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Fofo (ST): Thankfully, traveling ironside instead of over Trod ends up being very possible. Being close allies with Shackamaxon, the group are even invited to the door of Old Iron's Freehold hollow--which is located at an old dinner in Allentown. They're told ahead of time that Red-Handed Nick will meet them inside the dinner.
Upon driving up to the address, they see that this place... is old. It's the definition of a greasy spoon--it doesn't look like it's been renovated since the 60s or 70s, but it's been tended to carefully enough that it's not falling apart. It has that sort of age that comes from years and years of hard work and loving maintenance. The sort of place that people stop by at to grab coffee on their way to work, or dinner after a long grueling day, the sort of place people bring their children and grandchildren to as they age. There's a few cars in the parking lot already.
Sigrun: Sigrun hops out, stretching her arms and back and her everything, generally. Being tall is a pain in the butt when it comes to road trips. She steps around back to pull out her duffel bag, having carted along her gear in the off-chance the locals need a hand with a capital P Problem while they're all in town. She's splitting the difference between looking the part of diplomat and being herself. Her attire is plain and functional, but exceptionally well made. Black suit pants, a black suit jacket, an eggshell toned blouse, and a silver necklace with a Tiwaz rune depending from it. Her hair is braided, worn up, and spills from the back of her head in a shower of small, intricate braids. It is, as the kids say, A Look. It may be her only suit. But it's a nice suit, in any case.
Petra:
Petra parked her RV and bounced out of the driver side door and took a few moments to stretch her arms and flap wings- which had been pretty cramped in the bucket seat. She was entirely herself, dressed in floral shorts and a sunny yellow ruffled halter top.
Lucia:
Lucia opens the door and slides out of the car like she's trying to be as economical with her movements as possible, then leans in and grabs her duster, which she slides on. Since this is supposed to be a diplomatic thing she dressed nicely, which means she's actually in an orange and white floral dress and flats and not, like, grease-stained overalls and crocs. The leather duster and her aviator sunglasses don't really match the look, but she's still figuring out what's "cool". She doesn't look like she's any worse for the wear with the long ride, no stretching or anything. Then she leans into the SUV one more time to get out the casserole that, for some reason, she felt obligated to bring. "I'm ready," she announces.
Alain:
Alain watches the diner slide into view out of the window through her pale eyes, and lets out a long breath as she exits Petra's RV, smoothing out a crease in her down her pants, a dark heather navy that matched her blazer, a just-barely ice blue blouse underneath it with a high collar, and heels adding a couple inches to her height. In summary, business casual, but she wears it like it's anything but; she belongs in these clothes, and they drape on her like a second skin. She nods her head at Lucia, and curves a smile at her, and then, seeing they're all ready, more or less, makes for the door to the diner.
Fofo (ST):
Stepping into the diner, they find handwritten signs displaying a simple but delicious smelling menu, as well as a sign that proclaims various charitable options--there's a soup kitchen saturday that gives out free meals, and there's a 'pay what you can' special. A handful of people are tucked away into booths, enjoying their meals.
Nick is impossible to miss. Even before he stands up--which he does as soon as the group enters, flashing a toothy smile. The man is, quite literally, a giant grizzly bear. He has a thick bushy beard and a black snoot-nose. He looks like a mix between a lumberjack and a cliche construction worker--worn jeans, work boots, t-shirt and red flannel shirt. "Hey," he says in a surprisingly soft-spoken and nervous voice for being so big. "Thank you for coming. Have you all had dinner yet? Would ya like somethin' to eat before we head uh... further inside?"
Despite his nerves, his mantle is strong, radiating out from him a potent heat--the sort of heat that comes after working a long day in the sun. That slightly tingly feeling of sunburn before it really becomes sunburn, paired with a contrasting coolness that comes from a breeze brushing over sweat-covered skin. Not exhausting, not unpleasant--it gives one the rush and satisfaction of hard earned victory.
