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xp_logsThe evening’s entertainment proves to be more than the Grande Dame anticipated when the scattered travelers are finally reunited. A bargain is struck.
"Please, indulge yourselves. I insist you enjoy Our every generosity."
The Grande Dame's lips curved with magnanimity. Tonight she wore a spidersilk dress and sea-deep eyes, with flowers of pearl and nacre wound through her auburn tresses to compliment her Atlantean guest. Courtiers of every shape and size thronged around them, but even in their midst the Lady stood with the radiance of a star. Intentional on the part of her subjects, perhaps; that dazzling smile glinted with the promise of consequences for any who dared outshine it.
"I have some small matters to attend," she continued as she waved aside a proffered tray of flower-petal dainties. "The rigors of one's station allow no rest. You understand, of course."
"Oh, it is a beast that only hungers," Namor delivered with a slight chuckle. He had been draped in fabric to match the Dame's resplendence, a sharp and masculine mirror to her brilliance. Or, the Atlantean suspected, more akin to dressing a pet. Still, he stood proud in posture and resolute in his own ego amid the sea of admirers that came and went with the tide of this realm's favor.
A hand was offered.
"Your glass?" Namor's smile was polite, and he held his own wineglass close to his chest. "Something to ensure your quick return."
The Grande Dame threw her head back with bright laughter. "The promise of your company is more than enough, my prince," she said as she passed him a glass of cut crystal. Her fingers lingered against his wrist for a moment, and then she drifted away into the crowd.
It was three deep breaths before Namor allowed his posture to slacken. He only allowed himself to turn his head, the sparking liquid not even rippling as he searched for his companion.
"What else have we learned?" Gone was any flirty buoyancy. This was now business.
Pixie, standing a few steps away, had been doing her best to both blend into the background and keep an ear on the conversation drifting through the court. Her iridescent wings shimmered under the eerie, glowing light of the ballroom. Never had she felt more like she visibly fit in more while being completely out of her element at the same time.
"A lot of gossip, but not much information," she replied, her black eyes scanning the room. She kept looking for Meggan's face in the crowd, even though they were told she wasn't taken. "Whispers about tonight's entertainment... from Outside. I think it's us, or maybe others from our group. Either way, I don't like how she treats us like toys." She picked at the long, dagged sleeve of her dress, the same sea-green that the Atlantean wore. They were like dolls, or toy poodles in matching outfits.
Namor's expression tightened in irritation, which was a contrast to the icily polite smile he flashed at a passing gentryfolk. "She," he stressed, "rules her fiefdom on the capricious knife's edge of her whims. Trust if I presently held that sort of control, I would not be so kind to intruders. Still, she has been growing increasingly irate despite my best efforts to endear her to us."
He paused to take a slow, thoughtful sip of his wine, or perhaps to let Pixie's imagination paint pictures of his endearments.
"Regardless. Meggan has never particularly inspired my confidence in her ability to sing, dance, or sow insurrection. They must have snatched one of the others."
Pixie suppressed a shudder at Namor's mention of his "best efforts". It didn't just make her want to throw up - though that was definitely part of it, and she didn't even have anything to throw up since she was only pretending to drink the wine - but highly risky. Every small touch exchanged with the Grande Dame, every lingering look, every carefully chosen word was a potential trap. Playing into her whims was a dangerous game where they weren't even sure of the rules.
"I don't like how this is lining up," she said softly. "If it's Jay, or Jono, or both, I don't think this court is ready for that...."
Her gaze drifted around the room, scanning for any sign of the Grande Dame as she continued. "On the other hand, they might distract her from whatever 'small matters' have got her so worked up." She gave Namor an encouraging smile, although it didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Oh, do not worry. I am Atlantean. We are born of the sea, and know how to keep partners . . ." Namor's smile grew smug. "Thirsty. I am fluent in a tongue that all understand, and her favor is the best tool we have. We will use it until there is a better weapon available."
The crowd shifted then, an anticipatory silence falling over the assembled court.
"Let us also hope that Jay and Jono, or whoever this is, do not attempt to introduce these folks to dinner theater," Namor said with a visible shudder. "Insufferable."
