agentleooc | test drive 02

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!tdm

test drive 02

I know dust grows even when there is a breeze
Can't move, can't grow When you've fallen on your knees

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HOT UNDER THE COLLARD GREENS
The relationship between the Blood and the landens has never been easy anywhere, least of all Draega, and even less so now that the Strangers have arrived. Between Blood and landen, opinions on the Strangers vary wildly. Some Blood believe the Strangers were landen in their original worlds and thus cannot possibly have anything to offer, but some landens think this means that the Strangers will be more sympathetic to them—or that landens could gain the power of the Blood one day, too. Then there are the landens who think the Strangers have sold their souls to Queen Fayura to gain the Jewels and the Blood who think the Strangers have embraced what it truly means to be Blood. Whatever that means.

Tensions are high, and they're highest on the main street of the Old Town Bazaar, where two restaurants have an on-going feud. The Last Meal is owned by a Blood family, none of whom wear a Jewel darker than Yellow. Across the street from them stands the mockingly named Blood and Breakfast, owned by a landen family.

To say these two hate each other would be something of an understatement.

On this particular morning, Lord Harle, the Yellow Jeweled owner and chef at The Last Meal, comes storming out of his front door. "You've done it now, Laney Cook! Soured all my milk!"

Simultaneously, Laney Cook, who is the owner and chef at Blood and Breakfast, comes stomping out the front door of her establishment, brandishing a wooden spoon like a sword. "Aye, and you've replaced all my sugar with salt, you ripe old bastard!"

Without missing a beat, both turn to you and the Stranger at your side. Wrong place, wrong time, friend. The two chefs decide the two of you can be trusted to help them prove the other party guilty of sabotage because neither of you has a stake in this. And, well, if the Queen brought you here, you should be an independent party. Both Harle and Cook seem to think the Queen is pretty okay.

Truthfully, they're both equally guilty. Lord Harle and Ms Cook have been trying to ruin each other for years, but who knows what you'll find when you go searching for evidence. And even if you find evidence that decides one way or the other, perhaps you'll simply lie and manufacture a solution that suits you—or the Queen who brought you here.

TERRIBLE TWO(HUNDRED)S
You're not entirely sure how this happened, but you're starting to understand why Blood females constantly grumble about the caste of males they call Warlord Princes. Prince Loren has, somehow, managed to maneuver you to the place you're at now: the head of a classroom full of Blood children who all look like they're somewhere between the ages of eight and ten. It's hard to tell, and you're pretty sure one bossy little boy declared he was 203-years-old, so everyone else has to listen to him, thanks.

Regardless of how Loren managed to get you there, there you stand. Fifteen energetic elementary school children all wearing Jewels shriek and shout, using Craft to amplify already shrill voices. One girl floats near the ceiling, her face screwed up in concentration as she clutches a Rose Jewel. Two little boys are taking turns passing their hands through their desks, which strikes you as distinctly unsafe for eight-year-olds to be doing. (You're not wrong.)

At least there are two of you, and you only need to babysit these children for the morning. "They're here for Craft lessons. Surely, you can manage until Lady Sheera arrives," Loren had said before abandoning you to a battlefield full of powerful, pint-sized children.

There's a lesson plan on the teacher's desk, but maybe you should lead with the snacks.

REVENGE, SERVED STINKY
The air is crisp and cool; it's still winter, but it's not as chilly as it has been, and so you're out for a walk. You've made your way north through Old Town and now find yourself meandering down the roads in front of the landen Guild Halls. Even though they're all made of red brick, each building is entirely unique. The Hunter and Crafter Hall, the largest of all the buildings, has more in common with a hunting lodge than the university building it once was. The Elektriline Hall might be the smallest building, but it's covered in neon lights and impossible to ignore.

Equally impossible to ignore is Master Tinker Mari and her collection of landen young adults. They're clustered around a storm drain. When Mari sees you, she detaches herself from the group of landen students and bounds over to you. "Ahhah! Stranger! You have been brought here against your will and are surely sympathetic to our cause!" she exclaims.

That doesn't make you feel too great since, you know, you're aware that the Hunter Guild tried to kill all the Strangers maybe two or three weeks ago. They may have mellowed out, or they may just be biding their time. Thankfully, none of Mari's students bear the markings of a Hunter.

She pulls you to the group. Already, canisters have been lowered into the sewers. A handful of students have clambered down after the canisters. "The Blood wouldn't help us repair the damage in Old Town," she says, rubbing her hands together. "Our people's homes were unlivable. So we're going to make their workplace unbearable." She points at the canisters. "Stink bombs."

There's another Stranger in the group, and you make eye contact over the top of the storm drain. Are you of the same mind as each other? As Mari? The choice is yours: agree to Mari's plan and fill the buildings of the Ebon Council with untenable stench or try to convince them there's a better way.

