Logs:Business and Pleasure in Baltimore

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Part of the Deep Roots, Weak Branches plot

Content Warning

alcohol, references to drug use

Cast
Setting

A club in Baltimore where the Spring Monarch holds court

Log

Amon's contacts help set up a meeting with the current ruling (but not for long) Crown--Eddie Crude. They give him a time and an address, but... that's about it.

The address leads them into downtown Baltimore, to the Euphoria Nightclub. Even on a Thursday night, the place is packed. It's the sort of club you have to usually RSVP at, but the trio find themselves conveniently on the list. Inside hip-hop and r&b music, remixed by a live DJ. It's dark, with brightly colored lights and lasers flashing and shining everywhere, casting everything and everyone in neons. The atmosphere is one of excitement and indulgence. Even Drake can feel the pulse in the air, even if he can't hear the music, as if the place has a heartbeat that people dance and laugh along to.


Drake, maybe weirdly, knew how to dress for a club. Maybe he'd come expecting nothing if not the same. Tonight was a mesh shirt with a cutout on the back and silver threading over top in a floral pattern. Wealth growing from the dragon and going down to a longer glittering kilt. All blinged out and with the many, many piercings on display as he fidgets with his keys.


The slick devil didn't seem to mind showing some pitch-slicked skin that reflected the lights across him beatuifully. A shoulderless mesh number with a leather corset, leather pants, and hiller heels studded with little lights in the bottom set a certain club mood. This wasn't a business trip, it said. This was pleasure, and the pleasure was all the looker's while Amon click-clacked his way around the club like he knew everyone. The incredibly tall drink of water was even giving smiles and upnods as they made their way collectively towards the VIP section - because of course there was a VIP section, wasn't there?


It's not quite true that Jack wears the armor that Drake's made for him constantly, but he sure seems to wear it a lot. Especially when the venue is a club, and he can throw on a harness under the t-shirt he had on for travel, and show up to the place in leather.

His jacket stays in the car - he's not about to trust it at a coat check - along with his shirt, and his tattoo sleeve is on full display (along with the rest of his chest) as he makes his way into the club, keeping half an eye on both Amon and Drake. It's not the time to get separated among the crowds of people - yet.


Of course there's a VIP section.

The VIP area is a loft area that overlooks the rest of the club, giving a good view of the dance floor and DJ booth. The trio are given a look over by the bouncer there, then allowed past without even asking for their names.

The loft is less populated, just a few clusters here and there of people drinking and lounging on comfortable couches. They do spot a few Lost here and there.

But their eyes are inevitably drawn to the oily King himself. It's hard not to, with his crown radiating the colors of dawn, saturated to the point of looking almost like the neon club lights. Bright red poppies grow among the lights.

He doesn't look ready for such an important meeting at all and is in fact knocking back some shots, laughing with a couple other Lost sitting on either side of him. Cap on, under the crown, jersey jacket over a t-shirt and jeans. His skin has an iridescent oily surface to it, like an oil slick on concrete reflecting rainbowish sunlight. He has a lot of piercings and tattoos as well, the later of which sort of... bleed and melt around on his oil-skin.


Drake, having been around these particular springs before, should be comfortable, right? Yeeeeeeah, when he gets to the top of the stairs, lights flashing all around, he lets the others move forward to do introductions and be people at people.


Amon doesn't hesitate like the companions. The tall one clicks his way over with a grin as he makes his way and throws a fist out towards Eddie to bump. "Eddie, you son of a bitch, how you doing?" A glance cast this way or that. "I see you're still hanging with the same cro-no, is that Grumpy? Don't tell me you're finally tapping Grumpy the Smith," he teases like they've never been away. "Come on, come on, make some room. It isn't a party until the Devil shows up."


With Amon's words, the ice is broken for Jack, and an easy smile slides across his sketchy face as he takes a step forward, next to Amon, and upnods at the crown. "Eddie. 'S a hell of a place to hold court." The way he says it, he sounds impressed. Impressed, and pleased. The lines around his mien flicker slightly, but for the most part they slide lazily around his skin.


Eddie glances up as Amon approaches, grin spreading wider. "Who hasn't fucked Grumpy at this point?" He looks Amon up and down, then bobs his head in approval. "Lookin' good. Figured you would'a gotten fat when you left town." He waves a hand to dismiss the other Lost clustered around him, freeing up the couch--though he remains planted in the middle of it, lounged back comfortably. "Anytime Crude holds court, it's a good time," he says to Jack with a lazy grin.

"Joyce, grab some of the good stuff for our guests, yeah?" he asks one of the Lost as they go.

"Sit. Chill. Introduce me to your friends, Amon."


Drake moves forward just enough to catch some light before giving his little hello wave-salute-sign. "Not a friend," states the one with his attention fixed hard on the monarch. "Drake Pike. You should remember me."


