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[The Arboretum of the Martyr's Tree is an expansive indoor garden featuring carefully tended beds of various local varietals and exotic specimens from across the globe. The tree itself is the central fixture, rising from a mount of earth with its wide, expansive branches stretching high overhead and wide and to the sides. Its bark is pale white and smooth, similar to that of a birch without the propensity to peel. Its branches tend to vary with respect to foliage and fruit, with no seeming regard for temperature or time of year.
At all times the arboretum is under guard from either one of the Sentinels, an Archivist of the Tree, or one of the Children of the Tree. Their primary duty is to ensure the curious keep their curiosity at a safe and courteous distance and do not corrupt the tree with their nimbus through effects or scrutiny.]
It's the middle of the afternoon, and Fox leads Mei in to the Arboretum, mid-sentence: "... sacred gardening being an oblation for an Orphan works wonderfully well with the fact that this Arboretum is here. Tending the plants and setting up displays of rocks and the like. It's very meditative." A pause. "If you ... haven't seen the Tree before, it can be a little -- a lot, actually. But don't get too close to it with your Nimbus or start scrutinizing it or you'll get us in trouble. The Tree is ... sensitive."
"You're making me think of some of my actually fond childhood memories," Mei admits as she comes in a step behind Little Fox. "My parents both like gardening, and the yard at their house was always kind of a refuge from the outside world. Eating dinner back there in the summers is something that sticks with me." She slides her hands into her jacket pockets, like a kid being told not to touch things when they walk into a store, even if it's not the touch of her hands that's a concern. "I'll keep my magic to myself, or at least well away from the tree," she promises.
"It's pleasant and somehow fitting that this connects to something that's actually... good. For you," agrees Fox, reaching one of her grubby hands up tp pet at Mei's shoulder approvingly. "You know? This Tree possibly either predicted or maybe even caused your Awakening. That gardens and gardening are knitted in with positive memories... it works." She smiles a little bit, and laughs softly. "Yeah. Away from the tree is a good idea." She pauses, stopping to peel off her worn-out sneakers, and carries them hanging from one hand rather than putting the muddy shoes into her backpack.
Mei laughs, softly but also a bit bitterly, and says, "some of those times were the few I remember actually getting along with my mom, too. Which I guess I'm kind of mad about still, but that's not really something that taints the good memories, it just makes me wish there were more of them." She purses her lips when she's told the tree might have caused, or predicted, her Awakening. "You said that Awakenings aren't predictable, didn't you?"
A sad, weary sort of smile aside at Mei. "I know the feeling." Not that Fox ever talks about his family, or the time before their Awakening. At all. Ever. That's about as much as she'll ever say. She starts circling in closer to the Tree, keeping a respectful distance lest the guards get fussy with the high-Gnosis Thyrsus getting too close. There's a look of unabashed awe on his face as they tip their eyes up toward the Tree. "I did, and that's the miracle."
Decima is lingering around a small distance from the Tree itself, enough to satisfy the Sentinel guards, while the trickster hummingbird spirit is visible Materialized around her and hovering about her head, its attention also rapt on the tree. She has a spiral notebook in her hand, held down against her leg while she wonders something, a pen in the other, ink stains covering her hands. She upnods her head at Mei and Fox, both, and sticks the end of the pen in her mouth, biting down on it.
When the tree itself comes into view Mei stops bemoaning her family life growing up and just stops to stare at it in awe, instead. "This doesn't... it's leaves aren't even the same," she says finally. She hasn't really noticed Decima yet. Her attention is entirely focused on the marvel of the tree.
A little upnod for River as she's at her work and Fox won't immediately disturb her. Zie rolls his shoulders lazily, and watches her apprentice with a beaming expression. It's really delightful when the kids get to experience Mysteries, isn't it? "It's like nothing else this world has ever known," Fox murmurs quietly. "Which makes it exactly like every other living thing which has ever lived, only more so. Unique, and perfect."
Mei doesn't need to notice Decima, because the as-yet-unnamed hummingbird spirit, possessed of physicality for its current Materialized state, takes the initiative to investigate her. Decima jerks her head over in the little bird's direction as it nearly accosts Mei to get in her personal space, eyeing her up and down like it's been personally anointed the gargoyle guardian of this space, all eight ounces of it. It leers at her, head cocked, with one eye staring in her direction, and Decima is ambling over trying to wave it off. "Sorry, I'm sorry. He's a little... he's a little invasive," she apologizes.
