<Crion> NOW: "I want you to hit him as hard as you can," the bat-man says, resting his elbows on his knees. He's talking about what looks like a particularly starchy 12-year-old boy. "And then let's see what happens after that."
<Crion> EARLIER: The Court of Summer is not particularly subtle in the Freehold of Baltimore -- probably everywhere, but particularly here. And it's only been a few weeks since their King ceded his crown to Autumn. In the second meeting of the newly-accepted members (or perhaps, more honestly said, prospective members) of the Freehold of Baltimore, there had been someone there explicitly
<Crion> representing each seasonal Court. The man from Summer had been a tall, imposing African-American man who also now looked a lot like a bat. Langston List, was how he introduced himself. He wasn't talkative; he was very intense. And he asked two questions.
<Crion> The first: Are you angry? Then: What are you going to do about it?
<banana> Melanie Lucas is angry. The world doesn't make sense anymore, but it didn't change. That sense has been taken away - stolen. She struggles to remember basic concepts of etiquette and the operation of common tools, and it's replaced with... ideas. Too many ideas, vast unworkable plans and no way to sort through the dross for inspiration.
<Crion> In a sense, then, this man is very simple. He's focused and intense, and he wants nothing more than answers to these specific questions. He asks literally nothing else. He doesn't even seem to see her otherwise.
<banana> At the mixer, Melanie spent a lot of time standing in the corner. She wasn't uncomfortable, in a room full of people who were also uncomfortable, but it's still.. easier. Ultimately she was impressed by Langston's questions - and his height. Especially now, it's not common for her to have to look up!
<banana> "Um, what am I going to do? I think.."
<Crion> "You think."
<Crion> He nods.
<Crion> "I like that. You think what?"
<banana> She's still too slow. Will the older changeling mind? "I want to know.. more. Everything about how They and we, are now.. what to do to them. There have to be.. possibilities. Darn, give me a second please."
<Crion> He nods again. Slower this time. Waits.
<banana> Melanie: "I learned a lot in there. A lot. Some of it was lies or crazy, but I know some of it's true.. you can beat them. You can wait them out because they're predictable. You can use their patterns against them.. getting out was the only thing I've felt good about in." She doesn't know how long.
<banana> "I want to beat them again."
<banana> "Sorry, who are you?" Fuck that's the first thing you're meant to ask
<Crion> He meets her eyes and stares for a few moments, and the heat on him intensifies -- just a pure feeling. Then at the last question: "Oh, shit. I'm Langford List." He'll extend a large hand to shake.
<banana> "Melanie Lucas." Her hand is rougher than it looks (to most people, most of the time). She can't feel his very well, but that's not.. bad. Separation is fine for now.
<Crion> "I'm with Summer. I'm the General, and I'm the Tongue." His mouth twitches slightly at whatever reaction she has to that. "And if you sign on with me: You will."
<Crion> As he turns away: "Beat them again, that is."
<Crion> "Feel free to mingle."
<Crion> He shares a long look with the bird-lady from the Autumn Court as he walks out. She wilts somewhat, and directs her attention elsewhere.
<Crion> That was some number of weeks ago.
<Crion> Where is Melanie living now?
<banana> The postgrad stipend pays for accomodation, but if you take it in cash it's not enough to cover an apartment. Melanie's on Walker Avenue, in a duo residence with a roommate who's absent juuuust enough to make this work. She's writing a thesis, maths or computers or something - a heavier workload than Melanie's own course.
<banana> For now.
<Crion> Does she keep a set schedule?
<Crion> Does the roommate?
<banana> Set and empty. Tutorials three days a week, Monday and Friday evenings out with the Society, and the rest is reading about dead philosophers. Or about biology, though that won't help her grades (she doesn't need grades she needs knowledge). Or watching the games on TV.
<Crion> Then during a normal, conv time when she's in the apartment and the roomie is out, someone will buzz her.
<Crion> Then during a normal, convenient time when she's in the apartment and the roomie is out, someone will buzz her.
<banana> Is it really awful if Melanie doesn't, quite, remember her roommate's name? It might have been Shawna, or LaShawna. Stella is a possibility. The woman - who thinks she's older than Melanie - is out most of the time, studying or partying to forget the studying. They don't have anything against each other.
<banana> This isn't normal, so Melanie turns off the TV and shuffles to the peephole to see who's outside.