Sigrun: Sigrun smiles the smile of the polite muscle here to make sure everyone leaves safe and doesn't do the talking at the moment. Her stomach growls audibly, awkwardly, and persistently in a manner that has Sigrun slowly starting to glow a little pink, but she's not going to be the one to call attention to that, either. Instead she glances aside to Alain to see what she had planned.
Petra:Petra beamed at the Summer and basked in his mantle with obvious pleasure. "How's the pie?" she asked, glancing sideways to Sigrun. Her grin widened slightly.
Lucia:For any of those who have seen Lucia in the presence of the crowns of her own Freehold the difference in how she responds to the people in charge in a different one might be interesting. She has all but shut down in Marjorie's presence, but doesn't seem to be phased by Nick's. She meets his gaze with her neon green one and then glances around. "I should have thought the casserole through better," she remarks. "I was always taught not to show up without something."
Alain:Standing in front of Nick, they're almost polar opposites. Alain's mantle puts a crisp, still cold into the air, and while she is by no means petite but practically sprite-like compared to Nick. She also wears the air of someone who has done this before, though perhaps not in these particular circumstances. "You must be Nick," she offers, dipping her head in a respectful nod and offering her hand. "I'm Alain, and this is Sigrun, Petra, and Lucia," she introduces, gesturing to each of them in turn. "Thank you for hosting us." She glances around at her compatriots. "I certainly can't speak for everyone, but I'd be delighted to eat with you," she offers to Nick with all the attendant social grace of someone who is very much a fish in their water.
Fofo (ST): Nick gives Sigrun a sympathetic look as her stomach growls, then smiles down at Petra. "The pies are delicious here--I recommend the cherry. But the apple is real good too." Noticing Lucia's casserole, Nick's eyes widen a little and he smiles wider, leaning over to sniff-sniff in it's direction. "That smells wonderful. Food is always appreciated here." Then he focuses on Alain, looking a little flustered but pleased. He dips his head in return. "Oh, gosh--forgive me. Yes, I'm Nick. It's so nice to see you all. Welcome to Allent--wait, I said that already, didn' I?" He laughs nervously. "Yes, please--let's eat. We can share the casserole and you can order whatever you want for dessert, on me." He waves a massive paw to the largest booth in the corner, and lumbers over to sit down there.
A few kind words to the middled-aged waitress has her hurrying off, collecting plates and silverware for Lucia's casserole, and plates of whatever delicious pies they prefer--though there's milkshakes and sundaes too.
Sigrun: Sigrun looks quite relieved when food is the call that is made. "I have been eating like a rabbit lately for firefighter training. I will absolutely wreck a strawberry milkshake. That sounds amazing." The casserole is probably good, too. Sure. But strawberry milkshake? Divine. She slides into the booth next to Nick. Apparently she doesn't have a problem with overly kind slightly awkward anthropomorphic Summers. Who knew? (June. June knew.) "Omigosh. The whole menu looks amazing. Ugh." She then gasps, "Pizza fries?"
Petra:"This is clearly a very dangerous place," Petra said seriously. "Damn. Pizza fries and shakes. And it all smells good. Thanks for the welcome, Nick. It's nice to reconnect with you guys up here."
Lucia:Lucia's casserole is bassically a casserole-ized version of chicken a la king, covered on top with what's basically country biscuit in a crumbly, flaky layer, nicely browned and everything. Apparently the little cyborg woman is a good cook, and has a taste for recipes popular in the 1920s. "You know," she says. "I don't think I've had a chocolate malted milkshake in... a long time." She doesn't actually say how long it has been since she doesn't look like she's over a century old. "What are pizza fries?" she asks once they're seated, not concerned about who she's sitting next to.
Fofo (ST): Hey Morgan--why don't you go ahead and roll Intelligence+Crafts. You can take a -1, -2, or -3. If you succeed, that negative will become a positive modifier for (some) social rolls for you all, for Nick during this scene.
