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At the appointed time, Ari sits in the Spring Hollow, waiting for Jack's arrival. Sodas in a bucket of ice, two Adirondack chairs (one much larger than the other) and a large, green-stone person, waiting. Ari's favorite shawl, a soft sky-blue hand-knit knit out of extremely fine yarn, rests around their shoulders, while they knit what looks like a blanket out of a lofty burgundy cashmere. The weather is bright and fine, with puffy clouds meandering across the sky like wayward lambs.
Jack's on time - or a few minutes early, even, that familiar rainstorm-and-blood scent announcing his arrival as he lopes into sight, Hedgespun jacket slung over one shoulder and a backpack slung over the other. It's shorts weather, and it looks like he just took a pair of his tight jeans and hacked them off mid-thigh, and between those and his cherry red Docs that match the tiny floral on his t-shirt, it's very much a Look.
"Ari." He gives the Monarch an upnod and eases into the adirondack chair with a groan as his knees click in protest, and reaches over for a soda. "Shit, 's a nice day for sitting outside, huh?"
"Well, look who's the epitome of High Spring," drolls the Regent, their onyx eyes glittering. The basket next to their Adirondack is the recipient of their current massive knitting project, and they carefully curl the future blanket into said basket, setting it down gently. "It is, and so I am. There's soda and iced coffee in the bucket," they offer, reaching to grab a bottle of the latter and crack it open. Locally-brewed, apparently. The iced coffee, not the soda, though there is a bottling plant in Delco. "Have a seat."
"Oh coffee -" The charcoal around Jack's face dances as he grins, and grabs a bottle too. "Yeah, it's warm enough I don't have to bundle up anymore, we've got all the windows open at home, it's great." He takes a sip of the coffee with a contented sigh, and eyes Ari. "How're you? And how's...things? And what d'you want me to do about it?" That last question is accompanied by a slightly irreverent grin.
They take a long pull from their bottle of coffee and rest their head back against the chair. "It is good. It's even warm enough to be able to keep the windows open at night, most nights. I love Spring evenings. Sitting outside after the sun has gone down?" A little shake of their head, dismissing the idle thought. "I am -- personally well. But it is Spring, and so ... " As Jack goes on, the corner of Ari's mouth pulls up. "As perceptive as ever," comes their low, rocks-tumbling-down-a-hill laugh. They balance their bottle on the arm of their chair, and pat large green stone hands over their button-up shirt and the pockets of their pants until they remember which pocket they put that little bit of paper into. Sometimes, with as gentle as the Gristlegrinder is, it's easy to forget that those giant hands sport a wicked claw on the end of each finger.
"This is a copy of a list which was taken off the body of -- we believe -- the perpetrator of the violence against the Woods. That Mage," Ari begins; they extend the piece of paper toward Jack. "What do you make of it?"
On the paper, in a spidery script, a list of five names: Doll Wood. Peter Wood. Hot Doug. Luci Firth. Shiri Touati.
Jack's eyebrows slide upward as he takes the paper, his silhouette flickering a few times as the lines around him shift uneasily. "...'S a hit list? Not all Changelings, though...Shiri's Kindred, isn't she?" He turns the paper over in his hands, like he's looking for any more information.
"What do...all of them have in common...?" Jack frowns slightly as he hands the paper back. "That'd be my first question."
"It would appear to be a hit list, given the ... history of things which did not happen." Ari pauses, asking, "Are you aware of what... did not happen... to the Woods? The concept makes my head hurt slightly, and I cannot remember who knows what."
"Tangentially. I know the assassin was...dealt with, after I had that lovely and ever-so-clear discussion with that Mage the other week..." Jack rolls his eyes slightly, "And I know there might be others looking to finish what she...didn't start. And something about cursed Mages that may or may not have something to do with all this. But I don't know the details about what didn't happen...?"
"Walsingham," agrees Ari. "He is ... not the head of, but the representative of, an extremely secretive segment of Mage Society." The Spring Regent pauses, and as they think, the Crown manifests on their brow, the mantle of flowers rolling down their shoulders... and then it fades again. "Imagine... Imagine if Winter were... " Clearly, there's some sort of conflict between what Ari really thinks and the diplomatic thing to say.
"Imagine if Winter were a paranoid cult. That is the Guardians of the Veil. Which may explain Walsingham's behavior, but the fact that you understood him at all surprises me."
"I will deny ever having said that thing about it being a cult."
They clear their throat. "The particular kind of Mage that the assassin was is ... mmm. Not equivalent to a Loyalist, but you may think of them that way if it suits you." Ari pauses, and their forehead wrinkles up. "... it is not a bad comparison, honestly. 'Mages that serve the big bads,' in essence. And it is my understanding that this is the list she was working off of, and the Woods were simply first on that list. She hurt Peter and nearly killed, or did kill, Doll. But then a Mage literally turned back time, so that never happened."
This whole line of conversation makes Ari rub their forehead. "Later, as you say, she was dealt with. And now we have this list. Hot Doug is Kindred, as is Shiri, yes. So. With that in mind, what do you make of that list?"
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