Amon drops into the space next to the monarch, slinging an arm around Eddie as if they were BFFs. "Grumpy's the town bicycle, we know. But as someone who took that ride - no regrets." He laughs before pointing to the Wizened. "You should remember him. He was in your court - the one who turned my car into scrap metal while I was driving it. He comes with the best gifts though." And then a point to the Darkling. "And this one's Jack - a spring diplomacy specialist because they didn't want me to forget to actually give you the things we meant to before we got to really party."


A scribbly blush drifts across Jack's cheeks when Amon calls him a specialist, but he grins, easing down onto the couch on the other side of the monarch before gesturing for Drake to join him. "Gifts don't need to be first, just...not forgotten." He smirks at Eddie, and leans back against the couch to stretch. "An' I always like an excuse to meet more springs, anyway. Wouldn't'a missed this even if I was just along for the ride."


Eddie squints at Drake for a few seconds, arms draped over the back of the couch on either side. "Hmm... Sure, yeah. Shiny lizard-boy." How much he actually remembers about Drake is... questionable, but he bobs his head slowly along.

He looks Jack over as he's introduced, then upnods to the Muse. "Philly's best diplomat, huh? He's pretty, suppose. Sup, Jackie?"

Once Jack talks he smirks, then looks between the three. "I'm happy to accept any and all gifts. Got my own to share in return," he says as one of the Lost brings over a tray of four shot glasses containing a tar-like black substance in front of them.

"You come to sign Philly up for the war effort?"


"Dragon," informs Drake. "Not lizard." He moves forward. "War is over. We won." That is... certainly a way to say things as he came close and picks up one of the tar-like drinks to inspect and sniff at.

Drake immediate slams the drink back and closes his eyes as the shudder ran through him, eyes actually closing for once for a moment before he eyes the King. "Another?"


Amon laughs with an eye over Jack. "Mmmmmm... I'm sure he'll be riding along for a lot of things tonight. It is the last days of spring. Might as well make the most of it, hm?"

"You're pretty too, Eddie. Pretty easy," he jokes before eyeing Drake as he starts this party off with full intent on getting crunk. "Mmmmm... Maybe just the one before we get too hammered and forget the presents. This place is good, but maybe we can get a little more wild - and, of course, we can pull around back so your sober compatriots can hold onto the things you don't want on you."


The scribbles on Jack's cheeks darken, but his grin just widens. "I've never had a problem going out with a bang. You're probably gonna wanna have someone hold onto this shit - not the kinda gifts you show off in a place like this." A beat, and he eyes Eddie. "Or maybe you do, I dunno. Either way - Drake?" While he's talking, he's made more than one glance toward the offered shot. Managing not to take it while there's still business to be done.


Despite looking disgusting, the shots smell like all their favorite scents all mingled into one. And those who drink find that the tar-like substance goes down surprisingly smooth. As soon as they drink they find themselves overwhelmed with visions of whatever they desire the most. Not necessarily sexual. It could be the sweetest, tenderest dream one could imagine--so long as they want it with every fiber of their being. The vision its self fades after a few seconds, but the echo of that memory and the joy and pleasure brought from it fills them up to near bursting. They feel light headed with giddiness. It's pure euphoria.

Eddie picks up their own shot to knock back, then laughs at Drake. "What? The war isn't over. It just fucking started, Goldilocks." He waves a hand. "If the others chicken out, you can have their's."

"But sure, fuck--let's see these presents." He pushes up to his feet with effortless yet clearly wasted grace.


Drake reaches out to grab the sticky one - well, one of the two sticky/oily types, the monarch, to haul with him down the stairs as best they can. Clearly, this is all the moment they could need. Does he care about the drinks? No. Because GIIIIIIIIIIIIFTS.


Amon considers, but when in Rome... He grabs his shot to do on the way, stopping and swaying in the moment. "Margo..." he murmurs.


A grimace, and a look of mild guilt, and Jack downs his too, shuddering as scribbles dance across his skin. "Oh fuck..." he mutters, though he doesn't sound particularly upset, and follows the other two down the stairs.


"Ouff--fuck, alright, alright," Eddie puffs out as he's dragged along by the short Dragon.


Drake doesn't seem to mind anyone in his way-he can push past them. Allllll the way outside to where the very nice luxury cars are kept. When he gets to the trunk, he has to search around for keys as if they've vanished entirely.


Amon has the good graces not to let something like emotions get in the way of a job. He put a smile on - it was a good feeling, and then when he got close, he hit the trunk button. "Sorry, Eddie, we're not giving you your kidnap bukkake fantasy - save it for your birthday." Easily click-clacking the way on over. "Mmmmm... that was a treat. What fruit was that?"