Alain:"That's very generous, Nick, thank you, so much," Alain dips her head again, and follows after, gliding in the wake of his lumbering gait, all the movement of his wake to the booth re-etched by her stillness. She sits across from him and Sigrun, pale eyes flickering in between the two Summers briefly. "I can see why you invited us here," she ventures in a polished voice, the edges of her words firm but smoothed out and nearly supple. "This place is nice." It's a minimalist assessment, but her tone and features give it weight while she admires the comings and goings, the historicity that practically drips off the place; how many stories must have been told here. If she were not a Snowskin, she might appear wistful. But alas. She is, and she does not.
Fofo (ST): The casserole is still very tasty! Just not enough to bribe the hungry bear.
Fofo (ST): "The pizza fries are really good," Nick says with a bob of his head. "Real strawberries in the milkshake--we get 'em from a local farm." He orders a double slice of caramelized apple pie, then shovels out a big portion of the casserole for himself--but making sure there's enough for everyone to have a serving as well. He digs in eagerly. He loves food, apparently.
He swallows down a mouthful before nodding to Alain. "Thank you. Old Iron has been running this place since the 70s. It's truly a communal effort. We're all real proud of it."
Sigrun: Sigrun orders two plates of the pizza fried for the table. Both so that Lucia can experience the wonder of Pizza fries, and so that Nick can top off his tummy with additional food without leaving others wanting for more casserole. A proper hotdish social is the tradition of her people. All that's missing is Lutheranism, really, and this is her childhood at Church. "This place is amazing, Nick. The menu, the community focus, all of it. It makes my little black and red heart happy. I'm really looking forward to that milkshake now." Lucia earns the explanation, "Pizza fries are french fries with pizza toppings, but like seven or eight times more tasty than what you're thinking right now."
Petra:Petra loved to eat too but ate like, well, a bird. The tiny Spring only took a little bit of everything. "That's so cool. So how is your community doing? I'm a healer, by the way."
Lucia:Lucia looks around the table briefly before she admits quietly to Sigrun, "I've never had pizza." Like it's a big secret everyone is in on but her. She takes only a little of her own casserole and orders a chocolate malt, figuring that she can also try some of these pizza fries which have everyone so excited. Obviously she has no idea what's in store for her.
Alain:Alain nods her head in a short clip at Lucia in confirmation. "They are very good," she appends to Sigrun's explanation, helping herself to the casserole, delaying that polite interval in between socializing and down-to-businessing like a champion.
Fofo (ST): The food is brought fairly quickly, and while none of it is gourmet--everything is simple, greasy, and salty--it's clearly made with love and skill. It fills you up and makes you feel at home.
He laughs sheepishly, scratching briefly at his beard at Sigrun's comments. "Thank you. We're happy to have you all here." He doesn't hesitate to dig in on the pizza fries as well, and the pie, with no care about saving dessert for after--just indulging in whatever is in front of him.
He focuses on Petra after her question, his good mood dimming considerably. He swallows his mouthful of casserole and lets out a sigh. "Things haven't been good," he admits with a frown, his rounded bear-ears flicking down and back a bit. "Not good at all. Everyone's real stressed about things drying up thornside. Is it the same down south? We've been meanin' to reach out, but we've been so busy just running damage control up here. It's... a losing battle."
Alain:Alain arches one of her eyebrows at that. "It is the same," she answers him in soft confirmation, setting her fork down for a moment and wiping her hands on a napkin, even though they hadn't touched anything. It's just a habit. "Do you have any idea what has been causing it?"
Sigrun: "We're doing our best to hold it back, but it's hard. It's really hitting our little neighbors the hardest." Sigrun talks around the notion of Hobs, given they're out in the open more or less. "I've been doing my best to help some of them out, running food and supplies and such. Helping with the choring. But it's like you say. It's hard. Real hard right now." Not too hard for Lucia's casserole, though. Omnomnom.
Petra:Petra nodded. "It's been a situation," she agreed. "I get being busy. It's not fun at how quickly these things can pile up."
