2988/Cookie Laws

Cookie Laws
Date of Scene:	11 November 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Mercy Thompson, Loki

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Mercy Thompson has posed:
When most people think of New York they typically think of New York City. The hustle, the bustle, the cars, the noise, the smog, but there are large sections within New York that are less urbane and more gentrified.

Or farm based.

That's where Loki and Mercy Thompson find themselves today. Mercy's idea for 'fun' for the afternoon and early evening.

Low rolling hills give way to a sprawling farm; a fruit and orchard based farm. While the height of summer is no longer in full bloom, here upon the farm, there's still enough warmth left in the days that the grass continues to look lush, and the branches of the apple trees are still heavily laden with fruit.

Another section of the farm has been set up with what Mercy described as a Fall Festival. It's less carnival and more carriage rides, corn mazes, apple based foods to eat, along side some of the more traditional faire based foods and crafts. There are crafts that can be made or bought, depending on what someone wants, and it's clear that this is a family based Festival as there's small hordes of children running this way and that.

Currently, the sun is just beginning to dip low upon the horizon, and the farm staff are starting to prepare a large bonfire in the center of the festival. It's the first bonfire of the festival now that Halloween is nearly upon them. Mercy, for her part, holds a candied apple in one hand as the two walk.

"Let's make sure to hit the corn maze before we leave -" The coyote says with a grin, "It goes for /miles/ and it has secret passageways. Every year is different too. It's really great." Someone sounds too eager here, clearly, Mercy Thompson enjoys Halloween.

Loki has posed:
New York City as a conurbation deserves to be called the first great American city state. It's the Florence of the American capitalist Renaissance, and has about as much in common with the rest of the Empire State as Florentine artists and Medicis did with peasants harvesting grapes and olives in the orchards. Other than the occasional shopping trip, that is to say, not very much.

Westchester County might as well be the frontier between two worlds, one agrarian and rust belt, the other the Big Apple without an actual apple tree but plenty of Apple stores. Can't blame someone for seeking the natural world beyond the tangle of expressways. Those fertile soils in the Hudson Valley give way, eventually, to something more natural and bucolic. Which means, of course, patently //dull// to any urbanites. Hopefully the Fall Festival isn't overrun by city dwellers trying to make sure the next generation understands trees aren't only programming terms.

The children probably want to run to Loki. The very smallest might even see what is truly there, a prince with a golden circlet and those patently lovely green, origami sliced clothes. His jacket alone is worth a mint in inspiration and leatherwork, but he's not apparently wearing that. The tighter illusion of the moment gives him a cropped coat, closer to Belstaff in design, and hands tucked into his pockets. "The corn maze. You realize your nose gives you a ridiculous advantage. Follow the muddy prints. I could make it more challenging for everyone."

Mercy Thompson has posed:
The young children might. Their minds are split between two worlds -

The real and then the closed in reality their parents want them to conform to.

As such, those children that still have a foot within both of those realities, watch the Asgardian within their midsts. Some might even point at him, offering hurried words of what they see. Of course, the reality of what /is/ seen has the parents hushing the child for telling wild tales. Well, most parents. There are those that indulge their child and go along with it, asking questions to keep the 'tall tale' going.

The coyote (and likely Loki too) hears some of what the children say and with a grin, Mercy side-eyes the crowd around them.

"Hiding in plain sight doesn't always work, does it." Comes her murmur, before that expression on her face brightens, "Hey, gotta use what mother nature gave you to its fullest, right? No worse than someone who counts cards, or memorizes answers, or in this particular case, pathways." And just like that the two of them are there, at the entrance. The stalks of corn are quite tall, much taller than Mercy, but not so towering compared to Loki's true form. "Hmmm, I think I might be afraid of what you can do to a maze. I have visions of endless repeating loops, or the most ridiculously hard riddles imaginable with lots of 'you shall not pass' messages, I think." Her mostly eaten apple will be tossed into a conveniently placed garbage can at the entrance. "Shall we take a whirl nonetheless?"

Loki has posed:
Nothing like suggesting a superb eye for detail and wit. The smartest of the bunch, those most canny and most bright in the storytelling to their parents, may find themselves reward in some fashion. An apple turns purple for them, or a glossy sheen of gold rolls over the unpierced skin. A worm slinks out from a hole and leaves a glittering, nacreous trail of dust that might even read a name or a glyph, old as they are. The Trickster encourages such flights of fancy, even if he gives one snooty parent a huge, bushy mustache worthy of Oktoberfest in Munich. No doubt he'd give someone a cuckold's horns if offered the chance.

The coyote in the lead keeps him from turning things too dangerous, though. He inclines his head as she leads them into the bushels of corn, or whatever mortals use to judge maize as a proper building material. Loki will never understand that.

