#bergen_county

"I need a focus. Something to wind the glamour back into. Unless you just want me to let it loose?" Her voice with a snotty tone. "Don't blame ME then if you suddenly feel like making out with that nasty cat of his."

"I know, but I can't help you find a focus if I have to keep an eye on you. So do you agree?"

"Hey...how about...receipt tape? Banal, yeah, but on brand for a debt being withdrawn, right?"

Cairrean narrows her eyes at Sylvi. "I'll undo this, because he and I had an understanding. I'm not doing it for YOU, or her, or because you're threatening me. And when it's done, I walk away, and none of your big blue goon squad or any of your lackies come down on me. Capiche?"

"I can only speak for myself, but when it's done, I will be completely happy if I never see you again. And don't come back here."

Cairrean looks at the tape. "Jewelry is more traditional, or something that has meaning to him, but I can try it."

"If we see something more suitable when we're in there, we'll use it."

"We have an agreement?"

"Fine. Now let me loose."

"You better not fuckin' mess around," Sylvi mutters. "Give me your hand." She reaches through the vines to clasp Cairrean's wrist, and then closes her eyes, letting the vines wither away. "Come on," she says, leading the way out of the Fairie Ring (which remains, nonetheless).

Sylvi calls out, "We're coming in. Keep him under control."

"k"

Grabbing a roll of register tape from under the counter, she passes it to Cairrean. "She says she can undo it. She knows there are consequences if she doesn't."

"Stay with me, Sy. Stay." Eyes closed, forehead still pressed to his.

Cairrean is led/dragged along and then shrinks back when she sees Symon and Dagmar, still poorly lit by the flicker of a couple of smartphones.

Rolling her eyes unnecessarily, she reaches over and flicks on the light switch, which makes Symon flinch slightly after the long period of dark.

But, Dagmar's influence seems to be calming him.

"Keep your opinions to yourself," Sylvi warns her, sotto voce. "Just get the job done."

At the same time, she's looking around the room to see if there's anything else that might suit as a focus for winding.

"If you hurt Dagmar, I swear..." Symon hisses, even as he holds to his Troll, "I will not strangle you. I will use everything I have learned in 6 years of Taxidermy, 2 years of mortuary science, and a lifetime and lifetimes before that as a sluagh to make you beg me to strangle you."

"I'm keeping an eye on her, Symon," Sylvi assures. "And if she hurts either of you, I've got my own plans forming."

"You can help him?" Listening for truth, but keeping her touch on Sy instead of looking up.

"You see, this is why I don't do sluagh. They're so... grotesque." Cairrean retorts, though it seems to be a front, based on the fear sweat that Sylvi can see beading up behind her bravada.

"I can unwind the cantrip. I mean, nothing is 100% - you should all know that. I know my Art but I don't control da'an. But I should be able to retract the overflow and return him to his baseline state. DO you have my pendant?" Hopeful.

She bares her wolf-teeth st 'grotesque'. "Not anymore. The Mountain has the broken remains of it."

"It's not here. If you do the job, I'll talk with the Mountain about getting it back to you."

"You took it to a mountain?" There is a moment of actual upset that flickers across her face, but she hides it. "Whatever. Do you have some other jewelry, or something personal to you or him?" She runs the receipt tape through her hands, thinking. "I need to work a bunk that counters all..." Vague gesture at Symon, "THAT. The more personal the better."

Sylvi's wracking her brain. "It needs to be something long? Physically wind-able?"

"The Mountain. At the Lodge." She contemplates, and the retreats her armor into the gauntlet.

She fishes in her pocket, and pulls out her motorcycle keys. The fob is a sphere of resin, encasing a perfect, tiny animal skull. "He made this. Will that work?"

Symon looks from Dagmar, to Cairrean, and back again...

Through all of this, she has kept her gaze locked on Symon, her amber raptor's eyes fixed. She holds the keys out on an open palm.

Sylvi spots the keychain and her eyes go wide. "That's perfect," she advises Cairrean. "Symon made it."

Cairrean eyes the piece. "You probably won't get it back. It may be consumed by the cantrip. I've never used anything... organic like that." She holds out her hand though.

(Ew icky)

Symon could possibly escape - one of Dag's hands is cupped over his on her cheek, foreheads touching. The other holds the keys. "Okay, probably detach the fob from the actual keys then."

"I've got it." She gets between Symon and Cairrean, interposing and taking the keys before stepping back.

"Here," she says to Cairrean, "hold the fob." Without letting go of Cairrean's wrist, she uses her free hand to disconnect it from the keys, putting those in her pocket.

"Let, GO of me." Gritted teeth.

"Oh, certainly," Sylvi says with saccharine cheerleader sweetness, releasing Cairrean's wrist with a little flip and backing away a few steps...but not looking away from her. "Lovecraft, help me keep an eye on this one."

A vein pops as Dagmar tenses her jaw, but she keeps her focus on Symon.

Lovecraft pointedly washes a paw, not one to be told what to do.

Her hand free, she reaches for Symon's other - moving to twine fingers with his, if allowed.

Cairrean rubs her wrist and takes the fob gingerly.

"Please, " Sylvi emphasizes to Lovecraft.

A toothy yawn, and she blinks lazily, watching Cairrean. But because SHE wants to, not because she was asked.

Cairrean takes a step back and pulls a box over to sit on. She holds the fob in her hands and closes her eyes, focusing. "Don't interrupt me."

Symon's gaze is locked on Cairrean, eyes slitted as dangerous as Lovecraft's ever look. But he takes Dagmar's hand, holding one of hers in both of his (with plenty of troll hand left to spare)

Dagmar spares a look at Cairrean, narrow-eyed and hostile.

Poor Cairrean, her eyes are closed and she misses that look. Symon suddenly starts to tremble, almost imperceptibly.

The first strands of glamour are starting to play around Cairrean, as she focuses and refines, her fingers playing over the fob in a repeated pattern.

Sylvi stands a few paces behind Cairrean, ready to jump her if necessary.

"Shh. I'm here. I'm with you." She pets his hair.

(pause)