<Crion> He seems to know she's looking. He says into the door: "You said you wanted to beat them. This is your chance."
<Crion> "We'll wait twenty minutes." Then Langford List walks back down the hall.
<banana> "Hey, Mr. List." After a brief pause, Melanie unlocks the door- he's gone? It takes her most of twenty minutes to get dressed (not necessary for the Mask, but it feels better) and walk outside, wondering.
<Crion> When she emerges, List is leaning against the driver's side backdoor of a cherry red Crown Victoria. Another Changeling, also in summer it appears, much younger and much more skeptical, leans against the driver's side door. He's clearly and clumsily holding a gun under his coat. He's got little horns and fur -- a goat? -- and when List points to him, he grunts in a way that in the Mien
<Crion> almost sounds like a whinny, and climbs behind the wheel.
<Crion> List opens the door for her. He's wearing sunglasses, and two orange-yellow pinpricks burn behind them.
<banana> The faun's funny. Melanie doesn't say so.
<banana> To the other two changelings, she's- well, a tree. A human-shaped tree, with arms and legs and a face capable of a full range of expression, but in place of skin she's got gnarled and peeling white bark, her eye-sockets are knots of wood and the viny strings of gumnuts in her hair are interspersed with leaves. "Thank you. Are we going somewhere I can.. know about?"
<banana> Melanie can bend enough to sit in a car, but she creaks. It's embarassing. If she sits too long she sheds thin white sheets which is REALLY EMBARASSING.
<Crion> List's Mien has longer, wider ears than normal, but they don't flop out so much. However if you draw a direct, curving line up from them, his hair -- cropped close, in his Mask -- curves into two extensions of those ears above his head. His fingers are webbed in his Mien and while in the Mask, his suit jacket looks perfectly normal, in the Mien it is cut to allow the fleshy webbed
<Crion> wings running from his wrist to his rib cage to breathe.
<Crion> "Yes," says Langford List. "A strip club."
<banana> "Okay." That would have been embarassing too, once.
<Crion> They climb in. "Oberon's," List says to the driver.
<Crion> The faun nods and pulls off the curb.
<Crion> "You know, this used to be a cop car."
<Crion> "This was the same cop car they used when they pulled up on one of our people, and his wife, and his kid, and no one but the police walked away from that."
<Crion> "This car is all that survived that night."
<Crion> "We painted it red in remembrance."
<banana> Melanie stares at the driver, and the General. She's trying to work out how their faces work - her face is the one thing that she managed to get back intact. Do those exaggerated bat-ears, goat-ears, do they pick up sound differently? Is it just aesthetic, like the other things they do to us? Um.
<banana> "So you're- you mean the summer court is good at defending themselves. That's good, obviously."
<banana> "Is this.. a test? Do you want me to have a reaction to the killing.. I don't."
<Crion> List shrugs. "Were we good at defending Kaliban? Were we good at defending Jenny and DeShawn? Doesn't seem like we were. We're good at making the comeback hurt, but that's offense. Defending -- we could use to expand in that role."
<banana> Melanie doesn't say anything for a while. "Yeah. I mean- fuck, I'm sorry. I didn't understand you."
<banana> "I thought you were saying that the police, the.. huntsmen? Didn't walk away. I'm sorry."
<Crion> "Do you not have a reaction because it takes some time, or because you just don't give a fuck about people?"
<Crion> "All good."
<Crion> List's last question isn't sarcastic or judgmental.
<banana> "I think it's.. deeply wrong for them to still be hunting us, after what they already did. I really thought you meant that.. Kaliban and his family were protected, that they killed the officers.. I understand the morality of this. I don't remember how to care about individuals, or if I properly did. Haha."
<Crion> "They were protected. They died screaming."
<Crion> "It was August 3rd. Height of Summer. Sun burning hot. We should have been so powerful. And they hit us like that. And they weren't even Loyalists! They weren't even direct servants of the Keepers! They just got paid."
<Crion> "The cops, that is."
<banana> Melanie: "Yeah, that's not good. Not even for them. I mean, before, I was really shallow and I.. assume I loved my family, boyfriends, I don't remember. But I don't think it was a love borne of understanding. Separable elements rather than Hegel's total fusion. I want to learn how to be more than intellectually upset about these things that are happening, but... more importantly
<banana> it'd be good if we could stop them. From happening. I'd like to help you with that?"
