#elsewhere

(And whatever Ivan has?)

/roll 4

Nothing to see here. 🙂

Gwen steps into the library, and Art looks up from his animated conversation with a Clurichaun seated at a long, well-worn table. Surrounding them is a chaotic assortment of mismatched shelves, tables, bins, and boxes, all brimming with books, scrolls, magazines, and other written tomes. Papers and notes are scattered across the table in front of them.

Seeing Ivan talking to someone, Gwen realizes she's at an impasse

The clurichaun stands and shakes his head, "No animals in the library, if you please, that beast may wait outside the door." He quickly moves to move a number of boxes a little further away from Ivan. "Many of the older scrolls are on hide or vellum, too tempting, aye, too tempting by far."

"It's okay, Cor, Ivan won't do a thing Gwen doesn't tell him to do. It's okay if he just sits by the door, isn't it?" Art asks, "He'll behave, won't he, Gwen?"

"I assure you, my dog is very well trained. He's a Silverwolf kennel alum" A look at Ivan "No eating anything or anyone in here unless I tell you"

Ivan looks the picture of an angelic monster beardog.

The clurichaun, hesitates, looking up at the Troll, but settles down. "If you say so, Dame." Respectfully, though he does glance at Ivan and fidgets a bit.

Art gestures to the Clurichaun, and grins to Gwen. "You have great timing. I was just telling Cor about you. Cor, this is my friend, Dame Gladiola. Gwen, this is Cormac Shelfwarden. He’s the keeper of all this, and he actually reads Moonscrawl—and a dozen other languages! He's helped me cross reference the Moonflower tale. Come, I'll show you what we've found so far. The only caveat is that we can't take any of the papers here with us, they kinda belong to him, only really they're the Countess's... Well, anyway, I'm getting off topic. Grab a chair?"

"Actually, could I talk to you privately for a moment?" Gwen feels defeated. Of course I'm too late.

"And apologies, Master Cormac. I mean no insult"

Out in the rustling grass, Thistle loses herself - knobby fingers curled around pencil after pencil, capturing the red-into-gold shimmer of the scales. She is grateful for getting this back, the ability to float away in the work, focused entirely on inspiration and creation.

"Of course, but... we've found some great leads. Nothing specific about a belt, but some good lore about Nunnehi spirit guides, many which are linked to plants or natural features, and often bestow boons, like in the tale. Cor, you don't mind if I speak with Gwen for a minute?"

Cor shakes his head, then pauses, "That Scroll, master Arcturus? The one that was in section 5, subsection D, under the Pinewood shelves - please place it back." Art glances at his hand, not even realizing that he had been holding it. "Oh, of course." Returned.

As they step out, Art smiles and says to Gwen, "It's intriguing. The entire room LOOKS a ruckus, but he knows precisely where every last item is, down to the scrap!"

As the sun starts to set, Thistle can't quite tell if the snakes are gleaming those colors naturally, or if they are echoing the sunset - either way, it's a stunning look.

Soft footsteps pass her - she gets a few curious looks, but they continue on, it's a bit of a procession in fact, should she care to look up.

Gwen fights a wince at something

A brief glance, idly curiosity, though that seems less pressing than finding the perfect plummy brown to round out the shadows..

WHen they step out, Gwen begins to whisper "Art... did you tell Cormac or anyone else about our quest?"

Thistle:
There are large blown glass globes on twisting wooden spires that line the pathways. As the kithain (and a few kinain, it seems?) walk past, they split off, one stepping to each and reaching up to lightly touch the globe, or drop something in. A piskey childling STRETCHES to try to reach, but is left behind, giving a little jump... but he's left behind as the others complete their ritual and wander off on their own ways. A sniffle, and a sleeve rubs across his nose.

Gwen:
Art looks up at her, and responds, "Why are you..." A pause and he lowers his voice. "Why are we whispering? We're here to find out more about how to find the belt for Mistress Marigold - I couldn't well do that without asking questions and explaining what we need." He says, reasonably.

"So... that's a yes?" She wants him to clarify and keeps whispering "How much have you said, what have you asked about, and did you name my mother or what we're hoping to use to help her?"

"You're fine, short-stack."

"And I'm whispering" She adds, "Because I have totally fucked up and we're leaving early. Though it may not matter now if you've already spilled everything no matter how reasonable it may seem"

Couldn't go twenty minutes in a hold without me fucking up, and everything else I try to correct it already beyond salvageable?

Is it possible to feel banality IN a hold? No, just her then

Thistle:

The boy looks up, startled, at Thistle. "Who're you?" Rubbing his nose on his sleeve. "And I'm not fine, I'm too small. And now The globe won't light, and Riven will be mad at me because I SAID I could do it and he gave me his spot." Another snuffle.

