Morgan Bellanar Glimpses

[Morgan Bellanar]

Morgan had found every book she could borrow or buy that might help her get some insights into the world of Ifrit, salamanders, and other such creatures. All in the hopes of at least figuring out if it was possible to get them to agree to never help Fairweather at the minimum. She'd set aside a week to conduct the research in, using several sets of books each day.

Unfortunately, not all of those books were good sources. Either they were too influenced by popular culture to be accurate or were about fire elementals as they appeared in fictional series. Morgan should (hopefully) figure this out while reading the bad sources.

  Day 1 0 contributed suxx

Date		Action		Roll		Result
2016-04-22 20:23:39		Morgan Bellanar rolls 3 to Hitting the (wrong) books (1s Subtract)		10, 7, 9		2 successes

Morgan had been excited as the books seemed to indicate how to contact and contract with spirits of each element. It sounded great, though she was a little confused about the warnings about "witch student level" requirements for doing it. Eventually she realized how useless the books were for facts and ditched all of them.

  Day 2 5 Total suxx

Date		Action		Roll		Result
2016-04-22 20:25:42		[03] Morgan rolls 3 to Hitting better books		10, 8, 4		2 successes
2016-04-22 20:25:42		[02] Morgan rolls 3 to Hitting better books		8, 10, 1		2 successes
2016-04-22 20:25:42		[01] Morgan rolls 3 to Hitting better books		3, 8, 3		1 success

  Day 3 6 Total suxx

Date		Action		Roll		Result
2016-04-22 20:27:12		[03] Morgan rolls 2 to Hitting OK books		4, 4		failure
2016-04-22 20:27:12		[02] Morgan rolls 2 to Hitting OK books		4, 5		failure
2016-04-22 20:27:12		[01] Morgan rolls 2 to Hitting OK books		7, 10		1 success

  Day 4 11 Total suxx

Date		Action		Roll		Result
2016-04-22 20:28:29		[01] Morgan rolls 3 to Hitting good book		10, 8, 8		3 successes

Morgan's research had turned up a few things on Spirits that made her rather...nervous about continued interaction with them. The only sources she could find the had to do with communing with spirits involved a...rather large usage of either narcotics or highly venomous snakes. And being possessed by the spirit. Morgan did not see that ending well.

Fear was her first instinct to many things, and a true expert on spirit worlds would tell her she is right to be scared.

To Morgan's mind, making a deal with a spirit sounded too troublesome and too dangerous. Like bartering with hobgoblins. Though in Morgan's experience at least Spirits were harder to find: "G-g-guess archive will hath to include: t-t-treat spirits as being as dan-dangerous as Them. Ye~eah Imma gonna add that for sure."

[Morgan Bellanar]

Morgan watches the woman sleeping on the bed with worry. The norma in question wasn't anyone special, just someone the Beast chatted up for rumors on the streets. And who happened to be a drug addict too. The Beast had done what she could for the woman, knowing that calling for help would get Elize, the norma, arrested and have questions asked of Morgan. She'd rather avoid questions if she could.

Whilst Morgan might have some medical knowledge, she was a Beast not a Chirugeon, plus her mind found triage much easier then long term care. Which was why she'd made sure to cheat when she'd checked upon Eliza last night, burning up her Glamour as part of the effort. She'd checked over the norma again sometime after midnight using the same method, avoiding the backlash of overusing Bountiful Fate in the same day.

  1 suxx

Date		Action		Roll		Result
2015-10-27 15:07:29		Someone rolls 7 to do something insignificant (10 Again)		8, 1, 7, 7, 4, 2, 2		1 success

  6 suxx

Date		Action		Roll		Result
2015-10-27 15:06:16		Someone rolls 11 to do something insignificant		10, 2, 1, 10, 8, 7, 5, 10, 5, 8, 1		5 successes

  12 suxx

Date		Action		Roll		Result
2015-10-27 15:07:54		Someone rolls 11 to do something insignificant		8, 2, 10, 4, 10, 2, 10, 1, 9, 8, 3		6 successes

Eliza was stable and would recover, this time. Saving her wasn't part of Morgan's job, in fact it was nowhere in her responsibilities as a courier, a courtier, or Scrivener. She just wanted to help the woman because she could. Even if it cost her a bit of Glamour and a night's sleep. As Eliza began to stir, Morgan resolved to convince the norma to go rehab.

