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Mearc's waiting for Charlie outside the thrift shop. His hair's really growing long, and it's clipped out of his face with a pair of sparkly hair clips. And his nails have been allowed to grow too, and are painted neon orange, a shade that merrily clashes with the rest of his mien. He's back to cargo pants and a t-shirt, his usual messenger bag across one shoulder.
"Hey!" Charlie says, waving at him. She was about 20 minutes early (as usual) and was waiting in a nearby cafe until the time came. "How are you doing? How was vacation? Do you, um, want a hug?" she asks, her right hand tapping on her leg already.
Mearc nods, holding his arms open. "Only if you're up for a hug. C'mere? Vacation was good, it was very much what I needed."
Charlie pulls him in for a big hug, squeezing him with her newly acquired second dot of strength. "I've never, um, actually left the state before except for, um, my time Over There. What's it like?" She opens the door, holding it open for him. "Are you looking for anything in particular today or just, um, browsing?"
"Oh, geez. Hawaii's warm and humid and sunny...but, it was a good getaway." He laughs as he steps inside, with a bit of a glance to the front counter. "I'm mostly here to hang out with you, though if I find anything Lux or Jack might like, I'll probably pick it up for them. It's kind of weird to be here during the day..."
Charlie frowns slightly at the description of Hawaii. "It's probably not obvious, um, on account of how I look to you, but, um, I burn super easy because I'm, um, paper pale. There was a year where we took a church trip up to Lake Erie and I ended up so burned it hurt to wear clothes," she says, giggling at the memory. "Oh! How are Lux and Jack? I still, um, owe Lux an apology bouquet."
"Trust me, I burnt like a blueberry." He holds up an arm. "I'm pale, close enough to being a redhead and freckly, in my Mask. So. Yeeeah. Jack and Lux are alright. We had a few hard talks, while we were outside our usual environment and not dealing with extra stress and pressure. Lux yelled at me for isolating. I deserved it."
Charlie points at some flecks of gold in her marble mien. "These are freckles in my mask," she says, nodding. "And, um, you're with me now, so that's a step towards not isolating!" She pauses, looking away at a row of shirts in about her size. "They aren't, um, mad at me, are they? I get if they are, I was a real jerk to both of them."
"I really don't think they're holding onto anything you've done all that hard." He shakes his head, looking at the shirts. "Like. You were a bit rough on them, but everything else has been So Much Rougher, you know?"
"That's good, I just... I feel like such a jerk for it. A real butthole, pardon my language. I jumped to conclusions and hurt people you care about. All three of you deserve way better than that," Charlie says, a determined look in her eyes. "Can you, um, help me pick out clothes? I always feel really bad trying stuff on."
"Okay, I can help. When you select clothing, what's the most important quality?" He looks thoughtful.
"Um. Price and comfort? I guess?" Charlie says, scratching the back of her head thoughtfully. "I, um, I wasn't allowed to buy my own clothes Before and when I got here I bought myself a whole wardrobe for cheap."
"Okay." Mearc nods quietly. "You don't tend to favor showing off your body too much, that I've noticed. I have a bit of an off-the-wall suggestion."
"Um, okay?" Charlie says nervously, "I, um, I don't want to agree to it right away, until I know what it is. Not that I think you'll have a bad idea!"
"You'd be a size small in men's button-up shirts. And they tend to run cheaper than blouses, while preserving the modesty you prefer. They also come in a solid variety of colors, so you wouldn't necessarily look masculine."
Charlie vaguely gestures at her chest. "Um, would it, um, make this too, um. Noticeable?" She's not exactly small chested. Her leg tapping intensifies thinking about all of this.
"Might have to go up to a medium size to accommodate, but I don't think it will be impossible to work around. Want me to pick out a couple for you to try?"
Charlie nods. "Um, sure! Wren wants me to get some purple clothes so if you see any in, um, purple!"
