(1812) Winter - John and Maxwell

Originally posted by Maxwell J. Pierce:

Quiet feet shod in fine-looking black shoes carried a cold-eyed, grey-skinned Wizened into the Blue Note. Adjusting a meticulously tied black bow-tie that matched his sharp, crisply pressed suit, the plain-looking mein of the newest Winter Courtier to Sacramento revealed a Lost who was careful and gripped by perfectionism in equal measure. Everything had its place. All things were smooth and tucked away. Even his hair was perfectly crafted by comb and product, but it wasn't in an effort to appear incredibly beautiful. He was just classy, and by the way he moved through a crowd easily, he had the easy air of one who belonged here* - but not as a star, no. He had the air of someone who was used to being staff. A servant.

Finding his way to the wall near John Doe , the gentleman spoke quietly, but directly, offering a handshake.

"How do you do? Maxwell J. Pierce, at your service."

You could take the Chatelaine out of Arcadia, but you could never take the Arcadian manners out of the Chatelaine.

The Faceless Darkling looked up at being addressed. "Hi Maxwell," he gripped the man's hand, sensing the chill of Winter, "John Doe, local Sunbanisher."

"Mr. Doe. A pleasure, Sun Banisher, and an honor, sir."

His handshake was firm, certain, practiced. His eyeline caught the arrival of the Winter Queen and he did his best not to gape at the porcelain beauty. Rather, he returned his attention to the Mirrorskin, who was an officer of his Court.

"I apologize if I am interrupting a peaceful moment. I was wondering if there was anything I ought to be aware of as a new arrival? Anybody I should be sure to meet at an early juncture?"

"No worries Maxwell," he replied, "Call me John."

"Freehold's been quiet, far as I've been made aware. I can give you a quick list of names. Our Queen, Sasha for starters." He searched the room, "There's Circe . Queen of Summer. Local firearms dealer. Ingrid , Queen of Spring, is the Director here at Funderland. And Rhodes , the Dread Lord, just arrived."

"We have other new Winter arrivals: Alfonso Franco , Lydia Gehring , and Edward Silkenrode ." Doe then provided a description of their Seeming and Kith.

John. Of course. What else was one supposed to call a fellow who was faceless and nameless? With a flash of a smile as he glanced from person to person, the Chatelaine noted in particular the Queen of Winter - and the arms dealer. Hum.

"Thank you. It seems as though the Court is... flush with servants of Sorrow. Good. This is how it ought to be at the Longest Night."

He gave an approving little nod.

"Are there any particular... public enemies that I ought to know of?"

Public. As in people they could talk about here. They'd have to discuss the private enemies of Winter later. Behind closed doors. Far from prying ears of those without the training to understand why secrecy was essential.

"The timing has been fortunate." John affirmed his happiness.

The Chatelaine's inquiry about public enemies, "I haven't heard anything from the Lost. The Freehold being too quiet, it's a double edged sword."

Observing the crowd, "Would you like to meet anyone in particular? I can introduce you."

A quiet Freehold. Either that meant they were doing very well at avoiding attracting attention, or doing a terrible job at gathering intelligence. He'd work on his connections, see which by tapping those who needed to be tapped. Every spook needed sources. He'd find his, and quick.

"I would, sir. It would be appropriate to swear my Freehold Oath to our Queen. Would you do me the honour?"

"Come with me, good sir."

John escorts Maxwell to meet Sasha