AIR TIME
Whether you catch the news on a Far-caster in the city or you're spinning the dial on your own device, you'll hear…

etiquette with evandra and aren
[Evandra's voice is a little bit rough and a little bit husky, the kind of voice that gives bad ideas to young men and headaches to fathers.] Today we're talking about everyone's favorite subject.

[Aren's voice is chipper and bright. He sounds more like an eager boy than the full-grown man he is.] Food?

[A laugh from Evandra.] No, Lord Aren. Sex and flirting. Culturally, the Blood don't consider it rude to flirt quite blatantly with each other, even when one or both of the parties is married. Isn't that right?

[Aren:] That's exactly it, Evandra. Older males allow young witches to flirt because it's understood that the male isn't interested or available. He becomes a safe partner for her to practice on, and his approval lets her know what is and isn't acceptable.

[Evandra:] What does it mean if a married male or witch flirts with you?

[Aren:] Casual flirting means that witch or male thinks you're safe. It's their way of telling you they feel comfortable around you. Of course, it's always acceptable to ask them to step back! [He laughs.] As we all know, just because you can flirt with a Warlord Prince's lady doesn't mean you should!

[Evandra:] Let's take a look at casual flirtation between different Blood castes…

the weather
[A soft-spoken man's voice rumbles out of the Far-caster. He's pleasant to listen to, with a soothing cadence to his voice.] Warmer temperatures will see melting snow over the next week. Be careful around the Heartsblood River, as the heavy snows will result in flooding along the banks. Need flood insurance? The Transport Guild is looking to expand into…

the news
…amusing to hear that Grand Master Niall blames the Blood for the fires in Old Town. It is my understanding that members of the Blood, these so-called Strangers, went out of their way to rescue both Blood and landen during the fires set by the Grand Master's Hunter Guild. [The man speaking has a slow, clipped cadence to his voice. It's very posh and polished.]

[Another voice, presumably an interviewer:] The Council counts the Strangers as Blood, Lord Grejor?

[Grejor:] What else can they be? They wear the Jewels, therefore they are among our number. [He laughs, and the sound is cold.] The Council is pleased to welcome our new brothers and sisters.

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He's not like other Lannisters. Canny, perhaps, but not cruel. He's a fair leader. She is better for having him, I suppose.

She has a good sense for advisers. He did well for himself and is dedicated in his role as Hand.

Hopefully they have it in hand while we're gone, then. It's all we can hope for, anyway, and we must concentrate on this mission. We must succeed, Jon. There is no other choice.

[ He's a bit too precious, isn't he? Mary watches with no small amount of amusement as Horatio fumbles to turn off the farcaster. ]

Now, what if some of the rest of us in here were listening and needed tips?

[ Not that she does, mind you. ]

I know. I wish she were more open with details. It seems all I'm doing is mediating petty disputes.

[War was easier than this.

[ Piper nods. Yes, good, at least he catches on quickly.

She doesn't give Laney and Harle a chance to talk back, because if she does, she's afraid one will say something to insult the other, and then she'll lose the tiny bit of a handhold she's got on them, and have to use more power, and then that will wear off and they will just be back where they started. ]

It's started to get in the way even now. How are you going to work today without sugar? [ Looking at Harle. ] And you without milk>

[ Dramatic pause, and then Piper turns back to Laney. ] ...of course you have milk, don't you?

[ A glance at Jon - she hopes he sees where she's going with this. If not, she's going to step forward again quickly. ]

There might come a time where all is peace and all you'll have is disputes. Wouldn't that be a happy time at Winterfell?

[ Mary would agree entirely with Jon's thought process. She's glad to find his opinion so in line with hers. ]

Yes. [ She agrees. ] I'm sure we will be able to find some Strangers to help you with the repair process. I do think that would be a more satisfactory response to your concern.

[ She looks at the group, knowing that this is much less of a fun response than what they have planned. Chiefly, she looks at Mari. That young lady is in charge here and at this point, they'll do as she says. ]

[He gauges her meaning quickly, almost smiling at her cleverness. It was almost the sort of thing Tyrion might do or say, adding to the growing respect he had for her.]

You have sugar. [He looked at Harle] It's only fair that you spare some for each other, given how far you have gone to ruin the supplies.

It could be a truce and then you focus on your businesses succeeding.

It would and I want that for you. You're the Lady of Winterfell and it should have that peace.

But I don't know if I will stay in Winterfell once the war is over.

[ Yes, good. That's exactly where she'd been going, and she's glad that the other Stranger was able to convey it so well. Maybe this would actually work?

Except -- darn it --

'I'm not going to share with her,' said Lord Harle.

And Piper can see how Laney immediately bristles. ]

Then you'll go without milk, [ said quickly, sharply, a marked contrast from her convincing tone of before. ] And we will help Laney Cook get her sugar another way. And have lunch at her restaurant and tell everyone exactly how good it is. Or you can agree to share, and we'll walk away, and we won't need to say another word.

