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Gallowglass has arrived for his shrouded shift. He's in sweatpants and a men's undertank; he has a Stranger Things lunchbox tucked under one arm, stuffed to the brim. Why 'Stranger Things'? Because he fucking loves that show, that's why. He trudges in and sets down his things, turning to look over his ward. "Hey, pretty," he murmurs to the Queen, touching his fingers lightly to the back of one hand. "Don't worry. Ain't nothin' gonna happen to you." He stretches, rolling his shoulders; the injuries he's taken pepper him like prison ink.
Undoubtedly, Myra's entrance is heard - she's not trying to be silent about it. Well, that's not entirely true - she's quiet enough that, say, a sleeping person wouldn't hear. But someone wide awake and on guard? Definitely would notice her.
Which is her intention - the last thing she'd want is to startle whoever she's stationed with, especially on what is probably her first day on guard duty.
She peeks through the door Mearcstapa had undoubtedly shown her beforehand, wild light red hair held in two braids. She wears a simple tank of her own, a light jacket with rolled up sleeves, and jeans that look worn and like they'd seen many years kneeling in the dirt. Strapped to her leg is a sheathed knife - just in case - and she looks.... uncertain (shy maybe? is this shy? it might be shy) as she peers in and sees the sleeping figure and the large man seated next to her.
"Ah.... hola," She clears her throat, speaking softly, "Hello. You are ahh.... Gallowglass, yes?" The way she speaks holds a faint accent, local but tinged with a Hispanic flavor.
Gallowglass lifts his attention to the new arrival, gaze raking her from head to toe. He folds his arms across his barrel chest; abruptly, a large pink bubble expands between his lips. Pops. He snaps his gum with a lazy roll of his jaw, brows lifting. "Yeah. Who're you?" His gaze falls to the knife on her thigh.
Upon acknowledgement, she slips the rest of the way in and sets her bag silently down on a nearby table.
"Myra," She offers a tight, guarded, but kind smile, "I'm the Mage Mearcstapa hired."
Gallowglass blinks at her in surprise, sitting up a little; his amber eyes tint with curiosity. "No shit? You're a mage? Like a - " He glances around; the VIP is still in a coma, yep. "S'that like a wizard?"
She sits down in the chair next to the table, the smile widening to look more amused at his surprise.
"Pretty much, though most liken me more to Shaman than Wizard. Those are ahh...." She gestures vaguely, "Other types of willworkers."
"No shit?" His brows lift, and he leans forward to hunch his forearms onto his knees. "A shaman, like uhhh..." He narrows his eyes in skepticism. "Yeah, right. Like in World of Warcraft? I know what that shit is." He nods sagely. "So you can hit people with frost bolts and shit like that? Fuckin' A."
She lets out a soft laugh, "While I can do that with the proper training I'm sure, I think for something like World of Warcraft I am more comparable to like a Druid. Nature, Spirit, Life...." She does like to do those vague gestures while she talks, doesn't she? "Eventually I'll get to the full-on Shapeshifting bit, but I'm not quite that far yet."
"No fuckin' way," he breathes, eyes round. "Shapeshifting? Like - is it only bears, cats, and moonkin or can you be like, anythin' you want? Can you pick half of one animal and half of another and smash 'em together if you want?" Something occurs to him, and he gives her the side eye. "If you get down as a cat and get knocked up, do you have kittens or just a regular baby?"
"Well in general, there is very little limit and given enough time to...."
The question causes a pause. A blink. A frown. ".... That is a question I have no interest in discovering the answer to. Ever."
"Shit, I would. Y'gotta know what's gonna come poppin' outta there. Be prepared." His mouth twitches with amusement, clearly fucking with her by now. Myra probably deserves hazard pay.
She pulls a face - scrunched nose, tongue out, gross.
"Ugh, no. I'd rather not, thank you!" She leans back and crosses her arms, "Besides, it'd take too much effort to convince the other cat to take me out to dinner and build a relationship first."
And that gets him; Gallowglass erupts with a surprised guffaw that's dredged up straight from his belly. "Hah! Okay, you can stay. This your first time?"
She smirks as she gets his approval, and nods at the question, "It is, yes. Other than Mearcstapa himself, you are the first I've met of this Guard of ours," She glances over at the comatose woman, then around the room - scanning the area, as any proper Guard do - then back at Gallowglass.
"Lucky you," he snorts, but it's without malice. "Well, here's hopin' for uneventful. You do..guard...kinda...stuff for th'mages? Magi? magi..ckers?"
