929/Log

Log
Date of Scene:	13 June 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Athenaeum, 222

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Athenaeum has posed:
It's early evening in the suburbs surrounding New York. A quaint bungalow sits in a small patch of carefully mown lawns and well tended flowerbeds. With roses out the back in shades randing from blue to red, white to pink and even classic orange the gardens release their floral bouquet into the cooling air.

Alone and not expecting guests, Ysabelle is out in her small garden, wearing a simple green cotton sundress and a wide brimmed hat of the same colour. Her milk-white skin veritably glows in the sunlight, whilst her gemlike eyes are hidden behind a pair of wire-rimmed sunglasses perched on her nose.

At present she's just laying out two saucers, one of milk one of honey at the back the property, under a pair of fucia bushes - collecting two empty ones as she does.

Till (222) has posed:
Till has been flitting around New York for the past week or so, visiting parks and other natural places, and trying to make more flowers. Despite what Tigra might have thought, he DID understand a little of what she said. So he's been looking for places where 'suddenly FLOWERS!' won't be too obtrusive. So, naturally.... parks!

And HEY! There's some flowers! That's about all Till sees at first. He sees the woman, sure, but it doesn't occur to him that she can see him. Because he's a faerie and humans don't generally see them. So out of the sky the little one flits, down to the roses, and seeks to hand upon one of them.

Athenaeum has posed:
Ysabelle's first reaction to the small fae entering her garden is to smile brightly, even /seeing/ one is considered good luck. But having one in her garden is just wonderful! Slowly so as not to scare away the small creature, she finishes placing the milk and honey and stands, brushing detritus from her green skirt. Only then does she look at the little man alighting on one of the rose bushes.

"Good evening forest friend, welcome to my garden, I hope it's to your liking." Her voice is warm, softened by an odd accent that most would just label 'western European' lacking any country label to stick to it. "Would you like to dine in peace, or would company be alright?" She's kept her distance of course, hands left resting against her lower abdomen.

Till (222) has posed:
Till hadn't been expecting Ysabelle to see him. When one lives in a world of big, lumbering humans who can't see one, one tends to get spoiled to that. So when he's addressed? "Eep!" he squeaks. And he disappears into one of the open roses, wide green eyes peeking out over the top of the petals with his hands on either side.

He doesn't run away -- and wee folk tend to leave quickly if they intend to, so there's that. Instead he asks, "...Can... can you see me?"

Athenaeum has posed:
The snow-white woman covers her lips with a hand as she giggles. Behind her sun glasses, tuquoise eyes sparkle with mirth. Though it's as much excitement as at the fae's antics. She nods as she ankles, dark hair shifting over her back as she does.

"Yes, I can see you. It's a gift that you pick up whilst studying the Arts. It's alright, it's nothing you've done, and everyone else will think me just a crazy lady talking to her roses..."

Till (222) has posed:
Studying the Arts? Hopefully that means she's some sort of magic-user. Because those can see him anyway. He had his Glamours on anyway, she wouldn't have been able to see him past it otherwise. Unless they were breaking down, which was a scary thought. But for the time being he'll choose to believe she has 'opened eyes'.

So he pulls himself out of the flower, fluttering up to sit on the rose properly. "Oh, good. I can get in trouble if random people see me."

Athenaeum has posed:
"I would imagine you could." She smiles gently, moving a little closer to the rose bush and slipping down to kneel, sitting on her ankles. The old magus' hands resting in her lap.

"So let me see if I can remember my formalities..." Squaring her shoulders, the smile never leaving the edges of her mouth as she speaks; "My name is Ysabelle Orion, welcome to my home. None will harm you whilst you enjoy the hospitality of my home." There, that seemed around right - at least close enough to her memories. It /had/ been a while since she'd read any books on the fae. The woman made a mental note to fix that soon.

Till (222) has posed:
Ooh, formalities! He knows how to do those! Till flutters up to hover a little bit over the roses, and bows in the air. In a super-formal voice, he offers, "Greetings to you, Ysabelle Orion. I am called Till, Wyldfae of Faerie. This one accepts your hospitality." That's the formal stuff, right? He hopes that's how it goes, because aside from the basics he really doesn't know much about it.

Athenaeum has posed:
The young looking woman certainly seems to think so, as she claps a soft pulse reverberates around the bungalow grounds, the air seeming lighter once it's complete. "There now, all done and dusted." She shifts a little, trying to find that small spot of comfort that sitting on your ankles can bring... If you get it /just/ right.

"So what brings you out of Arcadia? Just seeing the world for a spell?"