<Crion> He laughs. "Well if you know what the hell a dialectic is you're ahead of the entire game."
<Crion> "We need to assume total control. And that doesn't mean hurting people. It means bringing people together. Because you can't actually be dictator of a damn freehold. You need to unite. You need to have the conversation to a point where the anger and the wrath goes all in the way you want it to go."
<Crion> "If you don't, it all goes at each other."
<Crion> "So we're going to roll up to this strip club and walk upstairs to the back. Through a vault door." They've been driving down MD 45; when it meets North Avenue it becomes Greenmount Ave. The faun takes a right. "We're going to walk in, we're going to walk upstairs, and anyone who has trouble with you has trouble with me."
<Crion> That last clause seems to be directed up front more than at Melanie.
<banana> Melanie: "Oh, I got the feeling there were major politics going on. Because people didn't say anything about it. There's no, you know, discourse if you're trying to claim that everyone's position should be respected like these four equal.. I get that seasons are more than a metaphor? But they aren't equal. That should be obvious to all of.. us. Inequality."
<Crion> "You're not wrong."
<Crion> "And not being wrong is a good skill."
<banana> As long as also being wrong is okay. Is this a compliment? Should she trust compliments? Fuck, what if it's irony.
<Crion> The faun parks the car in the lot outside a nondescript, kind of cheap looking recessed brick building, with a strangely empty dedicated parking lot. He gets out and runs up to the door of the fairly seedy looking building: OBERON'S in yellow and black, with a generic silhouette of a woman kicking out her leg. Meanwhile, List gets out of his side of the car and walks over to Melanie's
<Crion> side to open her door.
<banana> Melanie's actually got a textbook back at 'home' with some sticky notes on Irony and so on. Something else she wants to relearn or maybe in this case learn for the first time- ah. "Thank you, Mr. List."
<Crion> "My father's Mr. List. And my Keeper liked to pretend to be my father. So you just call me Langford."
<banana> "Okay." It occurs to Melanie that she reads this guy as 'teacher', one of the few archetypes she's recovered.
<banana> To the goatman: "What's your name? I don't know if we're in a situation where we might have to, you know, call things out suddenly."
<Crion> They walk in the front door; the bouncers -- both human, no Mien -- let them pass without a glance after List nods. The first floor is a thin straight line with seats to the left and the bar and poles to the right, and the faun is waiting for them right inside. "Nigh," he says to the question, raising his voice over the public domain music.
<banana> Does assuming total control.. hurt? Whom?
<banana> Kind of weird to see women with their clothes off and think, that's something I should be more familiar with. Melanie's clearly forgotten some things there but it doesn't seem high-priority.
<Crion> All the dancers are human. There's only one other changeling down here on the first floor and he's clearly had too much to drink -- an accomplishment, given it's maybe two in the afternoon. He's gnarled and shitty and fire pours through the cracks in his skin, but there's a jolly expression on his face when he catcalls Melanie and asks about the new g--
<Crion> List grabs him by the collar and dumps him on the floor.
<Crion> To the bartender: "I told you about this."
<Crion> To Nigh: "Get him the fuck out of here."
<Crion> The bartender apologizes.
<Crion> Nigh removes him.
<banana> "Thanks again, Langford. I do want to help." This makes sense to Melanie, at least: she's saying that she appreciates mutual defense, someone having her back, that she's willing to have theirs - she could have been clearer but by the time she puzzles that out it's way too late to follow up.
<Crion> As they walk towards the back: "I apologize for that. Garrison Gold isn't himself lately. Or maybe he's too much himself."
<Crion> He leads her back into the kitchen, through it, and to a stairway cut down into the foundation of the building.
<Crion> At the bottom of this stairway, a giant vault door.
<Crion> Like in a bank.
<banana> Also, some girls wouldn't mind? Also he's, Gold's, in a place designed to encourage men to act like this. What's the big deal. She doesn't say.
<Crion> She can ask.
<banana> "That looks pretty safe. Is it a door that you, that we, like?"
<banana> "I mean is it helpfully keeping our stuff protected or is it a villain who wants us kept out?"
<Crion> "The lock on it is cold iron."
<Crion> He reaches out and spins the great big turnwheel...and the vault door creaks open.
