The Last of the Harvest

[vicioussweetie]

All in all, it was shaping up to be a splendid Halloween. The whole family had dressed up as various famous works of art--even the babies, although they were forced to be cherubs. The day had been full and busy, starting with a last trip out to the orchards for apples and pears and a glorious day in the sun. The braver souls partook of a haunted

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[somthing_winter]

Time is not always so kind; as the wheel of the seasons turn, now and again come gaps when something might slip through. Samhain has long been one of those times, a night when the world of men and the world of spirits lie parted by only the thinnest of gossamer veils; a border so tenuous that something could very well cross over.

Nothing comes through without leaving a sign of its passing, though, and the more potent the passer, the greater the sign. A lord of the Sidhe, and the passel of nightmare-creatures harrying him, for instance, might emerge with a thunderclap felt in the souls of fae across the whole of Boston, as the night's chill takes on a sudden, vicious edge.

To the revelers in Boston Commons, however, such events pass unnoticed. Only a single soul will even notice as, having stepped away from the gathering for a moment's air, he finds himself torn from his body and cast across the screaming, dreaming void toward Arcadia. Someone else has more pressing need for his flesh.

[vicioussweetie]

The revelers may well remember this night as the most chilling Halloween party they've ever experienced, though it's doubtful any of them could really explain why. A vague dread, a sense that something wicked their way came... stuff and nonsense, to the mortal world; nothing about that could hurt them.

Not with so proactive a lady as Aisling nearby, at least. Before the nightmares think to leave off with the Sidhe and take up with less defended mortal morsels, she arrives, bursting with energy and making far too appetizing a target to allow anything else to claim their attention. Fortunately, she's one sweet treat that can take care of herself.

[somthing_winter]

The nightmares are happy to turn their attention to Ali; they are old things, from far in the Deep Dreaming, dragged far from their lairs in pursuit of the morsel who will no longer be enough to sate them. She, however, could ease much of the gnawing hunger they feel. Enough that they could consume the rest of the revelers at their leisure.

The lord they pursued, in raiment black and silver, had not asked Ali's aid, but is by no means in a position to refuse it. Wordlessly he battles the nightmares, coordinating with her as much as circumstances allow. Tattered and wounded though he is, he carries himself with an unmistakably regal bearing, even in the midst of battle.

[vicioussweetie]

Ali doesn't see it as her place to wait to be asked. She's the Duchess, and it's her job to protect everyone in her lands until they give her a good reason to do otherwise. So he's just going to have to get used to the idea of being saved. But he should look on the bright side: she's not picking him up like a potato sack to deposit elsewhere while she has all the fun. At least, not as long as he's on his feet.

[somthing_winter]

At length, the nightmares are beaten back, slain or fleeing the field to prowl the Near Dreaming for those foolish enough to leave the safety of the silver paths.

Say what you will of the new lord, he certainly makes an interesting entrance.

[vicioussweetie]

To say that Ali is furious when some of the monsters escape might be an understatement. Fortunately, the look she shoots after the fleeing forms is not turned on anyone else. The look she does turn on the new lord is, perhaps, surprisingly friendly; it's definitely a warmer welcome then most of the Seelie houses would offer one of his obvious allegiance.

"Well," she sighs, tucking a rebellious wisp of hair back under her scarf, "you do know how to show a girl a good time. How are you feeling?"

[somthing_winter]

"A little scratched," he answers with a certain measure of joviality, "but I was spared their venom." Or bled it out already. He does have a few wounds that need treating. "You have my thanks; had you not been so timely, we could not so enjoy ourselves now." His tone is inoffensively pleasant and carefully polite; he recognizes her house as surely as she knows his, though he can't be certain why he knows it. He also knows that they should probably be enemies, but as he's in no shape for another fight, he'll take the olive branch she seems to be offering for the moment.

[vicioussweetie]

"You're welcome." And now, with his leave, she'll tend to his wounds. And without it, too, but that's not half so much fun.

When that's done, she asks, "What do you remember?"

[somthing_winter]

She'll have it; he's not so foolish as to throw away a potential ally in his situation.

Her question gets a thoughtful frown and a slow shake of the head, however. "It's all a jumble. A few things I know; a name, that those things were enemies--but most of what I have at the moment are feelings, a sense of purpose. What can you tell me?"

[vicioussweetie]

Once he's more certain on his feet, Ali will allow him to escort her to the gardens, which tend to be less frequented by revelers. They'll have a bit more privacy where for what is likely to become a very large affair. "You are in the Duchy of Pewter, of the Kingdom of Apples. We are a part of the great kingdom of Concordia. These lands were not known to our people before our retreat, so the names are likely unfamiliar to you.

"What purpose do you feel you have here?"

[somthing_winter]

He nods thoughtfully as she explains where they are, and considers for a moment what to say in answer of her question. "There is a great wrong in this land. I am to put it right." Out of the corner of his eye, he studies her reaction, for that shall tell him much.

[vicioussweetie]

She would expect nothing less than lofty ambitions from their kind. Her face remains relatively neutral, if a touch amused. "I see. And what is this great wrong you feel needs correction?" She avails herself of a bench while she asks, setting herself in a corner of it in such a way that the slight flickerings of her expression are all that denote whether she's settled into a throne or a friendly conversation. For now, it's the latter.

[somthing_winter]

He remains standing for the moment, leaning a touch on the pommel of his sword. Perhaps it's pride that keeps him from availing himself of a seat just yet. "That... is less clear. I need to know with what I am faced, first."

[vicioussweetie]

"In one way, a very great deal," she explains, gesturing for him to sit at the other end of her bench, "and in another, very little. You are not yet personally involved in the various conflicts, and you have the same legal protections in this duchy that all others enjoy, until and unless you choose to refuse that protection."

[somthing_winter]

"I see," he replies, sinking carefully to a seat. "Are these protections somewhere enumerated? I should like to know my options before acting upon them."

[vicioussweetie]

Ali nods a bit, and waits until he's settled before explaining. "The Duchy is neutral territory. All are welcome within its borders, so long as they also remain neutral. Civil discourse is permitted, but any violent rhetoric or actions taken to directly aid any of the factions involved in the recent violence will be rewarded with exile.

"In return, all who come seeking shelter and asylum, and who are proven to be of honest need and sincere wish for a safe home, are taken in as citizens. All citizens are given as much comfort as possible to provide for their needs when they cannot provide for themselves, and those who are inclined toward civil service are rewarded handsomely. The borders are well-defended, and none who live here need worry that the war will cross into these lands. Neither are the wild hunts permitted.

"We are all citizens equally, until we earn the distinction of being something more or less."