"What happened? How'd I get back to--oh, its you." Eliza calmed upon spotting the small woman beside her bed. She looked a little confused, "Uh...thanks and all for getting me home, but why are you still here?"

Morgan gave the norma a flat look: "Ye arrrr...kind...of ah-ah mess. Ye ah-almost died d-dood. I th-think ye ssshould goes to get heh-help."

"I don't wanna get arrested...And I'm fine."

Morgan wasn't having any of that, she put a hand on the norma's shoulder. It was some people thing for ephasizing seriousness, but the Beast wasn't trying to act like normal people. Fickle fate needed touch to work, and Morgan figured it'd be easier to weaken the woman's resolve then make a strong argument. She had to pick some odd words to squeeze out her speech coherently, "Thine war-wor-speech tis false. I heh-had to make ssssure ye kept breathing the heh-whole night. Ano-and restart it too! That ain't f-f-fine. Ye nay change aught ye gonna dah-dah-kill thine ssself...I can heh-help ye get there if ye needs it. Please, I th-think ye s-should get help an-and not buy more of th-the bad stah-stah-stuff ye 'ave been taking. I will heh-help ye, even friend-visit ye at the hab-re-erm, re-heh-hab. I uh, swear-oath to help-if-can with thine chan-chan-chan-chan-gerk, good fortune."

The woman tried to come up with a good argument in her head, but with the glamour of Fickle Fate, side effects of the drug withdrawl, and having nearly flatlinned overnight took a heavy toll on her resolve. Morgan's cheating may have won the day:"Alright, fine. But only if you can help me with, you know, some cash."

Morgan just folded her arms, raising one eyebrow as she shot Eliza a look that screamed "you're full of shit." Eliza responded by raising her hands defensively: "Whoa! Not for that. I can't afford the cab to get there. And I'll need my own stuff for when I'm there, won't I? That's totally how rehab works. Come on, I swear that I'll go, get cleaned up, and not buy anymore if you do. I mean it."

Morgan wasn't sure if Eliza was lying or being honest. She didn't think the norma was lying. The soft hearted Beast wanted to help.

Morgan agreed and felt a...link form. Shit. I didn't mean to do that. I guess I have to visit her whilst she is in re-hab. Wonder how long it lasst? She'd try to figure out the Pledge she'd made later, but the only thing she was sure upon was the Bane: misfortune onto the violator. If that meant Morgan had to add visiting a druggie in rehab to her list of weekly activities, well she'd rather do that then risk ill fortune whilst traveling the Hedge, hopping a roof, or cycling along with traffic.

The Pledge also meant Morgan had to, and did, give Eliza cash. Morgan hoped neither of them broke this Pledge.

ooc: I honestly wrote this Glimpse a while back and thought I'd already posted it...but I did not

[Morgan Bellanar]

Peeking down over the roof ledge, the raccoon couldn't help but feel disappointed. It wasn't the filth of the alleyway below, strewn with debris and the stench of urine mixed in with garbage. It wasn't the two skeezy looking men in the intimidating black boots and black leather trench coats. Nor was it the cruel, tight lipped smiles upon their faces. It wasn't the rooftops either, the brick and tar were perfectly fine surfaces for her.

It wasn't even the illegal activity itself that upset her, no. Morgan could fully understand folks trying to forget their worldly troubles for a bit, even if drugs were a bad choice. She preferred adrenaline and heights for herself, especially since they were free. No, the issue was who was buying. The woman's blue parka had the hood up but did little to hide her long legs or the "work" shoes she was balanced upon. Even with the downward angel and a gym bag on the woman's shoulder, Morgan could clearly see those long legs shivering. Twitching maybe the better word, as such fidgeting was one sign of withdrawal, right?