Fofo (ST): "These... roots," Nick says with a nod, bushy brows creasing. He looks troubled to hear that Shackamaxon is suffering the same. "There's rumors that they're coming from down towards Patriarch Tree. That they're... flourishing. Soaking up the magic from everywhere else." He rubs his neck, looking uncomfortable.
Lucia:"A parasite," Lucia voices. "That doesn't say provide much information. I'm helping our scientists with it, but I'm more like the lab and field assistant. Is there a particular reason think Patriarch Tree is the source?" She seems keenly interested, even if she can't offer a lot of data herself at this point.
Alain:"From Dover?" Alain asks, tilting her head to the side. "Forgive my ignorance, I've only been in this area a few years, but... that has never happened before, has it?"
Fofo (ST): It does seem like he's holding back on blabbing everything--not so much because he doesn't want to say, more that the information makes him very uncomfortable.
Alain:Alain studies Nick with her thoughtful, pale eyes, creased in concern and empathy. She pauses. "Should we step somewhere private?"
Sigrun: Sigrun tries not to look disappointed at the suggestion that they switch locales, but she gets it. Also, she spends the time she has shoveling food into her face, since it seems likely they'll need to be scooting back out of the booths in short order.
Fofo (ST): Nick hesitates, then exhales a heavy rumbly breath, giving a look around. "Might be best. Sorry to cut dinner short," he says. Though he does pause to shovel a few more bites into his mouth before standing. Waste not!
Once the group is ready and have finished up their last bites--though he's not going to look twice at anyone if they just bring the food with them, either--he heads through a door that leads past the kitchens and towards the back of the old diner. It's here that he knocks rhythmically upon a door and leads the way through into the Hedge.
Old Iron's Freehold looks remarkably similar to Shackmaxon's--it's almost like they shared the same architects. It's a village filled with little cottages in rows, but it overall has a more industrious look over Shackamaxon's comfiness. There's workhouses with forges and spaces to craft and build here and there, and piles of supplies. Some Lost wander here and there, most pausing to wave at the group. In the center of the little town is a tall belltower--a huge bell visible at the top.
The Hedge... looks horrible. The so-called-blight is even worse, here. It's bad enough that the hedge walls surrounding the village looks bare and falling apart here and there, as the thorns literally wither away. It looks like they've reinforced them though with sheets of metal and hammered wood planks. But it's... not good.
Petra:Petra whistled, looking around curiously. "Wow, things are even worse up here than they are down in our neck of the thorns. If it's coming out of Dover, why isn't it this bad near us? Space might be wibbly wobbly in the Hedge but generalities usually hold, right?"
Lucia:Lucia crams a few pizza fries into her mouth and then washes it down with a drink of her malt before she scoots out of her seat at the booth to follow into the Freehold Hollow for Old Iron. The first thing she says is, "I like yours better." She lifts a mechanical hand to wave back to one of the wavers. "Aside from the blight," she adds.
Alain:Attendantly, she follows, pausing only to thank the waitress that had waited on them and leave a generous tip. She smiles politely with a demure radiance at the few fellow Lost they pass once they've made it into the Hedge, but for the most part, her attention is spoken for. "Oh my god," Alain reacts when she appreciates the full state of the Hedge, standing alongside Nick as she casts her muted blue eyes, so light-colored they are nearly colorless, over the devestation, the lifeless, dried-up sprawl. She seems to reflect on Petra's question, glancing her eyes at Nick.
"Nick," she says softly. "Is there something else?" She turns more fully to look at him, the diplomatic but fixed gaze of someone who had built a career on asking people hard questions that affected many lives, and the intuition, the confidence, the organic fit of it all was still there, even if she had lost her memories of most of that career, a lifetime ago - dozens, in fact.
Sigrun: Sigrun snags her milkshake before heading back with the others, leaves a nice tip on the table, and asks the pizza fries to be boxed for to-go. Once they're through the hedge gate and into the hedge itself, Sigrun's jaw briefly drops open. It's bad in Philadelphia, but this is bad. "Awh, cheese and crackers." She returns the waves sent their way, then inquires of Nick, "Can... can I help?" She gestures at the situation generally. "I'm pretty handy. If you need handy things done."