Jack's grinning, and huffs out a laugh at Amon's joke as he lopes up behind him, nodding in agreement. "'S a hell of a lot better than some shit I've choked down." He takes a moment to look at Drake, checking in visually if the dragon meets his gaze.


Eddie lean against the luxury car when they get to it, smearing oil all over the surface. That shit ain't gonna come off easily. Oops. He watches Drake with a dazed sort of half-interest. He snickers with a sly grin at Amon's joking. "S'made from the flowers of Black Mercy. Diluted enough to not be too lethal." That's comforting.


When the trunk comes up, Drake gets out a basket of... what has to be the weirdest fucking goblin fruit to date. There's six of them, all brightly colored, but looking a bit like... a venus fly trap? Ready to bite should one reach for the fruit.

"There's a blight happening. If it reaches you, you will be ready. These are amaranthines - very valuable," explains Drake like the monarch's never seen them before. "Hanging planters help them grow best, by those sleeping so their dreams infuse the dirt. Also because leaving them on the floor means they will bite you when you wake up. Every. Time."


Amon settles back against the car while the little dragon man gets all excited like a kid on Christmas. His eyebrows raise at the first wave of gifts, but he's certainly not taking his name off the gift receipt.


Neither is Jack, and leans against the car, looking at the goblin fruit with interest. "Your war have anything to do with the blight, Eddie?"


Eddie blinks at the plants, brows climbing. "Oh. Shit." It takes a moment for the very high/drunk Monarch to register what Drake is saying at first, before he bursts out laughing. "Oh, fuck. You... seriously don't know, do you?" He reaches out to touch one of the prickly leaves, grin dimming briefly. "These will be useful. Our Hedge is already dried up, Goldilocks. Just. Fucking tumbleweeds." He rocks on his feet a bit, lips pursing.

"History's Cradle has raised the Hue and Cry against Patriarch Tree," he replies to Jack. "We are at War."


"No, we didn't know," says Drake as he tilts his head to the side. "... Though I guess that makes the other gifts better. Though these are still very good. You should give me the number to a gardener - I can teach them the new way and make clippings to start up more goblin fruit."

"... Why are you at war, though?"


"Because it's their fuckin' Tree that's causin' all this 'blight', as you call it," Eddie replies, lip curling. "And they refuse to do anything 'bout it. We aren't going to sit back and allow our territory to be ravaged and waste away--ain't going to let our homes become wastelands." Eddie never really sounds much like a King, but this is likely as close as he gets to it, his voice ringing with authority and anger briefly.

"So we're going to burn the whole motherfucking Freehold down, if we have'ta."


The devil's eyebrows climb up. "Well that's a buzz kill. You say it's the tree? How do you know? What made it suddenly start stealing... life, magic, nutrients?" He considers the other. "Mmmm... Bloodlust is a side of desire I didn't think I'd see in you. You always do bring the best surprises. What do you need here?"


Jack lets out a low whistle. "Fuck. Can't speak for the whole of Shackamaxon, but we can put the call out when we get back, see 'f the Crowns're willing to join the effort. Can't imagine they won't, if you've got proof."


"Our scouts have tracked the roots back to their territory," Eddie replies to Amon, lounging back against the car again casually--more oil smears. "No idea why this is happening. They haven't told us shit, especially not since we declared war against 'em. Don't really care the why, honestly."

He nods to Jack. "What I need? You get an Oath from your Crowns to side with us in the war. Help us save the Hedge. As for proof? Just fucking look in the Hedge, the roots are everywhere."


"Breed those," states Drake with a gesture to the basket of fruits. "We can talk more to our leaders - summer is going to take hold soon. They won't go for inaction."

Then, of course, Drake dips into the trunk to pull out the spring of a set of muskets to press into Eddie's arms. "And these."

The set of matching muskets are done in a metal filigree style that works well for the set, all done in a particular metal with an intricate amount of filigree along the stock and done in an updated historical style befitting the battle of Baltimore. There's a sense of history about them, and a wieght that reminds you of it each time one would heft them.

Spring's musket is plated in platinum, the most refined of the metals. Along the stock is a scene from the early women's suffrage movement - suffragists voting at the general assembly. The passion rendered in the detailed arguments seems to show the desire and press for equality that Spring can embody best.

Summer's musket is plated in gold, the weighty metal of the sun. Along its stock is a scene from the defense of Fort McHenry with a full bombard naval battle versus the fort. The feelings rendered leave one with a sense of duty and pride that Summer knows more than any other.

Autumn's musket is plated in silver, the most magical of all the metals. Along its stock comes a terrifying scene from the Great Baltimore Fire - folks running from the blaze that this gun emcompasses entirely. The feeling that leaves one reminded of great evil overcome shows the things Autumn knows.

