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The safehouse is quiet -- something, somewhere, ticks like a clock. Perhaps the settling of the walls or perhaps an actual clock. Laid out on the bed, Winter's Regent has been cleaned and dressed by her caretakers in one of her ubiquitous hooded robes. The body continues to exist and have its needs, even when the brain has put up closed signs in the windows and shut off the lights. She seems somehow even smaller than usual, her breath shallow. Endless legal treatises float slowly underneath her luminous skin, turned into gobbledygook by her damaged-Clarity state.
She's less a Queen in this moment, and more a broken doll, a marionette with its strings cut, laid out in granite-grey. It's possible to get a comatose person to take some liquids without choking them, but she hasn't properly eaten since she collapsed, and her skin looks paper-frail, her eyes shadowed, cheeks slightly sunken.
Lux stands watching the Queen quietly with a guarded expression. But their lights are a little dimmer than usual, for those that have been around the Bright One enough to recognize it. They're dressed comfortably--hoodie, leggings, sneakers. After a few moments they pull their eyes away from the Queen and focus on the others.
Alas, they still got that Oathbreaker vibe going.
"I didn't know it was this bad," Charlie mutters looking at the near-corpse in front of her. Charlie looks moderately more confident than usual, but her large expressive eyes have turned to sadness. "Do we, um, have a plan?" she asks Lux, since that's the person here she knows.
Rosalyn was dressed for the hedge in her leather gear and with quiver and bow at hand. She pulled her hood up to cover her bright metallic hair and pinned it into place so it wouldn't obstruct her vision when she moved.
Alain moves softly and quietly into the safehouse, and slides around the perimeter of the room. She is dressed as if she was going somewhere important, and very likely, that was what she considered this: somewhere important. Charcoal grey pinstripe pants, a manicured blouse in the softest barely-blue with the sleeves discretely rolled up her forearms in perfect pleats. She curves her features by a measure only detectable in faint degrees, but it is a polite and reticent greeting of a smile at the others in the room. After a moment longer, she steps forward and sits by the foot of the bed, expression illegible but for its pensiveness, no more emotive than a sphinx. "To wake her up," she rejoins to Charlie without averting her focus.
"I can't say I... know her well, but..." Lux's jaw rocks. "She was put into the coma because she's a Fairest--because of her guilt of getting me hurt by ordering me to investigate Robin. I... wouldn't be surprised if her dreams are colored by that guilt. And--by Robin's betrayal. I think we should use the fact that she's a Notary, a Queen, and a Fairest. Remind her of her oaths, her obligations, and convince her that Winter is in turmoil without her. That she's... needed."
Charlie herself is in a thick kevlar jumpsuit created for her by Sigrun, with her jean jacket over it. Her wings fit neatly through it, giving her a bit of a mismatched aesthetic.
"When we get there, I'm going to do some recon to see if, um, anyone has tried to keep her in the coma," she says, "And, um, I'm Charlie. If you don't know me."
She hasn't changed the whole time, and isn't likely to right now. Slow breaths, her fingers laid on her stomach. The Queen Isn't Home.
"Dreams are strange things," Rosalyn said grimly. "There's really no telling what we'll face until we get there and it's hard to plan properly without knowing the lay of the land. Nice to meet you, Charlie. I'm Rosalyn."
"Oh--yeah. I'm Lux." They settle down, sitting on the floor beside the bed. "So, let's do this?"
"Charlie, Lux, Rosayln," the Snowskin repeats in turn, bobbing her chin in a respectful inclination to each of them. "I'm Alain." She spares another pale-eyed glance at the Queen's hollowed features, and an exhale moves out of her body audibly. "I wish we were meeting under different circumstances."
Charlie mutters a small prayer under her breath asking God for protection before clasping her hands together and nodding, "No time like the present."
Ros glanced sideways at the others. "So... What Gate are we taking in? I'm pleased to have the opportunity to help but I don't know our Winter Lady and don't feel right just taking charge."