Fofo (ST): He nods his thanks to Lucia before looking to Petra. "Can't say I have much idea, honestly. Maybe ya'll's just been lucky. Maybe your part of the Hedge is more... resilient?" He shrugs with a sigh. "Any help you can offer is appreciated here, Sigrun." Then clears his throat and turns to Alain.
"History's Cradle came to visit me, last week. Asked us to join in war against Patriarch Tree. They've raised the Hue and Cry against 'em. Seem pretty convinced that it's their doing--something about the magic tree that they have growing in the center of their paths going crazy and suckin' up everything else in the Hedge." More nervous scratching at his beard. "And I heard Rose Red has joined the fight as well, but siding with Patriarch..."
It's now that he looks uncomfortable again, expression shifting from sadness to grim. "History's Cradle asked for Old Iron to forge iron weapons for them. I said no, of course. We don't want any part in a war." But... he looks up towards the dying Hedgewalls, expression clouded.
Petra:"Well shit," Petra groaned. "I knew something was going to go to hell this summer," Petra groaned. "Maybe if we can solve the problem in the Hedge we can stop the war from breaking out entirely."
Alain: "A war," Alain repeats the words, light and heavy at the same time, a snowbank. She glances at Sigrun, and then Lucia and Petra as well, pale eyes and pale visage darkened by the words. "How did History's Cradle take your rebuff?" she asks. "And has anyone spoken with Patriarch Tree? They wouldn't do this on purpose." Right?
Sigrun: Sigrun doesn't waste time. She drops her duffel of gear, crouches down, and unzippers it. She pulls out her sword and her tools, straps the sword to her waist, and sets the tools aside. Off comes the suit jacket, revealing the sleeveless shell top beneath, and her arms criss-crossed with blade scars-- particularly her right arm --and those blue tribal tattoos that weave up her arms. In short order, she's stepping away to set to work on whatever they seem to need help with. Staying in earshot, of course, but definitely pitching in to help.
Lucia:Lucia's more of a doer and less of a diplomat herself, but she doesn't immediately hurry off to help Sigrun. "Are there things you need here? Aid that we might be able to provide to put you in a more comfortable position with whatever comes next?"
Fofo (ST): "We haven't sent anyone," Nick admits, shaking his head. "We've barely been able to leave the Freehold since we found out it's probably them behind this." He gestures around for emphasis. "Fruit would be good--all our plants have died. And... more help patrolling the Trod, up this way. I apologize for us falling through on our duty with Shackamaxon, but we just haven't had the manpower. All our Hollows are withering away--we've had to triage and focus on our homes first."
A sigh. "They didn't take it kindly. But I don't think we have anything to fear from 'em. They already got their hands full."
"Hands full fighting our battle," cuts in another growling voice. The source comes stalking towards the group. They're a toned, lean figure dressed in armor, a mirrored shield strapped to their back and a sword on their hip. Feline features, with one eye made of gold filigree wrapped around a small, cloudy crystal ball instead of an eyeball. They radiate a mantle of Summer, all violent heat and the smell of fresh blood, nearly as powerful as Nick's.
Nick sighs as the feline-person approaches. "Enyo... not now."
Petra:Petra smiled a little as Sigrun ran off. "We don't want a war. We'd like to rebuild the connections we used to have with other freeholds. We can help with patrolling, I think. Stretch our patrols up the trod this way... I'm not exactly a patrol person, but we've got a bunch of Summer and Autumns and even some Winters who like doing that kind of thing." She glanced to Enyo and eyed them up and down. "How's your situation with healers?"
Sigrun: Sigrun's head lifts up when the name 'Enyo' is spoken. She doesn't stop what she's doing, which is setting down her tool chest and popping it open to sort out soe of her tools. Before setting to work in earnest, she wanders her way on back to the group to stand behind Alain's shoulder. Her smile is pleasant and mild, but the brittle sort of pleasant and mild one makes to a guy advocating open hedge war amid a pan-freehold crisis.