A humingbird invading her personal space pulls Mei's attention back to the rest of the world around her, and she ducks her head and moves a few spry steps away from the bird before noticing Decima as well. She things in for a few seconds and then speaks directly to the bird, "no need to worry. I'm not going to bother the tree." Taking a hummingbird seriously isn't much of a stretch when your Master regularly turns into a fox. You never know. "What's his name?" she asks Decima.
Indeed, Fox eyes the hummingbird like swatting it might cause an Emeritus issue. You never know. It might be Weaver, taking a break from being a spider. She smiles, but that smile's got a lot of teeth in it. Sharp little fox teeth. "Hummingbirds are like that," he assures River, as if they expect that sort of thing. "Have we met? I've been a little -- busy -- lately." What with two Apprentices. (Gee, Fox, why does your mom let you have TWO Apprentices?)
"He..." Decima sighs. "He won't tell me. It's been a little touch and go. I've got him on loan from the Silver Ladder to explore more of the Spiritual mysteries. He's supposed to be helping me," she gives him a baleful glance, sidelong, and the Familiar just puffs his feathers indignantly, and perches on Decima's head, willing her to accept the new reality of him being in charge. "He's certainly challenging me, I can cop to that much," she exhales. "For like, five minutes, during the whole," to Fox's question, she gestures vaguely like that's an answer, but punctuates it by hooking a thumb at Mei, perhaps indicating the debacle to track the lot down during the protest fray. "Decima. Pleasure." Probably the first bit is her name.
Before Vasily steps into the consilium's foyer, he finishes the coffin nail he'd been sucking on, flicking it into the ash tray and expelling his smoke away from the doors. He pauses to check his hair in the reflection on the door, checks his teeth, then adjusts his zipper front track jacket, pulling open the door to step on inside. He drifts through the foyer like a tourist, eventually working his way back to the arboretum's door. He pulls that open next, stepping into the home of the fabled tree that everyone's been making such a big deal about. He lowers his cheap sunglasses to peer at it with a slightly raised eyebrow, muttering something to himself in a deeply slavic language with a deeply slavic accent.
"I suppose that the Adamantine Arrow would probably say that the challenge is helping you?" Mei suggests, a little tentatively, since she hasn't actually had a conversation with someone who belongs to that Order, and is only going off of memories of conversations. "Parhelion, for me." She drifts over toward Fox. "How do you think it did it? Leading you all to me and the others, I mena."
"Oh, lovely. Revontulet. You can call me Fox, or Naika. This is -- " And then Fox's train of thought is flung off the tracks and into a canyon, because Vasily has arrived (is alive, is here, and that's still a miracle) and their face lights up like the Rockefeller Christmas Treet. "Vasha!" Oh yes, Mei has heard about this person, but here he is, in all his Eurotrash glory, and there goes Fox, in all their 'leaping on Vasily' glory. It's gonna be a while before hellos are handled in a less... ballistic... fashion.
"They might, mm?" she wonders after Mei/Parhelion. But then! Intruder! The Materialized hummingbird spirit zips over to Vasily and eyes him up and down, hovering in its helicopter way, assessing him from multiple, skeptical angles before buzzing around his head once and flipping at scalp with its tiny wings, the hummingbird equivalent of mussing one's hair, likely on purpose, then it flitters just out of reach and back over towards Fox, and Mei, and Decima, who looks mildly mortified. "I am so sorry," she starts, even as Fox flings herself at Vasily. "He's special, but he's kind of an asshole," she editorializes, holding out a hand for the little bird, which is ignored. "I can certainly see why some resort to spells to control them," she adds in a low mutter.
"Get fucking bird away from my head!" Vasha wags his hand around himself as though warding off bees. He entirely misses the bird in the process, because it's a humming bird, and he's an annoyed Ukrainian who might have been into the little water a little early. "Fuck you, bird." Vasily points at it warningly as it retreats back to it companion. It makes his acceptance of the flying hug less enthusiastic than it might have been, though he eventually does take Little Fox's face in both of his hands and presses a shameless kiss onto it. "Revontulet. Hello. I am practicing my English. Is good, yes?" He leaves his arm around Little Fox, then turns to face the others, "I am rude. I am called Pavlichenko. I am. Uh. Firebird. Zhar-Ptitsa. Firebird. My cadre. I am sorry, only learned English for intercepts. So. Not so good yet."
