#Amour et Liberte|Changeling the Dreaming

[brooklynislandgirl]

Ask anything: "So, was there ever a point where you thought about being something other than Catholic, or was there never any doubt? I don't want to pry or be rude, so sorry if it's crossing a line. Just you had.. have a stronger connection to Hawaii, so I figured you might have to make more of a choice, I guess."

Beth finishes the stitch she is working on after Tabby makes the first peep in about an hour and a half. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see her friend is wrestling the weight of the Creeds in the second section of her catechism book. There's notes in the margin though she can't tell at this distance if it's Andy's handwriting or Tabby's but in the grand scheme of things, that hardly matters. Tabby also has various highlighters, and a small notebook that already seemed crammed with personal asides. She puts the yarn and the now-starting-to-look-like-a-blanket in her knitting basket but the needles ~long, sharp looking, and metal~ she winds her hair into a bun and uses them to keep it loosely in place. She does that with her glasses at times and Andy loves to tell anyone who'll listen that she tends to forget them there and spend time searching for the 'lost' lenses. Jay has told Tabby that it's a dick move, and he's being mean, an assessment that Beth's never vocally disagreed with. She pads to the kitchen and pours them both freshly brewed coffee, then joins Tabby at the dining table. "I s'pose you could say every one have some kine crisis of fai'd. A point where dey question mebbe da existence of da Almighty, even dey can recite Apostle's Creed verbatim. F' me? I don' see why Kane, Ku, Lono nevah same-same as Faddah, Son, an' Holy Spirit. Why Mary no can wear face of Pele or Hina. Every religion I know all boil down to same kine: Love everyone like ya love God, an' don' go around bein' a....jerk." Beth smiles and takes a sip of her coffee. "But den you know, I've always been more fluid dan Andy could evah possibly be, an' I follow where he wants to lead us. Guessin' ya got some doubts or questions an' he's not really very open minded wi' dat kine. An' as sweet as Faddah Vinnie is, doubt it's comfortable talkin' to him eiddah, cause he a priest. So...give ovah. What's on ya mind? Wha' sort of kine don' ring true?" Beth has read her brother's version of the bible, and she keeps her own, written in pidgin. Some of her rituals and beliefs lay with her ancestors and others hold the same resonance and reason as those of the Wyck, the Aeduna, passed down mouth to mouth from mother to daughter since the Mythic age. Maybe she's just the right sort of bridge to help Tabby with the gap between her own beliefs and her brother's desires.

[tarnishedhalo]

❝ Hey, why are there, like, 50 crows on your roof? ❞

A Little Conversation || -

Riley looks like hell. He's holed up in the space of the massive apartment dedicated to audio recording and playback, a cup of what might be assumed to be coffee, with a heavy whiskey pour, cradled between his hands. There's no product in his hair, the usual precise spikes languishing like an unkempt yard, he hasn't shaved and when Tabby's question reaches him, he petulantly turns his head aside while the shadow of guilt pours out of him. He's struggling to do that thing he doesn't do very well at all, and that's lying. The truth is his spine, his moral compass, his guiding light and he can't let a word of it out. So he spreads the facts out in his head and tries to piecemeal an answer together from what bits and pieces he can salvage. The reason why there's so many corvids on the roof is he's being shamed. While he wouldn't ever call them old friends, Thief-in-the...fuck it, Quothe. He and Quothe have often had mutual interests in the past that lent them to working with each other. He's often paid her for services rendered, no matter how exorbitant the price-tag had been. Sometimes in return she asks that he turned a blind eye to certain activities, or to help cover up the actions of her critter-nation when they can't do it themselves. He's never had a problem with it in the past, especially considering her and her kind are some of the favourite victims of the Technocratic Union. Enemy of my Enemy bullshit, and the Ascension War is still ongoing. He drew a line though at housing one of her kind here. He knows the apartment is warded against supernatural surveillance, wiped off the grid so to speak by centuries of continually fed magick. It's maybe one of the few places not deeply hidden upstate that can claim that kind of protection. But he and Beth have their own problems. He doesn't need a trail to lead to his doorstep, he doesn't need to put his sister in danger ~and he knows her. She would welcome one of the changing breeds as country cousins of hers, and let them do as they please with little thought of the consequences. Does he need to think about some wolf boy getting his panties in a twist and suddenly turning into a ten-foot-cuisinart with fur, going full ham on anything it can reach? No. Does he need some other birdman with sticky fingers and the inability to shut the fuck up walking out of there with half the apartment in its pockets? No. He doesn't want to even think of what else he might be forced into keeping for an indeterminate amount of time, for reasons that Quothe was not forthcoming about. And he's used to her being sketch as fuck. So of course Quothe staged a protest. He's not sure if all of them are shape-shifters like her. But her little group of black feathered thugs are starting to draw attention with their sit-in. Clearly, otherwise Tabby wouldn't be asking. He is so sullen when he drawls, "Uh...Gas leak."

