(2309) Coronation at Edna's

[Anatole]

Summer had gone.

The weather had changed, turning cooler. The clear skies seemed to be under threat too: clouds had been gathering throughout the day, promising rain in the night and on the morrow. So far the clouds had not burst but the day - and by extension the evening - had taken on an increasingly liminal feel, as though the city was being shunted sideways into a new time.

For the Lost, this is exactly the cue that the Coronation is nigh. Tonight Summer ends and the the Ashen Court rises.

Funderland is quiet and empty. A few limpid posters suggest that the evening has been given over to a private function. The lights of Edna's boarding house are on. All of them. Light spills from the hoary old building, rendered neutered and mute in this happy place; it is still Autumn's place - as it had been since the time when the Ogre Edna ruled the house with cruel dignity, a time now long passed and almost lost to memory.

For this Coronation, no screams, shadows, or witch lights lead the Lost to feast. This time, only the warm scent of bread and the heady aroma of mead guide the little company to Edna's door.

The kitchen, a homely room ill at ease with the hidden fears the house represents, has been fully opened by Anatole this year. It is not a large chamber but it is big enough for their needs. The table - indeed the whole room - has been laid out with a gorgeous spread. Here is a celebration of the Harvest, another aspect of the Autumn Court. Greenery has been bought in; baskets of breads, preserves, butters; bowls of harvest time fruits: apples and pears and succulent plums; huge berries of every stripe; jugs of milk, mead, rich wines, ales; for the non alcoholic, fruit juices and punches and sweet, sweet waters; meats and pate; poultry and pies.

Anatole waits at the centre of it all, wrapped in his shadowy coat with its trails dripping to the floor (teasing his pooling, mysterious, mantle). His Crown represents his humble station: his is no ornate confusion of shade; or hoary fires; or horns; or wreaths of renown; no - his Crown is but a thick band of tooled leather. This Autumnal Sovereign knows few mysteries and the Wyrd knows. The Wyrd knows but does not humiliate for their is strength and nobility in humility as well. And even the wise and the brave can be humbled by Fear, whereas the weak and powerless can grow strong.

Anatole has 4 Resources. He has burned a months supply of Resources to make this rich phantasmagoria of food, wine, and setting today
Saber Sloth

[Circe]

A ghost, white and ethereal, comes into Edna's. Or it is just Circe breaking out that cloak again. With her hood up the only hint of what she wears beneath is the clicking of the high-heels she must be wearing as she enters Edna's.


Circe pauses to observe. Usually, Autumn was focused upon the terror aspect, sometimes the knowledge. It looks like Anatole was going with the harvest aspect, preparing before winter. She could respect that.


And there was Anatole, humbly awaiting arrivals instead of waiting to make a big entrance. Steadfast that one. Hood falls back, the Wyrd having conceded her crown to him, she smiles at her friend. "Anatole, well met ta the newest King," she approaches him and curtseyed with her cloak, "A surprise setup, though a welcome one my friend. I am confident the Freehold is safe with the crown upon your head."


Circe is open in her expression of genuine praise for Anatole. He'd have to do a LOT of stupid and evil things for Circe to think ill of him.

[Seraphina]

There had been two dates she had been dreading since losing Rhodes.

One was their wedding anniversary, which she spent at home, drinking wine and feeling sorry for herself.

The second was Autumn Coronation. Another Autumn would be crowned, not her Rhodes. Not her Heart Sworn.

Who was gods knows fucking where! She cursed in her head.

But at the end of the day, this was a Wyrd thing, this was a Funderland thing, this was about the Freehold. Not her feelings, not her broken heart that still wept.

No.

She was the fucking Queen of Desire! She needed to be strong and put her best face and foot forward. For her Court, and her friends.

She HAD this.

So she went off book per say, for her dress. Went with something she would have never worn before. Something that would tell the world while she was sad, she was still a Fairest and the Queen. And she would own whatever life had left to throw at her. Best part of the dress? There was no red, no green. No color that would remind her of him. But on her right hand, on the ring finger, still sat her engagement ring.

Plus, her Fairest side, the one whose voice had been getting louder over time, could not be silenced, this had to be the dress.

And so it was.

Standing outside Edna’s, she steeled her nerves. It was still a place of memories, all good, but all painful for her. Squaring her shoulders, she finally enters, quietly thankful for the demurer atmosphere. It wasn’t anything he would have done, so she loved it.

A smile appears, though it didn’t reach her eyes as she saw and approached Anatole, dipping into a curtsy. She saw the crown, and while it wasn’t extravagant, it was still a crown and the dwarf was the King of Autumn. Bowing her head as well, “The crown suits you well King Anatole.” Her words genuine, her smile warm. She had nothing but respect for the dwarf.

Finally, she looks to Circe, smiling, “Circe! Looking good,” pausing, “I think.” Seemed the Summer Queen would keep them waiting, “But I’m sure you do, one hundred percent.” Yup.

Back to the dwarf, “I like what you’ve done, it’s very,” pausing, seeming to get lost in thought for a moment, “warm and welcoming.”

[Saber Sloth]

Please remember to @me when you spend 1 Glamour into the Wyrdstone Yumyumcrow Anatole and please remember any Courtless Changelings will still need to spend 1 Glamour into the Wyrdstone to keep your Freehold Status! If we get any new lings before the end of the Scene they will also need to Spend 1 Glamour into the Wyrdstone

[Anatole]

Anatole chuckled loudly at Circe's theatrics and knuckled his moustaches at the curtsy.

