2020.03.26 - Exactly What Kind of Witch Are You?
This log follows the story from: 2020.03.26 - Attack of the Killer Not-Quite-Tomatoes
The story continues in: 2020.03.26 - De-Briefing of the PG-Rated Variety
This afternoon finds Ciaran at the Hidden Grove again. Stepping through the threshold and into the cafe, he pauses just inside the door and his eyes scan the room. A faint frown comes to his lips and the way he scans the room again suggests he's looking for something, or possibly someone? It could be any of the number of people frequenting the cafe at the moment, several couples and groups sitting together and having various coffees and teas. Whatever it is, Ciaran seems not to have found it as he shakes his head faintly and wanders up to the counter nearby.
The barista behind the counter offers the young man a smile and Ciaran nods back. "Yeah, um, the uh... shoot, what Noah always makes it automatically so I forget what all's in it. Lemon...herbal...ginger...mint...something tea?" Shrugging, he gives the barista a lopsided smile. Help him out here, will ya? "Oh, I know what you mean! Coming right up." The barista doesn't clarify what it is, and Ciaran doesn't really care as long as he gets the right thing. He leans against the counter, waiting.
Otis isn't intentionally following Ciaran, believe it or not. The big man has some time before the night begins at the Court, so he's decided to stop in and grab some coffee on a bleak and oddly snowy March day. Dressed in jeans and a grey Henley, he cuts a less dashing but still intimidating figure as he makes his way into the cafe. Spotting the redhead at the counter, he makes his way in that direction, pulling up behind Ciaran and chuffing once in greeting before raising a finger at the barista, who already knows his order.
The door opens again just after Ciaran makes his way in, to admit quite a statuesque figure, dressed in smart fashion very clearly tailored to his form. Naturally, the deep red shirt he's wearing is completely undone to his midriff, showing the soft tones of his chest's musculature, and the similarly platinum hair lightly found there. It's an elegant but very strongly masculine arrangement, which he treats with no special note from himself. Every step he takes looks choreographed, so graceful and poised. There's the faintest scent about him, some botanical perfume, light but unmissable even for regular humans.
The fine boots he wears sound crisp against the hard floor, with Tenebris strolling up to the counter, just behind Ciaran. There's a paper shopping bag filled with undoubtedly his afternoon's acquisitions, but it doesn't appear particularly heavy or burdening him. He shifts it back in his arm and waits with a polite smile.
"Vervain goes well with lemon. Or valerian, if you want to relax." He speaks with a distinct accent, but it's not from any one specific place so much as it sounds like it started in southwest England and migrated to the continent. His voice isn't too deep, but it's not exactly light either.
And then Otis completely distracts Tenebris from continuing on that track. Keen eyes look the powerful, solid man over, and his smile becomes broader and only slightly less polite. "An acquaintance of yours?" He directs this to Ciaran, though he barely has spoken more than once altogether in the cafe. He wants to know!
Ciaran blinks and looks over his shoulder at the noise. Noticing Otis, he smiles faintly and says "Oh, hey big guy." The approaching stranger's voice causes Ciaran to look him over carefully. "Oh, it's just a specific blend that my friend here makes for me. But I've never paid attention to which one. It's quite good, though." The question to Ciaran about Otis causes Ciaran to blush faintly. "Who, Otis? Yeah, you could say that," Ciaran chuckles with a glance to the larger man. Turning back to reach over the counter and accept his tea, he blows over it to cool it slightly. "Otis works across the street at the club or lounge or whatever it is that I'm staying at. It's a nice place. I'm friends with the owner."
Otis turns his attention to the stranger when he approaches, his heavy brow knitting as he takes in...all of it, really. His gaze travels the length of the man, and his own smile is a bit wry in return. He's happy to let Ciaran do the talking, and he chuckles at the term 'acquaintance', although his lifts his chin in greeting when he's introduced. He steps away, then, turning to get his own (enormous) cup of coffee from the barista, and paying for both drinks while Ciaran is distracted. Then he's turning back to the conversation, sipping at his coffee without blowing on it and watching the stranger openly.
"Oh, I'll have to stop by, then. You mean one street over, through the alley? Or still in Le Jardin?" Uncommon as he may be, Tenebris knows the city well enough to speak with complete assurance that he could get there if he's given an accurate idea of where his destination is. He breaks into a broad, winning smile and extends a hand, first to Ciaran, then to Otis, who has surprisingly remained so close. "I'm Tenebris. Clearly, I should make it a point to come to the city more."
Ciaran takes a sip of his tea, reaching out to nudge Otis' leg with his knee when the big man returns from paying. "Saw that. I'll let it slip, this time." Noah never made him pay, so it's a good thing Otis came around when he did. Ciaran would have forgotten to. Awkward Moment Averted. Turning to the newcomer, he introduces himself as he takes the offered hand. "Ciaran. Nice to meet you, Tenebris. And yeah, I'm talking about the Sylvan Court. Don't even know which alley you mean around here, though I haven't explored much just yet. I come here a lot and the park. That's... kind of the extent of it. I should probably explore more, to be honest. Get to know the lay of the land." Shrugging, he takes another sip of his tea. "Eventually," he adds with a grin.