"Huh. Purple? My favorite color." He disappears into the racks, returning with a few different options, from a lavender paisley to a dark grape purple stripe pattern. "Here, try a couple of these?"
Charlie nods, stepping into a dressing room. She steps out a bit later in the lavender shirt, nervous as all get out, clutching her jean jacket under her arm like a security blanket. "What, um, what do you think?"
"How does it fit?" He gestures for her to turn around. "The color's nice on you."
Charlie complies, turning around. "I, um. This does feel good. But is it okay if I put my jacket back on? I feel, um, really naked without it. I even, um, had Sigrun make my armor so I could wear my jacket over it."
"Yeah, go ahead. Though you'll need to take it off to try on a few more shirts. They're not quite as bad as women's jean sizes--those are a nightmare, but not all brands agree on what 'Medium' means."
"Jeans are the wooorst," Charlie agrees, putting her jacket back on and looking infinitely calmer for it. "I, um, I think I actually look really good in these. Wow. Thank you for the advice!"
"No problem. Try men's pants too--the cuts might differ, but the sizes are waist and inseam, so you at least know where to start in a new brand. I bought women's skinny jeans a couple months back, and that was one of the most frustrating days ever. Though they make my rear look good, so I guess it balances out."
"Wren would probably like that part," Charlie mumbles before realizing what she said and blushing bright crimson. "Um! Pretend I didn't say that? Please!" She says, shrinking into herself. "I, um, men's jeans! I'll, um, try?"
He lets out a bit of a laugh. "Charlie, you know I'm not exactly as, uh...I don't care if you talk a little more loosely, alright? You're not going to offend me or freak me out, I don't think. Not unless you're aiming to hurt. Which I hope you won't." But he leads the way to the men's jeans, looking through the rack for a moment to pick out a pair that seems like it might fit her, and that matches the wash of her jacket.
"It's not you so much as, um, me," Charlie tries to explain, "I, um, I was taught that, um, a lot of what I say and do now is bad. And, um, it's hard to push through some of it. Annie introduced me to a nice, um, Rabbi who is helping me through some of this." She pauses to go try on some clothes, coming out with a dark purple button up, her jacket and the matching pants. "Enjoying stuff like this, um, wouldn't have been allowed back home."
"Rabbi Cohen, by chance?" Mearc's smile is crooked. "That outfit looks good. I think Wren would like it on you."
"Yeah, him! He's much nicer than I thought he'd be. He gives good hugs too. How do you know him?" Charlie blushes a little and does a quick twirl. "You think so?"
"He's dating Lux, and invited me and them to a Passover seder earlier this year." A grin. "The first time I met him, I kinda had a bit of a reaction, because I've been a really bad Jew since getting back, but. He's managed to remind me that Judaism is more about being a people than about being a religion. I'm planning on attending services more often."
"Oh, um, you're Jewish?" Charlie asks, "I figured you were, um, Irish. What with the name and all. Also, um, what's a satyr?" Rather unsurprisingly, Charlie has no conception of Jewish culture.
"Mearcstapa? Anglo-Saxon, reference to Beowulf. But yeah, I was raised Jewish. And a seder is a meal we have on the holiday Passover. It means 'order', because we do a little mini service before the meal, to remind ourselves what Passover is about. Which. Passover is a weird holiday for us changelings to celebrate. Not in a bad way, but it's celebrating the Jewish slaves being freed from Egypt, and like. That kind of hits harder for me now in a way." He brushes his hair back from his face, adjusting one of his glittery clips.
"Oh! Exodus! Okay, okay," Charlie says, immediately understanding. Or at least thinking she understands. "That does sound like it'd be pretty impactful. Mr. Cohen wants me to read through the bible on my own without, um, listening to anyone else's opinions on it and that part might hit hard now that you, um, mention it." She pauses. "Did your family name you Mearcstapa or is it, um, a name you chose yourself?"
