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The Winter Hollow is cold all year-round, the size of a small village. There are small cottages made by the Court members, and every Winter can claim a cottage if they like. A few are larger, where motleys have merged their cottages together to make slightly larger spaces for themselves. A Winter Garden sits off to one side of the Town Square in the center of the Hollow, and in the Town Square is a huge old tree, into which has been carved a phone booth.
The Queen's cottage sits right next to the phone booth, a petite and welcoming little cottage like something out of a Christmas card. She's worked very hard to make it so.
Tonight she's settled into her little Christmas card cottage, shuffling tarot cards and drinking tea. You know. Like usual. Marjorie's not wearing her battered Eagles sweatshirt tonight, but a heavy robe with the hood up, and the fresh pot of jasmine tea in its pretty glass teapot waits for the expected guest.
Wren rarely arrives with the same kith twice. Today, she wears the sharp, big white ears of a fox, with a similar bushy tail poking from beneath her sweater. She knocks- she always knocks- and waits patiently, dressed warm against the chill of the Winter Hollow, tail swooshing faintly behind.
"Enter, Wren," the Winter Queen (for one more day, since time smudges a little on chat games) calls from within. Once the Chimera does, she sets aside her cards for a moment, turning her shrouded head toward the door. "Please, have a seat. Would you care for some tea?"
The door creaks open and admits the little Chimera (disguised, of course, as always, but Chimera nonetheless) to the room. She's smiling- she always likes that the Queen seems to know she wants to talk to her before she does, even, and she bobs her head gratefully at the offer of tea. "I'd be obliged, thanks!" She scoots to the indicated seat and clambers up, straightening out her sweater, her skirt- something she only wears around the hollow, really- and wiggles her tail out to the side.
"Ready to get out of the limelight yet? Or feeling like there's so much left to do?"
There's a chair just close enough for the pair to be able to pass mugs back and forth; taller people would have an easier time of it, but they'll manage. There's a bit of dust to the side of one of the chairs, as if this was anticipated and the chair had been moved for just this purpose. Marjorie pours the fragrant tea and passes a cup across to the fox-tailed girl, and when she speaks, her voice has a tone that implies beneath that hood hides a rueful smile. "I am always ready to be out of the limelight, and there is always so much left to do."
"Well, we'll just have to keep at it." Wren chirps cheerfully. She sips her tea carefully, then offers, gently- "I... think it's wonderful of you. To keep bearing that crown winter after winter. It's wonderful, and you're wonderful. And you're appreciated. And I dunno how often you get to hear that. So." Sip. It's important to help people recharge. She presumes Marjorie has her own, surely wonderful support structure, but- knowing people outside that care helps, when you're a leader.
That's what Wren thinks, anyhow.
The Winter Queen sits in silence for a long moment, and then takes a small sip of her tea. "Thank you." That's about all that she says, for a while. "We will have to keep at it."
And then, after sitting there for a bit longer, she asks, "What can I help you with tonight?"
Wren offers a little smile at the thanks. That's plenty! She sip her tea again and sets the cup down gently."Ah- not so much help with, I just- wanted to report something. I suspect we as a whole probably know about it already, but." She looks from the cup back up to Marjorie. "I have been finding vampires. Lots of them. Four in two days. Two of them were doing a good job of hiding themselves. One of those better than the other. And two of them were hardly trying at all, it didn't seem. I thought it was important that I make sure this is a known quantity, and not some quiet infiltration." She clears her throat delicately. "Your, um. visitor, at the tea house. I didn't check her, because I didn't pick up any lingering effects. It felt... impolite to pry, but after noticing how anachronistic in habit the vampires I identified were- several used painfully outdated phones, one of them thought that drawing on paper was still the norm, as if tablets hadn't dominated popular artwork for a while now..."
She falls quiet. "We... do know about this already.
Right?"
There's the tiniest puff of air from beneath the Queen's hood, not quite laughter, but some sort of small expression of mirth. "Do you know much about the history of Philadelphia? The name of our Freehold?" One small hand rises, forestalling objection. "There is a reason I ask."
The response is positive, and lightens Wren's worry immediately, leaving her smile creeping back a touch. She shakes her head at the question, though. "I honestly don't. May I ask where it came from? And the history around it?"
