(1902) Fireside Marshmallows

[Fawkes]

Fawkes watches impassively as the Ogre's words put weight to the air, lighting a cigarette with eyes-half lidded from the long inhale. He occasionally flicks ash, not interrupting either Crimson Solder's impassioned speech: things were feeling normal again.

At Rich's dismissal back towards the Onyx Queen's gentle nudge of an announcement, he salute's the man again out of habit, the light going out from his nicotine from the gesture. He looks back to Circe, blinking slowly as she speaks of betrayal and abandonment,

"Okay."

He gestures to himself and the active volcano. "You have support here, now. We'll sort out the logistics of it. Your concern about the Pledge is easily rectified: add it in Our clause that departure from the Freehold absolves that person of our protections. We can just renew the Oath in those matters."

An exhale of smoke swirls around the pale man like a ashen halo, regarding the strikingly unusual Fairest.

"The Lost disappear all the time, but we're the ones on the front lines to make sure we don't slip through the cracks. The Oath of the Spear coincides with discipline because of the chaos we volunteer for; harnessing our rage before it breaks us all apart."

She didn't seem to appreciate the pomp and ceremony that came with the demands of a rank she was brave enough to bear. He cocks his head back towards the gathering, eyes not as cold and alien,

"You don't need to change, Circe. I don't think you're being asked to. We just want you in a position where your fire shines brighter than before."

[Circe]

"Inconvenience," Circe huffed out as she was still regaining her breath from her rant, "It was never convenient nor fun. Just a responsibility." She'd become the Queen of Summer by default, never denied it, and was vexed Richard assumed she was denying it. Circe would not let a crown tell her how to act and was as defiant as any other Summer against a foe. Circe was still regaining her breath as Richard left, eliciting only a nod from the elven Fairest.


"Ha," Circe shakes her head after taking in Fawkes' words. "Glad ya like me bein' me Fawkes. You don't change either. Don't worry, I can guess what's comin' and I won't hold this sorta coup against ya. Assuming Richard sticks around ta act the part," the Fairest had her doubts simply from pattern recognition. There was no merriment in her voice as she let out a snort, "Ya got ta be the reasonable Summer tonight Fawkes. Keep that Oath ideas ta yerself though," Circe's anger was evident in her voice still. She looks at Fawkes with a level gaze, "Save it fer the muster. It'll make a good impression on the rest."


Blue hands finally free from the fists they'd become when Richard had swamped her Mantle with his own. Maroon evidence in her palms clearly proved she was not a blue blood. "Ya seem ta get along with him good. My point about arming Summer proper still stands. Before we see what Sasha wants can ya do me a solid?" Crimson eyes seek his glass orbs. She was trying to contain how pissed she was right now but Richard had broken the damn. A hint of it could be heard in her voice, "Make sure he doesn't forget an army moving on a stomach that eat weapons and ammo."


Clenching her fists again, Circe paints her fingernails red with her own blood. "Okay. I don't need ta piss off Sasha again. Shall we get goin'?" With that Circe will see what Sasha wants, acknowledging any confirmation provided by Fawkes.

Circe returns to the main thread

[Fawkes]

Fawkes finishes his cigarette alone, and returns to the main thread.