"The Gate of Ivory is likely the most appropriate," Alain muses back in a soft voice that yet fills the space, despite its gentleness.
"I've not been in many dreams before, so that part is all you two," Lux says with a gesture to Alain and Ros. "I trust your judgement."
Charlie nods emphatically, echoing Lux's statements
"Likely safer than seeking the Dreaming Roads," she agreed. "Do you know the contact of Dreamstepping into another's bastion directly?"
Charlie shakes her head. "Sorry, um, this isn't really my strong suit."
Ros nodded a little, mentally weighing her reserves of glamour against the task ahead. "Alright. I can carry you with me as I step in but it's going to just about wipe me out of glamour to do so, so what happens on the other side will be in your hands. We will need to lay down together so I can be touching everyone including the Queen. It might feel strange but please don't resist the tug."
Lux nods in understanding, shifting to lay down close to Rosalyn once she's settled, resting their hand on her arm. Their eyes close, taking a deep breath as they try to center themselves.
"As you say," Alain replies, inclining her chin again, and surveying the room to determine just such a way to arrange herself.
"Oh, um, I have help for that!" Charlie says, reaching into her messenger bag and pulling out what looks like if a banana was a corkscrew. "I only have three, but it is Goblin Fruit."
She smiled gratefully to Charlie. "Thank you, I'm very grateful for you foresight in having them along. Please keep hold of them for now, better to have them on hand if someone else needs them more urgently. No telling what will happen." She laid down as they all arranged themselves to be touching, and closed her eyes...
Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down
As all the bodies slowly slump down into sleeping around the Queen, each person collapsing onto the next, there's a sensation something like being bodily pulled through a curtain of Jell-o, but not just through in a singular piece, but as if every cell is being individually pulled through the goop, sucked in and immersed briefly. Rosalyn feels it more keenly than most, and there's a feeling of intenseness for the Dryad that doesn't hit for everyone else: it's a little like the feeling that happens when you wake up at exactly the right time on a beautiful morning when the air is crisp and clean and everything feels alive and perfect and all possibilities are open... and then a siren goes off, shattering the illusion, scraping every nerve raw.
And somehow, to Rosalyn, drained as she is from the Contract, that feels more dangerous than just about anything else she's ever experienced.
I told you, I told you, comes the whispering, comes the muttering, as they pass through the intense fortifications which enclose the Winter Queen's Bastion. You didn't listen, you didn't listen. The air's cold and hot by turns, the way skin feels in the depth of a fever, and the air feels thick, difficult to breathe. A cool mist settles on the ground and the ceiling, following the impeccably wrong logic of dreams.
In the center of the Nothing that is the Bastion, a large, round kotatsu, set with four places: at each, a teacup, a Tarot card face-up.
The Fool, Strength, The High Priestess, The Hanged Man.
The way through the Gate had been twisted and difficult. Her own thorny roses blossomed and grew, crawling across her skin to wrap around her limbs and tangle around her neck and hair. She fell to her knees and took a few deep, shuddering breaths to try and ground herself again.
Lux shines neon yellow light, a more ethereal tone to it than in the waking world, little glimmers sparkling around them. They look around at the Nothingness before their eyes settle on the kotatsu. They frown, regarding each card for a moment. "...Drinking tea is important to her. It's... a ritual. A way to connect with people?" They pause to look worriedly towards Rosalyn for a moment, then steps over to the table, sitting themself down in front of The Fool card.
Alain's frosted, translucent glass visage is as illegible as ever, and she turns this way and then that as if inspecting the corners for something unseen before she follows Lux's example, treading towards the kotatsu and eyeing its presentation and attendant accoutrements.
"I wonder if we are meant to interpret these, or identify with them, or both," the Snowskin muses.
"So, um, we aren't the first people here. Someone tried to get in and they had an Oath. They might or might not have actually done it. Sorry that I don't know more," Charlie says, looking around with sharp eyes. "Well, um, there are 4 of them and 4 of us? So I think they might be us."