<banana> Melanie: "Well that doesn't answer the question at all."
<banana> Melanie: "Well that doesn't answer the question at all."
<Crion> "And the things that aren't the lock, we know very well."
<Crion> List turns his head. "Melanie, you're not going to get all the secrets on your first walk through the room."
<Crion> "But it opens at our touch. So yes. It's a friend."
<banana> Melanie: "Yeah, but it seemed like I.. could ask. At this point in the story. You don't have to tell me things, I know. There are tactical and ethical and personal reasons probably."
<Crion> "Well, you're right about that."
<Crion> "You can always ask."
<banana> Melanie smiles. She absolutely can.
<Crion> He pulls open the vault door to reveal what looks like a small, two-story subterranean complex, larger on the inside than on the outside. "Welcome to Swordhome. We pulled it out of the Hedge. It was...exquisitely...wyld."
<Crion> It's mostly empty -- it's clear this is...a fallout shelter?
<Crion> Something like that. Lots of beds, lots of crates, lots of utilitarian stuff. Is Melanie familiar with preppers?
<banana> In this context, yes. "Oh, it's great to have this kind of fallback plan. Does it need to be kept secret? If it's strong enough, against them, everyone would want in."
<banana> "And if there's room for everybody.. then there would be no problem."
<Crion> List: "Don't tell just anyone you run into in the Hedge about it, but the all the changelings of Baltimore know. We can house every one of the Lost in the freehold here for a short time, if it becomes necessary. Hasn't yet; hopefully never will. Showing you this in part to underline that shit I said about defense before; Summer isn't and can't always be on the attack. And in part
<Crion> because our King keeps his office down here."
<Crion> He turns around to face her while walking backwards, even down a staircase. "That's the thing, though. It can fit every one of the Lost of the freehold in here."
<Crion> "Not their families."
<Crion> "So."
<banana> Melanie: "Ah man. Plan C or D or Z."
<banana> How many of us have families? If it's a lot, is that... good?
<Crion> He turns back to facing forward halfway down the stairs. "The ones who have them aren't ever going to show up without them. So it's a breakpoint. And no one wants to be the one keeping the door closed while kids die outside."
<Crion> "So Z."
<Crion> "Or lower than that, if we can swing it."
<banana> The sense of groundedness, human as a social animal (haha, wrong kingdom) - what Mr. List is implying, she gets it. It would be safer to make these connections - safer when they aren't coming after you, which is most of the time. So why build the bunker? Because it's only most of the time.
<banana> (Melanie's not saying anything, but she doesn't remember how to lie with her face yet. Only how to make it someone else's face.)
<Crion> "This way," he says, leading her to the right down a short hall -- odd there's a hall at all in a shelter this small, but there's obviously rooms built for purpose behind every thin wall -- to a door that's not like any other she's seen walking down here. For one, it's made of wood; for two, it's completely unlabelled, except for a dagger driven into (through, surely?) the door at
<Crion> about eye level.
<Crion> Before they get there: "Be polite, don't take what he says personally, and if I ask you to leave the room, leave the room."
<banana> Melanie: "Okay, I will." She gestures at the door- "I'm not sure about the symbolism of this. A sword again? Is it just a marker, weapons go here? Are stopped here?"
<Crion> "The symbolism is, the last Huntsman who got this close to the King of Summer died, and as he fell, it drove that dagger into the door. If it left blood, the door would be covered in blood. It's there as a reminder about the absence of vigilance." List knocks twice on the door, and raises his voice: "I have the candidate here."
<Crion> Gruff, from the room beyond: "Come on in then."
<banana> That's pretty close!
<Crion> List opens the door and it's almost like being hit by a heatwave.
<Crion> The Young Street, the King of Summer, exiled in Autumn, sits behind his desk leaning back in his chair, fingers crossed over his chest. He's an African-American man in his twenties; he wears jeans and a white tanktop; his skin beads with sweat that steams off him constantly, and fire burns in his eyes, his teeth, and even his fingernails. He's distorted somewhat: a larger jaw, larger
<Crion> hands. He was crafted, in his time on the other side, for violence.
<Crion> He takes one look at her and his burning eyes narrow.
<Crion> "You brought me the fucking TREE?"
<Crion> List blinks. "I -- this is --"
<banana> Don't take it personally, right. Wait, there's something more important. Melanie says: "Excuse me please, I need to tell you something."
