The Wizened and the Ogre

[Anatole]

"Yes. Our... lives... have a perverse freedom to them, don't they?"

Anatole willingly accepted the Ogre's offer of a helping hand. He felt no discomfort in the Stonebones' grip; his hands were just as gnarled and scarred in their own way. Standing upright, Anatole turned about.

"Yeah. Theres a few kiosk's near here. Closest is that way. But... I guess the better choice would be the one over that way. Its just a kiosk with no seats or tables or anything. No incentive to linger. So no one will notice us while we talk. And there is some good shady spots out that way, so we can sit and talk again. You won't mind balls whizzing over your head? The golf course is out that way. Would that be an issue?"

He adjusted his jacket, now once again slung over his shoulder.

"Me? Jobs? All casual shit. Cheap labour. Occasional retail gig till the public start to annoy me. I supplement it with speculation and shares - once I... I was once a master at that sort of thing. I'm trying to relearn what I... lost... over there."

The snarl crawled into the dwarf's voice again.

[Gerrit]

"Sure, as long as they don't hit us I don't mind. Shade and a bit of privacy sounds good." He started towards the latter choice of kiosks, musing over the irony of what Anatole called perverse freedom. The Smith wasn't wrong.

On the way Gerrit tried the topic of hobbies again. Maybe he was reading too much into the Wizened's voice, but was his job something he actually enjoyed? Or did he enjoy it too much and is irritated by the fact that They took it?
"Speculation - like at the stock market? And what about your free time? Any hobbies you like to pursue?"

At the kiosk Gerrit got himself a bottle of water and offered to pay for Anatole's drink.

[Anatole]

"Yep. Stock market. Stocks. Shares. I'd try my hand at the futures market but I don't think I'm ready for it yet. And it's not like I have the resources to waste on practice."

Anatole sounded grim.

"Hobbies? Ha! I'd like the time to have hobbies. Between what passes for work these days and my attempts at play the stock market, I don't really have the time for hobbies."

He paused before they reached the kiosk while he fished for his wallet. His voiced dropped slightly and his eyes became suddenly alert.

"And for the record, our life... is our life. Going out into the... forest... is not what I call a hobby. I won't disrespect it that way."

The Ogre got in first and paid for his water; Anatole brushed aside Gerrit's offer to pay for his drink with a friendly, if assertive, smile.

[Gerrit]

"I didn't mean to disrespect anything, sorry." Gerrit wasn't surprised that his offer was rejected, and he didn't really mind either way. He couldn't shake the feeling though that he insulted Anatole in a different way, though. Or maybe he could just read the Wizened less well than he'd thought.

He took a sip of his water, looking around for the mentioned shady spots. The last thing he wanted was steer the conversation off the cliff completely, so he just went into the general direction Anatole has talked about. Am I taking this too lightly?

After some time he stopped and looked at the Smith. "Look, I didn't meant to give off the impression that I'm not taking our life not seriously enough. I know about the things threatening us every time we drop our guards and considering the recent... problems I can see that you're the last person to take this lightly. It's just-" the Ogre looked helpless for a second "there is so much pain and confusion already. I just want to try to get away from it sometimes, to build connections not solely based on how terrible everything is. Maybe that's naive, maybe that seem rude."

He shrugged. If there was a counterpoint to this he didn't say. Instead he just reiterated what he wanted to get at: "Sorry."

[Anatole]

Anatole's eyes narrow slightly as Gerrit continues.

"I'd never assume that an Onyx isn't being serious on some level. Don't sweat it."

He saw the Ogre searching for a spot and pointed a well placed - and shaded - spot.

"Eh. I sometimes hang out by those bushes there. They screen you from the road so well you can imagine you're in the Hedge - only its... safe."

He paused again at the Onyx's outburst.

"Eh. Um. Who said its terrible? Awe and wonder always has an element of fear in it. We've seen past the curtain, is all. Heck, we are part of what lies beyond the curtain. We ain't human no more. Not like them mundane folk. Um. Yeah. Its like... we are what they dream of. You... ah... You think the dreams of ordinary folks are all nice and pretty and filled with unicorns?"

He chuckled - or was it cackled - more to himself than Gerrit.

"You are a funny one. I'd never call an Onyx naive - but you must be one of the most hopeful I've come across."

Anatole gave the Ogre a little salute.

[Gerrit]

Being in the Hedge was not something Gerrit actively wished for, but it was a nice enough spot. He sat down and took another sip. "Isn't it? I mean, terrible. People talk about the wonders and beautiful things that this new life brings, but I have yet to see something that's worth trading my old life for." He smiled at the salute and shrugged again. "I guess that's what it boils down to, huh? The Courts, the expectations one has about their members, and how they shape our life."

