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Nevermore taps on the counter at Book’s distractedly,more frazzled than their hair is frizzled. The current cashier, a tall red-headed man in flannel, eyes them but doesn’t broach the subject
The door opens, bells above it chiming. But no one comes in. Perhaps it's just the wind?
However, a moment later, Nevy's phone alerts a new Signal message. i'm in the psychology section.
Nevy blinks at that, glancing around curiously. They walk into the maze of bookshelves with caution
And there, in the psychology section, is a Mearcstapa, nose-deep in a book. He's wearing a long black leather duster--the light barely picks up panther spots in the leather, and it's a strappy, buckle-y thing that looks like it belongs in a Final Fantasy game, the hood tucked back for the moment. But it's definitely him--that's his messenger bag. That's his crooked smile at the sight of Nevermore.
"Heya, babybat."
They hesitate, seeing him. “Um... where did we meet, the first time?”
They’re definitely more cautious anyway
"We were at the library. Park Ridge Public Library. SFF section, second floor. Third shelf from the top, two thirds of the way down the row. Gaiman. You had part of your hair dyed purple, but decided 'never again' when it faded out weird." He watches them quietly--no eye contact as usual, but an intensity to his attention.
Nevy nods and glomps him
“You’re okay,” they whisper, hugging him tightly enough that the buckles are seriously uncomfortable for both of them, not that Nevy cares
The duster is tougher than Nevermore might expect--seriously armored, even against a good glomp. But Mearc wraps his arms around them in turn and kisses their forehead. "I'm alright. Not fine yet, hoping to get there."
They don’t respond immediately, focusing on the hug for a good long while
Is okay, Mearc is good for it, holding on and rocking, swaying slowly side-to-side.
Some few minutes later, Nevy loosens the death grip. “Okay,” they say a bit hoarsely. “Come on back. We can talk in the back room.”
Their eyes are red, and there might be a suspicious damp patch on Mearc’s coat
"And by talk, you might actually mean 'cry properly'." He reaches into a hidden pocket of the duster, pulling out a pack of Kleenex.
They grab at it. “You ass,” they say, though they’re smiling when they say it. They lead him to the little back room they’ve been trying to fortify.
He takes a slow, thorough look around the room, once he realizes what they're trying to do.
It’s... rudimentary, at best, this little safe house. The lock is on the cheap side but decently installed, and it looks like they’re trying to line the walls in chicken wire. Frankly, it would probably keep out the rats, but not much more, yet
"Lemme know if you want me to re-pin the lock to make it harder to pick. Latchplate looks good, right one for the door. You might want to consider security pins for the hinges. Still a little vulnerable to over- or under-door attacks, but the best way to deal with that would be shielding around the interior handle, I think. Let me know if you need help."
Then he turns a smile on them. "Good start, though."
They duck their head, blushing in embarrassment when they notice the scrutiny. “I know it’s not much,” they say. “Real defenses would require more time or money than I had. This place is more for privacy than protection, really. Speaking of...”. They walk over to a small shelf on the wall and turn on a radio which is pointed outward instead of in at the room.
"...real defenses would require a little bit of time and a friend who knows what he's doing. Look at me, babybat. If you want to upgrade the door, I've got you. Alright?"
Nevy smiles at him. “I mean, you were a little preoccupied at the time, so I made do. Honestly, we’re lucky that door opens.” They hug him again. “Of course I’d love your help, when you have the spoons for it.”
"Hopefully soon. But...my biggest active part in the Situation is handled, and now I just need to worry about Emergency Mom duties. Which means I'm on call, still. But. Less necessary to be 'on' at all times." He rubs their back lightly, resting his cheek against the side of their head.
“I’m glad. Is there anything you can tell me that won’t violate opsec?”
He thinks for a moment. "It's an intracommunity issue, for the most part. The problem's coming from ours and affecting ours, primarily. The, uh, video leaked of me breaking into Tornetta is part of this situation, it was a direct swipe at me. Poorly done, the photoshopping was apparently shitty. That's getting handled. Everything else will come as it does. Also, once this is over? My partners and I are throwing a party, and then fucking off on a vacation for a while."
They pull back just enough to look him in the eye. “Fucking good. How long have you been going full tilt, two-Face?”