<Crion> The King of Summer leans forward. "Yeah? And what's that?"
<banana> Melanie: "I understand intellectually that you're extremely powerful and important. I don't.. connect to that, I can't internalise it yet. So I'll try to react the right way but I might not get it- I'm very sorry."
<banana> "Okay, please.. um.. continue."
<Crion> The King's mouth falls open. He looks at List. "What the FUCK, man?"
<banana> She steps to Langford's side so that they can, say, yell at each other. If that's what was going to happen here.
<Crion> List turns to her. "Melanie, wait out in the..."
<Crion> He pauses.
<Crion> "You can handle staying in here, can't you."
<Crion> The Young Street: "What?"
<banana> "I'm fine." Honestly it seems like there's a small chance of being.. attacked or destroyed or something, but that's not as unpleasant a prospect as it should be either.
<Crion> List turns back to the Street. "Did you want the hundred-year-old blues musician, the big sad Italian guy, the lady from Fargo or the fucking Twitch streamer instead?"
<Crion> "Huh?"
<Crion> The Street: "I wanted a SOLDIER!"
<Crion> List: "This is the fucking thing. This is always the fucking thing. You're always thinking about the fucking fight, man. You're always thinking about this like it's some corner shit. This isn't some corner shit, and it can't be that. You need other options. You can't just be chasing shooters!"
<Crion> The Street: "And so you bring me some white girl from the county with...bark!"
<Crion> List: "If you're not going to take white girls from the county with bark this is going to end up a very small fucking court."
<Crion> The Street stares Melanie down, but still speaks to List: "So you like her? You think she can do this?"
<banana> Ah. "I'd like to kill Them, actually. If that's what the Summer Court demands then it's really.. it seems like the right thing to do. Um, I can't just run up to a faerie and start shooting at it, but I'll fight."
<Crion> The Street narrows his eyes again. "'It seems like the right thing to do.' Well, shit. If only we were all just able to do the right thing all the time. You ever beat the shit out of someone?"
<Crion> List: "John--"
<Crion> The Street's eyes flare. "You call me by my name."
<Crion> They turn back to Melanie.
<Crion> List: "...Street, I don't think that's how you want to judge her."
<banana> But John is his name, presumably? Melanie will go with a different address to be safe. "I don't have human inhibitions, Summer King. I forgot. I want to learn but I'll become someone who, like, beats the shit. Out of people, if they're a threat, if they're harming us, if it's the right strategic move. Um, Deleuze tells us that the individual has no moral meaning. The social body
<banana> here.. this court? It's the fist of the freehold. The point is to hit."
<Crion> "That's not a yes," the Young Street says after a moment. "But it's a hell of a lot better than a no."
<Crion> A long pause.
<Crion> "I...apologize. For what I said about you. Even if it was all true, shouldn't have said it. And I'm getting an inkling that maybe I was. Quick to judgment."
<banana> "It's fine, um, King. I'm not saying Deleuze is the be-all and end-all here. The idea that value is determined by self-expression is obviously wrong, you can't reconcile it with the diagnosis of society in change. But there's no value in avoiding conflict."
<Crion> "Especially since the damn Twitch streamer was there when those three cops got killed last night, and Fargo lady brought the house down at the Sidereal."
<Crion> The Young Street doesn't seem confused by the academic talk, just kind of tired by it. "But I have to say, you are one of List's."
<Crion> The heat in the room recedes a little bit.
<Crion> "How are you and your fetch?" he asks after a moment.
<banana> Melanie: "I want to be part of any group that fights to let us be who we now are."
<Crion> He touches what appears to be a human skull that he's using as a paperweight on his desk, then crosses his hands over his belly again. "That's good to hear."
<banana> "She's someone else. It.. doesn't matter."
<Crion> He nods again. "That's good to hear, too."
<Crion> List: "Autumn Court was scouting her."
<Crion> "Huh." The Young Street looks from List back to Melanie. "You have affinity with Autumn?"
<banana> Melanie: "I don't know. I was just a white girl from the county, you know? I didn't think about anything, because everything was easy. Then I spent.. a long time only thinking, and getting angrier, and needing to know more. But I don't think I want to scare people."
<banana> "I mean, not deliberately!" She shrugs in a spray of waving blossoms.