"It's a name I chose for myself. Do you have a specific translation of the Bible you're planning on reading? It might be interesting to compare and contrast a King James versus a translation of the Tanakh versus the Quran, if you could get your hands on those. Or wait for Rosh Hashanah, and start the Torah there, no matter where you are in your Bible, that could be cool too."
"I, um. I don't know what, um, half those words mean?" Charlie says, feeling like even more of a hayseed than usual. "I really don't know, um, a ton. Just what I was told to know if, um, that makes sense. Free thinking is something Mr. Cohen is having me work on."
"So. Jewish people read the five books of Moses, the Torah, every single year. At the Jewish New Year in the fall, Rosh ha-Shanah--it literally means head of the year--, we go back to the beginning, Genesis. 'In the beginning...' And we read through Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Deuteronomy and Numbers throughout the rest of the year, one small chunk every week. And each year, we glean new insights out of the portions."
"Oh!" Charlie says, nodding. "That sounds really useful. Am I, um, allowed to read the torah even if I'm not Jewish? I might follow along when it's, um, Rosh Hashanah time." The unfamiliar Hebrew phrase doesn't survive her accent very well but she tries her best.
"You're totally allowed to. Encouraged to, even--I think you might find it interesting, some of the places where the translation differs and it makes a Big Difference. For example, 'Satan' doesn't really mean 'Devil', the title ha-Satan..." (this time pronounced with the same vowel each time, hah sahtahn) "...comes closer to meaning 'the Questioner' or 'the Accuser'."
"Oh." Charlie seems... less than comfortable with that. "I, um, that's interesting, yeah." Hey, look! Is that a change of subject? "What kind of clothes do Jack and Lux like? I can try to find them something."
"Lux likes anything bright enough to hurt your eyes. Neons and saturated hues and tie-dye and bold patterns. Sigrun made them a catsuit that's the flashiest piece of armor I've ever seen. Jack's a little more subdued--button downs with short sleeves and floral patterns tend to be hit for him." Mearc grins, clearly still goofy in love with the pair of them.
Charlie smiles warmly. "I'm happy you have them. You're a good person and you deserve to be in love with good people. I don't know if I'll be good at finding shirts like that but if you ever want some good bouquets I can make you some for them."
"I will not turn down the opportunity to bring home flowers for my partners." He grins. "How's Wren, speaking of?"
"She's, um, happy now that we're, um. Doing more stuff," Charlie says, her blush making it clear what she's talking about. "But she's also been a little worried about me now that I'm helping out with the freehold more. Which makes sense. I was really worried about her during the Hue and Cry."
"Makes sense. She was doing an awful lot of hands-on work. But Wren's pretty self-aware, when she puts herself into danger. I rely on her so fucking much in our work--there's times when we have to improvise on the fly, and I just put my faith in her to handle the situation." He picks out a neon pink mesh shirt that looks like it belongs at a rave. "Lux would love this..."
"She's so smart and pretty and talented," Charlie says, her words full of love and longing. If her eyes could turn into heart shapes, they would. "Gosh, that is... quite bright. And pink. And, um, revealing."
"They'd probably wear it with a crop top. They have a scar on their chest that they prefer to cover up, most of the time. Me, I'd wear it without a shirt underneath, but only on special occasions. Visiting the Succubus Club, perhaps."
"The what club?" Charlie says, spinning around. She looks at Mearc like he just grew a second head. He seemed so nice and tame and now... this.
"It's a goth club owned by a vampire I know." He seems to be relishing Charlie's reaction.
Charlie gets in close. The time for being concerned about Mearc's proclivities is not now. "So, um, are vampires real? Lux, um, mentioned that when I was helping them help Marjorie. But, um, I didn't really know if they're real the same way trolls are where they're just faerie things or if they're their own thing? And, um, should I be worried about them?"