Till (222) has posed:
"Ooh, that feels different," Till notes. Apparently he felt the pulse! He flutters a small circle around the rose he'd been perching on, testing his mobility. Everything seems good, so he returns to his perch on the rose.

The question gets a nod. "Kind of," he answers. "I've been trying to make the parks around the city prettier. See, there's this lady who uses plants, and we... sort of messed up some construction equipment. She said she wanted to pretty up a parking lot. I didn't know what she was going to do, but I didn't stop her either. Someone pointed out that the people she had helping her were... um... probably not acting on their own free will, and kind of insinuated that we did a wrong thing.

"So I started looking for less obtrusive places to make things pretty. Parks seemed like a good idea, because people were going there to enjoy nature anyway. So I've been trying to make things pretty around the city without messing up anything," Till explains.

Athenaeum has posed:
Ysabelle listens, filing away a 'plant user' as someone she should probably check up on. But otherwise she nods as she listens, paying the small being her full attention as he explains his reasons for being.

"You should look in people's garden's too, and their window boxes. I'm sure there's quite a few people that would love to wake up to a plethora of posies outside their window. Just be sure they're not growing vegetables or the like..." She looks over at a small square that seems given over to herbs, though some are still flowering in this season.

"But it's a lovely idea, I must admit it's been a while since I spoke to any of your kind. Most of the Court fae seem to dislike humans talking to them, let alone visiting Arcadia without an invitation." Her wince shows that /that/ had been a particularly painful mistake to make.

Till (222) has posed:
Till nods! "I used to live in a person's flower garden a little while ago," he notes. "Um... about thirty years? Maybe." Thirty years is indeed a 'little while' for him, given he's Fae, so that shouldn't be too surprising.

As for Fae not liking being spoke to. "Most don't," he confirms. "But I lived near a human child, so I'm kind of used to them." He sighs a little. "...He got so big, and then just forgot about me..."

And then, since he can't stand to think of sad things for too long, turns to the topic of helping people with their gardens. "Ooh, I'd have to be careful, though," he notes. "That would be a gift, and there's rules on that."

Athenaeum has posed:
"Surely all the places you make pretty are gifts of a sort?" So many rules within rules for the fae, she'd forgotten what a mine field it could be. Deciding the intricacies of gift giving might be a bit of a dry topic for the little guy, she instead reaches behind her, leaning back to collect the small saucer of honey.

Shifting back, she rests it lightly on the ground about half way between them. "Are you hungry? Or thirsty? There's some fresh milk back there too, with extra cream of course." Her ready smile holds no guile, just pure warmth and joy at seeing something so special as Till.

Till (222) has posed:
Till blinks at the reasoning. "Well... yeah. But that's more for me," he clarifies. "I get stronger when there's lots of plants and flowers around. Besides, I have more places to sleep if there are more flowers."

His eyes go a little wide at the offer of the honey. There's a clear hesitation there. But she did offer hospitality, right? That means while he's here he shouldn't have to worry about every little nuance of every single rule, doesn't it? He hopes not! Fluttering into the air again, he replies, "That'd be nice, if it's okay. You were putting them outside? Do you normally do that?"

Athenaeum has posed:
Ysabelle smiles and nods, bringing the saucer of milk around too for him, resting the slender porcelain dish next to the first. "Of course. It's an age old custom to leave out milk and honey for the fae and wyld creatures. Alas many have forgotten the custom, or the reason for it entirely." There, it was already set aside for a fae, and he's a fae, it's all totally safe.

"Besides, I always offer refreshment to guests. It's part of the rules of hospitality, or at least the ones I follow. Food and warmth, shelter and healing if they need it. A little something to keep them fed when they leave if desired." She pauses, watching a Cabbage White butterfly flitter amongst the roses for a moment before her gaze comes back to Till. "And it's all given freely, I expect nothing back. So please, just have your fill and be happy."

Till (222) has posed:
Till nods. "A lot of people have forgotten much of the old ways," he agrees. "It's sad, but what can you do? I've heard some say the humans don't 'need' us anymore, or at least not as strongly as they did back then. But I never thought they 'needed' us anyway, really..."

But hey! Milk and honey is a happy thing! So he flutters over to where the saucers are, sitting down near them. He tilts his head at the saucers as she speaks. That sounds like everything's in order. So he nods, and dips a finger in the honey to taste it. Finiding it to his liking, he sips at some of the milk as well. "It's been a while since I met someone who still leaves offerings for the faeries."

Athenaeum has posed:
"I believe some of the neo-wiccans do. Trying to preserve old ways that most of them don't quite understand." Her tone says that this is something to be sad about, but there's also a resigned quality to it. "I think all the technology they've made has removed them too far from their roots, but one voice among many is soon lost in the din." So she had tried to remind them at least, though who knows when that was, or how.