[brooklynislandgirl]

Qyrl: The Rebellious One

Qyrl was responsible for the creation of the sun and the stars. She wished to visit the sky, Oversea, but did so against the wishes of her mother, Sea. Afraid of her mother's wrath, Qyrl sank her jaws and tentacles into Oversea to hold on. Where she bit and punctured Oversea's skin, wounds formed. As Oversea bleeds bright, blazing blood (light), the small wounds bled in small drops, forming the stars (called Small Wounds), but the largest formed the sun, which the Rokea call the Great Wound.

Qyrl later wished to remedy her mistake by closing the Great Wound. She scarred Unsea, causing her boiling blood to spill forth, creating undersea volcanoes, hoping that their force would be enough to close the Great Wound. Yet it was not enough to close the Wound, so Qyrl sought alternatives. By taking the blood of Oversea, she found that she was able to create small creatures in her image: Qyrlings. She then retreated to the deepest trenches, seeking a way to enter Sea's soul. In doing so, she contacted something that the Rokea refer to as "Nightmare". The Nightmare asked Qyrl to imagine a shape for it, and in return, it would close the Great Wound for her. Qyrl agreed and the Nightmare was brought forth into the world, wading waste-deep through the entirety of Sea and easily shrugging off any attacks from the Rokea before taking flight.

The result was year-long struggle that darkened the world, as the Nightmare tried to close the Great Wound by force. Eventually, Sea forced Qyrl to recall the Nightmare and Qyrl obeyed, although she retained some of its essence as loyal servants of her. These creatures are known as the Murdhuacha, the dark cousins to the Merfolk. The struggle, however, had caused Sea to flood over Unsea, killing many of the creatures that lived on dry land.

Qyrl did not stop her plans. She approached her sister C'et, who guarded a pearl that held the secret of building. Qyrl wanted to give the pearl to the human race, who had begun to populate the earth. C'et, hoping to change her sister's mind, told her sister of all the pain she had caused and Qyrl pretended to repent. It was, however, a ploy to steal C'et's pearl and when she did, one of her tentacles that was cut off by C'et's shell would form the core of a new pearl: nuclear energy.

The Rokea now believe that Qyrl encourages nuclear tests in the Sea to open a Small Wound big enough to enter. Once Qyrl has entered one of the Small Wounds, she will close the Great Wound from behind. She has gained new servants, less powerful than Nightmare, but far more deadly. They are named Silence, Stillness, and Darkness, and they veil threats from the watchful Rokea so that they only are alerted when it is too late to stop Qyrl.

[brooklynislandgirl]

When it comes to charitable endeavors, all that is needed is for Beth to make a passing mention of interest, and Tabby will sign up. Collecting grimy, rusted trash left on a local beach by negligent tourists?  Tabby will be there, tetanus-boosted and all slathered up with sunscreen. Seasonal gift drive for underprivileged children? Imagine the most cheerful elf in existence, the bell on her cap ringing as she checks lists and distributes donations into age-appropriate categories.

Perhaps, however, she should have thought it through before agreeing to attend this charity auction.

If the only reason for her presence is as a giver of moral support, then this is within Tabby’s wheelhouse. She can circle the room on Beth’s elbow. Make idle quips to explain away Riley’s late arrival, then move the pair of them along to the next cluster of attendees. Smile, sip champagne, and refrain from insulting anyone. Easy.

