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Every so often it becomes necessary for curmudgeonly reclusive Acanthus to trudge out of Ukraine and eat waffles with a chicken on the shoulder. They're not chicken waffles, mercifully. Just waffle waffles. And the chicken is just a chicken. A sort of ruddy brown dappled with white and black feathers along the wings and legs. Lesja does feed the chicken on occasion. Little bites of fruit from the side dish, mostly. Has a nasty habit of wanting to nip everyone else's hands, though. As chickens tend to do.
Ylva wanders into Maddys after a long day of work and orders a plate of waffles with a pup cup and her coffee, which is mostly whipped cream.
She is wearing booty shorts and stockings with her big jacket over top.
Lesja gets a little wave from her as is her norm.
"Heya."
Klaire was dressed casually, a slightly too small hoodie (one of Ylva's obviously) and jeans. She gets her own plate of waffles and follows a bit behind her girlfriend. She's reserved as usual, and pauses at seeing Lesja, before waving.
"Hello there, Lesja."
"'svydanya," Lesja offers back to Klaire with a salute from her coffee cup. "Don't mind the chicken. If it bites you, I'll let you bite it back as a warning. It's the only way he'll learn." She wags her fork at Ylva in greeting, too. "Feel free to join me, if you like, you two. Or don't. I understand wanting to avoid chickens, raising them as I do."
Ylva just tilts her head and chuckles sitting down and mleming at her pup cup.
"Company sounds nice."
Klaire smiles at her partner.
"Sure. I don't mind company. I'll avoid your chicken, however."
The chicken doesn't attack. It barely clucks. Lesja scoots over a bit should anyone care to sit beside her, though the chicken might make that a bit awkward. Unless it were to switch shoulders. "I was surprised to learn how stupid most farm animals are. I thought it was just. You know. My bad luck. Apparently they're all kinda slow. Except for cows. But I don't keep cows. Chickens? Goats? Ducks? Not smart at all. Even my dog's not too bright. So. It's nice to talk to you both, I guess is what I'm saying." The chicken clucks and Lesja nods her silent agreement. Not that she shares what the cluck was about.
Ylva nods leaning into Klaire.
"I can understand being a bit reclusive at times."
Klaire puts an arm around Ylva, a small hug.
"As do I. Rook is quite smart I find, sometimes he causes some problems because he gets bored. Shepherds."
A small but amused head shake.
"What breed is your dog?"
"Pupyat is a mutt from the exclusion zone around Chernobyl, in the north of my country. When I was little, the nuclear reactor there melted down. Back in the days of the Soviet Union. HBO has a fanciful miniseries about it. Anyway, after so many years the dogs are now safe to rescue. Spay, neuter, adopt out. Trying to do right by the ones that had to be left behind during the evacuations. Well. More likely the great grand pups of the ones left behind. He's very cute, very easy to train. Because he wants to please more than anything." Lesja pokes a bit on her phone to bring up a few pictures of the now six month old pupper during the past few fuzzy and adorable months. "I didn't train him to do the one ear up one ear down thing, he just does that."
"Omg I love him"
Then she looks to Klaire with big puppy dog eyes.
"Can we get one?"
She smiles at the picture, going and finding a picture of her own pup.
"Rook is an ex Search and Rescue dog. Unfortunately from the demands, they can only work for a few years before needing to retire. He's worked with me since."
A kiss to Ylva's forehead.
"We have Rook and Tinta already, hun. Astrid may kill us if theres more fur around the house."
"You can always visit the farm for your fix on occasion. Actually, once the weather finally turns my village is a perfect place to stay inland of the Black Sea. A short drive from Odessa and the beach both. You'll have to put up with overweight slavs sunning their stomachs, but that's about the same as in New Jersey, I think? Yes? Or are they Italian here. I forget." She dismisses the matter with a wave, "Warm sunny beaches is my point. Nobody thinks 'ah, I know where I'll spend my summer, on the Black Sea!' Except maybe Russians. It's quite lvoely."
She pouts but then nods to Lesja.
"That sounds like a nice midsummer break. Once I finally stop micro managing two businesses."
"It does, and you are hiring still, Ylva. It will make things easier. I've missed beach trips with the girls."
She pets Ylva's head.
"Do you practice Space then, Lesja? To get back and forth to there and here?"
"Yes," Lesja answers succinctly. "In truth, I'm usually in both at the same time. My soul is nound to Myrne. If I'm away from it, I'm weaker. Vulnerable. So most of the time? When I am in Philadelphia? I am actually standing in my wheat field. Or the barn. Depending on the weather. It's a little confusing at first, but you get used to it. Just got to be careful not to get spotted acting like a crazy person in the middle of my fields, talking to people who aren't there." As though to prove the point, Lesja picks up her chicken, concentrates, and sets the chicken down. It promptly vanishes. Her eyebrows waggle. "Neat, right?" (edited)
Her eyebrows go up at that and she smiles before shaking her head.