"I'm glad you like it, I try to stay all natural but it's impossible to buy milk that hasn't at least been pasturised these days. Even the farmers are so worried of someone sueing them that they refuse to sell it to me direct." She shakes her head again, dispairing at it all.

Till (222) has posed:
"At least they're trying, though?" Till offers hopefully. "A lot of people aren't even doing that." He pauses a moment. Then he suggests, "Maybe someone could show them a little better?" He realizes he's talking about modern-day folks, but... maybe? A little?

Till nods at the mention of not getting unpasteurized milk. "I'm used to it, don't worry," he assures her, with a smile. "There's a lot of artificial things in the stuff I eat. It doesn't make my stomach hurt like it used to.

Athenaeum has posed:
The magician nods a little at the fae's words as she kneels there. "I suppose I can try again, now that I'm having a hand in the world again. Maybe I can convince Natasha to start leaving things out... Though in these days with so many people living in apartments with no garden space, I can see how it might be difficult.

"I'm glad that you're getting used to some of the newer things. Though the honey is direct from my topiaries on the island, so it should settle your stomach a little. There's goose mint over in the herb bed too should anything not settle." Herb lore, it's the least of her skills perhaps, but still one of the ones she enjoys most. Getting back to basics and all that.

Till (222) has posed:
"Windowboxes are a good thing," Till notes. "With there not being a lot of space in the cities, a windowbox gives a place for flowers to grow, and a place for us to land, too. So that would be a good idea, if they're trying." He doesn't ask who 'Natasha' is.

The mention of herbs gets a blink. "Not a lot of people do that, either," he observes. "Lot of people depend on the medicines from doctors to do that instead of herbs."

Athenaeum has posed:
"Well those medicines would do much more than I could with herbs alone of course." Ysabelle admits with respect for the modern Doctors apparently. "But there's simple things that it just seems much easier to brew a pot of tea than pop a few pills or drink down that awful chalk mix thing they try and force on you these days."

At some level of course, Ysabelle has to be /that/ lady. Stuck in her ways and although mystified by the modern world, still with roots firmly entrenched in the past.

Till (222) has posed:
Till nods! "That, yes!" He notes. "Occasional digestive upset doesn't need a year-long regimen of medicines five times a day. It's like trying to use one of those big machines that drop a heavy weight on things to hammer in a tiny nail!"

Athenaeum has posed:
"Using a warhammer to crack a walnut." Ysabelle agrees with a turn of the old adiom. "I absolutely agree with you. So many people are over prescribed and just blindly take whatever they're given. I mean, /respect/ your psysician of course, but one should never blindly follow."

With them having been there a little while now, she shifts her legs again, moving her posterior to sit on the grass, her legs curled beside her. "Thank you for visiting me today Till, it's been a lovely surprise." She knows he didn't mean to, but it's nice to be appreciated once in a while, and invisible people probably find that harder than most.

Till (222) has posed:
Once more, Till nods, at the usage of the phrase. "Blindly following anybody tends to be bad," he notes. "That's the whole point of being mortal, I thought. The tradeoff for being so short-lived compared to other things is that mortals can pretty much do whatever they want, even if it's stupid."

He offers a smile at the thanks. "Well... it wasn't intentional, but I'm glad there was someone here that could see me," he admits. "It's really hard to find people who can see me like this. And I can't just fly around without hiding myself."

Athenaeum has posed:
"No you cannot. The old rules still hold then?" She pauses, just for a moment before waving the question away. "No no, that's a silly thing to ask, of course they do. No one's mind changes slower than..." She stops herself short of actually finishing the rather less than flattering comparison. Quickly she moves on;

"So were you just here looking for parks and flowers? Because in the suburbs almost everyone has a garden, and there's a few places of wildland that would certainly benefit from your ministrations..."

Till (222) has posed:
"They do. Now more than ever," Till confirms. He tilts his head when Ysabelle stalls. Tiiiiilt? He is, however, easily distracted to the new topic when Ysabelle asks. Particularly because she's talking about PLANTS! He perks a bit when she mentions wildlands. "Really? I didn't see a lot of wildlands in the city. There's so much metal, I guess, and I can't fly high enough to see everything clearly."

Athenaeum has posed:
"There's no point in the city really. They've taken the land and built and built..." She shudders. "I have a few homes around the world, and this is about as close to a city as I like to get. As they spread, I'll buy another one further out and sell this... The hard part of course is de-taching and reattaching the library, but it's worth it to still breathe clear air of a morning." Or at least, clean/er/ air.

