After several minutes of wandering, he spies a door with a smaller door cut into the bottom of it. Garrett recognizes it as the same type of opening that was cut into Martin's door in Amber. "That's gotta be it," he mutters. He starts pounding hard on it and calling "FOLLY! MARTIN!"
Martin yanks the door open from inside perhaps a minute later. He's dressed, but his white T-shirt is damp and sticks to his skin and his hair is still dripping slightly. "What is it?" he asks sharply, and from his tone, Garrett suspects it had better be good.
"Amber's under attack. Something magical," Garrett answers urgently. His hair is mussed and his shirt is rumpled, as if he's been in some kind of scuffle. He continues quickly, "Bleys sent me to find you. He went back already. He wants you to go to him there." As he speaks, he offers Martin the sword and the roughed-up, trump-filled tennis shoes. He does not move to enter Folly's rooms unless invited, however.
Worried cursing drifts through the open door to Folly's bedroom, followed by Folly herself, hair still wet and dripping bright jewels of water onto her bare arms. She wears only a short sleeveless dress that to Garrett's eyes looks like it must be an undergarment. The loose bundle of cloth tucked under her arm is probably the rest of her outfit.
"All of Amber?" she asks as she comes to stand by Martin's side. She looks pale.
Garrett does not allow his eyes to stray from Folly's face as he responds. "I dunno. The castle, at least," he answers with a shake of his head. "Someone sent the Queen here and took Bleys back through a trump. Before he left, Bleys sent word to Gerard to prepare for wounded." His eyes register concern before he quickly turns his attention back to Martin.
"My sword belt," Martin says to Folly. It's probably a request.
Folly nods, drapes the clothes she's holding over the back of the couch, and begins sifting through a different pile of clothes, this one in the middle of the sitting-room floor. If Garrett is paying attention, he notices the pile contains all of the clothes Folly and Martin were wearing when they left the spar, including a few items that are unquestionably undergarments.
[Martin] snatches the shoes and trump deck from Garrett's hand, dropping the shoes and thumbing through the Trumps, looking for the one he'll need to take him back to Amber.
After a moment, he pulls two cards and puts the rest back in the box, which he shoves in his back pocket. He looks back up to Garrett and asks in a tone that brooks no refusal, "What happened to my Castle Trump?"
"Lucas has it," Garrett informs him. "He went back to protect his children. He promised to return it as soon as he could." He purposefully neglects to mention that Lucas roughed him up to get it.
Folly, though, who is wise in the ways of personal and interpersonal dynamics and who also knows a thing or two about reading between the lines, asks softly, "Is he the one that roughed you up?" The question sounds almost rhetorical.
Garrett nods once almost imperceptibly, and the glance he shoots Folly indicates he intends to fight his own battles.
She finds Martin's sword belt, deftly untangles it from his discarded trousers, and hands it to him. Then, noticing that they're all still clustered around the open door to her suite, she motions Garrett in and pulls the door closed behind him.
Martin, meanwhile has sat down on the [couch] and started pulling on his socks, the two trumps laid to one side. The boots he wore while riding are sitting nearby. After a moment, he pauses, a faraway look in his eyes. "Who?" he says, and then, "Merlin." [pause] "Yes, he just got here. Lemme finish putting on my socks."
He does so by touch, still speaking. "Folly, the Trumps are Bleys and Dad. Go to Dad, tell him what's happening and whatever you do, don't let him go to Amber. You're in charge of junior here."
Folly looks as if she has a dozen things to say, or ask, but she cuts them all off with a single nod of acquiescence.
"Garrett, you and I will talk when I get back." From the sound of his voice, Garrett suspects that will be a less than pleasant talk.
Garrett's shoulders sag in resignation, but his chin remains high. He nods once, a serious expression on his face.
Then Martin's socks are on. He gathers his boots and blade in one hand, leaving the belt behind, and his arm reaches forward, and he's moving and gone in a coruscating rainbow light.