Even from this distance Morgan was fairly certain it was Eliza, a norman the Twilit Page regularly talked to for word on the street. Yesterday, the raccoon had found the stripper to be seriously messed up on something. Morgan had helped the norma to her apartment and made sure she didn't die in her sleep. In the morning, Morgan had tried to convince Eliza to quit as she thought it was unhealthy. The Twilit Page had made a decent argument, emphasizing all the negatives and bad things that could happen. Morgan knew she'd scared Eliza because she'd been able to draw Glamour off of the norman's fear. It had ended with Morgan agreeing to spot Eliza some cash for "cab fair to re-hab."

Morgan was fairly certain the norman hadn't been lying to her. Which meant either Eliza was a good liar or had changed her mind. Morgan wasn't sure but there was another problem. Their chat at Eliza's apartment had ended up getting Morgan more invested in the norma's well being then she intended. Morgan had made a pledge and the norma would break it if she bought the drugs, suffering ill fortune instead of good.

That was why the raccoon had followed the woman and was watching. She was partially concerned for the drug addict, a little relieved she'd not have to visit the woman regularly at rehab for a month, and somewhat curious what breaking a pledge looked like. Well, not looked looked but...maybe perceived was a better word?

And then the norma addict and dealer made the exchange. Morgan felt something that...the closest she could describe it to was a rubber band. As in, when you pull it between both hands and it snaps. The feeling of a broken link between you hands was kind of like this feeling of a pledge being broken. At least Morgan wouldn't have to bring the woman rewards at re-hab now.

While she mused, the two men faded out, skulking back into the shadows. The men had been surprisingly stealthy given those heavy boots they'd worn. The raccoon quirked her eyebrow, impressed by their skill. Morgan's eyes scanned the darker part of the alley for them but had a tough time seeing them.

She'd had little time to search as strobe lights of blue and red oozed in from the other end of the alley.

Eliza's cry of alarm caused her to turn towards the sound but the woman was already out of Morgan's field of view. She crouched low, skulking along the rooftop on her hands with knees bent almost touching the roof as she used the tips of her feet to help propel herself quietly forward. The raccoon's caution meant she moved silently across the gravelly surface. As she moved towards where the cry came from, the lights got brighter. She could barely hear someone talking and the sound of crying.

Morgan ducked her head over the ledge of the roof closest to the lights before quickly jerking it back. Wow, she drawled in her head, the Wyrd works fast. Eliza was getting the "you're arrested" speech from a cop pinning her to the hood of a police car. There was another cop kneeling on the ground with something.

The Twilit Page didn't risk investigating further. She'd not been spotted, hadn't broken her word, and the norman wasn't even a friend. She followed the dealers example and faded off into the night.

[Morgan Bellanar]

Morgan didn't like the looks of the place. But work was work and she needed the money if she wanted out of Chicago. The ominious feeling still scared her. It could be the 30 lbs of various chemical powders she was carrying, or the the seedy apartment building she was looking it. More likely though, it was the fact that the place was a haunt of Chicago's Autumn Court. Their Courtiers adored the raccoon's skittish nature in the same way Halloween carnival actors adored visitors that were screamers. If it's no fun when folks don't react then the inverse hold that it is tons of fun when they overreact. And Morgan never failed to comply.

Trembling as she was buzzed in, Morgan's head was sweeping everywhere as she made her way to the apartment for the drop off. Once she gets to the door, she knocks and is answered by a beautiful man with a star filled night sky for skin, blue hair that sparkled, and brown eyes. Probably a Fairest or Fairest with hint of Elemental, but Elementals were not popular in town so likely Fairest. This man has seen the raccoon make deliveries here before but just doesn't recognize her as that courier. The Fairest man mistakes Morgan for a customer and tries to sell the frightened raccoon on meth. Or, more precisely, tries to bully Morgan into buying MORE, as he points out: "Oh come on! Whatever your snort to make you that jumpy has to be utter shit. You should, no, you MUST try the meth. It is a helluva good stuff and we make the best, period, you'll find off campuses. Or Speed, we got that too. So quit shaking through withdrawal and fork over the cash, now."