"Aw. Ha! I am but a place holder until someone more versed in the Mysteries appears."

He smiled, bowed in response to the respect given from the Crimson Sovereign.

"Queen Seraphina."

Another bow, somewhat deeper. He let a concerned look zip across his face, just enough for the Emerald Sovereign to see.

Then he snapped his fingers, smiled broadly, and went off rummaging through the baskets of breads and cheeses, and the exquisite vegetation for the Wyrdstone. He paused before it, once he had cleared space for it and made it visible. At first, he pondered whether he should simply stretch out his hand and let the Glamour flow; but at last, he simply - and with a certain air of mysticism - breathed on the Wyrdstone.

Glamour flowed and the Stone flared briefly from within.

Turning, he enquired simply.

"Where are the others? We can't let this all go to waste. It would be a shame. Please, tuck in!"

[Saber Sloth]

The Wyrdstone flutters, stuttering as it algins with a new heartbeat. It takes a few moments more, the loss of Rhodes gripping even this petrified heart. But Anatole's glamour is accepted and devoured. When the thrumming completely echoes the newest Dread Lord's heartbeat, a pulse is sent out towards all in the Freehold, baring those without Court.

For Those Lost do not have the Pledge-ties to the Monarchs that Change the Seasons over and must make the pilgrimage and sacrifice each Season for them to come under the Wyrdstone's protection. The Courtless, without the ties suddenly feel bereft, while those who count as members of the Courts suddenly feel that they are tied and protected in the net of Safety-home-trust. Even if they are not taking part of tonight festivities.

Change over is a go! Type to party! and remember any Courtless who want to keep their Freehold Status must appear and spent 1 Glamour into the Wyrdstone!!!

[Vincent Black]

Vincent walks in, he is wearing a gray shirt, dark gray pants, and a dark bluish gray duster coat. His hair is cut to his shoulders and sports a new Greyish blue look. He walks up to the Wyrdstone, places his hand on it and imbues it with his glamour. Before taking a seat he takes a look around knowing that the typical Autum king may not be around but is still looking nonetheless.

He realizes that Anatole is their new Autumn king, so he decides to speak up. "Congratulations are in order to our new king. This is quite the get together you have thrown." Vincent takes a bow to the new king and finds a seat amongst the others.

[Sonnie Wu]

Sonnie arrived, though without her usual upbeat, party hardy attitude.

Truth was, she was worried about Seraphina. The first Autumn Coronation without Rhodes as King was going to be... weird. She wanted to be here for her friend, even if nothing needed to be said. And so she was.

Here, that is.

The Spring Beast was dressed as Spider-Gwen, in a skin-tight one-piece outfit of white and black and pink, complete with ballet shoes. Her simian Mien, though, was still on full display, monkey tail and all.

"I'm a Spider Monkey," she stated, matter-of-factly, to the room before she approached the new Monarch.

"And a good Autumn to you, your Fearfulness," Sonnie said, curtseying to Anatole

As irreverent as she often was, she was genuine when paying respects here.

[Circe]

"Oh ho ho ho ho! That is just what I said when I first got my crown," she smiles as Anatole makes her feel nostalgic. And some royal advice, albeit subtle.


Circe shrugs off the cloak, revealing the heeled boots she is wearing with a gown and a modified set of her breastplate, to leave something fancy but armored to a degree. Very impractical though, very much so. "The Hedgespun plate might be obsolete after the riot, but I can still use it. At least I can say I'm ready fer a ballroom blitzkrieg."


And Anatole does a good bit of showmanship with the Wyrdstone. Circe gets in on the theatrics, placing her own hand, palm up, on the bottom of the stone, "I stand relieved to cede the crown to you Anatole," releasing her own Glamour into it. She should be fine until Summer, but why not?


Vincent and Sonja arrive, looking respectable and Halloween, respectively. She gives Sonja a flat look before smiling, "A punishing arrival."

[Seraphina]

The look was seen, but she didn’t say anything, instead, offering simply a friendly smile. She wasn’t completely sure what the concern was for, but she knew this was not the place to ask. This was a night about celebrating Autumn and its new King.

But this was the moment of truth, when he touched the stone. Would it accept him as King? A sigh of relief, though quiet, was let out.

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll be along shortly.” But their numbers had shrunk once again. It was an ongoing ebb and flow. “I agree! We mustn’t let this generous and beautiful bounty go to waste!” and makes herself a plate and pours a glass of wine. To Anatole, “Can I get you something to drink?” it was his night after all.

Her eyes do catch the stutter of the Wyrdstone, almost like it knew this was a different King of Autumn. Could the stone feel loss? Or was it simply a difference in Glamour?

“Evening Vincent!” a little wave.

It was hard to miss Sonnie in her costume! A huge grin appears on her face seeing her best friend, “Sonnie! I love it!” she could always count on Sonnie to lighten the mood.

As Circe reveals her outfit, the smile remains, “Damn Circe! You just keep outdoing yourself. It’s looks badass.” A truthful compliment. Did Sera almost go with hedgespun? Yes. But truth be told, her heart wasn’t in it. At least, not yet.