Garrett watches Martin go, then visibly relaxes. As he kicks idly at the discarded sneakers on the floor, he mutters bitterly, "Heh. I reckon I'm in trouble _again_." Something in his tone makes it clear he's beginning not to care.
Folly drops the sword belt on the floor again and goes to pick up the trumps Martin left behind. "You know," she says gently, "if it were my babies, I'm sure I would've done what Lucas did. And if it were me holding Martin's trumps, he woulda had to rough me up to get one. There is no right answer; and if you're in trouble, so is Lucas."
"I reckon. But he only roughed me a little," Garrett murmurs, staring at his feet. He looks up at Folly and says more clearly, "I gave it to him. He didn't take it from me," and adds in justification, "'Cause it was for his children, y'know?"
"Yeah," Folly says, and her lips compress into a tight smile that betrays her own worry.
She scoops up the trumps, holds one in front of herself as if to activate it, and moves to slip the other one into her pocket. But...
Oh, yeah. She's not wearing any pockets.
Garrett snorts in amusement as he realizes she was about to trump the King in her underwear. The humor of it brightens his mood.
She sets the trumps down again, shoots Garrett a sheepish grin, and begins shaking out the bundle of clothes she left on the back of the couch.
While Folly dresses, Garrett picks up the trumps of his father and Uncle Bleys and looks them over carefully, front and back. "Are they supposed to be this cold?" he asks as he rubs his thumbs across the pictures.
"Yeah. Weird, huh?" The wad of fabric in Folly's hands resolves into a long, straight skirt, which she pulls on beneath the short dress, and some kind of light, flowing upper garment that looks like a cross between a shirt and a shawl in a pretty, swirly purple pattern. "Something to do with the magic behind them -- when they stopped working for a while after the Sundering, they weren't cold anymore -- but I don't really understand why the magic makes them cold."
"Hmm," Garrett responds with intrigued interest.
After finding and pocketing a small card case that probably contains her own trumps, Folly retrieves a pair of slippers from under her desk and pulls them on. Then, almost ritualistically, she withdraws a small velvet box from the leather satchel sitting atop the desk, and removes and dons its contents: a silver cuff bracelet adorned with a small jewelled butterfly.
"That's pretty," Garrett compliments.
"Thanks," Folly replies, grinning. "I just adore it." She lovingly traces its contours with one fingertip, lost for a moment in some dream or memory. She's practically glowing.
"Right," she says when she looks up again, "I suppose now we should trump the king with the executive summary and then head to C---"
Her words trail off with an appraising look at Garrett and a slow grin, and then her hand plunges back into the satchel.
Court. Crap. Garrett looks himself over and screws up his nose. He had been planning to change into nicer clothes and comb his hair before court. Hopefully, the King will understand the circumstances.
An instant later, she's tossing him a comb.
"How do you always know?" Garrett gapes incredulously at Folly's apparent clairvoyance as he catches the comb.
In reply, Folly just grins.
He glances around for a mirror and finding none [OOC - I'm sure Martin wouldn't allow an exposed mirror in Folly's rooms], combs his hair without one. He hands the comb back to Folly with thanks, then retucks his shirt, unrolls and buttons his sleeves and smooths out his jeans. At least they don't have any holes, he thinks to himself.
When he has himself as together as he's going to get, Garrett turns to Folly and says, "All right. I think I'm ready."
Folly puts on her best mother-hen expression, takes Garrett's chin between her thumb and forefinger, and gently turns his head to one side and then the other, looking for any stray tufts of unruly hair.
Garrett allows her to check him over -- appreciates it, in fact. After all, she has court experience.
"Yes, I think that'll do," she agrees, her tone affectionate and her eyes twinkling. "Good thing, too -- I doubt you'd want me to hafta do the lick-my-hand-and-fix-your-hair thing. And I totally would."
"I know you would," he grimaces and pulls away, little-brother-like.
Folly can't suppress a grin.
She scoops up the trumps again, tucks the Bleys trump into her card case, but keeps the other in her hand. "We can start walking," she says, "but I'm just gonna give Syd a quick call en route to let him know what's happening. D'you wanna be in on the call?" As she says this last, she holds out her free hand. Her other hand is poised in front of her, trump at the ready to initiate the contact.