Fortunately for Morgan the man's badgering caught the attention of the one in charge. A Wizened woman with the appearance of a dried up corpse strolls in see what is going on. She then says something rude in German, flashing her toothless mouth and tri-forked tongue, to the Fairest as she walks up to the entrance. Once there she cuffs the Fairest upside the head, snarling: "Idiot, don't you recognize her from when she delivered last time?! And this twitchy little rat girl is clean. Do you want to see what she'd be like on Speed?"

The Fairest looks likes he is about to retort but his jaw drops. He looks back and forth between his boss, judging by the difference in Mantles, and Morgan. The he starts gesticulating with his hands to emphasize each word: "Wait-wait-wait. This bitch ain't on anything?" he points a finger at Morgan so fast the Steepscrambler actually has to stumble back to not get poked in the face.

The desiccated looking woman grins a horrid grin, blood dripping from her toothless maw: "Nope. So rat girl, where is our chemistry sets?"

Morgan tries to stammer out "here" as she presents her package to the duo. The man turns to Morgan and snatches the box of "chemistry sets" from her, "Hell no we are not selling you a thing. You'd put holes through the building you stupid bitch. WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?! Asking for the good shit like that. Are you a completely brainless rat?" And he storms out of sight into the apartment.

Morgan whimpered as she attempted to counter their taunts: "I-I-I nah-nah-not a rad-rag-rat--," but was cut off by the Wizened swiping his hand toward her, making her jump. The scowl from the woman's doll eyes froze the raccoon in place: "Rat is the best you'll get. Even if rats have to be smarter then you to run the mazes."

And the Fairest laughed from within the apartment, "Oh yes, much-much smarter! Ratgirl wouldn't even make it past the first corner ha ha," as he put away the "chemistry sets" somewhere. The man leaned back into view, barely, peeking over the Wizened's shoulder: "So don't correct us when we compliment you rat, its rude to your betters." The Wizened chuckled as she sent a bloody smile to the Fairest, "Dear~heart, you are so kind. Letting her know what she is too stupid to realize that is such a wonderful kindness for the rat. But," the corpse-woman turned back to Morgan. Her grin became far less friendly. It looked like blood would dribble out at any second, "You should be apologizing to your betters, shouldn't you?"

And the raccoon did apologize profusely as the two Autumns entertained themselves messing with the skittish changeling that wasn't a courtier. She was so spooked she didn't even notice them leeching away her Glamour.

It was just par for the course in Morgan's Chicago life. If the little raccoon wasn't always so scared, she'd probably have hated the city.

[Morgan Bellanar]

Morgan had thought it was a sound idea. The Sprites contributed to the security of the Autumn Commons as an alarm. Giving them a book on defenses could help them do it better, making the Commons more secure without "hiring" new help. What hard could an illustrated kid's book on medieval castles do? They'd get some ideas, maybe make a little watch tower or some walls. The Lady Scrivener figured there was no way this could go wrong.

It was a week later that Morgan bothered to look inside a copy of the book. The illustrations included a lot of mechanics and cross-sections. It was not a children's book but an illustrated encyclopedia. A mechanically detailed and exact encyclopedia.

The prospect of the easily distracted Sprites trying to build a catapult was alarming. The idea that they'd launch golf balls instead of boulders, didn't occur to Morgan.

Morgan raced back to the Autumn Commons to try and get the book back before something went wrong. Upon entry, she found at least a dozen sprites on the floor before here. Several were examining the opened book. To their right was what might have been an attempt at a catapult or trebuchet. The lobbing arm was buried in the ground, holding aloft what wooden pieces of the device that weren't scattered around the Hollow.

To their left a pair of Sprites fiddled with what looked like a miniature ballista, loaded with a large briar thorn, aimed right up at the Hollow's entrance and thus Morgan.

Morgan's self-preservation instincts were top notch as she quickly dropped flat on her stomach as the two Sprites yelped in surprise. The thorn sailed through the air to embed itself into Morgan's backpack as she ducked.

