Season's Greetings

[Ram]

Ram’s grip was rocky and slightly painful. Though less on purpose and more he didn’t have a gauge of how hard he was squeezing.

He returned the Wizened’s smile. “Occupational hazard,” he said apologetically.

He sat back and listened as the Flowering explained how things were in the city. Wasn’t sure what a raisin dart was or what it had to do with a lapel pin, but you learned to let some nonsensical things go when talking to other Changelings. Poor guy was probably a little crazy but who wasn’t?

He was surprised to hear there was no formal oath to swear, having been taught that was what kept the Fae at bay, at least in part. He almost suggested that was may be why people kept “transiting” but it sounded like that had been going on longer than them using this Wyrdstone thing.

Ram shifted uncomfortably when the Director said they needed to touch it and not just because of how it pulsed. He held his breath as he touched as gingerly as he could (which was still harder he meant), while half expecting fractures to start appearing on the surface. That would be just his luck to shatter the Freehold precious artifact when he just got into town.

[Rhodes]

Inperceptibly, the Flowering released a breath he didn't realise he had been holding. They were members now. He just knew it.

Fascinating.

As the hands withdrew, he closed the case, and moved it back under the table. "Thank you. A slightly different practice, I realise, but one we have had to work with."

He sipped his scotch, and mused.

"Well. First, we have some facilities owned - I can give you all the address." Why not just say it was Funderland? Whay spoil the surprise? "We meet for celebrations at the high times of the year, naturally, when we - I and the other heads, that is - pass responsibility. If you wish, I can pass your details along to Circe, the current manager." He looked to Ram, hopefully making his meaning clear. "Our mournful cousins lack a manager, as yet - I, as Director, act only in an interim to keep things flowing smoothly. That is more or less the entirity of the role, alongside inductions like this. If you have needs, we may be able to accomodate some ways of assisting to help you get settled, depending on needs."

The Autumn king leans back in the booth. "Otherwise... I will attemt to answer any questions you might have." The casual, easy smile was back. There was a glint in his eyes again.

[Ram]

Ram jerked his hand once the feeling of belonging settled. His elbow hit the wood paneling hard, leaving a dent in the grain, but at least he could stop holding his breath. Rubbing his arm, he smiled again. Sheepishly.

“I, uh, don’t currently have a phone,” he explained at the offer of being put in contact with the Summer monarch “Or… address.” He added after a pause. He could have added ‘or a job’ but didn’t want it to seem like he needed pity, despite Rhoades specifically saying otherwise.

He wasn't sure if he had any questions. Stumbling into the impromptu introduction on accident. "Any... uh.... places we should avoid?"

[Rhodes]

The Flowering held back a sigh. After Penance, perhaps my expectations of Ogres were too high.

"Perhaps I wasn't clear," he replies to Maks. "There isn't one. Mournful as synonymous with sorrowful. There are a few more recent arrivals, but none have assumed the station, as it were, in name or recognition. If you would like me to pass your details along to them, I'm sure they would be interested in meeting you."

He looks across to the Wizenend. "Not many," the Fairest replied offhandedly. "We have routinely been in a minority here. I can arrange a meeting if you'd like."

The Autumn nodded. "You aren't the first to come in from off-grid and not, I would wager, the last." He reaches into a jacket pocket and pulls out few business cards with brown leaves printed in each corner. On it is a phone number - the one the Autumn and Winter used to call the Dread Lord - but no name. Pulling a pen from another pocket, Rhodes jots the same address on each of the cards, and hands one to each. "Our address," he offers, before looking to Ram, "and my number, should you need. Obviously easier for you to contact me at this juncture. Otherwise, we meet at that address on the fall equinox."

The Director pauses, and nods sombrely. "Two. Avoid downtown. There's some territory markers appeared - we're still investigating them. And there's a district on the west side that has heard of several disappearences lately, of all kinds. We have an iron in the fire there as well. If you want to know more, we may need to arrange a better time and place." Double-speak only went so far, but a public place was safer for him, and he ad no regrets in that regard.

[Saber Sloth]

The Lost felt the Wyrd shine and fizzle as the first Pledge is stated, proposed and only mundanely acknowledged.

As each new Lost touch the Stone, nothing seems to happen. Though each of the Lost notice that it's larger then they were lead to believe, and it was both liquid and solid, moving like blood and stone, the red of the moving mass, mesmerizing in contrast to the black-green of the solid rock grit binding it. Pulsing strangely in time with someone heartbeat...

Okay! Sorry that I didn't get to this sooner, I've removed the earlier Pledge as Rhodes was the only Party to Seal it.

As for the Wyrdstone. In the future. It should never leave Funderland. I will only allow it now, since it's been taken by the Freehold Director. It is also bigger then a few inches across. The Case Rhodes would have had to take it would have to have been a duffel bag.

To Bind a New Party to the Wyrdstone for the first time each new person must spend 1 point of Glamour.

[Ram]

“Nothing happened,” he said hoarsely. At least, he didn’t feel any different.

Shit, he’d broken it! He’d tried to be careful and only touch it as little as possible but the Ogre had still somehow managed to mess it up. Damn his rending hands. He glanced around nervously, afraid what the others might do now that he’d destroyed the way of joining the Freehold.

[Saber Sloth]

Maks and Armand leave the scene.