"Mages. Heck. I really cant ever get used to that."
As if to prove the point of not really ever being able to get used to Mages, the door opens, and a stoat war-dances through the door, tumbles over itself, and falls on the floor, screeching out the portal at something that can't follow it. It rears back up onto its hind legs and shrieks out the portal, paws spread wide. If you've ever seen someone yelling 'come at me bro,' you know the pose.
She blinks and looks at the now not here chicken.
"So you're in both places at once? That's interesting."
She gets cut off at the screech, turning around in utter confusion.
"Um...do we let the staff take care of it?"
"If it can pass the wards, I'm pretty sure it has a right to be here same as the rest of us," Lesja opines with the casual species ambivalence of a lady married to a Fox. "Just a question of which group it belongs to, I figure." She leans to the side to squint at the Stoat for a bit, head tilting, then sits back up straight. "I don't think it's one of yours. Might be one of ours. Possibly, I'm married to it even." In the end, though, she does confirm, "Yep! Both places. Same time. Space and time are all illusive, ya know? Like numbers, the letters of math."
Ylva just shakes her head continuing to look confused and points at said stoat as if to be like "really!"
"I would say doesnt that melt the brain but half of what you do sounds like it would melt my brain. So. Fair cop on that."
Screeeeeeech. Posture. Screech.
Ever seen a stoat enact the Weasel War Dance in the entryway of a diner? Well. Now you have. It bounces off of the walls, off of the stacked-up kid's chairs, and so on.
The door slowly closes, and the stoat unruffles slowly, still chittering discontently until it spots Lesja, at which point the tube of fur dashes up the aisle and clambers up her heavy canvas pants, little claws digging into the sturdy fabric. And then Lesja has a weasel hat.
Lesja is not entirely unaccustomed to being randomly scaled by the wildlife. Genuinely. This does get a few yelps and uncertain squirms, but once the animal is perched on her head, she purses her lips tightly and widens her eyes in a manner most Zoey Deschanelle.
"Probably married to me, yeah." A beat. "Oh, my brain melted a long time ago. I rather like it that way. When my brain's too linear, I tend to miss things. Big things, I mean. This way, I tend to only miss little things! Which is, you know. Inconvenient. But. I'm happy! Mostly! So." Lesja then reaches up to gingerly pluck the meat tube off her head and coil it up in her arms instead.
"Manners," she informs the stoat. "You should introduce yourself."
Klaire nods, watching the Stoat with a raised eyebrow.
"I don't know, no. An Acanthus tried to explain Time to me and I had a panic attack after."
She takes a moment of looking over the weasel and connecting the dots.
"Fox?"
"Thats. Okay fair. I guess melted doesn't sound like the worst thing when you put it like that."
She smiles at the little Stoat being adjusted. Then tilts her head at Klaire. "No, thats a Stoat."
A lazy little squirm when it's picked up. On closer inspection, there's a lighter splotch of fur on the stoat's back and one of its little paws. It rolls around in Lesja's arms, and there's a brief roll of peripheral Mage Sight to those capable of feeling it. "They all know me," comes Fox's voice from a spot in the air near Lesja's head. "I was being a stoat and then a raccoon chased me and I didn't want to fight it because it was just a raccoon, it didn't know."
Klaire takes a breath, and her brow furrows as the Strawberry smell gets stronger.
"No, Fox as in the Mage, dear. Who is using magic to be able to talk, I'm assuming? I'm guessing by Mind or Life but I have no clue."
"Forces. She's making her voice in the air by altering sonic wave patterns. Amplify, alter pitch, so on. She cheats in all sorts of ways." Lesja is having a hard time keeping up with the conversation, which comes with having a brain that 'works' in the way hers does anymore. "The perils of the life, I suppose. How are you liking the Vox Draconis? They treating you okay? Jeremiah's a good guy, I know, but I haven't spoken with him much since you switches orders."
"Oh, yeah, nice to see you too Fox."
She looks confused as Lesja speaks. "Am I meant to be following that or is that for you Fox?" (edited)
"The Silver Ladder? The Vox Draconis? Your new order? That happened, right, or did the timeline do the thing again. Fuck." Lesja looks legitimately possessed of anxiety now, and doesn't seem to be giving the conversation as much focus as she had been.
She rolls over in Lesja's arms lazily. "She's talking to Klaire about her new Order. And yes, I am thinking words and making the air wiggle via magic rather than making the air wiggle by vibrating bits of tissue in my throat, or rapidly vibrating book lungs in my abdomen or whatever." The stoat-Fox wiggles her paws in the air lazily. "No, you aren't thinking in another timeline, she's in the Silver Ladder in this timeline, dear."
She was about to speak, but lets the Mages answer, smiling uneasily.
"Unfortunatly I had the luck of having an investigation launches on myself and Bones two days after officially joining the Order, so it hasn't been until recently that I was able to learn more from Master Sirius. Hopefully that investigation will be wrapping up soon."