Mei smiles at the way her Master just throws herself at the stranger who just walked in. What she doesn't do is look remotely surprised by it. That's a very Fox thing to do. "What is he?" she asks of Decima instead, nodding at the bird to indicate that she means that creature, and not the man who just walked in. When he gets to around to introducing herself she asks, "like as in Lyudmila? Oh, sorry, right, I'm Parhelion. I'm one of Revontulet's apprentices. I've been the one struggling to get by in a foreign country where I didn't speak the language fluently. I understand; you're doing fine."
"Is good, yes," agrees Fox, though it's possible that they would agree that what Vasily was doing is good pretty much regardless of what he's actually doing, with probably very few exceptions. His arms stay looped around Vasha's neck for the duration of the kiss, and then thereafter. "Yes, this is one of my current apprentices," Fox explains to him, stealing a second kiss and then just wrapping her arms around his midsection. Sorry, not letting him go right now. "Parhelion, and then this is Decima, who we were just meeting." A pause, and she corrects, "Our cadre." She was just a very Farseeker. That's all.
The hummingbird spirit is grossly offended by Vasily's epithets, and it starts to inhale a long breath, rearing back centimeters as if to charge, and Decima snatches it by the tail-feather and hauls it back. "Oh, no you don't," she warns, and she stuffs it into her jacket pocket and pulls up the zipper. The pocket explodes with restrained effort for a few seconds before the little spirit relents and settles down, which is even more worrying; it's probably plotting revenge. "Sounds like English to me. I'm Decima," she upnods her head, still wearing a bit of an apologetic and beleaguered expression. "That is my borrowed Familiar. He's... teaching me a lot about spirits," she admits candidly. "Apparently they're just like us. Juuuust liiiike us," she hums.
Someone gratefully only unfamiliar to Vasily comes into the Arboretum, setting aside her satchel at the entrance to ensure that it gets noplace near the tree itself. She spends a moment just looking up across the tree, breathing in slowly and letting it out, before she starts into the room. She's middling-tall, long curly hair tied back in a loose tail, mocha skin and dressed very utilitarian in boots, khakis, and a tanktop. She pauses on approach as she catches strains of conversation she thinks she recognizes, moving until she can see the quartet and lifting a hand in an automatic, slightly robotic greeting, whether she's got anyone's attention or not.
"Spirits all assholes. First lesson. Second lesson. Spirits all assholes. So I say again: Fuck you, bird." Vasily pokes his shades up his nose before turning up the bird to the bird. "In America three days, already act like New Yorker. True immigrant story." As though the habit is, well, habitual; Vasily shakes out one of the last remaining cigarettes from his pack and plops it into his mouth. It's some ugly black package with an imperial eagle on its face, and German text. And it smells like bootleather and horsehair. And he hasn't lit it yet. Then he plucks the cigarette from his mouth and uses it to point towards Mei, "Yes! Like Lyudmila Pavlichenko. Very good. Hero of Odessa. Ukrainian! Hero of the Soviet Union. 309 confirmed kills. She is hero of mine." He pats his heart three times as he says it. His head then ticks to track Liesel's arrival, his head ticking up a hair at her silent greeting.
"Oh!" Mei says, putting the pieces together and nodding her head. "Which kind? I'm guessing a spirit, since it doesn't look like a ghost, and not what I'd imagine that Goetia look like either? I apologize if I ask a lot of questions, but I figure the best way to stop feeling like I have no idea what's going on most of the time is... you know... learning what's going on. Which means asking questions." Vasha calls it a spirit, which pretty much confirms for her, though. "I don't know that much about her," she then admits to Vasily. "Beyond what was on the episode of Drunk History about her. She sounds like a badass, though." She returns Liezel's wave.
"Spirits are in fact all assholes. Do you remember the cat spirit that used to stalk around my den in Saint Petersburg?" Naika asks this of Vasily with a frustrated little sigh. "Always getting into shit." His arms wrap around Vasha's waist, and just hang on, regardless of all the fussing with the cigarettes, as if, should they let go, the Guardian might disappear into smoke. "Liezel! Come meet Vasha and talk with us." That makes her loosen at least one arm from 'round Vasily, wiggling little fingers at the Obrimos. "She truly was a badass, Pavlichenko. It's a better name than his old one."
"This one is," Decima agrees in a mutter, patting the jacket pocket where she confined the little bird, but there's no more mass to the contents of the pocket. She furrows her brow. Shit. He could be anywhere now. "Oh, hi!" she chirps with some enthusiasm at Liezel. "Just a little spirit. A lesser gaffling. Trickster, and a quick little devil," she goes on, then she flicks her attention to Fox, then to Vasily again. "What was the old one?"