"Can I?" Garrett asks excitedly. He tentatively takes her hand, hoping he's doing this right. "And why do you keep calling him Syd?" he asks as an afterthought.
Folly's fingers twitch against his hand like a horse's tail after a horsefly bite. "Yeah, that," she says, and looks up from the card. Her expression is apologetic; she regards him silently for the space of several breaths as if she's looking for the right words.
Finally she says, "I think I told you that when Martin first came to find me, I didn't really know anything about Amber. But I had heard the name before, from someone I met a long time ago. He was...."
She hesitates again. "Syd. He was my...." She takes a deep breath and looks at Garrett wistfully. "He was my drummer."
Garrett quirks an eyebrow as he takes in the meaningful pauses and wistful look. "Folly..." his voice trails off and up, as if he's not sure he's hearing what he thinks he's hearing. If he is, though, it all suddenly makes sense. His father's reputation with the ladies, Folly's self-admitted penchant for 'pretty blue eyes', how she identified his sire so surely and quickly, and how she knew so much about him. A corner of Garrett's mouth starts to smile until he suppresses the brotherly urge to tease.
He squeezes her hand and asks gently, "Um, Folly, was he... 'just' your drummer the same way that..." Garrett's cheeks go a little pink, "um, Martin is now 'just' your guitar player?" The question is not judgmental in the least, and his expression is one of affectionate encouragement.
"That... isn't a bad way to put it, yeah," Folly says, color creeping into her cheeks as well. But she looks more relieved than embarrassed, and gives his hand a grateful return squeeze. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before now. Not many people know -- or at least, I haven't told many people. Martin. Paige. Soren knows, of course. And Solange. But... you deserve to know." She squeezes his hand again, and looks up to see if he has questions.
Garrett has lots of questions. Problem is, they're mostly the half-formed "What the f..." and "How the h..." variety and about things he's not sure he wants to know. So he keeps them to himself. Instead, he reaches around her shoulder and gives her a one-armed affectionate squeeze. "'S all right. That's gotta be tough, so I won't even tease you about it," he smiles. His grin turns mischievous as he adds, "'Least not today."
Folly arches her eyebrow in a comical long-suffering-big-sister look. But she's smiling.
He lets her go then and gets back to the task at hand. "I reckon we oughta call him, though," he nods apologetically toward the trump in her hand.
"Right." Folly nods and gets down to business, holding up the trump of Random where they can both see it. "The way this works is, I'll activate the card by concentrating on it and... willing a connection. If he takes the call, we'll see the image start to move, and then as long as we're both in contact" -- she lifts up Garrett's hand in hers -- "we should both be able to talk to him."
Garrett listens carefully then nods. He adjusts his position so he's shoulder-to-shoulder with Folly and can see the trump clearly. Through their clasped hands, Folly can feel Garrett's eagerness for his first trump contact.
Once Garrett seems ready, Folly turns her eyes to the card. She smiles at the image -- the same one Martin showed her when he first came to Texorami. Willing the contact feels like the most natural thing in the world.
Random snaps into reality before Folly and Garrett, his face close and his eyes looking at Folly's. "You've heard?"
"Y---" That's all Folly manages to get out before he continues:
"We have news. Bad news. Take my hand."
Folly can tell that he's in a room off the big hall, with Soren and Brennan. And she can tell that Syd is thinking about Ianna.
He reaches out, hand open.
"Oh, christ," Folly says quietly. Her hand tightens around Garrett's; her fingers are suddenly like ice.
At Folly's reaction, Garrett pales. Visions of the Sundering's destruction lurch into his head and he whispers, "Please, gods, no..."
"Garrett, take the Trump," she says, "and hold onto it, and hold onto me. And don't let go. We're going through."
The urgency of her tone doesn't leave much room for questions.
Garrett does as he's told. He takes the trump and concentrates to maintain the contact, continuing to hold it where they both can see it. His grip on Folly's hand is now a little too tight.