The Sprites did apologize, until they got distracted again. Morgan needed a moment to compose herself before trying to negotiate with the Sprites. She had a feeling this'd be a long night to try to get the little runts to not keep experimenting with the book.

...

It wasn't that long. It only took 2 hours before a, now black in one eye, Morgan was sitting on the desired book as she waited at the curb for pizza. Diplomacy and common sense fails whilst bribery with pizza is super effective. She'd have to remember that bribery was the way to go with hobs.

Sighing, the Lady Scrivener vowed to herself to never again try to use the Sprites for anything but an alarm system. It was safer that way.

[Morgan Bellanar]

Morgan glared at the object as if it had done something to offend her. As far as she was concerned, the object had done just that. It didn't help the Beast's mood that she was currently in the Hedge. Not a safe Hollow, not in a group, but the semi-wild Hedge within the Freehold itself. As much as geography had a meaning in the Wyrd world of vegetation and thorns.

The plan had sounded viable. Okay, viable was giving it too much credit. Valid? No. Feasible? Possible? Yeah, possible was the more appropriate saying. Yet all Morgan could see was an annoying blue as she tapped the end opposite the blue with her foot for the ninth time.

Morgan let out a defeated sigh. She should have known it wouldn't be that easy. True, tokens were made by two means. The more reliable was for a fae master craftsmen to create it. The chaotic method was for a mundane object to be left in the Hedge until the Wyrd altered it. The latter gave no promises as to what you would get, though the form of the object often had influence on the result. A key left in the Hedge was more likely to have an effect upon doors, locks, or a car then it was to say gain the ability to transform into a sword that kills people.

Though with the Wyrd it was just as likely that said key would jam a lock or make a closed door indestructible or something. As Morgan bent over to pick up the offensive object she fully acknowledged this information in her head. That didn't detract from her disappointment though. And she felt there wasn't anyone that'd disagree with her.

Just in case, Morgan tried to pour Glamour into the, rude not a token like she wanted it to be, object. Nope. She gave it a swing at empty air and only got the "wooshing" noise of the passing air. She tried swinging it at a branch on the Trod's edge. The tenure within the Hedge seemed to have indeed affected the object. It made it brittle. The object shattered against the thorns, blue plastic splinters scattering across the ground.

"Whelp...heh, ken it was folly to try, but glory unmeasured if it heh had worked." she looked down at the handle held in her hand. She growled out in annoyance, "Couldn't ye hath at least given a single, heh, zshooshm on a swing? Or a close sound, heh."

The broken, plastic light-saber didn't reply to the annoyed Scrivener. She didn't bother to collect the splinters as she left the Hedge for safer grounds.

[Morgan Bellanar]

Morgan's computer skills had vastly improved over what they had been. Oh, she was still slow with them by mortal standards. Yet now she no longer seemed to suffer a technology bane: she didn't crash computers just by trying to use them. Her, new to her, telephone was a testament to that fact. Since she, Green, and Rick had decided to take the time to do research, Morgan tried checking the library. She was sure there was a web thingie for that, right?

There was and you could even get some scholarly articles online! Morgan thought it was a sweet find but didn't get how theoretical games had anything to do with history. Other articles were more interesting, like this Coyote fellow. Sounded like something that'd mess with the Gentry on principal. She found some other things about his fellow tricksters and them hanging out at the standing stones in this place. Well, fellow totems, which Morgan thought were really big poles, but the Beast guessed it was a close summation. She made sure to share what she'd found with Green and Rick, trusting them to figure it out better.

At least her research by phone could have gone worse. After all, her telephone was still functional.

Maybe the library wasn't the best place to check. An idea occurred to her. Local stories often appeared in local newspapers. Perhaps she should check for stories in the local newspaper about the neighborhood. She'd give that a shot. Morgan was tempted to give herself some luck with the effort but hesitated. If they went into the Thorns after this, she'd rather that Fortune be well spent as it only worked on a target once per day. Better a fortuitous throw or run then a lucky web search.