"Vampires are very real. A lot of them, locally, are people I'd call allies, some are even friends. Hell, that's the reason I usually come to this shop at night, when the owner's around. He's strictly nocturnal." Mearc nods. "That's not to say they're not dangerous, but...they're not inherently harmful to us."
"Should I be worried about, um, normal people getting, um, bit?" Charlie asks, tapping on her leg again in an erratic rhythm. "How much is true and how much is like, um, what people get wrong about us?"
"Well. The ones here have a respect for human dignity. Their leader's actually friendly with Marjorie, more than you'd expect. I've been bitten a couple times; it doesn't hurt as much as you would think. It actually sort of feels, uh. Really nice." He shrugs. "They're people, Charlie, trying to get by how they can. Trying to stay below the radar."
"Is the leaders name, um, Sakima by any chance?" Charlie asks, suddenly putting two and two together. "Because, um, if it is then she's either, um, Marjorie's touchstone or is holding onto what is."
"The Sakima. Saagochque is her personal name. Fun fact, the name of our Freehold, Shackamaxon, has the same root as the title Sakima. Also, it...would not actually surprise me, if Saagochque was Marjorie's touchstone. They'd be well-suited to one another, I think."
"Marjorie, um, also had bite marks on her wrist." Charlie ends the sentence there. Mearc can draw any conclusions on his own. "Um, I should probably buy these clothes before the people working here think I'm going to steal them."
Mearc smiles slowly. "Marjorie, I didn't know you had it in you..."
Charlie returns back from her trip the register where she paid in cash. "You don't think they're, um, a couple, do you?" she asks, pretending that wasn't her thought from the second they started talking about this.
"Honestly, I think that makes a lot of sense. Very intimate friends, if not. They're close, and they're happy with one another."
"This, um, might sound weird to say but, um, I'm really glad to know that the leader of my court is queer. It makes me feel safer," Charlie says, smiling. "It's hard to think that it's only been since a few months since I got ought of my shell and started to meet people. I feel like I'm more comfortable here than I was with anyone Before."
"I'm glad to hear that. I like the idea that you do feel comfortable and safe here--that you can feel free to come out of your shell and open up more." Mearc nods, looking at the racks of clothing one last time, before heading toward the counter. "For me, I guess I've been, as I've been growing more comfortable with myself and with my partners, feeling free to test my own limits and boundaries. Asking myself questions about presentation and identity, you know?"
"I only sort of know. The idea that I have any say in my life is kind of a new one to me," Charlie admits, softly. "There's been a big learning curve with all the things I was taught wrong that I've been having to undo."
"Mm, I get you." He nods a bit. "Well, my question is, what are the things in your life you do because you have this idea that you're 'supposed to', and what things could you be doing to bring yourself more joy?"
That question slams into Charlie like an out of control truck. "Um. I, um, I feel like the big one I ought to be doing is doing more things for fun even if I don't think I've done enough to earn it? I spend a good chunk of my days off not doing anything because I don't feel like I deserve to. It's a, um, catch 22."
"That's a sign of depression, you know. Have you considered talking to Eugene about it? They're a mental health professional who knows how to help with changelings. The...the thing about not feeling like you deserve to do things, it's a way in which your brain lies to you."
"I have a therapist, it's just hard to talk to her sometimes because, um, she's not like us. So I'm having to dance around stuff Over There. Maybe Eugene would help, but, um, I'm friends with her girlfriend so it might be weird?" Charlie says, thinking out loud.
"Their girlfriend. Having someone you can be honest with tends to help a lot more. When Eugene lived in Chicago, I actually used to see them myself. Because I was more of a mess tan you, though in a very different way."
"Their girlfriend, sorry," Charlie says, repeating it in her head to make it stick. "Gosh, I don't believe that. You're so together now. Is this you being too hard on yourself?"
"No, this is me being honest. When I first got out, I was...closer to a protocol than to a person. I functioned, rather than living. This is me, after I've learned to loosen up, a lot."