The Grande Dame had positioned herself on a dais draped with silks and pillows. Before her stood a fae of her sort, one of the tall, winged ones who seemed most in favor, clad in green hunter's garb. The crowd had parted around him like an inspired sea as the Dame's voice rang out.
"Speak, huntsman. What prize have you brought?"
"Great lady, we bring before you visitors from Outside. Their people term themselves 'mutants.'" The hunter turned to look behind him, gesturing wide. "Their people have a rare gift for music. I present them to you now as honored guests, and hope their skill pleases you."
"As you say." The Grande Dame's wings pulsed lazily, but there was an edge to her pleasant demeanor that hinted unfounded assertions would not be taken kindly. Extending a languid hand to her guests, she smiled. "Step forward, mutants. Let me see you."
Jay made a sweeping bow, wanting not to offend and get killed for it. He looked to Jono for a moment before looking on the Grande Dame's companions. He noticed the unmistakable pink hair that belonged to Pixie and started to realize that it really was her and with Namor beside her. He quickly tried to school his face, but the recognition had come before he could stop it.
He looked at Jono again, seeing if the other man had seen them too. This wasn't good if four of them had been captured.
Jono's eyes slid over to Jay and tried to ignore the wave of panic that had washed off the other man. He steeled himself for a moment before speaking. "Please excuse the intrusion into your mind your majesty, I assure you I am only projecting my thoughts and not daring to pry into your own. I have no mouth so this is how I must speak. Are there any songs which most please your majesty? I cannot promise that we know all of them, but if we are familiar it would be an honour for us to please you in that way."
Anyone who had even briefly met Jono would be shocked to watch the display before them. Eat your fucking heart out, Namor.
Jono's gaze lingered on Pixie and Namor, trying to silently confirm if they were alright, if they'd been tricked into staying somehow. He hoped they hadn't eaten anything. He really wanted to go home. Maybe their proximity to the queen could let them bargain . . .
There was a discreet clearing of a throat from near the Grand Dame's side. Audible enough to carry.
"Your Grace," Namor interjected, "these two are missing members of my retinue. I will take responsibility for them." He stepped forward, further drawing the eyes of the room.
Several expressions flashed across the Grande Dame's face. Surprise, that Namor was still there; anger, that she be interrupted within her own court; and finally a cool guile which quickly smothered the other two. Her blood-red lips began to part.
Then, from the far side of the hall, the screaming started.
The room's collective curiosity swiveled from the seat of power and toward the noise. There was a flash of grey steel and a pinpoint of long, blonde locks amidst what looked to be panicked bystanders throwing themselves out of the way. Naturally, the room's attention drifted back for answers. Clarity.
Namor actually sighed. "And those, as well."
Meggan had been incredibly concerned that they had gone to the wrong area entirely as they entered, but now that gave way to a good dose of giddy relief when she saw the faces of the others and realized they were safe. None of them looked or felt like they had been drained like the thralls, so that was one lovely point in their favor.
She gave a little wave to them, hoping she wasn’t so changed looking that she wouldn’t be recognized; there hadn’t been any suitably reflective surfaces to find that out along the way. She knew she at least sounded the same as usual, so there was that. “We were in the prison cells, or we might have been here sooner,” Meggan commented.
As it sank in that it must be royalty for the fae, she wondered if she ought to curtsy, before deciding the answer was probably no. She wasn’t wearing a dress anyway. She looked over to Paige, and the alarmed and generally scared reactions of the court weren't really a surprise after how the guards had been.
Paige followed closely on Meggan’s heels, breathing hard. She had never held a form for this long and it was starting to itch, but she didn’t want to risk transforming back, especially not now that they seemed to be in the middle of a party filled with their captors. Unlike everyone else in the room, Paige didn’t care what the fae creatures thought of her, and kept her fists up in defense. Upon seeing her brother and Jono in the room, gave a small wave and thumbs up to them to let them know she was alright.