"The original name for the Freehold was Sakimauchheen Ing -- Lenape for 'To Make A King Place.' In English, you might say it was similar to calling it something like 'Kingstown,' or the like. Over time, it has been Anglicized to Shackamaxon." A tiny sip of her tea. "Saagochque, the woman you met... " She pauses. "Her title is Sakima. The vampires in Philadelphia do not have, nor ever have had, the title of 'Prince,' such as is used in other cities. She created the title from the family she survives."
She stops there, letting all of the facts and implications sink in.
Wren listens closely, it takes her a moment to realize what's been explained, and her eyes widened. "Were- they here first? Do we have the name we do because Saagochque gave it to us? Or did the founders come from the Lenape, like she did? Or-" Her mind is spinning with possibilities, and her mouth can't keep up.
She sets aside her tea and raises both of her hands in order to ward off Wren's spinning questions. "We share and honor our roots. She, admittedly, is closer to those roots in some ways than we are, because she lived through them. But... " Marjorie sighs softly. "We are alive, and she is not, and she has not been for hundreds of years."
Wren quiets when Marjorie's hands lift, and her eyes blink, big no matter what features she wears. "She's... hundreds of years old." That blows through Wren's mind and she slumps back a little, just reflecting. "... you know, with that in mind, having an old cell phone really isn't that bad."
Now that gets a little laugh from the Winter Queen, as clear and bright as sunlight reflecting on snow. "Relatively speaking, no. And as long as the individuals under her jurisdiction are not -- making a nuisance of themselves -- and we are not making a nuisance of ourselves to them, we try to live with each other." Marjorie's hands fold together on her lap. "If, however, you find yourself... "
"... acting strangely... after interacting with someone you know is a vampire, do come tell someone immediately. If you don't understand why you felt a certain way, or acted a certain way, or if you find yourself missing time, or the like."
"And don't look them in the eyes."
It is with the aid of a helpful, but non-descript NPC that Mearcstapa is guided into the Winter Hollow, and further to the Queen's Cottage, and before he even reaches the door, his freckles have greenshifted and he falls back on manners. Because this is Marjorie he's dealing with. So, there is a polite knock on the cottage door.
The last bit leaves Wren wincing. "Ooh. That'll make it a lot harder to interact. I usually try to hide behind one of my personas, but they're all pretty personable and avoiding eye contact hurts that impression." She sighs a little. "Oh, well. Okay. I'll keep all that in mind. Report inconsistencies in my behavior, and don't look them in the eyes. Got it."
"One of my favorite tricks is, when I must show my face, to look at people's eyebrows. It looks to them mostly like you're looking them in the eyes, but... " Those words flow out the door to Mearc as the NPC opens the door for him. "... you won't end up losing time or wondering why you suddenly love them more than anything." She turns her face toward the door, and reaches for a third cup, sitting on the shelf by her chair. "Mearcstapa," she greets, before he's even visible. Man, that's gonna get annoying. "Please join us."
Mearcstapa steps inside. "It's a pleasure to see you, Marjorie." And then he notices Wren, and grows a bit of a smile. "Hey, partner. Am I interrupting something? I can come back later, if this is Winter business. I just wanted to slake my curiosity about something."
Wren blinks as Mearc's name is announced, and turns to smile at her partner, shaking her head. "Nope. Had a concern that was for the most part superfluous, but learned some new things for my trouble. Business concluded, to be sure. Come! Sit! The tea is, as always, wonderful."
She pours a cup and hands it over to Mearc, falling into silence and letting the pair sort out their interactions. "What has spurred your curiosity?" The question has the air of something asked pro forma, -- as if she suspects, or knows, the answer.
"Your acquaintance with Saagochque. She seemed..." He seems to consider his word choice thoughtfully. "...like someone who was as potentially as unstuck from the modern era as some of us, and registered to my Kenning. As you seemed at ease with her, I wondered if you knew more on the matter."
As he accepts the cup, he moves to sit beside Wren, casually bumping his shoulder against hers.
The Winter Queen turns her hooded head toward Wren, perhaps in prompting.