The plan goes awry when the actual auction begins. Her duty now is meant to be equally simple. Bid against Andy for Beth and set a fairly generous benchmark that all the other ‘lots’ will expect their own husbands and wives to exceed. Simple.

A fool proof scheme, except for the tiny matters of how Andy still hasn’t arrived and another party has entered the bidding for Beth. It doesn’t exactly shock Tabby that her friend has inspired interest, standing there on the stage, looking gorgeous from the top of her delicately styled hair down to the toes of elegant shoes. What she does not approve of is this man, with ice-blue eyes which run too cold for her liking, and motives that remain concealed.

Tabby rapidly adds together the limits of her credit cards, and what she has saved, before recalling that almost certainly, Andy will pick up the tab of whatever she bids. In fact, he will likely expect her to put a dent in the family funds rather than allow Beth to be indebted to attend a dinner or some other social engagement with this man, who has raised the bid by a five-figure sum and inspired murmurs among the watching crowd.

Eyes narrowing at the competition, Tabby climbs onto a nearby chair, heels sinking into the padded velvet. It’s less than dignified but ensures the auctioneer has a clear view as she raises her bidding paddle and settles in for battle.

It’s not exactly saving the dolphins. Maybe as far as Tabby is concerned, tonight, Beth is the one who needs her help most. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Worth to You || Accepting Beth’s intention was always for Tabby to be one of the so-called prizes. They are of such comparable heights, weights, builds, and colouration that whatever she wanted to wear from the derelict graveyard of designer clothes in that one closet Beth has would have been freely given with instructions to keep it afterward ~Beth hates every single one and what it represents~ or it could have been an excuse to be waited on hand and foot while shopping, with the bills being put on the Admiral’s credit cards. She knows Tabby is always good for whatever cause currently or enduringly inflames Beth’s passions, helping in whatever manner she can, even if it does mean wading through an ocean of bastards looking for flings, or if it is a genuine need in a city full of millions of downtrodden souls. She also is a social chameleon, more than capable of soothing ruffled Riley feathers or shoring up hurt feelings by a blunt word here and there. She should have been born in Beth’s place, sometimes. Of course when the consent wasn’t signed ~she wonders if Andy had dropped off the packet like he swears he did~ and the window closed, Beth had needed a back up plan. She hadn’t intended for it to go wrong, just to get back at her older sibling, make him realise he’s not the only one interested in her well-fare. Maybe shame some of the city elite with the exorbitant price her brother will pay to keep her out of anyone’s hands but his own. Because heaven forbid someone sell her out to anyone who might catch her eye. Who might actually show her a fun time, become a friend. Beth can’t really see past the end of the stage; the lights are too bright and it’s all she can do to keep her eyes from squinting, and she cannot risk subtly altering her perceptions to tone down the glare. She’d hoped the black silk would absorb the extra light, the way it wraps around her but the plunge and the jewellery seems to only enhance it all. She has an iron-clad resolve not to fidget, not to slouch, not to present herself in anything less than perfect breeding and elegance; lessons learned from the moment she could walk, even if she hates every single moment of it. It’s for a good cause, and that’s the only reason she can make herself stand it. Well, that, and Tabby messing with her brother’s head, and wallet. She can only imagine them shooting daggers at each other across the aisle, perhaps even somehow not metaphorically. She can imagine the overly dramatic expressions on Andy’s face and the impish glee shining from Tabby’s. The playful threats. The snorts and aggravated breaths, it feels almost more fun to watch them than it is about her at all and if she wasn’t the catalyst for it, she’d have loved to be an observing party. Maybe next time she is absolutely trading places and she’s going to be as extravagant as she never is anywhere else. A low susurrus draws her back from her thoughts and this time she does risk losing bids by trying to pierce the bright sheen to see what the crowd reaction was all about. Had they actually gotten in one another’s faces? She can see Tabby now rising above the crowd despite her diminutive stature, and she follows what would have been her seated sight-line, to try and catch a glimpse of her brother. And when she makes eye contact? There’s a moment suspended in Time’s amber where everything grows still. Where others simply cease to exist in the hotel’s ballroom. The lights fade out to something like candle light. Beth’s lips part and it’s only her natural social grace that keeps them from gaping open like a hooked fish. She never expected to see Lawrence where Andy should be. She doesn’t want Larry to buy her. She doesn’t want him to lose. And like some Victorian Era heroine, Beth’s face takes on a bit more colour with a sudden rush of heat to her cheeks, and she finds herself glancing away from that glacial stare. Lashes sweep her cheeks as her neck swans, and brings her back toward Tabby. Women wear this same look all the time when it comes to the elder Riley sibling, and her heart is pounding in her throat loud enough that she’s sure Tabby can hear it. And while she absolutely could tip the scales in one direction or another by tugging on the strands of fate, Beth instead chooses to let the winner proclaim themselves.  