“Let us go, and no one else gets hurt. Them, too.” Paige gestured to the team. “All we want –”
"Stay your hand," came from a voice much more used to casual authority. Namor held one hand outstretched toward Paige. A command to heel, or, at best, a gesture of caution. He'd quickly recovered any lost confidence to stand regal and affix the Dame with a look that this was all going to plan. A plan he'd put together in the last minute or so. "Our lost knight, Grand Dame. She speaks not for Us, but her force of arms should be sufficient enough for us to finally negotiate in earnest. If not," and his palm flipped, motioning toward the Dame herself, "well, We may arrange a more intimate audience. You understand, of course."
Whatever else she was, the Grande Dame was not as easily fooled as her minions. She turned her full fury onto Namor, her eyes blazing crimson.
"Witchbreed," she hissed. "We treated you with honor beyond your due, and you have brought witchbreed to Our court! You would return Our hospitality with iron?"
Namor didn't even flinch. "Fascinating, how the goodwill of our recent relations fails so easily. I had assumed that outright lying was merely your custom here. We never claimed to not be witchbreed, but what of my companion's whereabouts?"
The Dame's reply dripped with scorn. "I said I had news of none as interesting as yourself, and I spoke true. I said nothing of companions." Her eyes snapped to Meggan and Paige, both women in the midst of a rapidly expanding circle of nothingness as gentry scrambled to move as far from Paige's husked form as possible. "Clearly I was misinformed."
"A pity. As you can see, my companions are all very interesting. And, perhaps, useful. " Namor moved forward, growing more confident with each stride as he deliberately made a note of those surrounding the Dame. No one had rushed to her defense. "We have broken no oaths nor caused irreparable damage. I motion that we simply reopen talks for my party's safe return home."
The Grande Dame's eyes narrowed, although an element of calculation now entered her expression. "And what have you to offer, so far from your seas?"
"Many things," he teased, "yet I would prefer to see you remain in power. Your court lies fallow. Your people in decline. We, however, might restore your glory, like witchbreed did for you in the past."
There was a pause. The Dame's fury was vast, but anger did not blind her to opportunity. What Namor offered was more than a chance to save face.
Her wings snapped once, decisively.
"Very well." The faerie woman raised her voice, speaking now so that all the Court could hear. "This task I set before you: restore the Engine, and all mortals not under Our power shall be free to leave, whole and unmolested, free of future claim. Witchbreeds' service for witchbreeds' freedom. Fail, and Our guests you shall remain. Upon My name I swear it. " Her gaze, now flat and black, slid to where Paige stood. "And know this: even iron may melt."
The Atlantean, then, snapped twice. A beckoning.
"While I have been captivated by your charm, We must, by tradition" – surely someone's – "require an advisor's agreement." In case Jono didn't quite get the memo, Namor tossed a fully loaded glance in the young man's direction. "What say you," he addressed their proclaimed expert, "of this?"
"Namor," Jono said, tense. "Surely the queen has reason to believe that some of our party has fallen under Her power.....what. did. you. do."
It should have been a question but it wasn't, as he glared at the glass of wine in the man's hand.
"Her Grace," Namor snapped immediately, as though he couldn't help it, "not 'Queen.' We shall continue to afford the Grand Dame all of the respect her station is due." He didn't say 'and no more,' but some things were best left to the imagination, like 'don't embarrass us further, Jono,' or 'you have one job here, Jono' or, ultimately, 'do not further try my patience.' Namor did, however, set the glass in question on the nearest table. It had remained untouched. Previous drinks shared, however . . .
"Now. Your thoughts on these terms."
Jono's thoughts could not be shared aloud because there were child-looking fae present as spectators, but Namor and fire featured heavily in them. The other man was even in range, he could hit him easily from here.
"I would be more satisfied with these terms if we had been able to examine the Engine and determine if it was within our power to repair before the bargain was offered." Jono said. Though, if going through with the bargain meant that Namor would stay here forever...well he could probably live with that without losing sleep.
The hall rang with the faerie woman's derisive laughter. "Our terms are Our terms. Repair the Engine, or remain to feed it. If you are so eager to see it, however, let us be on our way. After all," she added, "were you not to provide Me with Entertainment?"