Ylva tilts her head and nods then chuckles. "I appreciate taht talking is 'making the air wiggle' this brings joy."
"It's hard keeping track," she laments quietly and opts to resume eating more of her waffles. With Lesja being without her emotional support chicken, it's a good thing Fox turned up when she did.
Lesja squints a bit, trying to remember what all that was about. She looks perhaps the slightest bit 'over' the whole business. But it doesn't seem directed at Klaire any. "Would you like the Children of the Tree to mediate? The Diamond for all its merits lacks a great deal in the realms of common sense. Third party mediation might give you both a way to de-escalate this whole situation without legal damage to either of you for ... whatever it is either of you may have done to upset or offend the other. And to do so while saving face, maybe."
As the staffer who is working on the investigation, Fox doesn't say anything about the dispute, just clambers gently up Lesja's shoulder and nibbles at her earlobe. Just enough to tickle and make her giggle. No lamenting!
"Well that's what sound is," she says lazily while also nibbling. "It's air wiggles!"
"I would rather not share all the details as its not just my buisiness. I think I would rather Constantine and Sirius handle it in all honesty."
As the magic continues to make her smell strawberries, she leans over to whisper to Ylva.
"Do you think you can ask for just strawberries as a side? I feel like thats a weird request."
Social anxiety go brr.
Ylva nods to Fox proceeding to also nibble on Klaire because apparently its nibbling time.
"Your right but ya know it still brings joy."
She waves down one of the waiters when they next pass and orders a side of strawberries and a pup cup topped with strawberries.
The face that Lesja makes at the mention of Constantine's name makes it clear that alone may be why she offered in the first place. She has Opinions About People. "For sure do what you think is best. If what's best changes and you decide you want a mediator, we can try to help you out. So, you know. Offer stands if you want it later."
She scrunches her head and shoulders up for a moment while Fox goes at her ear, making a high pitched squeaky sound. That reminds her, though. "Shoot. It's after dark in Myrne. I need to get the goats in. I have to run." She sets Fox down on the booth and then just disappears from the room entirely as though she'd never been there to begin with. No fanfare, just gone.
"I should go and help," Fox agrees. "But I have to step outside to do that." She scrambles down off of the table, and the voice which still hangs in the air adds, "Nice to see you both!" as she runs to the door. She melts upwards into a human-shaped creature just long enough to operate the door handle, and then folds into a blue jay, flapping off into the afternoon. Interestingly, Klaire doesn't sense any active magic at all in either of those transformations.
"Thank you for the offer. Ill consider it."
She blinks as the two Mages leave, and the total amount of strawberry diminishes.
"Well then...I guess its just us for the date again."
"Date!"
She says as their strawberries and pup cup arrives.
"Tada!"
"Yes hun, I asked you out for dinner just the two of us. Did you think it wasn't a date?"
She chuckles.
"I adore you so much, you are adorable. Thank you for socializing for me."
"I dunno. Life is strange as it were."
She smiles, a happy wiggle. "Thanks."
She eats a strawberry.
"It is strange. Especially with all of the Mages. And I suppose everything else."
"The Mages, the fucking everything. Though I did hire a person at work which is good. Just need one more and I should be able to work normal semi human hours."
"Yay got normal hours. I don't want you to stress yourself out, love. But yes...the everything."
"I would never stress myself out."
She says while making a cute face with her hands.
"Im still struggling to find an artist for the Escape. Usually we would take someone in off the street but to replace me I want someone a bit more experienced."
"Never ever." She gives a small smile.
"You have plenty of experienced people now. Not as much as you of course, but I think others can likely pick up the slack."
She kisses Ylva's cheek.
"Speaking of tattoos, I've been thinking."
"Yeah. I know. Just. I dunno."
She shrugs her head. "Maybe."
Then a tilt of her head. "UwU."
"Ask the girls too, maybe? They'd know better than myself. And you can pick up some shifts if you ever want to once theres less stress from the center."
She smiles.
"So I have my monarch on my shoulder, yes?"
"Maybe yeah."
She shrugs but keeps listening with a genuine smile of fondness on her face. "Yeah, the one of how we met."
She gently puts her forehead against Ylva's.
"I thought of one for my other shoulder, whenever we have time and energy, which I know may be a bit. Do you want me to tell you now or wait so its not taking up brainpower?"
"Hmmm."
She pauses for a moment. "Tell me whatcha thinking?"
A small blush.
"A little fox, to remind me you are why I do things. That you're what motivates me."
"That is super gay."
She says with a flat face then smiles. "Of course, that is lovely."
"It very much is. I'm glad you like the idea. Because I can't... see you, I wanted you to design it. Nothing provocative please, I might cry."
"I am not going to tattoo porn on my asexual partner. Lordy." She says with a chuckle and a blush.
"Ill draw some things up and see what you think?"
She chuckles.
"Just making sure. Yes please, I would love that."
She leans her head into Klaire just staying close.
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