Logs:A Necessary Promotion Of Sorts

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Cast

Jack Martingale and Spider as Ari

Setting

Spring Hollow

Log

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?"

"I mean..." Jack's frown deepens. "It means...someone with connections, or at least knowledge of, our three groups, wants some of us dead. Maybe the Mage 'big bads', or maybe just someone who's got enough of whatever this assassin wanted as payment...but I got no clue why these five, and why that order."

"None of them are monarchs, or the Sakima," Jack continues after a moment of silence. "They're just...high ranking courtiers. And Shiri and Hot Doug are up there, too, not sure *exactly what they do, but they've got responsibilities. Oh...fuck...they're 'high ranking courtiers'..." he repeats himelf, and trails off as the charcoal around his face flickers, bits exploding off to dissolve into nothingness. "Luci's...an Emissary. Does that make this...an old list?" His silhouette gets a little fainter as he takes a breath. "None of 'em are Mages, either. That feels...important."

"At least knowledge of," agrees Ari, taking another swallow of their coffee, and then they go quiet, letting Jack work through all of this. This, admittedly, is kind of what the Regent does in situations like this: they rarely give answers, only ask questions gently leading their courtiers toward at least what they think is the correct answer.

Like they're always teaching or something, idk. Here, Jack, learn to do this part better.

A sympathetic hand reaches out to touch his briefly. "I don't know. None of us do. I do not know if there's another assassin out there, but we should not assume there isn't one." They draw in a slow, thoughtful breath when Jack says 'this feels important'. "I have a theory, which may just be an old person's thoughts, too long sitting out in the Spring sunshine and ruminating," they begin. "And that is where I need your help."

"When you think about -- let's say TERFs -- or the right wing politics of America, yes? You are familiar with the term 'wedge issue'?"

Jack takes another few breaths to calm himself down before the simple fact that There May Be An Assassin After Him sends him into a panic attack. Maybe it helps that this isn't the first time his life has been in danger? Who knows. He runs a hand through his hair and takes a swig of coffee.

"Yeah, the super divisive shit that pits people against each other," Jack nods. "You think someone's trying to...get us angry at the Mages?"

"Well," answers Ari in a sort of ponderous way, tipping their chin up and looking up at the clear, beautiful blue sky -- it seems somehow incongruous to be discussing assassins and internecine politics and murder on a day like this -- "If I were attempting to destroy a group, I surely would not want them to have allies."

"So I'm expanding your portfolio, Jack. I considered giving this job to Luci, but... " Here, they pause. "She's been directly threatened, as has her partner, and she is... a little bit angry. Not everyone can be Patchie and diplomatize through their fury." Those onyx eyes glitter again. "I also know that you know more than a few members of various societies."

That last comment finally gets Jack to smile again - a small thing but it's there, the corner of his mouth turning up as the sketchy lines around him start to settle down. "Ari, if you wanted me to go find some Mages to fuck, all you had to do was say so," he jokes with a huff of amusement. "But yeah I'll...do what I can to diplomacize, I know a few mages but...not a whole lot, and not as well as I know Kindred. Guess that's gotta change, yeah?"

"I'm not telling you not to do that," Ari counters, absently spinning the black metal ring on their left hand, "but if that's what has to be done, I suppose it's best that I'm outsourcing it." Total deadpan, there, but those black eyes glitter, and they finish their coffee.

"It does. I'd like you to find out who you should make formal overtures to with the Mages and Vampires -- I mean, we know who's in charge, but I'll be honest, I'm not a hundred percent sure if there's someone who handles ... large-group diplomacy... in any of those groups. It's been a while since we needed anything formal."

"And ... please, be careful. Travel alone as little as possible, even if it just means you get someone to quietly follow you around, or have scheduled check-ins. The ... amount of knowledge that assassin had about the inner workings of our societies and who to target doesn't not concern me."

"I'll...do my best. T' clarify, what d'you want me to say to whoever I find who's in charge of this? I'm assuming it's gonna be the...me equivalent, if they exist...?" Jack finishes off his coffee and sets the bottle in the grass. "An' I've got a few people who'd be down to make sure I'm safer than usual - and Moss, too, though...maybe I'll leave her at home a little more. Couldn't forgive myself if something happened to her..."

They lean forward a little bit, the Adirondack complaining underneath their stone frame. The broad-shouldered butch absently scratches their cheek with their claws. "You are speaking with the voice of the Spring Regent on these matters -- and you're concerned with the pattern that the two of us theorize, that this is an attempt to -- you'll find a good way to put this. An attempt to destabilize relationships, maybe even the internal functions of the societies themselves, and you're empowered to work with them as needed, and you are actively requesting to be looped in on information." A beat. "That last bit? I definitely want. I'm tired of continually guessing, even though my people are very good at it."

Jack sits back as Ari leans forward, and runs his hand through his hair again. "Yeah, being looped in...yeah. I'll make sure I get that across, be nice for everyone to have all the information. You know. After I figure out who the fuck I'm even supposed to be talking to. But I'll...keep you updated, 'f there's anything to update you about." He sighs, heavily. "Y'know, when I first started thinking about wanting to be an Emissary, I didn't think it'd be this much responsibility..."

"Yes. I know it's a multi-stage project. Just keep me updated as things progress." Ari sits back again, and both of their eyebrows arch up at that last bit. Somehow, by the grace of all their considerable self-control, they do not say that must be difficult, Jack.

At least Jack's got the grace to wince immediately after. "I'll do my best to make your life easier," he says in apology. "Here's hoping we don't have to turn back time again, that can't be healthy for anyone involved..." He stands with a groan, and stretches, his back cracking as he does. "I've got...a fuckton of texts to send, now, I think. An' I might get someone to walk me home from here..."