"Please, indulge yourselves. I insist you enjoy Our every generosity."
The Grande Dame's lips curved with magnanimity. Tonight she wore a spidersilk dress and sea-deep eyes, with flowers of pearl and nacre wound through her auburn tresses to compliment her Atlantean guest. Courtiers of every shape and size thronged around them, but even in their midst the Lady stood with the radiance of a star. Intentional on the part of her subjects, perhaps; that dazzling smile glinted with the promise of consequences for any who dared outshine it.
"I have some small matters to attend," she continued as she waved aside a proffered tray of flower-petal dainties. "The rigors of one's station allow no rest. You understand, of course."
"Oh, it is a beast that only hungers," Namor delivered with a slight chuckle. He had been draped in fabric to match the Dame's resplendence, a sharp and masculine mirror to her brilliance. Or, the Atlantean suspected, more akin to dressing a pet. Still, he stood proud in posture and resolute in his own ego amid the sea of admirers that came and went with the tide of this realm's favor.
A hand was offered.
"Your glass?" Namor's smile was polite, and he held his own wineglass close to his chest. "Something to ensure your quick return."
The Grande Dame threw her head back with bright laughter. "The promise of your company is more than enough, my prince," she said as she passed him a glass of cut crystal. Her fingers lingered against his wrist for a moment, and then she drifted away into the crowd.
It was three deep breaths before Namor allowed his posture to slacken. He only allowed himself to turn his head, the sparking liquid not even rippling as he searched for his companion.
"What else have we learned?" Gone was any flirty buoyancy. This was now business.
Pixie, standing a few steps away, had been doing her best to both blend into the background and keep an ear on the conversation drifting through the court. Her iridescent wings shimmered under the eerie, glowing light of the ballroom. Never had she felt more like she visibly fit in more while being completely out of her element at the same time.
"A lot of gossip, but not much information," she replied, her black eyes scanning the room. She kept looking for Meggan's face in the crowd, even though they were told she wasn't taken. "Whispers about tonight's entertainment... from Outside. I think it's us, or maybe others from our group. Either way, I don't like how she treats us like toys." She picked at the long, dagged sleeve of her dress, the same sea-green that the Atlantean wore. They were like dolls, or toy poodles in matching outfits.
Namor's expression tightened in irritation, which was a contrast to the icily polite smile he flashed at a passing gentryfolk. "She," he stressed, "rules her fiefdom on the capricious knife's edge of her whims. Trust if I presently held that sort of control, I would not be so kind to intruders. Still, she has been growing increasingly irate despite my best efforts to endear her to us."
He paused to take a slow, thoughtful sip of his wine, or perhaps to let Pixie's imagination paint pictures of his endearments.
"Regardless. Meggan has never particularly inspired my confidence in her ability to sing, dance, or sow insurrection. They must have snatched one of the others."
Pixie suppressed a shudder at Namor's mention of his "best efforts". It didn't just make her want to throw up - though that was definitely part of it, and she didn't even have anything to throw up since she was only pretending to drink the wine - but highly risky. Every small touch exchanged with the Grande Dame, every lingering look, every carefully chosen word was a potential trap. Playing into her whims was a dangerous game where they weren't even sure of the rules.
"I don't like how this is lining up," she said softly. "If it's Jay, or Jono, or both, I don't think this court is ready for that...."
Her gaze drifted around the room, scanning for any sign of the Grande Dame as she continued. "On the other hand, they might distract her from whatever 'small matters' have got her so worked up." She gave Namor an encouraging smile, although it didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Oh, do not worry. I am Atlantean. We are born of the sea, and know how to keep partners . . ." Namor's smile grew smug. "Thirsty. I am fluent in a tongue that all understand, and her favor is the best tool we have. We will use it until there is a better weapon available."
The crowd shifted then, an anticipatory silence falling over the assembled court.
"Let us also hope that Jay and Jono, or whoever this is, do not attempt to introduce these folks to dinner theater," Namor said with a visible shudder. "Insufferable."