<Crion> The blossoms don't singe anymore when they leave her; the temperature in the room has definitely gone down. The Young Street nods at her words, then turns to List. "So she has affinity with Autumn?"
<Crion> List: "Yeah."
<Crion> He nods again. "I like that. We could use a little less friendly fire in this city."
<Crion> To Melanie: "And I like your anger. Maybe it could come out a little bit faster, but. I can feel it. Slow to rise. Slow to fall."
<Crion> "I've been kind of an asshole, here. That's how it goes some times. You still want in on Summer?"
<banana> She will show them wrath born of intellectualisation, if that's what it takes. If they ever try to drag her back to those pointless unchanging plays, centuries of not understanding - they'll find out what it means to fight just because it's 'the right thing to do'.
<banana> "Yes, please. I want to learn and be protected, and I promise to protect and teach."
<Crion> The Young Street: "And hopefully hit some shit in there too, from time to time. Alright, Langford, she's in. Make sure she can defend herself and get a drop of blood for the Haruspex. We don't party you in like Spring does here, but, well. You don't look like the partying kind."
<banana> Melanie: "No, I can't dance at all."
<Crion> "Uh huh." He looks to List again. "That'll be it. You good for dinner?"
<Crion> List: "Yeah. Let me settle her in first. Hot chicken?"
<Crion> The Young Street smiles. "Sounds good to me."
<Crion> The temperature drops by about seven degrees once they're outside. List: "He doesn't usually apologize."
<banana> "Maybe he's usually right."
<Crion> List smiles slightly. "Maybe so. You use guns, knives, sticks, or your hands?"|
<banana> "Mr. L- Langford, the only weapon I've ever held is a lacrosse stick, and I don't move fast enough to swing one. But.. I can make my limbs as hard as rock. And I can do this." Melanie holds an arm out toward the wooden door, flaking palm flat and facing the surface. From the furniture another arm bursts forth, capped with a clawed hand. It swipes viciously at the air and then
<banana> subsides back into the surface with a ripple of grain.
<Crion> "Told you not to call me mister," he says, stroking his goatee, "but that'll do."
<banana> Skin she couldn't remember to get rid of when the Hedge put her back together and an instinct borrowed from monsters. Or monstrously bad actors. It's not deeply practiced, but Melanie asked around about the Summer Court and she knew what they'd want. She'll learn to do this, when it's the right thing to do.
<Crion> "Let's see just how." He leads her out of vault, shuts the door, walks some ten paces up the corridor and, on a patch of wall nondescript except for a spray-painted orange X -- like by a work crew -- he snaps his fingers and touches both to its center.
<Crion> The X opens up from the middle, peeling back with four flaps, opening a...portal to the Hedge.
<Crion> "Let's go, then." This time, List goes first.
<banana> Hmm, 10-15 seconds of paralytic indecision should do it. It's not the same. It's not the same place - it's a training ground, a place to learn. How to beat them.
<banana> With that out of the way, Melanie will follow.
<Crion> When she steps through, she steps through into a...dojo?
<Crion> Does she know what a dojo is?
<banana> Possibly not the name, but she's fine with the concept.
<Crion> Sitting in the middle of it is a twelve-year old half-Japanese boy wearing a gi.
<Crion> The other half is hobgoblin?
<Crion> He looks very solid.
<Crion> List: "Bartholomew, time to earn your keep."
<Crion> He sits down on a bench in the corner.
<banana> Melanie stares. "Hello."
<Crion> Bartholomew: "Yo. Nice skin. Wish I had tree shit, it's a good look."
<Crion> List, to Melanie: "He's not actually a twelve-year-old boy, and here, you can't hurt him."
<Crion> "Part of the deal."
<Crion> "So."
<Crion> "I want you to hit him as hard as you can," the bat-man says, resting his elbows on his knees. "And then let's see what happens after that."
<Crion> Roll initiative.
<banana> Melanie: "Thank you. I think I look kind of pretty but terribly inhuman. I'm ok with mirrors, but I don't want the compliments right now."
<Crion> "I don't know from pretty," the hobgob says. "Let's do this."
<banana> "It's actually pretty much fine, since I guess you're not applying human standards. Haha." Melanie.. doesn't move at all, but her 'skin' crackles and hardens. Papery white bark gnarls and turns in on itself - and then lashes out in splinters. Detaching, regrowing wood swirls about her, keeping Bartholomew away as well as scouring his flesh.