"Oh, I know of Леди смерть," says Liezel as she approaches. Her pronunciation is very much not native, but technically correct- someone who learned words, not a language. "Over three hundred kills, and that just confirmed." She smiles faintly at Vasily- she's always warmer when someone engages one of her fascinations. Sharpshooting being one of them. Mei, too, gets a small smile, and River, and Fox. Everyone, really! She doesn't actively close the distance until Fox directs her to do so, the invitation taking priority over her general preference to stand apart (not that the conversation doesn't help). "Hello, Vasha. Hello, Decima. Hello, Fox. Hello, Mei." Each gets a moment of her focus and a small nod- a rote greeting, but no less sincere for it.
Cigarette still held between his fingers, Vasha gestures marquee style through the air, "Yaroslav the Wise. After the great uniter of the Kievan Rus. I had patriotic pretensions to pan slavic unity." Vasha's head shakes in the negative at this statement. "After Donbas, not so much. So. Pavlichenko." He makes a 'what are you going to do' face and shrugs expansively. He seems surprised that all of these Americans know of his folk hero. Genuinely. "Please. What is Drunk History?" A glance to Mei at this, his arm reaffirming its hold on Little Fox. Don't go.
"Thank you," Mei tosses back to Decima, when she fills in the details. She approaches Liezel next. "I had a lot of drugs in my system, but I'm pretty sure I'm right that you were one of the people who made it possible for everyone to get in to visit when I was in the hospital, and tell me what the heck was going on, weren't you? Thank you to you as well." Only after saying this does she explain to Vasily, "it's a TV show where historians get drunk and try to explain historical events, and then they get professional actors to act out that narration. It's hilarious. I'll show you some time, if you'd like."
"There's a Yaroslav here, but she's inherited a Shadow Name. It's sort of a thing here, where certain jobs, you take on a certain Shadow Name." Fox seems to be showing absolutely no inclination to go anywhere. She's leaned her head on Vasha's shoulder, and offers thoughtfully, "Oh! Liezel. You should talk about firearms with Vasha. You are both very fond of guns, from what I know of both of you. It would be a good bonding point." She flashes her sharp little teeth in what's probably a smile; Fox never can hide her feelings all that well. "Drunk History is a great show," she agrees. "And yes, Mei. Liezel is the one who was pretending to hold my leash, when I was being a therapy dog so we could come look in on you and Y'israel."
For her part, Decima relies on the provided information to draw her conclusions about the origin of Vasily's chosen moniker, attention flickering in between the few of them as they go on. "Drunk History. I saw like two of 'em," she admits, patting her other pockets and probably searching for the hummingbird. No joy.
"I watch Drunk History sometimes. My phone has a cheap screen but the audio is funny." Liezel explains. Her intonation is a touch monotone, but her sincerity is easy to read. She nods in open affirmation as the show is explained to Vasha, looking to Mei and sharing that small smile again. "I was, yes." The smile deepens a hair. "Thank you for your words. I appreciate them."
"Ah! You are an afficionado as well, Vasha? I would be very happy to talk firearms and marksmanship. I do not know many who like such things quite as I do- that would be a very fun conversation, I think."
She nods again as Fox confirms her roll in the visit. "Ah- my Shadow Name is Juno. Like from the Metamorphoses."
"Sounds like show Russians would make. I would like this show, I think." Vasha then turns to give Little Fox another noisy kiss to her temple. He then switches languages to Russian, "Krasnaya, I have to report to the caucus here. I haven't done so yet, and if I don't it will start to appear conspicuous. As much as I would love to meet your friends and enjoy your company, I have my duties. I was coming here to see if Walsingham was present. So I have to go see to that." He switches back to English with apologies, "That was rude, too. I am sorry. Easier to convey ideas in Russian. I must go see Walsingham for official business. But. I see you after, yes, and we will drink." He gives Fox's ass a sharp slap before slipping away, heading towards the council chambers, tucking his cigarette behind his ear along the way.
"We will drink," Decima confirms with an uncompromising degree of certitude.
"Of course. You're welcome," Mei tells Liezel with a friendly smile. She stops to reach back into her memories and search for things. "I don't think there are any obviously Russian names in the credits for the show," she says. "But you never know might be Russian and have a name that doesn't sound like it. Nice to meet you, take care." She looks at Little Fox, "now that we're here... what do we do? It's a marvelous tree, but was there more you wanted to tell me or show me about it? We did get a little distracted."