[ A quirk of her lips. ] But you can compete honestly and let the one who really is the best cook win. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Lord Harle?

[There. That's something of a victory snatched from the jaws of defeat. It hadn't been pretty, and the necessity of a long exile still hasn't been fully evaded, but at least they've managed to wrangle something out of the absolute chaos things had so quickly descended into.

Not that anyone seems to be paying them terribly much mind, now that the far-caster has receded back into almost-silence. Horatio isn't entirely certain that isn't just the first stage of being communally shunned, but for the moment no one seems to be actively shooing either of them out into the wilderness.

A sharp breath helps begin to bleed the adrenaline back down, although it may be weeks before the redness fades from his ears.] To-- understand the device, sir.

[Clearly someone's never been in a coma before. Old hat for Jess.

She watched the girl refer to the man who'd been talking, and she thought back on her own life. Her lips thinned into a hard line for a moment, then she flicked her eyes back up to Piper's.]

You'd be lucky if that's the worst you could think of, or the worst reality would try to rain down on you. Trust me on that.

[She moved to stand, tucking her hands back into her pockets.]

God, I need a drink. Where the hell do they serve booze here? And how the hell do they expect us to pay for it?

[The singing is almost certainly lovely. There's certainly an easy rhythm to the tune, and an identifiable clarity in her voice. The children seem to take to it well enough, which is far more important than Horatio abruptly growing the capacity to actually appreciate music or identify pitch.

Much more happily, the captivation of the children makes the room begin to feel faintly more familiar. Now that they're quiet and somewhat attentive, a number of their faces resemble far more the eager brightness of the ship's boys Horatio is far more used to wrangling. It's a natural thing to flit quietly down the rows, embellishing the chorus with the odd tuneless whistle and--more importantly--gently nudging the odd shoulder when a young attention span began to drift.

This is good. This is manageable. Craft is-- infinitely less so, but this is hardly the time to risk letting the calm that's settled over the room deteriorate again.]

Bit like everything else, ma'am. Matter of practice. [Another boy's attention seems to be wandering, but it's easily corrected by a light nudge.] Miss was nice enough to show us a song. Shall we thank her by showing her a bit of vanishing?

[Children have an oddly stringent sense of fairness, after all--more than quite a number of adults he'd known over the years.]

( Horatio actually has a gentle manner with the children and Sansa feels comfortable in his presence. Perhaps he's not a singer but he seems to have some aptitude for teaching even if neither of them are taking over as instructors any time soon. She watches in delight as the children all start vanishing and reappearing their pens, their paper, their shoes and any manner of things.

She turns to Horatio with a bright smile. )

Well, my lord, I'm afraid I have been shown up. Shall I try to vanish something for you?

Vampire, actually. Don't look so shocked. We drank blood when we came here.

--like this?

[Has he ever been essentially accosted into helping mediate a local business feud with a stranger while simply trying to gain a basic understanding of the layout of a new city? Is that a situation other people are so accustomed to that it becomes entirely rote?]

Not remotely, Miss Song. [But that won't stop him from beginning to drift toward where he assumes the kitchen--and potential sabotage--must lie.] Have you?

In-- public, ma'am?

[As, admittedly, Horatio himself had just been, if without much attention to the minutia. That thought rattles through his mind half a second too late to stop his tongue in his mouth.

All it's good for, really, is creeping the pink in his ears toward something far more brilliantly scarlet.]

[The number of smiles that have not just cropped up but continued along uninterrupted in this room is truly uncanny. It sends a fluttering through briefly through his mind that other people might simply always be somewhat happy in their lives.

It's a fascinating possibility. Not one worth fully smiling himself over, but certainly something to mull once they're released from their temporary duties.]

So please you, ma'am.

[The pair of them likely need more practice than any of these children seem to, at the end of the day.]

Oh, he's not the worst. Just the most... politician-y. That's a bizarre thing to be dreaming about.

[ In the realm of nightmares, Piper was well aware that she was better off than many of her friends. But she still had good company. ]

Are you staying at the Queen's residence?

You don't want to see the looks on their faces?

[He gives Jessica a look of exaggerated surprise, before glancing back towards the two unhappy cooks.]

It's bound to be incredibly educational.

As threats go, I assure you I've only ever been a very small one.

[He glances towards the Far-caster, which has moved on now with much less engrossing news.]

History is full of cautionary tales that begin this way. Remarkably few powerful people become so because they're willing to share power, especially not with foreign upstarts.

Depends on your political nightmare of choice.

[She flicked her hair out of her face with a jerk of her head.]

Nowhere else to stay. Yet.

And potentially messy. You really want to risk projectile chickens? You that itchy to be a casualty of war?

[Jessica had been in the vicinity of other people's shit before. She'd been splattered with brains and blood and debris from other people's wars and fights she maybe should have walked away from.

And here she was, knee deep in it again.]

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test drive 02

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