She didn't find much, aside from praises for the excellent grounds keeping work. Many impressed compliments about the greenery being maintained during a drought without water violations. Along with some accusations of the usage of fake plants or spray coloring the grass. Morgan did find a few photographs of a circle of standing stones, including one from the 1940s. Not from an article in the 1940s but in a recent article where the writer had dug up the photo to include in writing the story.

Thankfully it was paired next to a recent photograph, the text beneath the photograph giving the relative location of the circle. She then made sure to share what she'd found.

Covers the research time conducted during this scene

[Morgan Bellanar]

The dark room lit up as a figure entered it, carrying a small wooden cage in both arms. The dreary room's floor didn't make a lot of noise as the cage was put down, or maybe the noise was drowned out by the squeaking coming from within the cage.

Morgan was feeling a little guilty about visiting the Hollow twice without Malcolm or Nathan present. Though she was actually much more relieved about them not being around the first time. She was pretty sure she'd cleaned up all the feathers and broken candles from her first attempt to reinforce the wards of this Hollow. It might have done them some good had they been here, they could've stopped the chicken from escaping into the thorns. Provided they'd not been too busy laughing at the sight of: Morgan getting surprise attacked by a chicken, chasing it around the Hollow, tripping over a book someone left on the floor, and the bird running away into the Hedge.

It was probably dead already, giving some hob or changeling the opportunity to eat meat from the Hedge that tastes like chicken for an accurate reason. Morgan didn't think chickens were strictly necessary for the act, just a blood sacrifice. She probably could've used her own blood for the ritual, but the Scrivener was adverse to inflicting pain on herself.

...okay, given the reckless nature of her favorite hobby she was adverse to intentionally inflicting injury upon herself would be more accurate. So Morgan had a better plan this time, adding two new items to the supplies for the ritual she'd done at the Autumn Commons. And if this sacrifice worked then she'd save a lot of money not buying chickens, which are surprisingly expensive alive. Sewer rats are free.

Morgan set up the candles again, lighting them and putting out the tarp with the seals painted upon it. All steps she'd performed the previous two times for this ritual were complete save for the final step: blood. But the Scrivener had added one more step that she performed before retrieving the rats from the cage: put on heavy duty work gloves.

In hindsight, it made perfect sense to include them: the chicken's bites wouldn't have allowed it to escape if she'd been wearing them.

Brandishing a knife in one hand as she reached into the cage for the rat Morgan was proven right: its attempts to bite and claw at her did naught to dissuade what came next.

Though the Scrivener did trigger Favored Fate, just in case a little luck would help this work.

[Morgan Bellanar]

A bonfire raged at the center of the Autumn Commons. It had an overly sweet scent to it, courtesy of the expired candy Morgan had found in Edna's basement on top of the marshmallows she'd sacrificed to the "spirit of fire" as she often did. As sacrifices went, it was better then living things.

Morgan's time was spent with three tasks. The first was simply searching the archives to seek some insights. She wanted to figure out what her glowing flesh meant. The second part had led her to whittling a branch. The whittling was in preparation for a gift to, hopefully, make the element of fire happy and increase her power with said element.

She was taking the whittling slow, she had plenty of time to do it as she read through the changing pages of the archives. It hadn't struck her as odd that the leather and leaf bound tomes would change their content until it'd been pointed out to her. She'd just figured the weirdness was part of the Wyrd, which it was. The whittling didn't hinder her research at all. It was the third task that hindered her.

Morgan had made a mistake within the Autumn Commons. Yes, again. She'd somewhat amended it but the problem lingered. This problem? The marshmallows she'd snacked upon and the sprites. Somehow, the little fey knew how to roast marshmallows. Well, they knew you could do it. Morgan had spent a good chunk of her time providing them with roasting sticks and explaining how to get it out of the flames safely. She still had to stop to check on them often.

She'd also warned them to NEVER come near the archives until after they'd cleaned themselves off. Quite a few of them were covered in melted marshmellow. Still, she not let that stop her from attaining greater power. It was important to do so before their boss battle with Fairweather. She would defend her home and her liege.