"Machickens?" She chuckles, "And not.... always. I am more of a healer amongst my community than a guard or... or soldier," She clears her throat, "I was hired because I'm able to look into Twilight," She taps the side of her head, next to her eyes, "And because I know how to defend myself. But mostly the Twilight bit."
He stares at her blankly for a moment. Blinks. "....Mearc made you a guard because you've seen Twilight? Th'fuck kinda circus are we fuckin' runnin' in here?!"
She looks confused for a moment, and then laughs.
"Nono, I mean..." There's the gesturing again, "Spirits reside in a place called ahhh... The Shadow. When they have, say, transferred to this realm, our realm, but before they manifest themselves, they are in a place known as the Twilight. The inbetween, like the twilight between dusk and night. Normally they cannot be seen while they are there, but I am able to use my magic to allow myself to see into Twilight."
"This allows me to see any potential attacks that come from there - Mearcstapa has informed me that whoever might be attempting to harm..." A pause, a glance at the body. She nods towards the form, "... Them might attempt an attack from Twilight. I will be able to see them before they attack, if they do."
To his credit, Gallowglass listens with squinting, rapt fascination. He tilts his head so that his ear is a little closer to Myra, the way some people do when they're attempting to follow a bunch of smart-sounding stuff. He nods here and there, lips pressed together by the end. He sits back to process all that, snapping his gum. "Okay. So, just to make sure I understand. There's spirits. The spirits live in the shade. If they wanna come here, they gotta take a taxi, but it's called twilight. Nobody can look in the taxi except for you. Or like, other shamans like you. So you can see Cuntface McGillicuddy if she tries to hop in a cab and pop out here to play 'hide-the-shank'. Did I miss anythin'?
She considers this a moment, then slowly.... nods, "That.... is about right, yes. It is probably more complicated? But ahh..." She shrugs and smiles, "That is good! Yes!"
He stares at her a moment, blinking. "That. Is. The fuckin' DOPEST SHIT I EVER HEARD," he exclaims, jaw dropping; he seems to waver between looking amazed and looking tickled pink. "Holy SHIT, how do you even get anythin' done!? I would be like 'yo, toaster spirit, how about you and the toaster strudel spirit get together and make shit happen.'" He flops back in his seat, shaking his head at Myra. "Fuckin' awesome. Do you just bust out magic whenever you want? Like what else can you do?"
She seems about as tickled pink as he does, enjoying the questions and the curiosity, "Ssssort of? I do have a.... wellspring of magic, Potentia. I can't do the Big Things without it and have to recharge. Not to mention there is a danger to it, especially if I cast in front of normal humans. I can risk what we call a Paradox, which could at best harm me and at worst... harm what is around me."
"But I am... well, I am a healer and can... heal bodies. I can talk to Spirits, like you suggested. Um.... I can generally tell when something magic-related is actively happening around me..."
He scratches his jaw as he listens, nodding slowly; it's clear he's making parallels to what she's saying. Potentia? More like Glamour. "Is there a lot of magic goin' on? Like.." he looks around, then back to her. "Like here, is there magic here? Or can you sense any?"
"I... cannot sense anything active happening," She says slowly with some thought, "If there is anything passively happening, I cannot sense it unless I Open my Sight more."
"Actually no, that is not entirely correctly. I am casting a magic, actively," a faint smile, "But that doesn't count."
"Your sight, so...it really is like you can see magic. That must be wild." He whistles, shaking his head. "Are there a lot like you? Are you like...are there good magies and bad magies?" He nods at her, snapping his gum. "Yeah, I get that. I am too. Castin' magic, I mean. Sort of."
"Sort of! Sight is a.... very simplified term for it. For some it can be a sight, or a sensation, a smell, a taste, et cetera. And....." She shrugs, "There are a fair amount. And of course - there's good and bad of all types of people, yes? And we are, at the end of all things, people. Flawed and with our own motivations."
She blinks a moment, "You are?"
"Yeah. I mean, I can't...tell you a lot. Not because I don't want to, but because literally can't." He jerks a thumb at his face. "I can look like whatever I want. Whoever," he corrects. "Shapeshiftin', kinda."
"Ahhh...." She considers it a moment, "That is fascinating. How does it work?"
"If... that is something you can share."
"I have no idea," he admits, laughing a little. "I just sort of...do it. Push and pull, carve up somethin' new, and voila. But it can't be a face like..from imagination. It has to be a person I've seen, or I can Frankenstein together bits and pieces from people I've seen, make a sort-of new face that way."