Alain:The Snowskin's attention snaps in the direction of the recently arrived locuter, another Summer by their mantle, and disposition. Reflexively, Alain gives a polite inclination of her chin and takes a step in this person's direction, this Enyo. It is not difficult to discern their disposition. "Hello," she starts with that effortless charisma. "My name is Alain. We're visiting from Shackamaxon." She does it again, curving her features into a slow smile that feels personal, focused, intentional. She glances at Nick, and gives him a deferential bob of her head before looking back at Enyo. "Enyo," she tests out the name, the pronunciation. "It's nice to meet you." She doesn't need to ask what Enyo would like to do.
Lucia:Lucia gets the impression here that people know something that she doesn't, so for the time being she glances around at whoever is speaking but otherwise fades into the background of the conversation. Figuratively speaking. Trying to figure out what's going on.
Fofo (ST): "They're... managing," Nick says to Petra. "But people have been getting hurt more often lately. We're just gettin' by, at this point. An' honestly, most of us are better at fixin' things, than fixin' people."
"What we want doesn't mean anything," Enyo says to Petra, nose wrinkling. "Our people are being threatened. We can't just sit by and allow our home to die. Our homes are a part of us. Would you allow a motley mate to be stabbed to death right in front of you, just so you can call yourself the nice guy?" Sigrun gets a glower as she comes over to loom, before their feline/crystal ball eyes turn upon Alain.
They give her a look up and down, but the scowl lessens when they look at her--a little, anyway. "...Sure, yeah. Hi."
"There is a difference between fighting to protect our family and wielding iron against our fellow Lost," Nick says to Enyo patiently, but it sounds like they have had this conversation a few times already.
Alain:"Pardon me for intruding on your own Freehold's affairs," Alain says, more for Enyo's benefit than for Nick's, "But if you don't know whether the outward blight is intentional, then how can you know that defeating them will fix it?"
Sigrun: Sigrun's friendly smile only widens when Enyo glowers at her. If that expression says anything, it says very clearly 'I have come up through this court putting people like you in their place, and I will do a favor for this freehold for free, please give me an excuse'. It's practically written on her forehead. Fortunately, Alain speaks words before Sigrun does, because the way she wets her lips implies she had a few.
Petra:"No one in Shackamaxon is allowing the Hedge to die. We've got people working on it and investigating. Participating in a war would hinder the efforts to solve the problem." She put her hands on her hips and glowered at Enyo. "I don't care about 'nice guys', they're usually assholes. I care about keeping my friends and freehold in one piece- and I'd like to consider you guys my friends too. Even you." She looked back to Nick and smiled a little. "I'll give you my number. We've got a motley of healers organized. If you need help that your healers can't handle, give us a call. It's only an hour."
Fofo (ST): Pax--do you need to roll for them separately, or does the one roll count for both?
Lucia:"I'm also happy to help with more patrols up this way," Lucia adds, not butting into the conversation with Enyo, which seems like it contains history she knows nothing about. "I'm sure there are others who will be glad to help with that as well."
Sigrun: Sigrun settles her hand on her sword hilt casually. She even locks her left leg to jut out her hip a bit. A casual affectation that makes it clear she's not on her guard, and doesn't find this person she's engaging with at all frightening. "Enyo. Hi, I'm Sigrun. From Shackamaxon. I work under Devon?" Sigrun glances about their surroundings, then back to Enyo, "War is a solution for scenarios where all other avenues have been tried. Summer is not a season to bring war to your neighbors, it's a time to secure your borders and brings war to our shared enemies. If you intend to march an army south, it won't pass my trod without going through me. Same if another tries to march north. They'll have to go through me first. If I have to personally holmgang every hothead from here to Dover, I will. So help me Freyja, I will. Even if you wanted war, you have no healers. No hedgefruit. Your fortifications are falling down around your ears. And from what I've gathered, even your old allies have turned their backs on you. If you're not going through Shackamaxon and you're not going through Kaklin territory, precisely how do you plan to move an army south? By glaring at them?" Sigrun takes a moment to examine her nails, then brushes some lint off her shell top. "Sure. That's working now, isn't it."