Otis snorts when Ciaran mentions letting paying slip, and makes a raspberry noise with his lips. When Tenebris introduces himself, the bear extends a huge, calloused hand to enclose the offered one. He doesn't shake, but offers a gentle squeeze that feels firm and speaks of a very strong man. He helps Ciaran's description of the club with a helpful point of a finger, then points at the front door of the cafe, then to his eyes, a couple of times in sharp motion. And that seems all he's offering at the moment, wandering off briefly to dump half a bear's worth of honey into his coffee.
Tenebris glances out the front window, the smile never once even slightly fading. "The alley passage connecting Le Jardin and the Den," he explains simply. "There are always cross-paths between all the regions of the downtown. It's handy to remember. Just remember as well not to wander in the trees." He gives each hand a gentle, firm enough squeeze and a single move to shake. "A pleasure. I believe your friend is a bouncer? If so, they couldn't have chosen a better one."
Ciaran chuckles at Otis' gestures, sipping his tea slowly. To Tenebris, he says "He gives the 'strong, silent type' euphemism a run for its money. I'll tell you that much." Glancing at Otis as he puts some honey into his coffee, Ciaran keeps most of his attention focused on Tenebris. "I'll keep that in mind. I have a few friends who would be happy to show me the area, I just haven't bothered taking them up on it." Shrugging, he looks at the bag. "Doing a bit of shopping on the weekend?"
Otis returns, his coffee well-sweetened, and he sips at it as he listens to the conversation. The bag is eyed when Ciaran points it out, but Otis isn't curious enough to give it any real consideration. He is interested in hearing the answer to the question, though. It's clear in the expression of curiosity on his face as he -looms- behind Ciaran, bending over him slightly to listen.
"Oh yes." Tenebris lifts the bag, obviously jostling the things within, which would seem not to be particularly fragile. He lowers it again, still pleasantly. "Just a few herbs and botanicals. You can't find better than right here in downtown Port-Au-Feu." There's another hint of accent that colours his words when he comes to the French name, and it sounds very accurate. "I thought I'd stop by Phantasies, and possibly the Waterfall later." That is left trailing, as his eyes flick to Otis, then back to Ciaran, an open invitation that isn't dwelt overlong upon. "If you'll excuse me, I'll order my drink. Then perhaps we could all sit and chat! It's been too long since I've had one of those."
Ciaran doesn't seem at all bothered by the proximity of the larger man to him. Either he's completely oblivious or he's just comfortable with Otis' presence. The mention of herbs and botanicals, however, seems to immediately get Ciaran's attention. "Oh? Herbs, you say? Interesting. I guess that makes sense, given your earlier suggestions. You do seem to know your way around them." Smiling openly at Tenebris, Ciaran nods. "Yeah, order yourself something and we can chat." Glancing at Otis, he adds "Or, well, you and I can chat and Otis can play charades." He giggles a bit and reaches out to rub the larger man's arm in a playful and friendly fashion. It's clear he's teasing.
Otis recognizes the names of those places, having lived in the area his entire life. And he -definitely- recognizes the invitation, as evidenced by the smirk he offers the witch in return. He nods at Ciaran's suggestion, and waggles his fingers in front of his face in demonstration. Two words. First word, four letters. Starts with F.
Stepping up to the counter, Tenebris makes his order in crisp pronunciation, and then he steps back over to the others. A black tea blended with roses and hibiscus, for just a little bit of the touch of the tropical. Naturally, this is accompanied by a trio of the cafe's lovely little macarons. After paying for his order, he joins the other pair again with a spring in his step. "Shall we? They'll bring it out to me. And I must confess, I love charades. With the right crowd."
Ciaran laughs at Otis, an open and bright sound as he grips the bear's arm lightly. "C'mon, you. Let's find a table before all the good ones are gone." Turning to Tenebris, he crooks a finger to indicate the other should follow them. What constitutes a good table? In the Grove, with all those smells and sounds around, something near the edge and away from the throng of people. Ciaran's aware of how sensitive Otis' senses are so he navigates them towards one far from the counter and in the corner opposite the door. "Here we go. This one seems good. Not so much noise and you can't quite smell everyone's drink from here." Ciaran gestures for Otis to have a seat, taking the seat next to him.
Otis' smile is easy, if a bit tipped when Ciaran leads him away, and he follows (surprise) without comment. The consideration in Ciaran's choice of table is not unappreciated, and he claps a hand warmly on the younger man's shoulder before he takes the offered seat, positioning himself so that he can watch the room and still use his body for maximum cover. The remaining chair he slides out helpfully for Tenebris, using his foot to push it back invitingly.