"You're a member of the Autumn court - do you think it's expected to fully represent the Season, even if that means changing who you are?" The Ogre's tone was merely inquisitive - since coming to Sacramento this has been on his mind quite often and he doubted there was anyone better suited for kind of conversation. "I mean, are you an Ashen Courier because you want to dive into the deep end of all this or the other way around? Am I too hopeful for Winter? Is this the Wyrd's doing or just coincidence in the long run?"

[Anatole]

Anatole watched Ogre and listened silently for a moment.

"I don't think the Courts expect anything."

He said at last. Then his hands moved, gesturing sometimes with force and sometimes with violence.

"Oh don't get me wrong. Individual Freeholds and Sovereign's might have their own views and seek to impose them on everyone else. But the Courts don't. The Court's are created of the Wyrd to express powerful Pledges sworn long ago. They express a Pledge based on an emotion and some symbols; heck, maybe even some beliefs... But the Courts are simply gatherings of Changelings who have bound themselves to the same Pact. And from those Pacts, they share some Arts and symbols and points of view. They'll even support each other, one way or another."

A hand curled into a fist, one finger jabbing the air between them.

"But at their heart, the Court is all about the Pact and what comes from it. I am of the Ash Court, sure; so is Rhodes. He is bound by the Oath he made to the Ash... To the Pact at the Heart of the Court... The one that Clay Ariel forged with primordial Fear. So am I. But my Oath is not his Oath; and his Oath is not mine. You think you're Oath is anything like that made by James Turner or Cassandra."

"They say that the Onyx are bound up with Sorrow. And you sure is expressing that right now. You mourn what you once were - and what you lost. I bet top dollar your Court friends have their own Sorrows?"

He dropped his hand. A wry grin creased through his effusive curls.

"Well you got that right: The Ashen Court has a reputation for understanding the deep lore of our kind, such as we are. I want that".

[Gerrit]

Gerrit listened to Anatole's lecture, his mind working over the implications. He followed the forceful motions of the Wizened's hands as he followed the words and an idle thought about the Smith forging his speech entered his mind.

"But is it set in stone? Am I unfit for Winter once I get over my sorrow, will I have to make a Contract with Autumn because I'm interested in the workings of the Wyrd?" He chose to ignore the point about the other Winters' sorrow - even if he was right, it was not Gerrit's place to talk about that. "Apart from any... less mundane repercussions, how are other Lost going to view a happy Onyx? You know there are enough stereotypes being thrown around concerning the Courts. I guess I'm wondering how free we really are if we're voluntarily bound by an emotion."

The Ogre remained still during all this, a stoic counterpart to the agitated Dwarf.

"Do you think the protection we hope to attain from the Seasons is weakened if their Courtiers stray too far from honoring or representing the respective emotions? We do have reason to believe that an imbalance in Monarchs and preventing the natural changing of power makes it easier for Them to find us, to get us - could this be applied to a smaller scale?"

[Anatole]

"I don't know."

Anatole responded simply, his mouth shrinking as if he'd swallowed something distasteful. The effect was obvious and altered the shape of his bearded face.

"You talking of deep lore, there my friend. You can get answers to those kind of questions, sure. And they'll probably come with enough new Sorrows to solve your riddle for you."

He barked a laugh. It was mysteriously out of place in the conversation.

"You think you're any different to a Spring Courtier whose as envious and shit and spoils everyone else's fun because they desire to ruin everyone else's fun if they can't be happy ever again? Or an Autumn Courtier who made their Pledge because Autumn is the season of the harvest and they like growing their own food and keeping a table for fellow travellers?"

He paused to drink from his ginger beer.

"Gerrit. I like you. You ask questions I can't answer."

[Gerrit]

There was no way to be sure, but Gerrit thought the last part was meant as a compliment of sorts. A small smile found its way onto the Ogre's face, and despite the frightening effect of Anatole's Mantle and general presence he kind of felt at ease.

He was still far from grasping an answer to the questions running around in his head, but he felt like he got somewhat closer: the freedom lied in embodying what you believed in in a way you felt correct. A way to make sense of everything applied through the lenses of who you are as a person. It wasn't the whole answer, but he felt a ring of truth in it. Destructive Spring, hopeful Onyx - maybe it's that kind of emotion that was so hard to grasp for the Fae.

"Thank you, Anatole. You know, I really enjoyed this discourse - if you ever feel like picking your brain about unanswerable questions feel free to give me a call."