Fofo (ST): Nick nods gratefully to Petra and Lucia as they make their offers of aid, but clearly distracted as the others start debating.
Enyo shakes their head at Alain. "History's Cradle has already tried diplomacy with Patriarch's Tree. Asked them to control the tree. Asked them for help. Patriarch Tree refused and closed up their borders to them. That speaks pretty highly for ill intent to me," growls the cat-person lowly to Alain.
The mention of Devon has Enyo's eyes snapping towards Sigrun and narrowing. Well, one eye narrows--the crystal ball turns cloudy. They listen to the Bright One's words, at least, not phased by the threats, but they scoff after. "Like I said. Diplomacy's been tried. Yes, we are in a dire straights here--but a wounded dog don't just roll over and accept having their throat ripped out. Things will get worse if things don't change. And Patriarch Tree isn't changing shit. They're sitting in their fresh green gardens while the rest of the Hedge starves. And if you think there's no other way, if you think you can control the whole Hedge, you're as egotistical as you are dumb."
Nick, however, lets out a long sigh. "They're right, Enyo." He rests a hand on their shoulder. "I know you mean well. You want to protect us. But this isn't the time for War."
Petra:Petra stared at Sigrun with admiration, then shrugged at Enyo. "You guys didn't come to us. Maybe war will come, but going off half cocked because you don't have the right information? Not cool."
Sigrun: "The whole Hedge? No. You? Oh, absolutely. You're pushing for war and didn't even reach out to us to ask for our assistance. Or to warn us war was in the offing. And now you want our help slaughtering our neighbors? And I'm egotistical and dumb." Sigrun shakes her head with a small laugh. "Okay. Sure. I'll humor you. What's your strategic analysis of the situation? And what's your plan when you take the tree? You have one, I hope?"
Alain:Alain tilts her head, contemplating the ramifications of what Enyo says, all but deaf and blind to his growl, to his snideness. Ostensibly, to her, it doesn't even register, either too diplomatic or too polite to acknowledge someone's coarseness, giving them the benefit of the doubt far beyond reasonable doubt. Water off a duck's back. She scans her pale eyes over to Sigrun, and watches her with that icy stillness, face a mask, expression like a sphinx, listening to her, occasionally flickering her gaze over to Enyo, and then to Nick, and Enyo again to read their gestures, their features.
"Enyo, have you ever lost a fight against someone that you knew you could beat?" she asks suddenly, quietly. "Have you ever just had one of those days in the yard, where someone, for whatever reason, got lucky and got the better of you, and any other day they wouldn't have? Or, do you ever see those sorts who are never beaten by anyone, except for one person who randomly just has their number?"
"Diplomacy is like that. And while I have the utmost respect for our fellows in History's Cradle, I can in no good conscience entertain the notion of war against a Freehold without a gamut of information that is lacking right now. If the Patriarch Tree is, in some way, responsible for this, and if, by some chance, they are willful in it, then ask yourself, do you even know what else they are capable of? And do you really want to risk your friends on the gamble that you know more about this than everyone else?" These questions seem to be asked fully in earnest.
Lucia:Lucia turns her neon green gaze toward Alain and regards her with open curiosity, then nods and shrugs because that's all put better than she could put it herself. "Making decisions without all the information is a big risk," she simply says.
Fofo (ST): "I'm not asking for your help. You made your stance clear right out of the gate. I don't owe you any explanations, especially not any plans that you just said you would try to stop," Enyo says to Sigrun with a shrug, then glares at Nick. "I'm trying to talk some sense into him while you fill his head with more carebear bullshit while our home is literally dying."