Lux picks up the teacup in front of them to drink from, as if this were totally normal and expected. Just having friends over for tea. "They may be the roles we need to play out." They frown at the thought of someone else being here, nodding to Charlie.(edited)
"I, um, I don't know anything about occultic stuff like this. Do people know what these cards mean?" Charlie asks the assorted group, as she continues taking in the scenery.
"Don't forget that this is all for and by her," Ros said shakily. "In order to act upon the dream we must be part of it but I wouldn't expect this to be specifically for us to participate in. Maybe it represents a part of herself?"
"I only know the basics," Lux replies to Charlie. "The Fool is all about new beginnings, setting out on journeys and being... spontaneous and naive and shit. Strength is like... about overcoming something, like a major life problem, being confident and believing in yourself. The High Priestess is like... about spirituality and intuition, mystery, things like that--things yet to be revealed? It's about trusting your instincts to get you through things." Lux shrugs. "And The Hanged Man is... it's about surrender to something. Letting go of old patterns and letting yourself change, and sacrificing to move on."
Alain slips closer, posture refined. "I don't know much about what they mean, but, if I'm not mistaken, they can mean different things. Depending on if they're upside down or not. Or what they can mean together, in context," she offers.
Charlie scampers over to Ros, pulling out a corkscrew banana, an apple that looks vaguely like that one MC Escher cube and a cherry with a very small sundae on top. "Are you okay?" She asks, giving her a concerned look.
"Maybe, um, this is about how she feels like she should have seen Robin's betrayal coming and needs to get past how she feels about her?"
Lux grimaces. "She knew about Robin for years, pretty sure. But felt powerless to stop it. I think--they have an oath together, that kept her from betraying Robin. But I think she was trying... to do what she could. It's why she set me after Robin, to investigate her." Lux puffs out a breath, then looks over the cards again. (I rolled that above, got 2 successes.)
Lux looks over the cards again, then nods. "I'm pretty sure these roles are us. The roles we're meant to take. This one..." They pick up the Fool card in front of them. "I think it's me."
And then, Marjorie, sitting at the fifth place. Was there a fifth place before now? A card, face-down, in front of her, and the teapot. Her cup slowly fills itself, as does the cup in front of Lux, and the Notary turns her face, her eyes -- clouds scudding across them, milky and distracted -- meet Lux's. "You've been looking after them?"
"I'm alright," she said, and accepted the banana-thing. "I'm just here... too strongly. It's too real. Like I was There. Should we all sit? I'm not sure which card would be mine."
"If this is her Bastion, where is-" well, there's that, then, as the Winter Crown appears before them and sets herself down at one of the seats. Her uncertainty seems to echo Rosalyn's, but she doesn't wait for guidance; she goes on intuition, and she sits down in front of the Hanged Man. Her attention is rapt.
"I, um, I think I might be Strength?" Charlie says, heading towards said card. And then suddenly her queen is right there. "Oh gosh!" she blurts out, picking up the pace so she isn't late to the tea party.
Lux blinks as Marjorie appears, frowning at the Queen briefly before forcing a small smile. They lower the card to the table and pick up the filled teacup, lifting it to sip before replying to her. "Looking after... who?"
"Priestess, huh." The Autumn sighed a little but settled in at the last and shifted uneasily.
"All of them," Marjorie answers, sorrowfully looking down into her cup. She sips, but the teacup never empties, forever full. Steam curls up from the teapot, whorling into strange and unnerving patterns. "I didn't do as good of a job as I had hoped, my friend. I wanted to see this over before you had to deal with it."
As the others sit down at the table, the Queen's foggy gaze turns to them one at a time. Her jaw sets as she looks towards the Hanged Man, a wistful little smile for Strength, and then she sets her cup down and turns her hand up, offering it to the Priestess. "You came."
Lux's mouth opens and closes, before taking a breath. "Yeah. I've been watching over them. And yeah, you made mistakes, but... your job isn't over, Marjorie. People still need you. The Freehold... Winter still needs you. Your time isn't over yet."