As soon as Garrett has a secure grip on the card, Folly reaches for Random's hand.
Folly takes Random's hand and Garrett feels a rush of air swirling beside him and then he's pulled off his feet by her hand. He stumbles forward a step and finds himself face to face with Random.
"This place seems so different from Amber. It still smells of the sea, but it's somehow more vibrant. You know he sent us off so that I could steady myself by having duties to attend to? What do you think of this place? You've been around here as long as anyone, I think."
Lilly begins to relax. "It is fascinating. Lights glow without fire. There is a box in the kitchen that keeps food nearly as cold as the snows. So many things I never thought possible." She lets her mind wander for a moment before coming back to the Queen's questions.
"And there is water nearby. A great rush of it falls from the cliff side. I am certain you shall be able to hear its roar as it makes it journey. Below there is a city, though at the moment it is still little more then a large village. I am certain it shall be amazing in its own right someday. I think you will find Xanadu to your liking. I know I do. It is full of hope and promise. It's glory is ours to create." By that she means those who have chosen loyalty to Random.
Vialle smiles. "It smells new. Amber has all kinds of scents layered on it, from its age and all the people and things that have passed through its walls. Xanadu doesn't have all those scents yet.
Vialle lets Lilly lead her from the salle up the stairs into the family wing and the royal suite. Lilly notices that the furniture looks different but is placed exactly where the Castle Amber royal furniture is.
Vialle opens a wardrobe and pulls out a gown. "Can you help me put this on?" she asks.
Since the servants were still few, Lilly knew she had little choice. "Of course your majesty. It will look radiant on you." It was a guess. Lilly cared little about fashion and had no clue what would look nice on the Queen. All the same she had come to assume that things hanging in Vialle's closet were made by those who knew better. No matter what, it was always good to have the Queen believe she looked fabulous in circumstances such as this.
At times such as these it was good to have nimble fingers and to have observed servants readying the Queen. With luck she would have Vialle ready for court with a minimum of fuss.
The gown Vialle has pulled out is simple, as all her gowns are. It's a light rusty color, one that brings out auburn highlights in Vialle's brown hair. It requires no lacing or other such nimble-fingered assistance. All it really needs is to be straightened once Lilly and Vialle have lifted it over her head. Lilly also has to make sure the front of the dress is pointed forward so Vialle gets it on the right way.
"Is my hair all right?" Vialle asks. "Does it need to be rebraided?" She pauses a moment for Lilly's answer.
"It would pass," Lilly says honestly. "But allow me to tame it for you. Nothing less then perfect should do for the Queen of Xanadu." Braiding hair was easy enough and a few relaxing moments should be enough to soothe the Queen's nerves before court.
"Do you know who is coming to court and what the order of business will be?"
"With all that has happened, I am uncertain as to who is still here. I suspect Celina, Folly, Brennan for certain. Bleys and Martin if they have returned. Lucas was about, I know. Uncle Gerard may make an appearance if he is able." She quite purposefully leaves out Garrett's name. Best not to bring that up just in case she was still unaware. "I suppose there will be others as well. Soren for one. He filled the role of regent so it would be odd if he was not present.
"As far as I know, it will be standard court business. The King confirming news of his return. Introductions of royals. That sort of thing. I suppose there could be a greater agenda. I guess we shall have to wait and see."
Vialle sits on a low stool that gives Lilly good access to her hair. "Who are the local notables? Have they been up to the castle yet?"
Lilly starts to shake her head and then immediately catches her mistake. "No. Other then Soren I have not met anyone who I would consider to be notable. The city is still quite small. There may not be many to meet just yet. There are men here from a shop Amber lost during the war though. One of them serves as Captain of the guard. I suppose they may have a representative or two at court."
After a moment, she adds, "What about the boy? Is he here?"
A pained expression came to Lilly's features. By allowing the discomfort an outlet there, she hoped to keep it from invading her voice or affecting her grip on the Queen's hair. "I assume we are not speaking of Martin," she states calmly. "Yes. He is here."