"You know, Mercy, they are missing a prime opportunity to call this a maize maze. A maze of maize amazement. Truly, this is brutal."

He deserves to be smacked. Honest. He nonetheless smirks after her, the corner of his mouth rising.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
The children, and perhaps some of the parents, will likely never forget the 'evening' their apples turned tricks.

Perhaps when the children are fully grown and well into adulthood they'll assign a children's flight of fancy to the antics of a Trickster God, but for this day and this evening, the children are delighted. It's enough to keep that small part within them burning brightly in the belief that magic and all those creatures in-between truly do exist.

At her name, Mercy automatically shifts her attention away from the maze around them, and over to Loki. His pun, terrible as it /may/ be, earns a light laugh-groan from the coyote. "Oh my god, worst pun ever." It's enough to garner a head shake from the mechanic as well.

Voices, laughter and the rustle of corn is easily heard from within the maze itself. Dozens upon dozens of people can be found within the wide-weaved paths and secret passageways. All of them are trying to figure out where everything leads and, most importantly, where the exit is. Ahead of Loki and Mercy the path stretches straight for several feet, before it ends at a fork in the road. One path leads left and another leads right. "I can tell you which way most people pick -" Thanks to the scent, "But what way would you choose?" She asks curiously once he's at her side, and when he's near enough she'll reach for his arm.

Out of the corn maze the farm workers continue to build that bonfire. Or, in this case, light the bonfire. The kindling take the flame right away and after a few minutes some of the smaller logs housed within the larger logs begin to pick up the flickering flames as well.

The wood was gathered from all across the property. From old trees and new trees alike. It's going to be that old wood that will prove troublesome, as the flames begin to degrade a spell of entrapment. Something meant to keep a spirit away from this world, away from the people that mill around.

Already the cracks within its prison allow the faintest of fingers of magic to unfurl from within.

Loki has posed:
"No, the worst pun ever could well be the joke of what a pumpkin's favourite sport is." Wait for it. He gives three beats for an answer before deadpanning, "Squash." Truly and utterly, he deserves to be smacked about by Odin's newspaper for that offensive comment. He might even fail to defend himself very much.

See, made Mercy laugh. That accounts for something, assuredly. He slides his thumbs beneath the leather collar of his jacket, assuring that it sits properly and fails to capture the loose, black-brown loft of his hair. He almost eases into calmness, the joy blazing around the various voices originating within the corn maze deserving raised eyebrows. Nonetheless, she is bent on going forward, and he follows. At the first intersection, he shakes his head. "I would leap to the middle, and step forth in glory. You cannot ask me to be bewildered in this sort of troublesome labyrinth." As his actual height is sufficiently higher than a corn stalk, he's clearly got the advantage. He also has a nose of his own, particularly the curling smoke in the air that peppers the air with...

... bother.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
Squash.

That's enough to finally earn more than just a snorted laugh from the woman. It pulls forth a light slap at his arm. Easily dodged, as there's no real heat beneath that swat.

His response to her question causes the coyote's eyebrows to rise upward slightly, even as she cants her gaze up towards his face. "That." She states, quite seriously, "Is cheating." And only at the end can her amusement be heard, as clearly she sees nothing wrong with cheating per se. Not with mazes, at least.

"Left it is." She says and true to her words the coyote steps onto the left path. The path itself can be found to be lined with a variety of pumpkins, or rather, jack-o-lanterns, as their leering, happy, scary and surprised faces peek out from between the stalks.

While Mercy's nose is likewise sensitive it takes her a second longer to sense the magic. It's helped by the wind as the gentle breeze pushes the magic forward and away from the bonfire; into the corn maze itself. With each touch from the feathery fingers of magic, the world around the people begins to alight. It starts with the carved pumpkins - the faces within begin to emit their own colorful lights.

Pinks, blues, reds, yellows, oranges and greens too.

As each one emits their colorful glow they likewise move. What little dried tendrils that are left upon the stem of the pumpkins suddenly return to their former greenery and grow. The animated pumpkins find themselves with two arms and two legs. Completely mobile now.

Mercy, who at this point is quite aware something isn't quite right, turns a look towards those 'squash'. "Looks like they didn't like your joke either." And while those words of hers still hold a note of amusement to them, there's likewise wariness heard within her tones, "Time to see if they're rotten or not."

And with those words of hers the three pumpkins nearest them waddle around. While their faces can't necessarily /move/ somehow something around the eyes shifts just enough to make them look mean. Mean and angry. The 'arm' of the closest pumpkin lashes out, the vines growing as needed, as it tries to loop around both Loki and Mercy's ankles.

It's also clear when elsewhere within the maze the pumpkins come alive for others - sounds of startlement and eventual screams begin.

And still the fire burns and the wooden casket of the spirit erodes - slowly, but surely.