"You ain't too small. You're you-sized." She sets her drawing down and pushes up to her feet. "You need a hand with the lamp?"

Gwen:
Art blinks, then reaches out and takes each of Gladiola's arms in his hands and gives his a squeeze. "Take a deep breath. And another. A third shan't hurt either. I don't know what happened, but I doubt anything is terribly ruined. I would have had a vision, and you know - you KNOW that if something is going to go wrong, it's generally my fault, or Citrine's. I've spoke to Cor about our quest, yes, and he was very helpful in providing us with lore and details that should aid us on our way. You say spilled... now, I was told this was a secret from Marigold, but if we needed to keep it all on the hush hush, that's news to me."

He pitches his voice to try to help calm Gwen down. She recognizes the same tone she uses with the dogs sometimes.

"Tell me what's got you all worried?"

Thistle:

He wipes his nose again, then offers her his hand. "Tupp Brightfinch. I need to put my offering in the globe or it won't light. They won't come if there's no offering." He clutches a small bundle of... twigs and berries, perhaps? In one hand.

Even as he says that, his voice worried, Thistle feels the tingle of static electricity in the air, and it tastes like the air before a storm, though the sky is clear.

"Well, you look about Frankie sized. Frankie's my kid brother - if I can pick him up, you oughtta be no problem. So why don't we work together?"

THISTLE:
"You mean it? You won't tell Riven I couldn't do it?" He has a sudden look of hope. "Riven's my yearmate, well, almost, I'm NEARLY his age, and he's the coolest but if I fail then he'll NEVER let me hang out with him again."

Stretching again, but alas, he's several feet shy of the globe. But, with a boost...

The TONE, and what it implies, has Gwen's eyes darken and she whipsers "Art. I know you mean well, but if you try to use that tone on me like I'm a spooked animal I'm going to take offense." then a breath "The Countess knew we weree seeking a treasure. I didn't say jack and she knew. I should have said it was secret from complete strangers too until we knew we could trust them. I thought that went unsaid. So instead, there's a chance my mother's cure is going to be stolen by someone else. All because I had the bright idea of stopping at an Eiluned Hold and somehow made the ruler curious the more I said or didn't say. My mother's cure is now in danger. And no one, No one but me, seems to give a shit how that might go south"

"My lips are sealed. Alright, up!" She makes a step, so he can climb up on one planted knee.

Art blinks. "Well, of course she knew. It was in the letter. Well, not what it WAS, but Aiden told her that we were on a quest for an item of Native provenance. It's etiquette, you know, else it looks like you might be coming like thieves in the night to seek treasures from another's lands."

Gwen stares at him

"What's the offering for? Do they come at sunset?"

Gwen:

Art suddenly turns red. "Should... Should I have mentioned that?"

"YESSSS" A hiss of frustration, "Because now I'm anngry at the Baron, you, and most of all myself for not double checking that myself. Everyone tells me I don't need to monitor. I don't need to worry. But I drop my guard and find every choice I would make, would have made, every plan I have, is ripped to shit. But hey...not like it's my quest about MY mom. NAAAH, fuck that. I don't need to know what's going on. I don't need to be trusted to do this my way. It's only MY mother's pain we're playing with"

Thistle:

All along the path, the globes begin to glow, casting a steady blue-white light. Little streaks of lightning zip into each one, crackling and flashing like miniature storms contained within the glass.

Tupp stands on his tiptoes, eyes wide with awe as the light begins to shimmer around him. He crosses his fingers and whispers under his breath, "Please, please..."

The lightning dances in the globes, filling the garden with a soft, ethereal glow. For a moment, it seems like nothing might happen—but then, a thin zip of light appears in the globe closest to Tupp.

A grin breaks across Tupp’s face, his heart racing with joy and pride. “It worked,” he whispers to himself, then beams at Thistle. "It worked! I did it!"

Then, a second zip, and a third... lightning is coming in, abandoning the other nearby globes, all crowding into the globe in front of THISTLE.

It starts to glow, and crackle alarmingly.

"Good job, kiddo!" She gives him a hug. Then. "Err..."

"No, no... it's supposed to be one in each globe!" Tupp reaches out to touch the globe, but then pulls his hand back sharply as there is a snap of electricity. "Ow!"

She sets the piskey down, and pulls him behind her. "Let's... give that some room, yeah?"

A fourth, and a fifth zap of lightning... almost to bright too look at now, but each seems to take the shape of a tiny bird wrought of lightning, and these are now fighting to reach the globe, though there are empty ones nearby along the path.

Tiny screeches that sound like electrical feedback as they clash

She steps back further - towards one of the still-dark globes.

Tupp tugs at her arm. "You have to give an offering! Dross, or a seeing stone, or berries from under the full moon! Else they won't come!"

But even as he says that, two of the little birds break off and zip to follow Thistle.

The piskey's jaw drops.