Alain's pale eyes study the Tarot cards, study Marjorie. "Who do you think we are?" she wonders softly, as much to herself as to the Crown.
Charlie keeps her mouth shut, hoping her fellow winters take the lead here.
Rosalyn blinked. "Do you know me?" She asked curiously, reaching out to take her hand. "I'm newly sworn to Shackamaxon but of course I came. Someone helped me awaken, once upon a time. Now it is time for you to wake up."
"Oh, I think you're wrong, there, my young friend," Marjorie offers with the wryest of looks to Lux. "Lumi doesn't need me anymore, and I've made all the mistakes I can make."
The sharp look that Marjorie turns on Alain is just one step off from shooting daggers with her gaze. "As if you don't know," she snaps, and then turns her attention slowly back to Rosalyn, her expression thawing like the end of Winter itself. Her tiny, cool fingers knit in with Rosalyn's, and she looks at her all puzzled. "You couldn't swear. More's the pity. It would make life so much less complicated."
"No, darling. You're here, and I've been waiting for you."
Alain looks down at the cards, and then at Marjorie, and reaches out towards Charlie's card, Strength, and switches it with her own. "Who am I, Marjorie?" she asks.
"That's not true," Lux insists, frowning. "Lumi needs you. I need you--we all need you." They hesitate, then their brows crease. "And even if it what you truly believe... It's your responsibility. You took the Crown and accepted that mantle, when Michael died." Their words are a little cold and sharp, trying to cut through her delusions. "Are you really going to let your wounded pride turn you away from the promises you've made?" They glance towards Rosalyn, then back to the Queen. "Or keep you from the people you love. Look closer, Marjorie. This isn't real. They're not really here."
Alain smiles at Marjorie, more out of politeness than anything, and inclines her head to the side, looking at the others, and vaguely indicating the cards with a subtle gesture as if that was enough to convey her full meaning.
"I'm sorry--I know--but it doesn't matter what you want right now," Lux replies, shaking their head. They glance down at the tea thoughtfully, then looks to the others. "Maybe we should try changing things, just a little," they murmur. "Change the tea to something else, something undrinkable. It's important to her."
Charlie leans over to Lux and whispers, "It looks like someone put two little holes in her wrist? Like a mole got removed bad?" And then she looks at the tea in front of her and attempts to dreamshift it to Turpentine(edited)
"Are you sure that won't just... make her mad...?" Alain ventures softly. "She thinks we're the people represented by the cards. How do those people behave? How do they act? Maybe the opposite will give her pause."
Ros nodded to Lux encouragingly. "The comforting illusion of the dream needs to be torn down, even if it is dangerous for us," she said quietly, the addressed Marjorie directly. "You are the Queen of Winter. None of us are who you think we are. I am not Buidhe. This is not Devon or Ari. Would you share all their secrets with us because you are in this dream?"
It probably wouldn't have worked, save that Marjorie was distracted by Rosalyn's words. Confusion twists her clouded-eyed expression, and she stumbles, "... why -- no, you're not Buidhe. Don't be disgusting. He's barely human anymore." Lux's fingers push back the sleeve, and the marks there are more shadows than scars, a memory of a mark. Two small -- almost delicate -- puncture wounds.
Lux pulls their hand back, squinting--then offers their cup to Rosalyn. "Drink this."
Ros accepted the cup and took a sip curiously.
Lux watches her sip, then looks to Marjorie. "She's not a vampire. This is a dream, Marjorie. You need to wake up." (I'll try dreamweaving again if its needed to change the tea!)
"Why did you do that?" There's horror in Marjorie's voice, and she splutters, "You of all people should know better!" Her hand reaches out toward the cup, as if attempting to pluck it from Rosalyn's hands. She's little, though, and not as strong after a week of nothing but broth dribbled in her mouth by her attendants, so when Rosalyn drinks it? She shrieks, a wordless sound of upset -- and fear -- that ends abruptly.
A shuddering uncertainty passes over the Winter Queen's doll-like face.
Alain clocks the puncture marks with an expression of subdued fixation, and then furrows her brow at Marjorie's reaction.