<Crion> "Papercuts. Huh."
<Crion> Bart sort of looks curiously as the flesh peels off his arm. It's sort of like dough.
<Crion> He sort of shakes it off, even though the wounds don't heal, and rocks back on his feet, hopping side to side a bit like Bruce Lee.
<banana> Melanie continues to stand in one spot, but.. more so. Her legs are startling to kind of merge together and combine with the matting on the ground. It's that same matting which rises up around Bart to smash at him, crumbling and flaking as it goes - he's still being assailed by chips of flying wood, and now the dojo floor is battering hard enough to break bones.
<Crion> Bart: "Ah, shit. Ah, fuck."
<banana> "Sorry."
<Crion> The dojo itself will, once the full violence of the attack is done, smooth out and return to its original configuration -- the same as Bart will, shaking out wood chips and popping out splinters. "It doesn't hurt, it just feels REALLY weird. You're good, you're good."
<Crion> "But, I've gotta change it up a bit. Sorry."
<Crion> Bart punches his hands together, and...
<banana> "Yeah, go for it," says Melanie immobilely. She's not really ready for this, but it's not like she's going to get ready...
<Crion> Does Melanie know about the Michelin Man? Or the uh, Stay Puft Marshmellow Man from Ghostbusters?
<banana> Of course. Though she hasn't seen the new one (accident of timing, abducted by fae).
<Crion> Basically he inhales, holds his breath, and suddenly expands outward with twice the mass he used to have, his face intensely concentrating, a big round armored boy.
<banana> Melanie approves in the abstract. Standing firm and solid... resonates with her a little too much. Still, those chips are cutting away at him a bit, and the circles on his tummy all lead to a point.. she takes careful aim, throws forward a limb. It's not fast but it's too strong to fully absorb.
<banana> Poke.
<Crion> "Hoo hoo hoo!"
<Crion> Bart sort of deflates and flies back, then up a little bit, then lands on his back spread-eagled.
<Crion> "Ha!"
<Crion> His body back to normal, the tiny hob stands back up and looks over at List. "Avoided me on the first blow, killed me on the second, displaced me on the third. My grade is an unqualified pass."
<banana> Melanie: "I don't think I could stop a determined huntsman by myself." She's starting to unstiffen, becoming less hobbled, more mobile and humanoid.
<Crion> List: "You will never need to stop a determined huntsman by yourself."
<Crion> "You're not by yourself anymore."
<Crion> He stands. "Thank you, Bart. We'll be by in the next three hours to satisfy our agreement."
<Crion> He'll touch the portal back through towards the hallway, and beckon Melanie through.
<banana> To List: "That's great. I'll keep learning." To Bart: "What do you get?"
<Crion> Bart: "Twenty-four hours of gaming."
<banana> lol
<Crion> "It owns. Nice meeting you, Melanie!"
<banana> It was kind of weird and scary to meet Bart; by the time Melanie gets past not saying so, they're out.
<Crion> List turns around when they're in the hall with each other. "You're in. By the power invested in me by the oaths of Summer, you can raise your body temperature to fever pitch."
<Crion> "But seriously, well done. I think you'll do well here."
<Crion> "In Summer, and in Baltimore."
<banana> Does he really want a forest fire? "Yeah, I'll try. There are some.. it's a lot better to be out here. I thought the Young Street was really cool."
<Crion> List laughs. "Oh, in every other way but literally, he's very cool. That can be the problem."
<Crion> More seriously: "We'll be watching over you from now on, and soon, you'll be watching over us. I think this is going to be the start of a bountiful friendship."
<banana> 'Soon' isn't Melanie's pace anymore. But she's going in the right direction.
<Crion> --Fin.
class='user'><Crion> "In Summer, and in Baltimore."<banana> Does he really want a forest fire? "Yeah, I'll try. There are some.. it's a lot better to be out here. I thought the Young Street was really cool."
<Crion> List laughs. "Oh, in every other way but literally, he's very cool. That can be the problem."
<Crion> More seriously: "We'll be watching over you from now on, and soon, you'll be watching over us. I think this is going to be the start of a bountiful friendship."
<banana> 'Soon' isn't Melanie's pace anymore. But she's going in the right direction.
<Crion> --Fin.