He allows the eye contact for just a moment, before his gaze slides to their glasses. "Just over two weeks."
They don’t hold the eye contact after the point is made, looking chagrined. “Sorry. But... geeze. Is there anything more I can do to help support you?“. They hug again.
"The hugs are helping a lot." He sighs, then pauses thoughtfully. "Well. Actually. Can you do an art piece in support of the construction workers from Tornetta Construction who've been striking due to unsafe labor conditions at their worksites which have led to a number of accidents? Maybe donate proceeds if anyone buys a print of it to the union? I know that sounds completely tangential, but if those construction projects are halted for good, that will be a major help, and using your art to move things...that's useful. If we really want to connect dots, Lux knows the owner of the Touati Gallery here in town, could maybe even work out something on display there..."
Nevy nods. “I’m helping them with another project, but I can absolutely put something together. Do you want supportive or scathing?”
"Supportive of the workers and the unions, fostering sympathy. Even if I want to make a pun about the Brutalism style calling for a brutal response." He grins.
Nevy nods. “So not a skull of brick and wrought iron grinning maliciously at the viewer. Got it. I’ll brainstorm some concepts.”
"...I mean. That sounds awesome. But."
They tilt their head. “A two pronged approach maybe?”
"That might be a solid way of handling it, yes." He nods. "If you're really loud about it, this may make you a target, though. But I'm hoping that we get that part of the situation nailed down sooner rather than later, and the construction sites just end up being clean-up."
Nevy shrugs. “Me? Loud?”
"Lux was stabbed with a cold iron knife over this matter. While asleep in bed." Another tiny moment of actual eye contact, as he tries to impress upon them how serious this shit is.
Nevy blinks. “Shit. Okay. I’ll, uh, try to learn subtle.” They look concerned. “They’re okay, though? They didn’t mention anything about that when I was talking to them.”
"They're okay now. But. We're dealing with one of our own who isn't afraid to wield iron against us. So. Perspective. Ruthlessness is in full force."
Nevy nods, looking concerned, then thoughtful. “The person doing this... what kind of person would you say they are? Personality wise, I mean.”
"A fanatic. A zealot. Someone who feels she was prevented from doing the right thing, for the good of everyone. Solid in long-term planning, well-rooted in the mundane world, politically. A hoarder. Someone who always keeps the receipts."
They nod. “Cautious?”
"Generally, yes, but she knows she's been outed. Probably a chess-player, metaphorically if not literally; she's thinking multiple steps ahead, in some ways, but she's also desperate."
Nevy nods, their expression thoughtful. They glance at Mearc’s face, just checking to see how he’s doing, and adjust the cuddle to allow for easier conversation.
He seems thoughtful--talking it out seems to be useful to him here, gaze up at the ceiling. "We have evidence she's not working completely alone, but the nature of whoever or whatever's helping her is unknown. This is a personal matter for her in many ways. One that's been years in the making."
Nevy nods. “So, she went after you, then she went after Lux... did Lux do anything major to stop her? I’m trying to figure if she’s on a revenge kick, trying to take out obstacles, or both.”
"She went after Lux before me. They tipped their hand, inadvertently. But while Lux was an opportunity for revenge, I'm not certain they were the target of that attack in the end, because bullshit magic stuff led to greater consequences. And that's where I have to draw an opsec curtain."
Nevy nods, looking rueful. “So she and her mysterious partner might be scrambling but they’re probably not foiled yet.”
"Her partner may not be an actual partner-partner. They might be a ghost or a spirit, for all I know. All I can be certain of is that there's something that isn't one of us that is Doing Shit with or for her. There's a lot of fucking unknowns. My job wasn't to track her down, though; I'm trusting other people on that end of the situation."
Nevy nods. “Okay. Should I set it aside for now, then?”
"Yeah. It's probably not going to get anywhere, and that's a function of what I can't tell you more than anything else." He sighs.
They nod, looking rueful. “Fair enough.” They hug him. “So... I visited Paris. For like 2 minutes.”
"...what?" Blink. Blink-blink.
They grin. “One of the mages wanted to show off, I think. Portkeyed with me, straight into the Catacombs.”
"...and how was that? Catacombs...I imagine there was a ghost or two there?"
“A few.” They look chagrined “That’s why it was just a few minutes. They were pretty... insistent, and I can’t speak French.”