The veins were actually easy to figure out. She'd already deduced it was a second kith and the archives confirmed it. She was now part Fireheart, given how her only Contract of Elements was oriented towards fire. The description of a Fireheart's usual physical traits did seem match up with the glow coming from within Morgan's body. She wasn't sure why her eyes glowed and not her mouth or other orifices, but she chalked it up to the Wyrd. The tomes explained why the Contract of Elements was easier for her to comprehend: it had become a part of her new nature.

"Heh, fire-raccoon I guess I truly am, heh-heh." She looked down at the piece of wood she had whittled. Or had tried to, Morgan wasn't exactly a builder. It was supposed to be a representation of herself: a raccoon. Her eyes glared to it, a frown marring her face. A cave painting would have had better detail.

The "stomach" was at least round, albeit lumpy, but the head was more a cube with a single triangle on the top. The back had a chunk removed so that part was going "down" to represent hind legs, right before the stomach had narrowed before widening out into the "tail." The "legs" were about to fall off after she'd forced the knife to split them.

It was a bloody, poor showing. Literally the former, as she had nicked and cut herself several times. "Heh, oookay. Ow. Blood tribute, heh, anyway, heh-heh."

A muffled scream brought her back to the third task. One sprite was running around on the ground...with a marshmellow stuck onto his head. The others were laughing. Sighing, she dropped the knife and quickly caught the sprite. She pulled the marshmallow apart and set the sprite down. "Wee ones? Back away from, heh, the flames for this."

Now she'd see if image and blood would be enough to get Fire's favor one more time. She'd toss in the carving, chant a prayer, and either this'd work or it'd fail.

Taking a deep breath, Morgan tossed in the blood stained piece of carved wood...

[Morgan Bellanar]

Morgan had her bags packed, a duffel and her better backpack, and bicycle ready to go. Green wasn't ditching her that easily, even if she had to track him through the Thorns she was going to do it. The brand new, treated leather outfit give her one other advantage: a shit ton of knife holsters. There was still one last matter to deal with before the departed, and she really really really needed them to pay attention.

"PAY ATTENTION DAMMIT!" That got the sprites to stop what they were doing. "Whoa, not scary got scary!"

Morgan let out a put upon sigh. Part of her wondered if this was karma for when she used to be much dumber. "Look, I need ye lot to pay attention here. I don't ken when I'll return, or if, so Mhairi tis the one ye MUST answer to now, got it?"

"The pretty fire?"

"Yay the pretty fire, and--"

"You aren't bringing the really scary queen back, are you? Science!" There was a reason Morgan had dubbed that sprite the Science Fairy. The miniature lab coat and stethescope wasn't the only reason, though a big factor. The Science Fairy loved to scream Science (the capital was audible), make experiments, and on the whole seemed to be smarter with better memory then the average sprite.

"Nay, I'm going after Green non Betony," at the blank looks she sighed again, "The nice Mountain." That elicited cheers from the small army of sprites. "Now pay attention!" they calmed down as Morgan continued, "I need ye to remember this, tis very very vital. There are things for Mhairi in yon luggage," she pointed at the chest, "weapons, armor, and aught to aid ventures into the Hedge...not useful for ye but useful for bigger folk. There," she let out another loud sigh, knowing this next part was vital to making sure they told Mhairi about the luggage.

She just needed to explain it carefully. "Tis also housed a...trade card," gift card, "that shalt let Mhairi, and nary any other folk, purchase many pizzas," more cheers, "But tis only Mhairi that may use it!" false, but the sprites sure couldn't use it. Not unless someone installed a telephone into the Autumn Commons. That'd be a bad idea, "So if ye nary tell Mhairi of the luggage, there shalt be less pizza for ye."

It also held Morgan's original notebook on Goblin Fruit, hobgoblins, and the Hedge, just in case the Archives faded before she returned. Or if she didn't come back. The letter of goodbye and why she left was also within. Morgan didn't tell the sprites about it because...well she didn't trust them not to "edit" or "recycle" the letter. The Autumn Court had the loyalty of these sprites, that was true. They were ever so loyal, but very stupid.

The gift card was with the letter, and the explanation for it was included in the letter: "Pizza is a good bribe to keep the sprites in line or at least get them to pay attention."