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Who knows why Myra's around one of the witchy shops in town in the early evening, that's a mystery for the ages, but there's a smol blonde someone there, hanging flyers on the window--it's possible Myra's seen a few similar flyers going up in different parts of the city with a pagan or witchy presence. They're pink paper and are about a campaign started by one of the local covens: Age Doesn't Excuse Bad Behavior, the flyers read across the top. It's apparently a movement against missing stairs in the pagan community? But at the bottom of the posters Phaedra's hanging are some addition handwritten notes: Want to learn more? Let's talk. TEXT or call now, with a local phone number.
Myra perks as she catches sight of the familiar young woman, stepping first up to the poster to get a good look. She had seem them around, yes - though there was never harm in taking a moment to refamiliarize.
"These are yours, then?" She asks Phaedra after a moment, glancing over with a faint smile.
She nods a little. "I hang around some of the local Wiccan groups. Only the nighttime rituals, of course. Though this is a little more blatant of a callout than it looks on the surface, really."
She's hugging her stack of flyers like someone might hug on a teddy bear, and if Myra looks close...she's not breathing or blinking or doing the same level of pretending to be a human that she was in the bookstore, because it's dark and no one's really around.
Myra eyes her for a short moment, as if uncertain if she should be concerned for her or not, and instead decides to reach out and fiddle with the corner of one of the flyers, "Stumbled across the bad eggs in the community?"
"I mean, there's bad eggs in all communities, aren't there? I bet there's even bad willworkers out there, too." She wrinkles her nose, watching as Myra fiddles. "Did I tape it up crookedly?"
"Oh, undoubtedly!" She snorts, then blinks and lowers her hand, looking embarrassed, "Ah - no. Just restless hands."
"This might actually be a callout for someone who's not necessarily a part of the pagan community, but this gets the message out where he might see it. But there are missing stairs everywhere. That's a thing that happens, when there's people and power and the chance to be shitty, and shame. Always shame. That's what keeps victims quiet most of all. Right?" She sounds like she might be speaking from experience there.
"Si," She sighs and nods, "Shame and fear, which I suppose can go hand-in-hand, hm?" A little smile, then she taps the part of the flyer that asks Want to learn more? "Who is this 'someone', then? Or would you prefer I ask not-in-public?"
"It's...a problem we're dealing with in the nights. I don't want you trying to get involved. Part of that's a diplomacy thing--you coming in and trying to do a fixing would look really bad to us. And part of it's that you shouldn't have to deal with it, because it's big-dangerous-scary shit. Okay?" Who's being protective of who here?
For Myra's part, she doesn't seem particularly offended - though she does seem amused and, well... touched? She chuckles softly and lifts a hand, palm up, a sort of is alright, no worry gesture. "Well then, I do not need to get involved if you don't wish me to - I'm sure you are more than capable of handling whatever and whoever it is. But if you at least want someone to talk to and bounce things off of, well I am all ears."
"No, I'm...really, really not capable of handling it, but I might end up trying to do so anyway, because that's sort of how things go sometimes." She makes a smile-shape on her face and laughs a little, but there's this undertone of nervousness about the whole thing. "I...you know. If me doing something stupid can help, I'll always do the something stupid. Which is what these flyers are about."
Her brows rise and she looks.... definitely worried now. She chews her bottom lip for a moment, "How about I help you set up the rest of these flyers, hm? And then, perhaps, you can rest at my place for a little while?" She frowns, "Though I don't think I have anything I can offer you refreshments-wise..... except, perhaps, a chicken."
There's a bit of a blink. "So. Like. Most of us couldn't take advantage of the offer of a chicken. Their blood's not strong enough, see, not like people's is? But...uh. I'm still really young, and a chicken could definitely be something I could, you know eat, but I'd probably kill it in the process, even if I took only a little, because only a little is like half a chicken's blood, you know?"
She considers this a moment, "Well.... that is.... not so bad, I think. I have been meaning to make chicken soup again, and it would be a shame for all the blood to go to waste...." That lil smile is back, "Perhaps you'd like to help?"
"...can I help with the cooking too?" Her eyes grow wider--though it's an artificial sort of reaction, in her current state, something like a creepy porcelain doll suddenly widening its eyes in surprise and delight.
"That is part of the offer, yes," Alright yes it's a little bit uncanny valley, but there's also something endearing about Phaedra's reaction and her attempt to physically show it? "Do you know how to chop vegetables?"
"Yes! My mom and my aunts and my sister and cousins, we all cooked dinners at whoever's home was hosting. It was the best time of the day because none of the menfolk ever came into the kitchen, so I liked it the best. Mom used to make chicken soup whenever one of the kids was sick." She nods eagerly.
And some more of Phaedra's childhood is revealed to Myra, making her want to simultaneously hug the smol vampbabby and punch everyone who has harmed her.
Instead, she lets her smile grow, "Perfect - you can help me pick the veggies, too, if you'd like."
"Sure! Uh, are we taking the SEPTA or walking to your place? Or did you drive out here?"
As she speaks, she passes half the stack of flyers to Myra and gets to work with the taping.
She accepts her half of the stack and begins to help, "I drove, we're not quite close enough to where I live for me to walk here."
"Mkay, that works. I mean, I could run it real fast, if I know where you lived, but I don't yet, so I can't." Eagerly twittering away like an overeager bird about half an hour before one's alarm clock goes off.
