#rivervale_lodge

Brekke looks quickly to Siv. "Remember that." Then to the blade, "Whom have you killed?"

A nod from Siv

"I Have been used five Carnivals, once each year, for five years. Before that, I slew only one, and not on the holiday. In reverse order- Sister Mary Cathleen, known for her kindness , Mr Allen Franks, who helped the newly deaf, Peter Murray, who never failed to stop to put a dollar in a busker's hat; Lottie Dinkins, who once reported a child abuser at risk to herself, and Captain Fred Philmore, medal of valor, saved his unit, lost his legs. And long before that... my only fae, the nocker who made me. Rizsmit. Who when he discovered how I was to be used, tried to say 'no furkin deal'. It was his last sentence"

Brekke blinks. That was a far more detailed recitation than she'd been expecting. Almost a confessional...or a boast. She looks to Siv, "Is there a question to wish me to ask?"

Siv looks pale actually. She had SAVED the day. Perhaps, in her youthful joy at victory, it had not occurred to her that for every day she 'saved', there were other days she was not there

Then uhm "Sorry, mum, not sure what to ask. Maybe something on what it's magic does?"

Brekke nods, not yet commenting on Siv's pallor. To the blade, she murmurs, "What power does your glamour grant you?"

"at first, I was meant to share glamour freely give, a scratch along the palm, a slight wound and the smallest fraction of glamour, would beqeueth two fold the energy to the one touched by the blood given. Now, now I take with each death of mortal kind a glamour and store it. "

The last question asked and answered, Brekke nods and offers Siv back the blade. "Siv...you have interrupted a tradition in this woman's court. They may let it go, or they may come hunting. It is difficult to predict which. You also interrupted a series of deaths. Their Carnivale king could not be killed this year, thanks to you."

"But the others.. I.. I know I wasn't there but.. oh. Gods. So petty of them. They went after the kindest. It is not tradition that required them to mock what is good."

"I think, I think I grow to hate Leanhaun the more I know them. "

The look on Siv's face is full of disgust.

"Mm. I do not recall meeting one with redeeming qualities. Siv...you interrupted their tradition. That is a powerful strike. It may not stay interrupted...but you have done a bold and meaningful deed. I am proud of you." She pauses, then adds, "Although I think you may yet give both your father and me heart attacks."

She beams at the mention of pride, and fights a smile at the mention of heart attacks, "Thanks mom. You know, at this rate I don't think I want to have kids. Something about 'I hope you have kids just like you' being a thing, and you look stressed."

"Hmph. My daughter just threw herself into the most dangerous of environments for a seelie, aided by the sheer luck of being mistaken by virtue of a taken blade, and nearly witness to the ugliest Carnivale traditions...I wonder why I might be stressed?" Then a more serious tone. "This may yet follow you. They may hunt you here, or seek you out elsewhere. What do you think we should do?"

A thought "Consult those wiser than me, and then I guess I consider me options- if it turns out it is coming? Better to be the hunter than the hunted." She pats the cutlass, "They should know better than to go after any King."

A slight bitter grin. "King or King, either has been trapped, used as bait, or tortured to the point of near madness . Being King is no protection, Siv. It is rather like having a bigger, redder bullseye painted on your back. Be cautious."

"When an armada follows a single ship,it may find itself broken against the shoals." She ponders "But in truth, their respect for tradition may protect me a bit anyway. Isn't it a law that you're not to supposed to take revenge for things what pass on carnival? that's why some Duke can't hunt down a pooka who had fun day after he got hit with a tomato"

Brekke nods. "That is tradition, yes. But your possession of two stolen blades -- yes, I know you won them both, but not all would agree -- the possession of those blades continues beyond Carnivale, and that is when the rules get more difficult to interpret.

A frown "Blast. Honest, I'm not sure I want the knife any more, when I think o what its done, but I don't want them to have it. Ever. the Cutlass? It's mine. In battle taken, and history or no, I will not let fear of some ravaging elves with sweet tongues and ugly hearts keep it from me. If they wish it, then 'Molon Labe'"

"Hm." Brekke considers this, an eyebrow raised. "Leanhaun, bringing a grudge here." A pause. "They would be faced with a grudge far older," she says, her voice low.

A frown "Yes, they might come here. " A sigh "Damn it. I don't want to leave home. "

A blink. "Then do not."

"I can't endanger Gerd, or Connor... or those in the area who cannot fight. And I won't hide behind my mother's skirts or father's jeans... though truth to tell I don't think I've seen you in a skirt in a long time"

A hint of a grin at that last part, then she shakes her head. "We live a life filled with monsters and quests. A few Leanhaun with a grudge?" She shakes her head. "We will meet that threat. But I want to you to be aware that it exists. As to the sacrificial blade...in the morning, you will tell this story to your father. I will prepare him and be there to...well, to help. I want his counsel in this, but I think the best choice is to turn the blade over to Count Hemlock, along with the story of deeds done by it."

"I... truth? Just... tell the Count? and make a fuss over me self , isn't that, well, untrollish? He's a very busy man."

"Well..." An eyebrow at Siv, but she doesn't challenge that. "We will at least tell your father." Firm on that much.

"We definitely tell dad, and maybe the Count. " then a look at her mom, "Wait, mom? Do you want me to be known at court? what I did? Are you...thinking I deserve a boast?"

"One boast? Siv...you deserve far more than one."

"In fact...." A thought, and she goes silent, looking off....

"Well, I could go to the count and offer him the knife as a kind of tribute and sign of respect as well as an understanding he might know better how to find someone to purify it. And then I'd have to tell the story because he'd need details and I'd not feel like I was just pulling a brag. I.." She notices her mom's look, "Hello? Mum? In fact what?"

"Mm." Brekke comes back to what Siv is saying, and nods. "I think that would be wise. He should know of you, not just through me, not just as my child. But...I have another thought as well...." A pause. "Something long overdue, in fact. But let me speak with your father on it." She looks at the growing light outside the window. "It is almost day, Siv. Sleep. I will, as well." She rests a hand on Siv's shoulder and kisses the top of the girl's head. "You did very well."

"Thanks, mum, and... Honestly, I don't go looking for ways to make you and da a nervous wreck. I don't even consider it a perk." A light blush "I'm going to shower and then sleep as you say... Thanks again."

"Hm. You do, but you do not do it with that intent. Dream well." And her mother goes to seek her own sleep.

Downstairs, Dagmar is quite solidly asleep; using Edie as a pillow.

Brekke notes this and...instead of heading to sleep, she returns to her seat by the balefire and ponders some thoughts until morning is well underway and others of the Lodge (and the visiting childlings) have risen from their sleep.

((end scene?))

OOC: Sorry. Laptop is a paperweight

(End scene)

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Edie has to get to work patrolling, and gives the snoozing Dagmar a lick

"mmmph. m'wake." She mumbles and sits up.

Brekke is in her chair by the balefire, awake. She turns to look at the groggy Dagmar. "Good morning."

It is latish in the morning

"Hi." A sleepy blink and semi-smile.

"Torrin has returned home with Racer. You did well, I am told. Thank you for your service to the Lodge." From the kitchen, the smell of pancakes is beginning to waft enticingly.

"It was okay. He told lots of stories." A BIG yawn.

"How was the fancy party?"

"It was fancy." She nods. "It is always fancy. People enjoy themselves."

The door opens and sure enough, Oak is escorting someone. Jaymes, who is..almost smiling (Which for him is the same AS smiling)