They turn their glower upon Enyo, lips pursing tightly as they listen to Alain's argument. They... don't immediately reply. There's the faintest of flicker of hesitation, but not quite backing down.
"I've already made up my mind," Nick says, eyes focused harder on Enyo. "Old Iron will not go to war. I am... incredibly disappointed in your behavior today, Enyo."
That comment makes the feline-person flinch, their one eye blinking a few times. Then they scowl again and turn to stalk off through the village.
Petra:Petra exhaled and then patted Nick on the arm comfortingly. "I'm sorry. We didn't mean to stir up trouble among your own."
Alain:Alain turns to Nick. "I'm sorry, Nick, that I got involved in your own Court's affairs by speaking to him like that. But, I've shown my hand. Sigrun is right. We can't fight our own, not on tissue paper thin evidence like this. What can I do to help Old Iron? You have been hit so hard by this," she murmurs, and her features brook only concern, those pale eyes going around again at the ruins of the Hedge.
Sigrun: "What's their story, anyway?" Sigrun asks Nick, her mood clearly soured. "I've heard a whole boatload of rumors about that one, few of them flattering or good. Devon won't even speak about them, it's that bad." Sigrun looks from Nick to Enyo's retreating back, her scowl deepening as her jaw clenches briefly. "I'd keep an eye on that one, is my suggestion." She gets back to picking up on Alain's lead and clears her throat, "I should maybe get back to helping out."
Lucia:Lucia winces at the disappointed comment, like that bothers her more than all the threats and bluster did. "It isn't that far to come up here and pitch in," she chimes in after Alain. "We have a number of people who are handy with labor and would probably be glad to chip in." She looks at Sigrun. "I can join you?"
Fofo (ST): Nick shakes his head slowly. "You have nothing to apologize for. It's me that should be apologizing, you should not have had to see that... But I hope you don't look too badly upon Enyo. Everyone here is... incredibly stressed, right now. Tensions are high and patience low." He scratches nervously at his beard. "What's... been discussed already, would be great. Fruit, healers, help guarding and patrolling and--rebuilding, if you have the extra manpower." He offers a faint but grateful smile to Sigrun and Lucia as they start back to building.
Nick shakes his head at Sigrun. "Their story isn't mine to tell. Their history with Devon is... complicated. I know they have made mistakes in the past, but... I wouldn't have them as my Left-Hand if I didn't trust them."
Petra:"I haven't actually met Devon. I mean I've seen him but never actually talked or anything. I've gotten the impression that a lot of people probably have a history with him," Petra said with amusement.
Alain:"Of course," the Snowskin murmurs in reply, nodding her head. "We'll say no more of it. He wants what's best." She purses her lips, and draws in another deep breath, letting it out in a slow exhale. "But it's hard to see what that is without speaking to Patriarch Tree." Or History's Cradle. Or both. Fuck. "It is not for me to allocate resources on behalf of the Freehold, but I do make you my promise that whether official or just off of the effort and capital of the people who are here now, help will come," she tells Nick.
Sigrun: "Me neither, honestly. And he's my regent." Sigrun assures Rosalyn with a note of amusement all her own. "Sure, Lucia," Sigrun finally offers to the other woman, "let's get our hands dirty. C'mon." There's a tight smile offered to Nick and Alain, and then she's heading off to be of use doing something she's built for.
Lucia:Lucia nods and moves off quickly with Sigrun to do work, which is something much more comfortable to her than diplomacy. Familiar. It almost doesn't matter to her what she's doing, as long as she's busy.
He nods to Alain. "Thank you. I appreciate that. I wish you luck speaking to Patriarch Tree. If it becomes a situation we can help with, we will, but for now... We must focus our attention here. I truly hope that this can be resolved peacefully." He squeezes Alain's shoulder with a small but warm smile. "You have a good heart. I am happy to have met you all. Please, feel free to stay for a while before you head back."
Lucia and Sigrun roll up their sleeves and get to work! They end up helping reinforce a part of the wall that is starting to cave in, hammering up wood into place to create a sturdy barricade.
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