"May I ask a question that might be personal?"
"Sure, let 'er rip."
"This face you have right now - is that 'your' face? Or one that you...." gesturegesture, "Cobbled together with your magic?"
"Oh yeah, no," he shakes his head. "This ain't my real face. Like, my...birth face, I guess. This is one I made."
She nods slowly, "Does it take effort to maintain? Or is it a 'permanent' effect? Once you have it, you have it - until you decide to change it again?"
"Oh, nah. Once it's there, it's there. And I can't change my size much or nothin'. Which...surprised it don't give me away, but here we are."
"You can't?" She raises her brows, "So is it more like... shifting your body around? Keep the mass, change the features? Can you grow your hair with it?"
"Oh yeah - hair, eyes, some little things," he confirms. "Maybe a little bit of my size, but not like...don't think I can end up like, a four-foot little old lady. I'd be a six-six little old lady." He snerks, grinning.
She barks out a laugh, "Okay but that would be a sight to see! Ripped grandma towering over eighty percent of the population."
"I don't think anyone would help me across the street, though." He sighs, shaking his head. "Maybe someday." He twists in his seat to check on their ward, watching her a moment; his expression is sharply protective. He turns back to Myra. "You hungry? Thirsty? My buddy packed me snacks." he pats his lunchbox.
She reaches behind her and picks up the thermos, "I'm good for now, thank you," She pops the top off her thermos and there's the scent of strong, yet sweet, coffee - with perhaps a hint of cinnamon, "But if you'd like some coffee, I don't mind sharing."
His brows lift; he gives her a surprised smile, nodding, and then hops up to collect a mug. He holds it out to her. "Is that cinnamon?"
"Just a smidge," She smiles and pours some coffee into the mug, then pouts some into the mug-shaped thermos cap, "I like to add a little to my coffee. Pulls it together, y'know?"
"Huh," he replies, taking a small sip; his brows lift in appreciate. "Shit, that's delicious. I haven't had good coffee in...." He thinks a moment. "Well, besides from a diner or somethin', I don't think I ever had good coffee."
She snorts and smirks, obviously proud of her coffee concoction. She takes a sip and sits back in her chair, "Thank you! I like to make my own. I can be pretty ah.... picky about my coffee. Though if you've ever gone to a place called Maddy's, they have a damn good selection."
He snorts, tipping his cup towards her. "You should be picky. For years, th'only coffee I had was made by a guy who burned out his smell and taste by blowing up th'meth he was tryin' t'cook in the Wal-Mart bathroom."
"Gross," She does that face where she scrunches her nose and sticks out her tongue, "Well, if you ever want more, just let me know. I don't mind making a batch. Gives me an excuse to have some, too, yes?"
"I won't turn it down, but I'll give you some cash if you'll make it. I got one of them big thermoses, I'll bring it for shifts here." He sips his coffee for a moment, the mug dwarfed in his massive hands. "You from Philly, then?"
"Eh, that is unnecessary, but I won't stop you," She waves a hand as if brushing the offer away, nodding at the question as she takes another sip, "Mhmm, I am. Are you?"
"Oh yeah, born and raised," he confirms, nodding. "Lived here most my life." He snorts, shaking his head; he sips again. "Remember as a kid, I hated this place. Funny how you don't know what you got until you don't have it, or you're...livin' somewhere else."
She nods slowly, "I considered leaving for a while, but.... this is where my family is. And the community I was born and raised with," She hesitates a moment, before asking tentatively, "Somewhere else?"
His jaw sets; he nods. He buys time by sipping his coffee. "Yeah," he decides at last, nodding. "I was in prison for awhile."
"That is.... rough," she says after a moment of consideration, "I am sorry to bring up those memories."
"You didn't do nothin'," he assures her, lifting one broad shoulder. "S'just life. Wouldn't be surprised if every kid I grew up with wound up in th'same place."
She tips her mug towards him, conceding the point, before taking a deep sip and setting it down for the moment. "At least you are here now, if that is a consolation?"
He laughs a little, brows bumping before he takes a drink. "Trust me - where I've been, it's definitely a consolation."
She smiles and adjusts her seating for comfort, "That is good, at least! Life... is not so bad all the time," She take a deep breath and lets it out slowly, "Perhaps next time, I should bring a board game. Or card game?"