Charlie looks Mearc up and down. "Well, you've done a good job getting better then. Because you I can barely believe that. You think I should ask Eugene about therapy even though Annie is like... one of my best friends?"
"Yeah, I think you should." He nods slowly. "It's worth at least talking to them and Annie about their comfort levels with the matter."
"Oh, um, can I ask you, um, kind of an intrusive question? I don't think it's like a bad question to ask but it, um, might be prying too much," Charlie stammers out, her hand tapping on her leg.
He grins. "Go ahead and ask. I'll let you know if I'm offended."
"How do you, um, go about setting boundaries? I, um, I've been trying to set one with Wren and, um, I feel so bad having to do it and I end up, um, backsliding on it because I want her to be happy." Charlie asks, stepping close and speaking softly.
"How I go about it involves what some people might see as over-communication. Explaining what the exact boundary is, why I need it, and being sure to affirm that it's not a function of the other person deliberately harming me, it's that I need this for my own well-being. Can I ask what the boundary is that you're trying to set?"
"Um, that she needs to warn me before she touches me. She's getting better about it and it always feels great to be touched by her, I just don't like it happening when I don't think it will. Does that, um, make any sense," Charlie says, terrified that Mearc will think less of her for saying this.
"That's a completely valid boundary to set for yourself. A healthy one." He nods easily. "Has your therapist ever talked to you about 'I-statements'? They're a great way to talk about how something's making you feel, without sounding like you're blaming someone."
"Stuff like 'I wish you would do x', right? I know if I got told stuff like that I'd feel like a screw-up no matter how nice it was said because I'd worry that I hurt my girlfriend."
"Try it like this. 'When you do X, I feel Y, because Z'. When you touch me without warning, I feel uncomfortable, because reason."
"Like 'when she touches me without warning, I feel uncomfortable because my brain hasn't had time to be okay with it yet', yes?" Charlie pauses. "Sorry to be dumping all of this on you. Feel free to tell me to shut up."
"Charlie. We're friends. I don't mind doing this with you. I'd kinda like to hug you, if you're okay for one, but it's alright if you're not right now."
"I really like hugs," Charlie says, holding out her arms, "I like to be touched, I just need to be told if it's anything beyond a hug or a kiss or a hand hold, so I can make my brain, um, worry less."
"Honestly, I do too. And for me, it's worse if I'm in a crowded space or someplace loud? Conventions are hell for me people there's a lot of people and noise and then you add in people bumping into me and I have had more than a few complete meltdowns at conventions and conferences in my day." He shakes his head. "Sometimes it gets so bad I just...don't talk. Not often anymore, but it happens, sometimes."
"Crowds are the worst," Charlie agrees, "It feels like everyone is staring at you and it's so loud and awful. I've never had the thing where I can't talk, but, um, I never shut up when I'm scared so that might be why."
"Different manifestation of anxiety, but similar enough. Anyway, I ought to head out, but it was really, really nice to talk to you." He opens his arms to offer a hug, but doesn't step closer, letting her close the gap.
And close the gap she does, hugging Mearc tightly. "Thank you for coming to spend time with me. I really missed getting to be with my friends while I was in the safehouse and I'm glad we got to spend more time together."
"We oughta hang out more. Do you have much of a sweet tooth? We could go to a bakery sometime. Or get ice cream."
How many food crimes can one commit at a bakery? Or an ice cream parlor?
"I love sweet things! More pastries than ice cream though." A surprising number of food crimes can be committed at an ice cream parlor. Like having two scoops of different flavors. Or, heaven forbid, an ice cream sandwich.
Or topping one's ice cream with salted peanuts and pretzels? Yeah, that's something Mearc would do. "Amigos Bakery it is. And sometime soon. And tell Wren I miss her and would like to debrief on everything if she has time."
"I will. She'll be happy to hear it, I bet. She likes being liked." Charlie smiles. She offers one last hug for the road before heading off.
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