[brooklynislandgirl]

Asexual questionnaire #16. Do Tabby need to fight anyone for making Beth feel un-okay about being ace?

The Real Feeling || Accepting

"I mean..." She begins and cuts herself short, eyes half closing and a sigh scuttles over her lips. "He means well, I jus' don' t'ink Panda gets it any beddah'n I do some days, ya know?"

Does she think tiny and mighty can take her brother? Absolutely. He can be a chauvinistic pig sometimes but that means he really won't hit a 'girl' especially when she isn't terribly bigger or more threatening than Beth herself.

"I also t'ink its left ovah rust from da Admiral." It is the man who first made her feel uncomfortable about herself in every possible way. If she was too smart, she wasn't fit to be a wife, her ultimate goal in his mind. If she didn't do as well as she could academically, she was clearly stupid or lazy. Her inability to procreate was a disgrace as grandchildren and great grandchildren was how to keep the clan growing, especially in light of Auntie Aisling living 'the devil's lie' with her whore, or as Andy and Beth called her, Auntie Siobhan. And the more and more it became apparent that Beth didn't particularly want any relationship regardless of its sanctification by the Church, things got worse. She was mentally ill ~not untrue but her disorder had nothing to do with her preferences or lack thereof. She was broken. Also possibly true but part of that was his blame to carry, after all she was the recipient of half his genetics. There was simply no winning with the man and Beth is already exhausted by what she can imagine he would say to Tabby, and just how much broken stemware would be left in the wake.

"I also don' t'ink it entirely fair t' say dat I don't have any kine sexuality. I do...it jus' doesn't fit mos' labels. Small-kine is close...ah...demi, dey call it. Or grey. Mos'ly romantically drawn t' kane, but two times I had...feelings... it was for wahine." One lithe shoulder rises and falls. "Nevah really maddah, mebbe. Nevah last." She doesn't like the residual upset lingering in her bones, changes the subject because it's easier than internalised dwelling. "Wha'bout you? How ole before you figure yaself out? An' how easy was it to accept?"

[brooklynislandgirl]

What's the best thing about having Tabby as a friend?