She wanted to continue on, to tell the Queen that it was not Garrett's nor Random's fault. She wanted to explain that The accident of his birth had happened well before Random had fallen in love with her. She wanted to share with Vialle that the son was kind and thoughtful and very much like his father. She wanted to say that none of this was ever meant to hurt her. She wanted to convince Vialle to give Garrett a chance, to accept him as step son. She wanted to say all of these things and more...
But she could not.
It was not her place.
Let Random defend his own actions. Let Garrett prove his own worth. Give them their honor. For now.
So she says the only thing left to say. "I expect he will be at court as well."
Beneath her hand, Lilly feels Vialle trembling slightly like a leaf in a gentle breeze. "You've travelled with him. What do you make of him, Lilly?"
This time the sigh did escape her lips. She could hold back. Keep her true opinions to herself. In fact that is probably would she should do. It is definitely the easier path. Unfortunately easy was never really Lilly's style.
Leaving the hair forgotten for the moment, Lilly moves so that she is kneeling in front of the Queen and takes Vialle's hands. "Vialle," she ventures in a soft tone. She had never used anything other then a formal title before. "I fear I may not be the best person to ask. My opinions are no doubt biased. But I will tell you what I see in him, because I trust you and I hope it will help ease your fears."
Lilly takes a moment to organize her thoughts before going on. "I... I met him for the first time in Amber's library. I thought it an odd place to find a stable hand and approached him. He told me he was there looking for histories. Still unsure of his motives, I offered my aid. We began to talk. I found it very easy to open up to him and obviously he felt the same way about me. Before our first meeting had ended, he had told me his story. I did what I could to ensure he was telling the truth. I feel, even still, that he was completely honest with me.
"It was I that approached Uncle Random and told him of Garrett's existence. I wanted the King to be able to control the situation. And I think he has. Mostly anyway. One can never really control the actions of a concerned mother, I suppose." Her grip tightens for a moment as she decides how to continue on.
"Right before we left Amber, we managed a visit. Again we found ourselves opening up to one another in ways I wouldn't have expected. During our travels, our friendship only strengthened. So what I can tell you is, I really like him. In fact it might even be developing into something more then that but my experience with such things is very limited. Right now though, I think both he and I need to be focusing on things other then each other. Because of that, I plan to leave to journey in Shadow while Garrett remains here and learns what it means to be nobility.
"I truly believe he means no harm to anyone. I believe he will listen to his father and accept the life Random offers him, whatever that may be. That may change in years to come. But for now, Garrett seems to want nothing more then to simply fit in." Just as I do, Lilly adds mentally. Just as most everyone does.
Vialle sits still while Lilly tells her story and for a few moments afterward. Then she says, "If you and Garrett come to an understanding some years down the road, you would be my daughter-in-law, Lilly." She squeezes Lilly's hands gently and smiles.
A relieved expression washes across Lilly's features. "There is something else, something I hadn't planned to discuss with anyone." She takes a deep breath before continuing on. "I had a vision of the future. Garrett and I had a child. To be honest, I found it rather disconcerting. I never planned to have children. Not at all. I never though of myself as the motherly type. But in that moment, in the midst of the shock, I was happy." She falls silent, remembering that part of her pattern walk.
"I guess that part of me is terrified by that, terrified by the possibility of falling that deeply in love with someone. A love deep enough that I want to share a child with him. I'm not ready for that. I hope when I return I will be. It all remains to be seen, I suppose."
Vialle listens to Lilly intently, and a slight frown crosses her face as Lilly speaks of returning and quickly bearing a child. After a moment, she says, "How old are you, Lilly?"
"Young," she replies quickly. "By any standards. I have only experienced twenty or so years. Compared to those of Amber heritage, I am still a babe." Lilly smiles. "That is yet another reason I want to get away from Garrett for a while."