"Wouldn't turn that down. Played a lot of checkers over the years, played rummy. Had a friend, we'd play checkers, pass the board back and forth between cells. We were next to each other," he explains. "We got a little magnet set. Passed th'time."
"I'll take a look at what I got - I might have more than just the standard ahhh... checkers and chess tucked away at home, if you want to try something new?"
"Oh." He thinks on that a moment. "...Like what?"
"I think I have Munchkin and Flux...."
He stares blankly. "...That sounds like a seventies buddy cop show. What are they?"
She gives an explaination for both Munchkin and Fluxx. Being that the person writing Myra has only played Munchkin once and doesn't remember it too well, we're just gonna handwave. The explaination for Fluxx runs along something like, "It is a card game with two rules: play a card, pick a card. Granted, a card you play can change the rules at a whim, but...."
Shrug.
"I might also have some Cards Against Humanity, but that is better with more than two people."
He listens closely, his expression intensely attentive to what Myra describes; he nods slowly. "Sure, I can give it a shot. I heard'a that one, at least, but I don't wanna embarrass myself at that one. Maybe we can try th'Munchkin one?"
"Sure! I haven't played it too much myself, but it can be a learning experience for both of us. Fun all the same."
"Sounds good, yeah. So - did I ask you this? What d'you do when you're not being a mage?" He breaks into a grin, snerking. "A-mage-ing."
She.... She giggles. It's almost a gigglesnort.
"Ahh.... My day job? I am, essentially, sort of like a modern day apothecary. I grow things, herbs and vegetables and flowers. I also raise chickens and bees. I make teas, oils, and other such things and sell them at Farmer's Markets and the like - along with eggs and honey, when I have enough extra."
"No shit?" His brows lift, mouth pursed in approval. "I know somebody that raises bees, too. Do you sell stuff to Maddy?"
She perks up at this and smiles. Bright and delighted, "Ah! You know Maddy? Yes, we are.... I suppose we are friends, yes! We...." plant things illegally around the city together she laughs softly, "We work on a lot of botanical projects together."
He nods, lips twitching; his amber eyes spark with amusement. "Uh huh. Botanical projects." He applies finger quotes. "You don't gotta lie, you two got a weed farm?"
She laughs at the question, "Well yes that is definitely one of the botanical projects. The rest of it involves...." Ahhh she's gesturing again, "Filling the city with local plant life in place of the things they plant just because it looks good, as well as planting community vegetable gardens so that more people have access to more food. Perhaps not as 'taboo' as growing marijuana, but important no less."
"That is pretty important," he agrees. "Lots of neighborhoods, they ain't even got a market. People act like it's so easy to just eat fresh food, but when you don't got any way t'get it, kinda makes it tough."
"Exactly. No market, and the fresh foods are hundreds of times more expensive than the frozen ones! And this is without even getting into food deserts," clearly this is something she has A Lot Of Feelings about, and she's getting quite animated, "And the impact of those 'superfood trends' and...."
She trails off and clears her throat, lowering her hands, "Ahh sorry. I did not mean to get carried away," she laughs.
He laughs, waving a hand. "No no, don't stop now! Get fired up, wish more people would do that. There's plenty to get passionate about, right? What's a food desert?"
"It is an area where the people have very little access to fresh, nutritional food - especially affordable food. A lot of it is ahh.... socio-economic in nature, if I have the correct words. Areas of low income that the larger grocery stores do find not....." she almost growls this word, "Profitable, yes?"
And yes, Summerboy, there's definitely a simmery anger under this - not quite huge at the moment, because she's also distracted by their duty to guard over the unconscious queen, but this is obviously a topic that carries passion and anger at the injustice and sheer bullshit of it all. So have fun enjoying that.
Gallowglass lifts his brows, taken aback by the ferocity for social justice. He whistles. "Damn. You're a force of nature. Sounds like where I grew up. I roam around town and I see these stores that're all glass and chrome, new cars in every spot outside. They got their cloth bags and their fuckin'...rotten tea drink, and they just walk right over the guy sittin' outside th'door." He sneers, dropping his gaze. "People never change."
Something about his... observation? Compliment? Causes her to pause and blink a moment, before laughing and ducking her face to hide a faint blush. Force of Nature, huh?
She glances back up and sighs, shaking her head, "It takes a lot. But it can happen," She takes a deeper sigh and picks up her coffee, taking another sip, "At least, that is what I like to believe, yes? Everyone has the capacity for change. It is just... the desire for it that is difficult."
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