Charlie tries her best to wordlessly indicate to Lux not to change the tea. "It's just tea. I don't know what you think it is, ma'am, but it's just tea. None of us are hurt by tea. I'm Charlie, that's Rosalyn, that's Lux and that's Alain. That's who we are. No one else."
Lux winces at the shriek, then reaches out to take Marjorie's hand, squeezing. "You don't need to be afraid. When you wake up everyone is going to be there to support you. To help you through this. You can right your mistakes. But you can't just give up and run away. You can't stay asleep while everyone is suffering. If you do, the Robin is going to win. You'll have let her beat you. And--and whoever it is you were waiting for? They're waiting for you, too. But if you don't wake up you'll never see them again."
"I am Rosalyn Solfrig," Ros said quietly, trying to break through the Queen's denial. "Twilit Page of Shackamaxon. You are dreaming and must wake. Your freehold needs you. The hue and cry has been raised and we are under attack."
"She's upset because whoever she thinks Rosalyn is, it's a vampire--and they don't really drink anything but blood," Lux points out to Charlie.
Alain shakes her head. "It's not going to work," she tells the other three. "Just saying it over and over again is not going to make her believe it. Big feelings are very small in here," the Snowskin counsels. "This is going to take something else." She nods her head at Lux's observation. "The High Priestess is a vampire."
She draws back: it isn't the first time that the Winters especially have seen the Queen simply close up like a window shutting. "Lumi doesn't need me," Marjorie repeats quietly, and then she looks up at the last thing that Alain says, offering quietly, "I am sorry. I know you never understood. It couldn't be anyone else." The words are almost a whisper.
"Then what do you suggest we do? You're the expert, aren't you?" Lux says to Alain with some impatience.
"I suppose it makes sense," she agreed with a sigh. "But even with the fruit I don't have the glamour reserves to get into any big 'scaping right now. It's going to be up to you three unless you have another plan."
"I, um, if you three know what to do, I'll help anyway I can. My only idea is to, um, have us, um," she pauses, drawing the rest in close to whisper, "create a copy of someone who she already thinks is here to confuse her, but, um, that's probably dumb?"
"Is anyone an expert at something like this?" Alain asks back with, quite to the contrary, an exceeding amount of patience. Far from insisting she is Alain, and not Devon, she only exhales. "I accept your apology, Marjorie," she returns. "But we have to be diplomatic about this." Worth a shot.
Now that seems to confuse Marjorie, and she turns her attention to Alain, then, blinking rapidly. "... what? Diplom-- " Error 404, comprehension not found.
"Yes," Alain insists with a solemn, slow, measured nod. "You know how I prefer subtlety. Above all things. And cannot stand, um," she rakes her memory, "Hostilities and aggression. So I completely accept your apology, without reservation, no muss, no fuss."
Ros hid a smile behind her hand. "Yes, we forgive and absolve all mistakes that were made," Ros tried to reinforce Alain's play.
Lux eyes Alain a moment, then regards the Fool card. "...You know? You're right. Lumi doesn't need you," Lux says, picking up their tea cup--then smashing it down on the tabletop to try to break it, glaring at Marjorie. "And I'm not going to lead them. I'm not going to help them. I'm going to help Robin burn it all to the ground."
Charlie looking at the tarot card in front of her and putting two and two together, frowns slightly and says, "You know, maybe the solution to all of this is to invite the Gentry for a cup of tea. I bet they'd be willing to negotiate a peace."(edited)
When Lux speaks, the confusion only grows. The broken cup startles her, and the Winter Queen pushes herself away from the kotatsu, her little hands flailing in front of herself. "No. No. No. You can't. No."
She starts to hyperventilate, and Marjorie screams --
-- and there's a sound like wet paper tearing, like skin ripping open, a sensation of bone-deep shuddering, like the nerves in every body were plucked like harp strings --
Lux's head rests on Charlie's shoulder, Rosalyn slumped against Alain, who finds herself leaned against a pillow and drooling most undecorously, as the Winter Queen shakes and shivers in the bed, her eyes wide open.
