for the time being." Danica gives her a brief description of the young boy with the bright green eyes.