Till (222) has posed:
Till blinks, still partaking of the honey, though he's more interested in the conversation at the moment. "Detach a library?" he ventures. That seems to be what stuck out to him the most out of all that. "How would you do that?" he asks.

Athenaeum has posed:
"With magic." Ysabelle laughs warmly, wiggling the fingers of one hand. She gestures back to the bungalow. "It's an old spell, bending reality to allow more space within a building than there should be. But it makes moving a bit of a chore... Normally I'd open a portal, carry them all through and put them back on the shelves in the new place, then remove the shelves and end the distortion spell. But it's all very fiddly and a bit of a pain. So I quote like all these new... Oh what did they call them... Zoning laws?"

Till (222) has posed:
That's apparently enough of an answer for Till. Apparently 'it's magic, I ain't got explain nothing' is a perfectly valid explanation for Fae as well! He wrinkles his nose at the mention of the involved process to move. "Yeah, that does sound like a pain in the butt," he agrees. "So you just sort of... move the door?"

Athenaeum has posed:
Ysabelle shakes her head. "I keep my libraries diversified and copies of everything in various places. I've had it all go up in dust before, keeping one's books in just one place seems foolhardy these days. So I have to physically move all the tomes, after bending the space in the new building." She attempts to think of a fae-like anology, and fails so instead just leaves it at that.

Till (222) has posed:
Till pulls a dismayed and shocked face when Ysabelle mentions her books going up in dust. It is literally a D: face, chapter and verse. "Wow, really? What happened that everything went up?" he asks. "Definitely a good idea, if you've had things go THAT bad before."

Athenaeum has posed:
"A miscast of a spell caused everything to age and turn to dust..." She admits quietly. He doesn't need to know it was her, or what else was caught in that fateful blast. Still she moves on quickly, attempting to bring a smile back to the little guy's face.

"But that was /such/ a long time ago, even by your standards. Some..." Her gaze turns skywards as she tries to work out the time difference in her head. "Two thousand and... some years." She waves a hand, dismissing the details. "So I think I've got it working about right now."

Till (222) has posed:
Till's eyes go wide when Ysabelle says how long ago that was. "Really? I didn't know even magic could keep someone alive THAT long," he observes. "You're a human? Or something else? Maybe partly someone else?"

Athenaeum has posed:
"Human, but that same accident pushed me out of sync with Time. I don't age any more, though I can get killed just as easily as any other human." She considers the statement then amends; "Well, not /any/ other human, but any other Magic user I suppose." The young looking woman laughs softly. "And then of course there's the more asthetic aspects... I have /no/ idea where they came from."

Till (222) has posed:
"Ohhhh, that makes sense," Till replies. "Magic unbound can do weird things to people. Did it have any other side effects? Bad ones, I mean." Pause. Headtilt. "Asthetic aspects?" he asks.

Athenaeum has posed:
Ysabelle giggles. "Humans don't tend to come with skin the colour of snow..." She reaches up, removing the sunglasses to reveal eyes a shining turquoise green, gemlike and glistening. As she tilts her head this way and that, her eyes gather the light and reflect it, like a cat's, only with a normal pupil. "Or have eyes like these... Otherwise, a life was lost. That's the worst side effect all going."

Till (222) has posed:
When Ysabelle removes her glasses, Till stands up, fluttering over a little closer to her face, so that he can see the eyes better. "Ooh, you have pretty eyes!" he comments. He's hardly a good judge of 'normal', but then 'not-normal' tends to be more interesting! He flutters around a moment, though. He frowns a little at the mention of a life lost. "I'm sorry."

Athenaeum has posed:
Ysabelle returns her sunglasses to their position, pushing her sunhat back a little as she leans back, propped onto her hands. "Again, it was a very long time ago. Though I do still miss them from time to time. It does not do to dwell too long in the past."

Looking at the sun slowly touching the horizon, the magician asks; "I know normally that fae hate to be indoors, but you said you had a human friend. Would you care to go inside before the chill sets in?"

Till (222) has posed:
Till flutters back a bit so he's no longer in Ysabelle's face. And he nods. "Yeah... dwelling on the past is never good... it keeps you from seeing the present," he agrees. As for going indoors? Till nods. "I still remember human houses, so it should be OK. I'll try not to break anything," he promises.

Athenaeum has posed:
Ysabelle nods and smiles, standing, she takes a moment to put the saucers back where they were before. "There's plenty more inside." She reassures the little fairy, before headng back towards the building with a measured, even pace. "Don't worry about breaking things, unless you're in the library of course. Some of the things there might be a bit... upset, if you bump them..." She continues to talk to the little fae gentleman, as they vanish off into the property.