Anon-aholics || Accepting {{ @tabbyrp  for reasons <3}}

When Beth opens her blog, she sees the notification of a message. And when she reads it, she can’t help but burst into bloom, a smile as wide as the Brooklyn Bridge curving her lips with full teeth and crinkling her nose. It isn’t because of the anonymous message, one of the faceless masses who could be anybody and no one at all. No, it’s because they’re asking about Tabby. At first, when Andy had introduced them, Beth had been reserved. There’d been that particular kind of eye-roll because of course her brother had made a new female friend. Beth was accustomed to those; women who were attracted to her brother for numerous reasons: his good looks, his easy smile, his bank account, his bad-boy image, all the photographs and events and purported lifestyle that comes with being a Riley, the uniform, the wounded warrior aspect. There was a reason for every star in the sky. And eventually, every one of them winked out of existence when they realised the reality didn’t match the advertising. That yes, he was part of the One Percent but that he worked more than he played. That he’d sooner be caught in a dive bar playing guitar instead of rubbing elbows with the rich, young, celebrity elite. That he wasn’t a phone call away from a one night stand, that he spent more time with his sister than anyone else. Most of these women never even bothered to learn Beth’s name, and Beth herself was not too troubled by their sooner-rather-than-later disappearance. But Tabby?  Tabby had been so different from the get go. She gave as good as she got when it came to her brother’s sometimes bitter sarcasm. Tabby called him out on bad behaviour in a gentle way and knew just when to cut him off. More than that, Tabby had chosen not only to acknowledge their bond, but to see Beth as a person in her own right, and not just Andy’s pet or shadow. She opens up a new post, and after adjusting her glasses, she begins to type. “Tabby Mitchell is probably one of the kindest and most generous souls I know. And while that includes sharing whatever material resources she might have, I mean that in an emotional and spiritual way. She can almost always finish my thoughts and seems to know exactly how to make me smile even if I don’t feel like it. And that all sounds so self-centred. I love that we can go days and weeks without talking and pick up right where we left off as if not a moment has passed. I love that she is so fearless and irrepressible. I love that she’s short, like me. “Tabby is so wholly present every moment, gleaming like a star even if you don’t see it right away, and she’s got this energy that I can’t begin to do justice. Sure, she has her own ups and downs, she can be as petulant when she’s hurt. She can be so creatively, offensively rude when she feels it necessary, but… but her heart is so soft, so tender. But if I ever had to narrow it down to one, particular thing?” Beth pauses and considers Tabby from every angle, trying hard to choose one thing. Her first instinct; that she *sees* me, is so selfish and that’s not what the question is about and not the right message she wants to send. “Her zest for life and sense of adventure. I think that Tabby inspires people, certainly me, by unflinchingly staring at the challenges ahead of her and tackling them head on, often with a wit that astonishes me. I just... I love her.”

[brooklynislandgirl]

TMIT: for Beth from Tabby while they are trapped in the midnight circus because why not. “So, with all this magick and fae and other weird crap, and we might, y’know, die, I’m gonna ask. Is there some cosmic reason that a shark bit your leg and Riley lost his? Like did you piss off some leg spirit in a past life or is it just coincidence?”

TMI Tuesday || Always Accepting

Beth can't prove it, though she knows something is off. She knows Ke kilonae exists, and that others of her kind can hear the Chant of Signs that the gods sing, but she has never been able to feel the rhythm to it, never felt its rhyme with her own senses. Has never seen it flow in and around other things, but time within the Circus is...broken somehow. She doesn't know if Tabby's question is meant to distract her from that, or if it's something to help her take a breath of respite while they seem safe enough in the empty fortune-teller's tent.

This circus is a nightmare. They should have felt that the moment they walked past the ticket booth and maybe they had. Ignored it for the enthusiasm of doing something dark and wilful. But the longer they perused the displays, the events the more damaging the incidents became until it was impossible to ignore the obvious; the wyrm-taint of the Midnight Cabaret surrounded them. Then the hunt began. Beth paces through the confines of the tent, bone athame pressed against her thigh just beneath her skirt, and that will be her last choice of defense if Andy doesn't come rescue them soon. Now, the question is odd and she doesn't really want to answer and neither can she really laugh about it. But with all that Tabby has seen and now knows, there isn't a real reason to hold back.

Beth half forms a fist with one hand, crackling the knuckles first on one, then the other and sighs before sitting on a crate pushed up against the sidewall. Her voice is low and there's a wild flutter laced through it.

"So I mean probably no kine I say aftah da t'ings we see tonight gonna sound weird or mebbe...mebbe it will an' ya goddah make of it wha' ya will but..."

How to put this in context. "So... ya saw dem wolves dat walk like men. Garou, dey called. Weah-woofs. But dey no only kind dat change. Gaia...yeah, dat Gaia, da Eart' maddah Herself... she create many many kind. Some are gone now, some are rarely seen. My grandfaddah on my maddah side... he one of dem. We call ourselves Rokea. Means...weah-sharks. He a mano niuhi, man-eatah, a great white...but he doesn't eat people. In fact, he one of da rare ones who heard Sea call him to Unsea. He met oddah changin' kind an' decided to make friends wi' dem, and not enemies. Make oddah Rokea really mad. See...Rokea don' like people. Don' care for any kind not born of Sea. Call dem like my grand-faddah Same Bito, an' have a blood hunt on 'em, to be kill on sight. Long long story an' mebbe I aks him t' tell you some time. "But dis hunt not jus' for Same Bito, but also dey kinfolk. Kinfolk...have changin' blood in dem but are not changers demselves. We important because we are da bridge between changers an' da world, and kinfolk...wheddah animal or human, are da only way dey have to make more. Da one dat bite my leg...I t'ink was tryin' f' figure out if I were kin or changer. But Andy was dere t' save me.