Lux jolts, sitting up and blinking quickly. Wide-eyed, looking around--then they turn and see Marjorie's eyes open. Frowning, they crawl over to kneel beside the bed, but not reaching out to her. "Marjorie?"
Alain's pale eyes blink open slowly, hazing through the confusion of post-dreamsleep, and as she feels cool against her chin, she slaps a hand across her lower face and very discretely wipes away the undecorous. She draws herself up to her knees and peers over the edge of the bed at the Winter Crown.
"Your majesty!" Charlie says, in that half asleep panic voice you get when a huge sound wakes you up. "I'm so sorry we had to put you through that!"
Ros blinked when she awoke, then shuddered and darted off towards the bathroom with the sudden urge to vomit while the others looked after Marjorie.
She licks her lips, which are dry as dry can be, and coughs, slowly pushing herself up to a sitting position. She's still not well, she's still shaky, and weary, and just this side of collapsing into a coma again, but she's awake. Marjorie shudders, and reaches for the hood on her robe, pulling it up to conceal her thinned face.
"I don't hold you responsible," Marjorie murmurs quietly toward Charlie, pulling herself inward somehow. Smaller, still. "I'm the only one responsible, here."
Alain stifled a cough and a shudder low, in the back of her throat, and pressed herself up into a stand to fetch water, throwing her eyes after Rosalyn with vexed concern. She brings the water to the Crown's side and holds the cup out to her. "There will be time to unravel all of the knots. For now, please think of your strength," she counsels in a soft voice that rises like a gentle bell. "I am sure that you don't want us here hovering over you right now, but someone must see to your immediate medical needs."
"Welcome back." Lux smiles weakly as she sits up. "Take it easy. You've been in a coma for a couple weeks. You need time to recuperate." When she speaks, Lux's lips purse. "Okay, with all respect--fuck off with that shit. You fucked up, sure. Made mistakes. But it doesn't matter who is responsible. We got shit to do, and we need to move forward from this. So please stop... wallowing and guilt and help make it right. We're here to help you."
"No, you really aren't to blame! You're doing the best you can with a huge responsibility," Charlie says, shaking her head. "Do you want something to eat or drink? Would that help you??"
Alain hovers somewhat closer to Marjorie, delicately, like someone might approach an injured animal, to show she meant no harm or had any sudden movements concealed, and she held her hand out, palm up, gently. "I have the Gift of Warm Breath. I think it will help you feel better," she guides. "May I?" If Marjorie consents, Alain will rest her hand on her forearm, burning away motes of Glamour to call on the contract.
Her face can't be seen anymore, but she puts her hand in Alain's, palm turned up. Those marks seen in the dream? Not there anymore. Whatever they were -- artifacts of the dream itself, a memory, whatever -- the Winter Queen is as flawless in reality as she always has seemed. "Claiming responsibility is not wallowing, Lux," she offers quietly, and more firmly than she has spoken in some time. "I am the responsible party. We can do the best we can and still be responsible for our failures." A deep breath in. "Thank you." This, to Alain.
Ros struggled to pull herself together, staring at herself in the mirror as she reaffirmed she was herself, awake, and free. Then she began ripping away the thorny rose vines that had grown in the dream as much as possible before coming out. She looked pale and upset still but leaned against the bedroom wall.
Lux looks away for a moment, jaw clenching briefly. Then pushes up to their feet, pulling out their phone. "I'll get someone to bring some food and try to find a Truebalm to help with your Clarity."
Alain's hand glowed a soft warming light where it alighted on the Shrouded Queen's forearm, and the warmth and the light itself trickled through Marjorie, relieving her of fatigue, weariness, ache and illness. When the soothing fae magic has accomplished its task, the soft glow fades, and the Snowskin withdraws her hand, and gives another polite inclination of her head.
"No. No one else should suffer for me," Marjorie answers quietly, and then, after a moment, adds something else:
"Please call the Sakima."
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