"Well once you do.... you're welcome to come by any time, Phaedra. I live a little bit away from the hustle and bustle, so if you ever want or need some peace and quiet..." She chuckles, "As long as you don't mind the sound of chickens and bees."
"Given where I grew up, I'd rather hear chickens and bees than cars, a lot of the time." She laughs. "That's why I live out in the woods, myself. Away from the hustle and bustle and noise. I'd invite you out there, but I have no refreshments for you, either. Though this almost makes me want to try to keep chickens. Almost."
"They can be good company, and you can always sell the eggs at the Farmer's Market. I can show you how to care for them if you're curious!"
"Right, uh, the thing about the Farmer's Market is that it tends to be a daytime activity?"
"....................................................... Hm. You are correct. I see the flaws in my plans."
She lets out a laugh. "I don't need the eggs, anyway. I could help you with tending yours, though. Stop by at like 3am a couple days a week to feed them so you don't have to wake up early every day? Or something."
The more they talk, the more at ease Myra slowly seems to become, "That would be delightful, yes. And I'm sure they would enjoy the extra attention, too."
"...probably not, animals actually really don't like us. Part of the whole undead curse thing?" She shakes her head. "But. If I work while they're asleep, maybe they won't get too scared."
She scrunches up her nose at that, clearly under the assumption of oh no that must be AWFUL, then shakes her own head. "We shall see how it goes. I'm sure it'll be fine one way or the other, mija. Ah," She smiles as she sets up her last flyer, brushing her hands together victoriously, "How does that all look, hm?"
"Perfect. If that elder walks past here, he's bound to get the message." She nods, grinning broadly.
She rests her hands on her hips and eyes Phaedra a moment longer, "What is it that you ah.... are intending to do about this elder, should he reach out?"
"Uh." She looks uncertain, as if she Might Be In Trouble if she answers.
Both brows rise slowly as she waits. Patiently. For the answer.
"Well, uh. If I offer him blood, he doesn't have to steal it from someone else like me. And if I offer him information, he might fill in some of the blanks in what I know. That's what I'm hoping, at least."
Her brows lower and furrow this time as she considers these words and their implication, "And if that does not work out...?"
"I mean. I'll figure it out from there?" She shrugs.
"Does anyone else know what you are attempting? Like ahh.... Eyrgjafa?" Or another Vampire that Phaedra gets along with...
"I've...mentioned the idea. And anyone who sees the flyers will probably get it, too." She wilts under the look Myra's giving her, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.
Myra softens and reaches a hand out to place it gently on Phaedra's shoulder - the touch is light and willing to pull away at a moment's notice if the other doesn't seem keen on it staying, "Perhaps you might wish to talk about it more with someone you trust who is able to help within your circles? They might be able to help you refine your plan, or perhaps think of a back-up. It is just a suggestion, but you do not need to do this alone."
Phaedra leans into the touch, just slightly. Also, in her current state, she's pretty cold. Like a corpse.
"They'd all try to talk me out of it."
The cold causes a brief pause as Myra gets used to the difference, but soon her hand moves to a more supportive position on Phaedra's back.
"Perhaps that is worth listening to, at least. There could be better ways to stop him from stealing blood than offering yourself on a silver platter, yes?"
"I don't think I'm going to stop him. That's not what this is about. It's all something bigger. And I don't think I can talk about it all with you, sorry. Diplomacy shit." She turns her head to look sidelong at Myra. "If...If I make myself be warm like a person, would you hug me?"
She lets out a soft laugh and holds out arms in offer of hugs, "Only make yourself warm if you want, mija - I will hug either way!"
And Phaedra steps into the embrace, closing her eyes and wrapping her arms around Myra.
Myra wraps her whole entire arms around Phaedra in a nice, warm mama bear hug that will only end with the young vampire wishes for it to.
Phaedra lets out a soft contented sound, and it's...probably literally minutes before she lets go.
As she lets go, she gets a kiss right on the forehead. "If you ever want a hug, just ask. Okay?"
"Probably going to happen pretty often. Sorry."
Snort. "Is nothing to be sorry about, mija. I am full of hugs."
"Good. So, uh...your place for that chicken? It saves me the trouble of a hunt tonight, and I wanna see your kitchen. You strike me as the sort of person who'd have dried herbs hanging by the window."
Snort. "You're not wrong! Come, this way - the drive won't be too long, I promise."
'Quaint little cottage' is a fairly apt descriptor of Myra's home, the garden stretching from the front to the back taking up more space than the house itself and surrounded by a lovingly grown and tended-to hedge. And Phaedra was indeed correct - Myra's kitchen, painted a soft yellow, has many bundles of herbs and flowers dried and drying around the kitchen, each tied and meticulously labelled. The back garden has a beehive in the far back and a chicken coop closer to the house - though the chickens are silent for the moment, it being too late for them to be up and making noise.
All-in-all, there is something delightfully..... Tranquil. About the place, that sets the heart at ease. The windchimes blowing in the gentle evening breeze definitely help.
"Ah, there it is," Myra mumbles, mostly to herself, as she pulls out a large pot from one of the cabinets, "This should be big enough!"
Phaedra looks wonderfully at home here, slipping her sandals off before even getting out of the car so she can wiggle her toes in the grass before she approaches the garden to brush her fingertips over the leaves of every growing thing before allowing herself to be herded back inside and into the kitchen.
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