#earthrunes

"Aye, so."

"Well, he hast thee to manage him, nu?"

"It is tiring," Lily says "Between Connor and him, they need so much HELP. "

"You do your level best to terrify me," Nelson points out at her talk of help.

"You're welcome," Lily observes.

A quick grin.

"Connor is spending a lot of time at that Varich woman's place, she's not 'as bad' as many of her House, but that is... what is the term? Damnation with faint appraisal?" Lily asks

The faintest of nose wrinkles.

"The Varich does not rule alone. And, thus far, our cousins have gone unmolested in her domain. So long as that does not change..."

"The Baron there is an Ailil, " Nelson says "Sir Earl doesn't trust them but they ARE Eiluned's brother house."

"In troth, I have clashed more with the Falcons than the Dragons."

"I like Gwydions," Lily admits "They're terribly fun to play word games with."

The Eiluned snorts "Falcons"

"Ah, Squire - the sun provides many shadows to hide in. Falcons have their place, and their use."

"Every house does, each has a different thing they fear" Lily steeples her fingers ... to practice.

"And kith."

"And kith" LIly says.

"What do Sluagh fear, I wonder?" Nelson ponders 'No, let me guess. Discovery? Exposure?"

"Pastels" Lily answers

"Pop music."

Nelson laughs.

Lily says "Miss Zara. Thank you for letting us practice our skulking on you but I have a question. I noticed everyone else is wearing ..scarlet. Must we?"

Zara is in scarlet - a blood red victorian shirtwaist, in stark contrast to her usual medley of greys.

The sluagh's eyes widen suddenly, and she is up on her feet. "Move not."

They freeze

She grabs their voile in her hands, whispering a harsh and hurried incantation. Like a wound, red spills from her fingers, wicking through the chimerical cloth, turning their garments...

The children are too caught up to protest. The Eiluned too curious, and the young sluagh? Delighting in the oddness of this

She releases her grip when their garments are fully shifted. Perhaps childish eyes saw something else a sluagh may fear.

"Go. Straight to Delores. The working may only last a time, you will both need true garments in red and silver."

Lily humphs "I don't like bright red. but yes miss Zara." Concern despite her protest.

"IT's not THAT bright a red,," The Eiluned tells Lily "And yes, Miss Zara. ..but can you tell us why?"

"Spiderling, do not defy me here."

She shakes her head.

"This is a Fiona hold. For now, we... we must use the strength of that as our shield."

"You are a proud EIluned, young squire - I would not have you declare otherwise, but for now, you must do this."

That seems to satisfy Nelson. And Lily decides today is not the day to match her stubborness with a kith sisters. Lily gives a hand gesture over heart. Nelson gives a more traditional bow. "Let's go, Lily. Thank you, Miss Zara. "

Lily will later perhaps grumble that Nelson told her to GO and she went, but then she'll rationalize it as HIM just repeating a sluagh command. The two childlings head off, and Zara's keen ears tell her it is in the direction of Steward Delores.

When they are gone, she closes her eyes and exhales slowly.

The sound of music being played, softly, just the faintest strumming of fingertips across taut strings, down the hall and approaching the library.

...Tea.

"What can I do, my dear, to catch your ear..."

Tea is good. She keeps an ear on the strum, but her hands find themselves busy with the soothing ritual of water and leaves.

"If I stumbled and I busted my what-you-may-call-it
I could lie on your floor unnoticed
'Till my body had turned to carrion...."

A soft tap on the door before it opens. "Madam Librarian?"

She sets out a second cup. "Chanticleer?"

He sniffs the air a touch, the movement looking almost like a chickenish head bob. "Is that roasted barley tea? Why, I never."

"Oh, never, Gallus? Then a first it shall be. Please, be welcome."

He steps in and gives a courteous bow, his hair flopping down over his face and needing to be pushed back once more. "Tell me, shall I don red and silver as the children who scurried past, or is my comb enough?"

A touch vain, perhaps, though not nearly as much so as other pooka around these parts.

She returns the bow with a pale hand over her heart, the purses her lips thoughtfully.

"Tis a magnificent comb, good sir. But... but, mayhaps, there would be wisdom in a boutonniere?"