"Lilly, I'm not one of your family members. I'm almost four centuries old, and I may still bear Random children. And Fiona--she's close to a thousand or maybe more, and her daughter isn't much older than you are. You have a long time to think about it before you have to bear a child. Don't rush, unless you're sure it's what you want to do." Vialle smiles at Lilly.
"Trust me, this is definitely not something I will do before I am good and ready," Lilly replies. "I can promise you that." Her voice is full of sincerity. For all that the visions were interesting and even in some ways compelling, right now a child is one of the last things she wants. There is far too much life to live first.
"Let's finish braiding my hair. It won't do for me to be late to court. Random will worry."
Smiling, Lilly stood and retook her place behind the Queens chair. Without another word she went back to work ensuring Vialle was at least physically ready for court.
"There," she announces once the task is complete. "All finished. You look the part of a proper Queen. Now we can only hope your husband will appear as a proper King." Her tone is light. No part of her really expects Random to look particularly regal. However she does that think of that as a true problem. Random is who he is, nothing more and nothing less. The fact that he knew that made her respect him all the more.
"If you are ready, I will escort you down to meet him," Lilly offers gently.
"I'm ready. And Lilly, thank you. You've eased my mind." Vialle smiles at Lilly as she rises and prepares to let Lilly walk her to court.
Conner watches everyone leave and nods goodbye to them all. He walks over to Brita and gives her a reassuring pat on the shoulder before walking over to Gerard. "So did you really want the honor of examining me Admiral or do you have questions for me?" He asks.
"Examination first, Captain," Gerard says. "Sit." And once Conner has followed that order, Gerard gives him a rather thorough examination, ensuring that he isn't injured. Once that has been established to Gerard's satisfaction, he turns to Breeze.
"It's this youngster I want to ask some questions of. Lad, who are you and how did you come to be in Lady Paige's quarters?"
Breeze stammers, "My name is Breeze, and I'm out of Brousailles. I--I don't remember. I don't really remember anything. I was at Little Spring, and we were attacked by wild men. Nothing much since then, just--like nightmares. I don't know how I came into Amber, sir, I swear!"
[OOC: Gerard is going to interrogate Breeze about the details of how he was kidnapped and what he remembers. If Brita and Conner have anything to add, please do so. Otherwise I'll summarize in the next GM post.]
"You came in on a Trump, Breeze." Conner informs him. Conner walks towards the Ranger slowly and calmly. "Think back Breeze. There would have been flashes of rainbow light, a feeling of being in one place and not another." Conner's voice is soothing and sibilant, almost lulling. "Take a deep breath. Think yourself back. Rainbows, places flashing before you like lightning. Faces before you, hands drawing you from place to place. Think back Breeze. Tell us what you remember." What Conner does is not quite hypnotism but it has been useful in the past for encouraging the willing to remember all they can.
"There was fighting ... " Breeze says hesitantly. "The lady?" Then he shakes his head. "I'm sorry, your lordships, I don't remember anything more. Not enough to help." His voice takes on an edge of desperation. "How long have I been missing? Do the seniors at Brousailles know what happened to me?"
"I don't know Breeze." Conner continues in his soothing voice. He casually pulls out a pocketwatch as if checking it for the date and winding it as he does so. "What is the last date you can remember?"
"I don't know--I was out in Little Spring. Not long after we had word of the Coronation."
Conner realizes that could be as much as five weeks ago.
Brita watches her Brother at work. When he passed her earlier, she had mentioned briefly that he would need to retrieve someThing from Amber for her soon.
Gerard, like Brita, lets Conner go about his work.
"I am going to try something Breeze." Conner informs him. "All I need you to do is close your eyes and focus on the last memory you have before the gap. Those bits about fighting would do. Will do that you for me Breeze?" It might be a question in a soothing voice but it clear Conner expects to be obeyed.
Breeze nods. He's wide-eyed and frightened.