"An' as for his leg....we aren't jus' braddah and sistah. We share a soul between us, an' I know how dat sounds but... He say it best when he say... In da Beginnin', all was One an' da One was all. But some kine happen...an' Da One got broken, into da many. Some pieces small, some pieces big. But every human has a piece of da One inside dem. An' usually, dat piece stay sleeping. Oddah times...it wakes up an' ya get...people like us. Awakened beings who can do magick. Real magick. "Andy an' me...we were always supposed to be one big piece only mebbe we were so big we had to break. Become smaller. Every lifetime we go round... an' we have...life aftah life, in da river of Time.... an' what happens to one almost always happens to da oddah. An' not jus' cause we siblings. Sometimes we're lovers or friends. Sometimes we bitter enemies. Sometimes we don't meet at all, an' dose are our worst lives. Dis time...braddah an' sistah. Like twins, sharin' dat soul. An' it allow him to use some mana but leaves me incapable, an' vice versa. "Wen he wen' had his accident... I felt him dyin' an' every t'ing dat I am an' evah will be reached out t' him in terror, in fear, in as perfect love as could be had...an' it save him from dying. But dat kine magick...comes wi' a heavy cost, Tabs. I didn't know how f' use it wisely at da time. Didn't even really know it existed but dat meant... he was stuck wi' it. Da consequences. So now, even if I know how t' heal him. Give back his leg, heal his scars an' his pain... I nevah can. Not wit'out causin' him such catastrophic injury dat it would surpass what he experience an' neiddah one of us wan' do dat. So really...da cost of livin' was da sacrifice of his leg an' every kine he loved to do before..." She spreads her hands out wide and stares at the back of them like they are two of the very same monstrosities the girls have spent the night running from. "So...really...is my fault." Or it's coincidence. And Beth knows that coincidence is not really real.

[brooklynislandgirl]

The Latchkey Saints

Father Vincent Dafaux : Cabal Leader, Celestial Chorus, Deacon Primus of the Sacred Heart Chantry

Andrew Riley, Cabal Member, Knight Templar, Counsellor of the Sacred Heart Chantry

Jayden Morgan, Cabal Member, Order of Hermes, Justice and Sentinel of the Sacred Heart Chantry

Beth Riley, Cabal Member, Verbena, Librarian and Herald of the Sacred Heart Chantry

Lucien “Luc” Toussaint, Cabal Member, Euthanatos, Priest of the Sacred Heart Chantry

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Associates and Journeymen of the Sacred Heart

Tabby Mitchell, The World’s Best Bartender,  ward of the Duchy of the Golden Sigil, Kingdom of Apples, Seelie Court.

Avery Lebeau, US Deputy Marshal, Glass Walker Philodox, Sept of the Green

The Damndest Thing You Ever Did See in Corax Notoriety Quite Persistently Dresses in Black and Talks to Things You Cannot See aka “Quothe”, Corax, Hermetic Order of the Swift Light

Mikhail Alkovitch, Procurer and Hoarder of Rare/Antique Books, Reluctant Whip of Clan Malkavian, Camarilla.

Sebastian Phoenix, Journeyman, Cult of Ecstacy

Dmitri Woźniak, mortal Consor and Procurer of Certain Goods

Count Aloysius Flyte of the Duchy of the Golden Sigil, Kingdom of Apples, Sluagh grump of the Seelie Court.

“Spooky Carl”, Wraith or...possibly a figment of Riley’s overactive imagination.

John Utsidihi Nuksokoche {Frost-Rends-the-Bane}, Wendigo Ahroun, pack leader of the Watch Dogs

Aziz Al Assad, Murshid of the Ahl-i-Batin, a Friend.