Wren catches the look and nods, then turns towards Mearc. "That was in part what brought me, actually. I'd been finding other creatures lately. Vampires. Four of them in half as many days. Er... nights. I didn't check Saagochque- once I knew she was supernatural, but came without any special tricks, I left her be." She fidgets. "It felt rude to pry further. But, as it turns out, we were at what amounts to a bit of a meeting of the minds.
Saagochque is, and has been for hundreds of years, to the vampires I found as the Crowns that lead us are to... um, well. Us. She's their leader."
"Vampires." He repeats the word, seeming to chew it over as he takes a sip of his tea, then tilts his head at Wren. "Secondhand store, the owner? His insistence on paper records..."
"In context, perhaps a little less unusual." The tone of voice from beneath Marjorie's hood at least implies a smile, however slight. "Perhaps you might address with your partner the cautions I gave you," she prompts.
"Ah! Yes!" Wren squeaks as she realizes what she left out. "Um. Yes, him- and everyone with him, for that matter. All three of them. Two of them looked pretty normal, and one was protecting himself with some kind of magic. I don't think it damaged his magic, but it didn't stop me. Um. So. Keep track of how you act when you've been near a vampire. Come speak to someone immediately if you realize you can't account for behavior, or if you've lost time. And don't look them in the eyes. Look at their eyebrows so they don't notice but don't make eye contact." She glances back at Marjorie, unsure if she forgot anything else.
"I tend to be pretty bad at eye contact to begin with. That's part of why you do the talking, Wren." He lets out a small, self-deprecating laugh, before shifting his attention toward Marjorie. Among changelings, getting away with not making direct eye contact has always been fairly simple, given his Vantablack eyes; who can even say where empty black holes into the void are looking.
"I wonder if her community as a whole would accept or be offended by the offer of computer literacy classes and digital security consultations. It could be of benefit to them, if so many are behind the times."
Perhaps another reason for the Winter Queen's tendency toward wearing large hoods, along with the 'all shall love me and despair' effect that her face seems to have on people. "Well, if you would like to make the presentation of your idea to her, I could potentially ... bring such a meeting about." A small gesture of approval with one hand toward Wren: she got it all.
Relief piques in Wren's expression at the confirmation that the delivered message was up to snuff. "We could do that. She was pleasant enough, and if they have half as many worries as we do, being better able to keep their information secure would be of benefit, surely."
"I would very much like such a meeting, if one can be arranged for us. She won't have any issue with you telling us about her kind?"
There's a sidelong glance at Wren. "The first barrier seems to be making them believe it's an actual problem in today's world."
"If she had an issue with me properly educating the people for whom I am responsible, I should not listen to her nor should I consider her a colleague. Surely she passes on to her people what she learns from us," which may be both caution and practical statement, "so she could hardly fault me for doing so."
She picks up her tea again. "I will call her tomorrow." Once the crown is no longer her concern.
Wren clears her throat. "Plus, she didn't tell me, really. I found them on my own. It's really in everyone's benefit that we know these things. They've probably been warned not to promise us anything, either. Less temptation to cross boundaries, you know?"
"That makes sense." Mearcstapa nods slowly. "I think the possibility of making something that helps all of us is real, here."
"If you can convince vampires, as a whole, to stop clinging to the ways that they understood during the time when they were living," Marjorie answers, "you will have accomplished something... truly spectacular, Mearcstapa."
Wren squirms a little bit. "So... they're really dead? It's not like one of us, made to look dead but truly still alive. They... they all died?"
"What must that have been like..?"
"It is worth it to attempt the spectacular, once in a while. But I'm not sure convincing them 'as a whole' is going to be possible. Still, starfish metaphor. If Saagochque upgraded her phone, that's making a difference."
He glances at Wren when she asks those questions. "Probably cold and shocky if it was from loss of blood. Right? Does someone become a vampire when another one feeds on them?"
"Not... necessarily. It is more complicated than that, I am given to believe. And yes, they died. Well and truly, they died. They ... mimic life, but they are not alive. Much in the same way that They mimic creation but they cannot create anything, vampires may mimic life but are not alive." Marjorie's cup disappears into her hood for a brief sip.
"It sounds almost like a curse." He frowns faintly, the colors of his freckles evening out more.
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