#elsewhere

"Baby, why don’t you come over?
Red wine supernova
Falling into me
(Okay y’all, let’s pick it up now)
I don’t care that you’re a stoner
Red wine supernova
Fall right into me"

She turns it up though when/if her friend sings along she says "Why do I need to turn it up if you're providing the voice?"

She blushes and stops singing.

A gentle nudge and then she sings too "I like (I like) What you like (What you like) Long hair (No bra) It's my type (That's right) You just told me Want me to f**k you Baby, I will 'cause I really want to!"

"Chappell Roan is lit, though. You ever see pictures of her outfits?"

"Not really, heard her songs, obvs, but not too many of her outfits. Colorful?"

"Artistic."

"Sweet" She nods "I think some things you might like at a big gather, SO many tribes with various styles and some folks really pull off some boss looks"

"Yeah? Is it okay to take pictures?"

Art, who had fallen asleep in the backseat, jolts awake at a particularly loud part in the song. "To battle, my liege!"

...huh?"

"Glad you asked" she says "As a rule it's always a good idea to ask permission. A lot of times they'll announce it before hand. Some of this stuff is sacred, and should be treated as such. Some is more openly shared , but it can be hard to be sure. Don't treat people like animals at a zoo there to entertain you, that kind of thing"

"I could sketch, maybe? Welcome back to the waking world, Art."

"That sounds like good advice in general." Art says, rubbing at an eye. "Is the event today? Are we headed straight there, or checking into a hotel first. Or... freehold?"

He suddenly sits up and gropes in a pocket. "I did tell you about the freehold, didn't I?"

He sounds a bit... sheepish

"Well, if someone asks you to stop, do so right away." A pause "Freehold?"

"It was right before we left, when I went to speak with the Baron. He suggested if we needed, we could claim haven at a local county seat. It's not on the native territory, but still nearby. We don't have to, but it's an option."

He pulls out a carefully folded (but now somewhat creased) letter that is on Silverwolf stationary. "Lord Aiden wrote an introduction to the Countess Blackfeather, if we choose to stop in. But if you want to simply go straight to business, she's not expecting us or anything."

"Did he say what House the freeholder was? "

"Of course - Countess Maerid Blackfeather ap Eilunid. Now, there are bound to be commoner holds scattered about, but... well." He shrugs. "Lord Aiden's recommendation, naturally, is for the noble seat."

"...another freehold could be cool?"

"And if we get in trouble with the native folk, we can always claim sanctuary!" Art says, helpfully.

"Er, not that I expect trouble."

"I mean, we have met us."

"Or the police, for that matter."

"We don't have the benefit of Danica's protection if you let that little arrow get much higher." He observes the raising speedometer...

"7 is a magic number!"

"It's practically science, it's absolutely gematria, which is a magical science!"

"Thistle "Leadfoot" Fulcanelli..."

"Fiiiiiine. Five."

"Gwydions are strong in the area, the King here 'went native' but Eiluned sounds more like what I was expecting"

"Seven is also sacred to Cherokee and other tribes. Let's check out the hold, but mum's the word on the treeasure we seek okay?"

"Okay, then you'll want to take the turn.... HERE!" Art points at the exit they are just about to pass.

"Hang on, Ivan!" She says

"(*^$^@&^%#^&^%%$#$!!!!!!!!!!"

The swearing apparently helps, but there are absolutely black rubber trakcs in the wake of THAT turn.

"I really wish I had religion right now"

The whine of the police siren cuts through the air, as Thistle takes the exit at a speed that’s... let's say, more bold than prudent. The patrol car’s flashing lights reflect in the van’s mirrors.

“Thistle—slow down!” Art blurts, gripping the armrest, his voice edged with alarm. "Actually, I think you're supposed to stop...?"

"Aw, hell."

Ahead, on the left, a shimmer of light catches the eye. At first glance, it looks like a trick of the sun on the horizon, but as they near, the glimmer resolves into the faint outline of a tall, intricate archway - CERTAINLY out of place on the mundane roadside. The arch is formed of twisting vines and twinkling lights, only visible to Fae eyes!

To mortals, it likely appears as nothing more than an overgrown patch of brush, barely worth a second glance.

The siren grows louder, the patrol car closing in.

She turns on the blinker, and very sedately pulls off to the burm.

"fuckfuckfuckfuckmomisgonnakillmefuckfuckfuck"

"Oh geez uh anyone able to veil a car?"

The patrol car is still a ways down the road, not having made it to the turn yet, which gives them a few precious moments to compose themselves...

A sudden burst of birdsong cuts through the tension, bright and insistent. Perched atop the glowing archway, a small bird sits, it's feathers grey and white. It calls in a pierce voice, "Here, here! Here Here!"

"Good goddam galoshes!" She yanks the wheel and FLOORS it.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Blurts Art, "I should have given more proper instructions, as navigat- ORRRRRR...."

Art trails off in a startled cry as the wheels squeal and they rush forward!

YUP.

Gwen says "Through the arch through the..."

As the van passes through the shimmering archway, the world shifts subtly. The rumble of the highway fades away, replaced by a sense of serenity. The air thickens, filled with the scent of fresh pine and wildflowers, and the sky above seems to deepen in color - they feel that they are now on the grounds of a Freehold.