Winter's musket is made of cold steel, the way the fae overcame even its weakness of iron. Along its stock is a stark seen of industry and the early labor union workers who fought for rights during WWII. The scene leaves one with grim determination, befitting the knowledge of Winter.


"Think you could have some of your scouts walk with ours? Do a patrol and let us follow on further down the line?" asks Amon with a look over the Spring Monarch. "Less dangerous to have a third party in the mix and find the exact source - maybe cut down some of the lives lost in all of this. You work with your Summer if you can, give me a set of terms and things you'd want, maybe I see what I can do. I've got an in with Devon - maybe he'll see reason." Not that he expects the high one to really be focused now that he has a gun. Amon mostly keeps himself moving in case the drunkard shoots it.


Jack sliiides down the side of the car a bit as Drake gives Eddie the musket, even the goblin fruit shot not entirely masking his discomfort with weapons. "Finding out the why'll probably help us all further down the line. An' after we figure it all out, we can burn that shit down."


Eddie blinks, taking the musket as it's shoved into his hands. "Whoa, holy shit." He looks it over slowly, brows raising as he takes in the delicate carvings. It seems even Eddie has an appreciation for the history etched into the platinum.

Thankfully, he does not immediately start shooting it, but he does run his fingers along the barrel, letting out a soft thoughtful sound after Amon and Jack speak.

"If you don't think your scouts are good enough to track the roots themselves," Eddie says with an air of snootiness, grinning again now. "Suppose we could send some along. Patriarch Tree isn't going to let any of our people even close to their Trods, though. So might not be a good idea to take any of ours with you if you're wanting to get a closer look at the tree... Unless you're cool with the possibility of gettin' caught in crossfire. I can get you terms, sure. Sulochana isn't likely to be satisfied with anything but a full alliance up front--but I can see what I can do."


"Show her what we've given," says Drake with a nod like he's just that confident. "We can follow it - it isn't hard, but going from yours and ours, we can triangulate better. If we are better able to make a claim, they will listen. Without murder. Murder always second option. First is just fixing the problem. Much more time for fun, drinking, and sex that way, yes?"


Amon chuckles at that before gesturing to Drake. "From the mouths of babes. I know you, Eddie. You're a smooth motherfucker, and you're not completely stupid around Sulochana. Get her on our side. Let her realize that politicking can really benefit her long term - diplomacy is part of war, and the pen's mightier than the sword. Let us play pen, and you? You wait for if the bitches don't play ball and you swing that sword down hard. How's that sound? Gives you time to build your resources, and the spring court can build up a store of healing fruit after breeding those." He gestures to the other basket. "You're not spinning wheels, Eddie, you're preparing. Make Summer see the benefits of planting season before it's time to salt the earth."


Jack nods, and gestures to Amon in agreement. "Our crowns're more likely to be swayed by opening up talks than throwing more soldiers at you, you know? No one wants more casualties than we can help - not you, not us, an' sending people to work some diplomacy with Patriarch Tree'll help all of you come out on top of that. And like Amon said - more time to prep for they do show their true colors. Less chance any of us'll be caught with our asses down, too."


Eddie hesitates, lips pursing to the side. He sighs, then leans over to tuck the musket back into the carrying case. "You know it's not really my choice anymore in a few days, right?" He removes his hat so he can rake his fingers through black oil hair, head tilting from side to side as he mules it over.

"We've already tried diplomacy," he says with a huff. "It didn't work. But if you think Shackamaxon can get through to them and convince them to clear up the roots... I'll talk to Sulochana about giving you the chance. There's no way the Hue and Cry is going to be called off, not as things are, but... We can take the time to prepare before we hit 'em."

"I'm not making promises. And even then, the most I can probably give you is a month."

"As for the Hedge, if you're wanting us to put off violence, it's best for us not to come with you anywhere near Patriarch Tree. They catch whiff of us poking around, and things will escalate. You're gonna be on your own there. But I can see about getting your Hedgxperts access to our Trods to examine the effects of the roots here. With an escort, of course."


Drake stares and then looks at the other two as if they would better determine it.


"A month is fair - plenty of time for you to sharpen your axes and get more fruit grown. We'll have a different set of diplomats working with Patriarch just in case this little meeting gets wind - then it's just two of us coming to visit old friends." Amon smiles that devilish grin before looking to Jack. "Assuming the head diplomat agrees to this, of course. I think we can make it work."


"Absolutely." Jack's grin has returned. "A month is plenty of time to set things up back home - and to find someone else to be head diplomat for that trip. There's a reason I chose History's Cradle, I wanted to meet my friends friends, too."


"Alright. That's settled, then." He rolls his shoulders, then his lips spread into a wide grin. "Enough of this buzzkill shit--I'm celebrating the end of my reign, baby! Let's go fucking party!"