The Grande Dame had positioned herself on a dais draped with silks and pillows. Before her stood a fae of her sort, one of the tall, winged ones who seemed most in favor, clad in green hunter's garb. The crowd had parted around him like an inspired sea as the Dame's voice rang out.
"Speak, huntsman. What prize have you brought?"
"Great lady, we bring before you visitors from Outside. Their people term themselves 'mutants.'" The hunter turned to look behind him, gesturing wide. "Their people have a rare gift for music. I present them to you now as honored guests, and hope their skill pleases you."
"As you say." The Grande Dame's wings pulsed lazily, but there was an edge to her pleasant demeanor that hinted unfounded assertions would not be taken kindly. Extending a languid hand to her guests, she smiled. "Step forward, mutants. Let me see you."
Jay made a sweeping bow, wanting not to offend and get killed for it. He looked to Jono for a moment before looking on the Grande Dame's companions. He noticed the unmistakable pink hair that belonged to Pixie and started to realize that it really was her and with Namor beside her. He quickly tried to school his face, but the recognition had come before he could stop it.
He looked at Jono again, seeing if the other man had seen them too. This wasn't good if four of them had been captured.
Jono's eyes slid over to Jay and tried to ignore the wave of panic that had washed off the other man. He steeled himself for a moment before speaking. "Please excuse the intrusion into your mind your majesty, I assure you I am only projecting my thoughts and not daring to pry into your own. I have no mouth so this is how I must speak. Are there any songs which most please your majesty? I cannot promise that we know all of them, but if we are familiar it would be an honour for us to please you in that way."
Anyone who had even briefly met Jono would be shocked to watch the display before them. Eat your fucking heart out, Namor.
Jono's gaze lingered on Pixie and Namor, trying to silently confirm if they were alright, if they'd been tricked into staying somehow. He hoped they hadn't eaten anything. He really wanted to go home. Maybe their proximity to the queen could let them bargain . . .
There was a discreet clearing of a throat from near the Grand Dame's side. Audible enough to carry.
"Your Grace," Namor interjected, "these two are missing members of my retinue. I will take responsibility for them." He stepped forward, further drawing the eyes of the room.
Several expressions flashed across the Grande Dame's face. Surprise, that Namor was still there; anger, that she be interrupted within her own court; and finally a cool guile which quickly smothered the other two. Her blood-red lips began to part.
Then, from the far side of the hall, the screaming started.
The room's collective curiosity swiveled from the seat of power and toward the noise. There was a flash of grey steel and a pinpoint of long, blonde locks amidst what looked to be panicked bystanders throwing themselves out of the way. Naturally, the room's attention drifted back for answers. Clarity.
Namor actually sighed. "And those, as well."
Meggan had been incredibly concerned that they had gone to the wrong area entirely as they entered, but now that gave way to a good dose of giddy relief when she saw the faces of the others and realized they were safe. None of them looked or felt like they had been drained like the thralls, so that was one lovely point in their favor.
She gave a little wave to them, hoping she wasn’t so changed looking that she wouldn’t be recognized; there hadn’t been any suitably reflective surfaces to find that out along the way. She knew she at least sounded the same as usual, so there was that. “We were in the prison cells, or we might have been here sooner,” Meggan commented.
As it sank in that it must be royalty for the fae, she wondered if she ought to curtsy, before deciding the answer was probably no. She wasn’t wearing a dress anyway. She looked over to Paige, and the alarmed and generally scared reactions of the court weren't really a surprise after how the guards had been.
Paige followed closely on Meggan’s heels, breathing hard. She had never held a form for this long and it was starting to itch, but she didn’t want to risk transforming back, especially not now that they seemed to be in the middle of a party filled with their captors. Unlike everyone else in the room, Paige didn’t care what the fae creatures thought of her, and kept her fists up in defense. Upon seeing her brother and Jono in the room, gave a small wave and thumbs up to them to let them know she was alright.