Oh, did he think he'd get to do that without reprisal? Fox yelps -- the sound more animal than human -- when her ass is slapped, in the aftermath of explanation and kiss to temple, and then she spins to return the favor, her green-gold eyes bright and glittering. "I will see you at home," she calls after him in Russian. Wherever home is. "Do not be late."
See, it's a joke, because Acanthus. Ha ha. Time magic joke. He turns back to face the others. "Mmm. I ... actually didn't have a plan beyond showing you it and seeing if something happened. But also there are people, and people are my first work." They smile brightly at Liezel. "Juno! I should talk to you about maybe taking some of the lessons for some of my apprentices? Because I think that Y'israel wants to become an Arrow -- or as he says it, a Gryffindor -- and that is the lesson I am not good to teach. Honestly, if he really does want that, I'm going to end up teaching him all the wrong lessons."
Another lift of Liezel's hand towards Vasha as he makes his exit. "Goodbye, Vasha. I liked meeting you." She looks to the others once he's gone. "I hope his meeting goes well."
"Eh?" Liezel gets that uniquely uncomfortable look she wears each and every time someone specifically turns to her for something she'd be good at, the look of someone completely comfortable in being overlooked while she does her own things. However, it only takes a moment before she does that thing Dandelion likes so much- she squares her shoulders and nods. "That makes sense. Y'israel is a good man. And- I like the parallel. Gryffindor. Heh." She smiles a little, and nods again, reaffirming. "I'll take on the lessons you feel I'd be better teaching, yes. And- I don't think they would be the wrong lessons, Fox. Just- corollaries. He seems very capable at forming his own beliefs around new information."
"A Gryffindor," Decima coos, taking a swipe when the hummingbird reappears, Manifest but not Materialized, hovering around her head and nimbly dodging her hand. Without much more fanfare, the little thing settles on her shoulder, taking a small rest and peering in between the attendant, and the tree, and Decima's hair, perhaps considering a nibble. "Well, nobody's perfect," she winks at the lot of them sidelong, the sly Silver.
"Works for me," Mei answers casually, because it does. "I just wanted to be sure we didn't get half way home after all of these conversations and realize we got distracted from the main point. I guess that would just give me another excuse to come back, though." She looks around at everyone when the conversation shifts to mentorship. "I think I'm going to go look around, since this discussion doesn't need my input, and I have a curiosity to satisfy. I'll circle back around soon," she says, and she goes to do just as she said.
"It's true, but some of us are Children of the Tree," Fox fires back at Decima in the vulpine version of the same look that she gives them along with her wink. Her grin is bright, though. There's no malice there. Rocking back and forth on her little feet, she looks off after the direction in which Vasha disappeared and tugs on the straps of her backpack. "Well, good. I took him to make sure that he'd be well looked after, and if he were Thyrsus or he were thinking about becoming one of the Children, I'd be happy to see his apprenticeship through. Harmony was one of mine, after all. But ... I think this is the better plan. I'll announce it. Pardon me a moment."
Liezel nods, firmer now that the decision is made and backed. "As you will. Thank you." She glances up at the tree and then to Mei and Decima. "Is this your first time hearing about the Tree, Mei?" She's not sure if she's been told she was tied to it, or- is? She's not sure, does she look like a Mastigos? "And let's see. If Arrows are Gryffindor, that makes Mysterium Ravenclaw, clearly, and... I guess... Silver Ladder is Slytherin? Which makes Guardians Hufflepuff... I don't know that this analogy survives extension..."
"Children would probably be the hippie dropouts that throw the off-campus parties everyone attends," Decima ventures with a game smile, lobbing the rejoinder playfully and without malice. "Free Council are Muggles."
"The Weasleys," Liezel points out. "Children'd be the Weasleys."
"Ahhh," Decima nods approvingly and then pretends to measure Fox for an ugly sweater.
"THE CHILDREN OF THE TREE ARE THE FUCKING HUFFLEPUFFS!" yells Fox from across the room. Apparently they have an opinion. "ANYWAY ROWLING IS A TRANSPHOBE." Scribbling a note on a piece of paper.
"Oh. Well. Then the Guardians can be the Ministry. That makes sense."
"Wait, she is? That's awful." Liezel's face falls.
"Well, that tracks. Guardians aren't Hufflepuffs. They're more like Aurors. Ministry spooks." Then she puffs out a sigh. "I don't miss Twitter."
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