Conner reaches into his pocket for a piece of chalk but drops it again. He really didn't have the time to inscribe the necessary runes. Perhaps if this doesn't work or the information becomes more critical, he would try it. He also finds himself wishing he were back in Amber attempting this. Still, no time like the present to see how sorcery friendly His Majesty's new Pattern is. The only point in Conner's favor is the narrowness of the search, from the last date Breeze can remember to a few days ago. That should help. Conner takes the time to center himself and focus. Almost meditatively, Conner winds back the watch the number of hours to the time he wished to view. He continues that winding as he pours his will into reaching back and reaching out seeking the past of the ranger before him.
Trying to work the magic is like cutting through sludge: hard to push, and reality reforms behind his magic in ways that press it in strange directions. As Conner winds the watch back, Breeze's face goes slack and he relaxes on the gurney that he's sitting on.
Conner has been winding the watch back for about 10 seconds when Breeze buries his face in his hands and begins screaming. "NO! NO! GET OUT OF MY HEAD! NO!"
Brita jumps out of the chair she is in, but almost immediately reaches back for the support although she does not quite touch the chair with her bandaged hands. She is NOT up to another fight so soon, but she will if she must.
Were Conner not acutely aware of the consequences of inattention during sorcerous rituals, he would have loudly demonstrated that he could still curse like a sailor.
As it is, he immediately ceases winding the watch and as quickly as he can cut the energy to misguided weaving. Conner watches the procedure carefully through his third eye to determine exactly what his spell is actually doing.
Brita continues to follow her Brother's cues and waits for further reactions from Ranger Breeze.
When Conner closes out the spell, the screaming stops and the youth curls up in a fetal ball on the gurney.
Gerard, who had rolled into position to intervene, looks over at Conner. "What was that?" he asks.
"It was supposed to be an attempt to scry his past." Conner answers moving a little bit closer. "What actually happened I'm not sure. I fear I caused him to relive the past or even worse was moving him backward in his own timeline." Conner continues to montior the ranger with his third eye looking for any lingering effects or energies. "Breeze, what happened? What did you feel?"
Conner doesn't see any lasting magical effect on Breeze. Whatever terrors the youth is experiencing are in his own mind now.
Brita's response is a relatively formal, "You are safe, Ranger. The Enemy has been defeated." Her tone is one used in her command of the Rangers.
Brita's reassuring tone seems to help. Gerard picks up where she left off. "Aye, lad, we're done with fighting and we won't let it come back again. Isn't that right, Conner?"
Breeze is still whimpering a little. He opens one eye and looks at Conner. "It was doing things to me and I couldn't stop it. Please don't make me remember?"
"I won't, Breeze. That was never what I meant to do and I won't try again." Conner promises him. "It's over. Rest now." He gently urges the ranger.
Gerard rummages through the cabinets and finds a pill, which Conner suspects is a sedative, and gives it to the lad with some water. It'll take longer to take effect this way than it would as an injection, but the pill is probably less strange and frightening to Breeze than an injection would be.
When they get the boy calmed and the curtain drawn around the gurney he's lying on, Gerard suggests that Conner take Brita and find her a chamber where she can rest. He gives directions to the part of the castle where the cousins are taking rooms.
[OOC: unless you guys have something else, I'm ready to call this EOT; you can move on together, separate, meet one of the groups of cousins in Xanadu, etc. If you guys have something else, we can punt the last paragraph and go on.]
"Come sister. Let's go stake our claim of rooms while we can. I suspect all the good ones are taken but here we go." Conner helps Brita up from the infirmary table and leads her off into the castle. Their walk through the castle is slow and unhurried as they stop to peer in each room they go pass. "Furnished in early generica I see." He comments. "Well at least there will be a bed of one's own in a room of one's own."
Brita ends up selecting an interior room across the hall from the one Conner finally chooses. Conner's has a couple of small port-hole like windows looking out to the cliffs and is, of course, done in tasteful blues and greens. Brita's room is, by comparison, pretty stark - a bed, a table, a small armoir, and a straight-backed chair make up the furniture in the room. The room is done in brown tones with a few spashes of color in the yellow bedspread and rich cherry stain on the armoir. She smiles at Conner's somewhat confused look at her choice. "It reminds me of home," she says with a fond smile to the room. "I can imagine it is mid-winter, with snows piled higher than my window. Of course, at home, I didn't have the attached bath room," she nods to the discrete doorway to the left.