"Nor can I. I've, uh. Picked up sign language, though." There's a tiny bit of sheepishness about that.
“Yeah?” They look curious. “That’s cool. Any particular reason, or...?”
"Uh. Drake." It's quiet.
They blink. ”Him?’”
"Him. Yeah. Okay, look, he makes a lot more sense in the context of Deaf culture, honestly."
They blink. “How so?” They’re hearing him out, at least.
"Their culture is inherently blunt and skips over a lot of the pleasantries and thoughtfulness that comes in hearing culture. When your language takes up space and time, it helps to be as direct as possible with things. Add to that what he's been through, as one of us--hell, just imagine going through that as a Deaf person, and he's...more than a little left of center, but it's not actually malicious. He appreciates good workmanship, and he knows he's the best at what he does, and he's not good with people--but he knows that much already."
Nevy nods slowly. “Okay. I... don’t know if I’ll ever be comfortable with him, but if you trust him I won’t rail against him in the dark of night or anything.”
"No, I think Atalo and him might end up railing one another in the dark of night, if they haven't already." There's a crooked grin there.
Nevy blinks. “Well. That’s a mental image.”
"...it's even better if you've seen Atalo in leather armor and Drake for what he's really like." He lets out a laugh.
They side-eye him. “Now I’m torn between a burning need to know and an intense worry that I don’t actually want to.”
"Not mine to tell, so it doesn't matter how torn you are." He smirks. "But yeah. Drake's actually the one who made this coat for me. Might be doing something else at some point for me, too."
They blink. “So... he’s a Moogle. Only explanation.”
Mearc seems to consider that response for a moment. "Not the least accurate mental image possible, honestly?"
They blink. “Okay.” They look over the coat for a moment, evaluating the craftsmanship. “Wow. He’s pretty good.” They blink at him. “Was it his idea or yours to give it more pockets than a 90s-era comic book?”
"If I wear this coat, I don't need to wear cargo pants. I've got everything that'd normally bulk me out right here, and it's awesome." He pats his chest, then his sides, grinning. "Lockpicks, notepad, multitool. I think I could even slip a hatchet in here, but I haven't tried yet."
They think. “Can he do 18th century goth pirate?”
"I bet he'd be willing to try. Want his phone number? To text, not call, for obvious reasons."
Nevy nods. “I’ll have to save up, I think. Unless he does trades.”
"Money isn't a concern for him, particularly. Rumplestiltskin. Art trades might catch his interest, though."
Nevy nods. “I’ll reach out. With all this, I think having a bit of protection might be good.”
Mearc pulls out his phone, grabbing Drake's number and texting it to Nevermore.
They nod. “Thanks.” They hug him closer. “It’s a good look for you.”
"You've been feeling it up more than looking at it." But he laughs, holding on tightly.
They chuckle. “Are you complaining?”
"Not at all. I have gone two weeks of emotional vacuum without hugs. I need this. I deserve this."
“You absolutely do.” Another hug. “Next time, I’m asking a friendly Ghost to track you down and breaking in to make sure you don’t get isolated. Fair warning.”
“Next time, I will be more thoughtful about where I bunker myself down.” He laughs. “Is there a back door I can slip out, or am I doing the spooky door opening up front again?”
Nevy chuckles. “I thought that was you. Invisibility cloak? Magic ring? Ghostly form?”
“None of the above, exactly.” He smirks.
Nevy rolls their eyes. “Opsec,” they mutter like a curse. “I’ll walk you out on the way to lunch.” They hesitate. “Hey. If I gave you one of my charms, is there anything you could do that would keep me safer from your side of the street?”
“I don’t know. I can look into it, but the safest thing possible would be to stop hanging out with me—with any of us. Which is not fucking happening, sorry.”
That gets a severe look. “Absofuckinglutely not. I’m okay taking my chances.” They chuckle. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to stack the deck. Let me know when I should get one to you.”
“Eventually. For now, I’m going to head back out. Hold the door for me on the way.”
And he just...vanishes. As a Lightshy darling do.
Nevy grins. ”Okaythat’ssocool,” they mutter. Then they head out to the front. “Hey, Jack,” they say, pausing with the door open. “Want anything from El Grande Burro?”
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