“Let us go, and no one else gets hurt. Them, too.” Paige gestured to the team. “All we want –”
"Stay your hand," came from a voice much more used to casual authority. Namor held one hand outstretched toward Paige. A command to heel, or, at best, a gesture of caution. He'd quickly recovered any lost confidence to stand regal and affix the Dame with a look that this was all going to plan. A plan he'd put together in the last minute or so. "Our lost knight, Grand Dame. She speaks not for Us, but her force of arms should be sufficient enough for us to finally negotiate in earnest. If not," and his palm flipped, motioning toward the Dame herself, "well, We may arrange a more intimate audience. You understand, of course."
Whatever else she was, the Grande Dame was not as easily fooled as her minions. She turned her full fury onto Namor, her eyes blazing crimson.
"Witchbreed," she hissed. "We treated you with honor beyond your due, and you have brought witchbreed to Our court! You would return Our hospitality with iron?"
Namor didn't even flinch. "Fascinating, how the goodwill of our recent relations fails so easily. I had assumed that outright lying was merely your custom here. We never claimed to not be witchbreed, but what of my companion's whereabouts?"
The Dame's reply dripped with scorn. "I said I had news of none as interesting as yourself, and I spoke true. I said nothing of companions." Her eyes snapped to Meggan and Paige, both women in the midst of a rapidly expanding circle of nothingness as gentry scrambled to move as far from Paige's husked form as possible. "Clearly I was misinformed."
"A pity. As you can see, my companions are all very interesting. And, perhaps, useful. " Namor moved forward, growing more confident with each stride as he deliberately made a note of those surrounding the Dame. No one had rushed to her defense. "We have broken no oaths nor caused irreparable damage. I motion that we simply reopen talks for my party's safe return home."
The Grande Dame's eyes narrowed, although an element of calculation now entered her expression. "And what have you to offer, so far from your seas?"
"Many things," he teased, "yet I would prefer to see you remain in power. Your court lies fallow. Your people in decline. We, however, might restore your glory, like witchbreed did for you in the past."
There was a pause. The Dame's fury was vast, but anger did not blind her to opportunity. What Namor offered was more than a chance to save face.
Her wings snapped once, decisively.
"Very well." The faerie woman raised her voice, speaking now so that all the Court could hear. "This task I set before you: restore the Engine, and all mortals not under Our power shall be free to leave, whole and unmolested, free of future claim. Witchbreeds' service for witchbreeds' freedom. Fail, and Our guests you shall remain. Upon My name I swear it. " Her gaze, now flat and black, slid to where Paige stood. "And know this: even iron may melt."
The Atlantean, then, snapped twice. A beckoning.
"While I have been captivated by your charm, We must, by tradition" – surely someone's – "require an advisor's agreement." In case Jono didn't quite get the memo, Namor tossed a fully loaded glance in the young man's direction. "What say you," he addressed their proclaimed expert, "of this?"
"Namor," Jono said, tense. "Surely the queen has reason to believe that some of our party has fallen under Her power.....what. did. you. do."
It should have been a question but it wasn't, as he glared at the glass of wine in the man's hand.
"Her Grace," Namor snapped immediately, as though he couldn't help it, "not 'Queen.' We shall continue to afford the Grand Dame all of the respect her station is due." He didn't say 'and no more,' but some things were best left to the imagination, like 'don't embarrass us further, Jono,' or 'you have one job here, Jono' or, ultimately, 'do not further try my patience.' Namor did, however, set the glass in question on the nearest table. It had remained untouched. Previous drinks shared, however . . .
"Now. Your thoughts on these terms."
Jono's thoughts could not be shared aloud because there were child-looking fae present as spectators, but Namor and fire featured heavily in them. The other man was even in range, he could hit him easily from here.
"I would be more satisfied with these terms if we had been able to examine the Engine and determine if it was within our power to repair before the bargain was offered." Jono said. Though, if going through with the bargain meant that Namor would stay here forever...well he could probably live with that without losing sleep.
The hall rang with the faerie woman's derisive laughter. "Our terms are Our terms. Repair the Engine, or remain to feed it. If you are so eager to see it, however, let us be on our way. After all," she added, "were you not to provide Me with Entertainment?"