[GM OOC comment : Exterior windows are all uniformly shaped and not portholes. All of the furniture is pretty stark (think IKEA, if you know their style). Random expected that people would get whatever they wanted to decorate their rooms. Or perhaps he thought that if he put anything in at all, everyone would hate it. Or maybe he said "Oh, crap, I almost forgot! Let there be furnishings!" and lo, there were armoires. Upshot: you have to bring in your own decorations, no deciding that Random furnished a room to your taste, unless your taste is IKEA modern stark...]
One seems about as good as another as they are all furnished in early "Some Assembly Required." Still Conner takes an outside room with a view of of some of the bay. "As I said, a bed and room. We'll have to go shopping later."
Conner gives Brita's hand a squeeze. "You had me worried back there, my sister." He confesses. "You really must be more careful next time."
Brita snorts in response. "I'm not the one galavanting around Shadowdom with a Price on my Head and Ninja around every corner." She gestures Conner to the chair, then pulls out Chi Lin's ring and hands it to him. "A Gift freely given from your Friend that I Keep Close. You will have to Thank the Owner quickly or he may Leave."
"Actually it was pirates around every corner. Though should they fight each other my money is on the ninjas." Conner chuckles at the oscure shadow reference and decides it just isn't worth explaining. "So was this ring he once gave a rub?" Conner accepts it and looks it over both with his normal and magical senses. "Yes, once I've paid my respects to his majesty I will indeed return to thank the owner. Did he speak anything of interest when you last chatted?"
"Some. Mostly ranting paranoia. It seems the Amber Heights may be involved and not so much of the Sea. He fears reprisal for being in Amber."
"Sounds like I need to smooth his brow and ruffle his feathers simultaneously." Conner murmurs as he examines the ring. "Pretty little thing isn't it? And full of hidden depths. That's a way to craft a stone. Have I missed anything else since we last spoke?"
"You did miss a wonderful Concert and Draconic Display hosted by Cousin Lucas. Warrior-Cousins Vere and Jerod left for the Isles. Others of our cousins returned and came up to visit Castle Xanadu."
Brita pauses for a moment and then returns to the other subject. "About our Guest, I brought him into the Castle because I broke the door on his former living quarters - a misunderstanding as I thought he was In Trouble. He now jumps at shadows and Ring Spirits. He did say he wanted the Deceased to stop threatening him."
"Did he now?" Conner murmurs still distracted a bit by the ring in his hand. He shakes his head to clear it and pockets the ring. "Sorry, I was idly pondering if the ring could be refilled. So our friend is worried eh? Good. Worried men sing worried songs and we need a full recital."
Conner takes a moment to stretch out the muscles in his back. "For my part I have to only to report that Gateway is having some rather unusal magical issues. That's almost as big a draw to return as Thalia." Conner smiles a little sadly at Brita. "Don't know when I'll get the chance though."
"She would not come with you here." It is a statement. "My Father Vidar felt the same - he is commited to his own World Goals. It is hard being on a Different Path." Brita brightens a little, "I must meet Your Thalia, however, to ensure she is Worthy of My Brother. So, You will see her again."
Conner chuckles at the the thought of Brita and Thalia sizing each other up. "Thank you for that my sister. I'll be sure to bring you along should circumstance permit." Conner slides over and gently gives Brita a hug. "I should leave you to rest. Today was a lot to absorb."
Brita hugs back with most of her normal exhuberance. "I would not be Adverse to some Neices or Nephews to watch out for as I am used many relatives from living in Granda Odin's Court of Valhalla," she says with a wink as she pushes a couple of pillows into a better position before settling on the bed. "You should rest, too, Brother," she says in a more serious tone.
"I should." Conner agrees easily. "Though I am certain I won't." Conner moves to leave and then turns in the doorway. "And pretty sure I cannot." He sighs. "Rest well, sister."
Last modified: 9 July 2005