#kc_necropolis

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The walk on Yule night for Emerson is helping. It's cooling his temper, his frustration. He likes Caesar. Caesar is the son of hte woman he loves. And yet, Caesar is.. vexing him

More than that, he can feel the energy, the power, that fueled and protected him for decades now, ebbing. Not that he feels it less, but that there is less he can do about it.... and there's a strong part of him that understands and agrees it doesn't matter. Not compared to what he has now.

CC moves with him, true to her word, she lets him vent. Let's him ramble. or lets him fume in quiet if he prefers. But she is there

He seems to do none of that. But he takes her hand as they walk.

She squeezes it

And then, he looks up and sees the golden star

mortals think it's just Jupiter and Saturn mingling. Some call it a Christmas Star, some, a Yulestar. Changelings have been excited. It's as if it caught htem off guard ..and now.. it's big news.

CC stares "Is it just me? or is it getting brighter?"

He peers.

It's not just light, it's a golden trod.and it's opening!

"Shit." Succinctly "Hide." He pulls her to a shadowed spot.

And they do!

He stands in front of her, out of sight, and watches.

And fae souls, some wounded, come out... into the cold, they are lucky mortals aren't in great numbers. Places aren't as banal as people... for a moment he curses? MORE sidhe? If he could snuff.. then something blows by and he realizes these are not sidhe. Fae souls, but not sidhe

He likes the feel of it! There's something boggan like but not about them. Not thallian...

He squeezes her hand, drawing her attention.

As if it could be anywhere else.

She is indeed mesmerized "not sidhe"

they seem lost, few mortals around means no places to rest.

William agonizes briefly. "Help?" he whispers the question to Callidora.

"Right of rescue I suppose applies. " She looks at him "But what kind of dreams will draw them?"

"And what kind of mortals would be good for them" She adds

"We could simply step out.... take them to Firnost?"

"There's no one about now!"

"Firnost is pretty far away... " She looks unsure

"I don't know!" frustrated.

He turns to her. "I'll handle it. Get away and go on home. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Are you nuts?" She scowls "Leave you alone?"

"I know, I know...." he whispers "But better me than you."

"Oh to hell with..."

"Rebels' 'weirdos' 'Defiant

Words...Doing it OUR way

"They're talking to us" She says . It woudl seem they've been spotted

And this close, he can feel the dreams nature... the boggan like spirit yet not like boggan

"Go." and he steps forward into the light of the street lamps and their view.

SHe steps back and veils...

He waits, watching.

One passes through him and he feels a surge of glamour...

A DEEP intake.

It takes willpower, nott to resist posession, he is a changeling, he is claimed, but to sort the images, to suss them out

to splitt image from image, dream from drea...

dream

Onceupon atime, there were house spirits.. and they were many, and strong

and plentiful

Dreams of hearth and field

And some would become the boggans

He struggles to understand.

But others took on a different bentt... sometimes considered more Proper than goblins...as if mortals knew what real goblins were like... they were prefeixed with the term Hob. Peaceful, rustic... kind of the country cousin to boggans, not that many boggans didn't do like wise

and yet dreams change, ,and not everyone responds well to being told what to do, who to do it by