Tenebris follows behind Ciaran, but leisurely. He trails behind the other two, taking in the ambiance and the scents and sights, much to his pleasure. Every moment he can, he seems to be making a point to enjoy. It'll get busier in this place soon, and that will be its own delight. But right now, with the less frantic business of Saturday afternoon, he can afford to take his time.
"Thank you! A gentleman too." Tenebris seats himself in the chair offered to him, and he sits in the most luxuriously lazy way. He resembles nothing so much as a silk dressing gown flung, with some intent and aesthetic sense, over the chair. "Those are a vanishing breed, I've heard."
Taking another sip of his tea, Ciaran savors it for a moment. "Oh, Otis is /very/ considerate." He shoots the larger man a wry smirk, the tip of his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth for a moment. Turning back to Tenebris, he asks "So, I was going to ask you, have you ever gone out picking your own herbs? A lot of the places around here have them very fresh, but there's nothing quite like finding them yourself. At least, I've always been a fan. I don't really /do/ too much with herbs, though, so I tend to just leave 'em there unless I'm fetching them for someone else."
Smirking at the compliment, Otis tips an invisible hat to Tenebris, his finger and thumb coming to his brow in a quick flip. Ciaran gets a look -- is it flat? Is it amused? It's hard to tell, which is about par for the course. And his body language is equally unhelpful. He just sits there, sipping his coffee and watching the room (and table) for potential trouble.
To that gesture Otis makes, Tenebris pays it a simple wink that's so plain, it could easily be missed in notice by anyone not paying close attention. It's then that the macarons and the tea arrive, and the barista moves off again once thanked. "Of course," Tenebris answers Ciaran's enquiry. "I like to stop by the shops here, though. It was too long since the last time, and I didn't need anything too exotic. Nothing I had to pick at midnight on the day of." His smile widens just for a second, before he takes a sip of his drink.
Ciaran lets out an innocent whistle at Otis' look. Tenebris's response causes a brow to arch. "Oh. Are we that kind of herb-picker?" Chuckling faintly, he takes another sip of his own tea which is about half-gone. "This is really good, I need to find out what goes into it. My friend Noah mixes it up every time, which is why I could barely tell the barista what drink it was. I'm pretty sure I named an extra ingredient and missed a different one, but it tastes right so..." Underneath the table, he nudges Otis' leg again with his.
Otis is content to play muscle, for the moment, shifting his weight forward to lean on the table. To its credit, it doesn't attempt to fall over when he does. He considers the conversation on herbs for a moment, then points in an easterly direction, towards Queen's Cove and its primordial forest -- a place he knows intimately. So helpful.
"I don't know," Tenebris pleasantly looks to Ciaran, over the lip of his cup as he lowers it. "Are we?" Then it's set down on its plate, and he takes one of the macarons -- pink, green, and white -- and nibbles a tiny bite of the white one first. The business beneath the table is politely ignored, to no detriment of the man's clear enjoyment of present company. "Oh yes, the forests around here are rich with bounty. It's too bad I don't get the time often to wander them. But they're dangerous. Fortunately, so am I." He chuckles, with that, and sets the little sweet down on its fine plate, probably hand-crafted and hand-painted.
Ciaran chuckles at Tenebris' response. "Hey, let it not be said I judge any when it comes to nature, save those who wish to harm it. Those..." He licks his lips once, taking another sip. "Well those I do more than judge." Narrowing his eyes at Tenebris, he adds "You're right that there are many dangers in the woods. Lately, it seems to be even worse." That last is said half-muttered and with a dark expression passing briefly over his eyes. A pointed look is given to Otis for a moment, before he turns back to Tenebris adopting his usual, carefree expression. "So, Tenebris, are you a local? You seem to know your way around very well."
Otis grunts agreement with the dangers in the woods. Never mind that he can be one of them. His mouth tightens at Ciaran's look, and his shoulder lifts in a shrug. Then he looks at Tenebris, his expression dark as he slowly shakes his head from side to side. He doesn't dial back to carefree as easily as Ciaran, but his expression does lighten when the fae's does, though there's still a touch of wariness about him, and he straightens in his chair just a bit.
"Oh no," Tenebris answers Ciaran. "I commute." After that taste of sweetness, he goes back to the accompanying tea. Rich and faintly bitter, the best accompaniment to sweets and a descriptive phrase for plenty of people Tenebris has known. A light smack of his lips, and the cup lowers to its plate again. "Really, though, this is one of the very best places for things like herbs and concoctions like that. Wonderful shop here, just down the street. I'll have to stop in at the place you recommended too." Whatever concern the others have, Tenebris would seem not to share, but it could just be a cool facade. If it is, he's very good at making it seem natural. "So you've noticed an increase in things in the woods, but is it anything that wouldn't normally be there? Or specifically...is it something anathema to nature itself, or just other things?"
Otis suddenly speaks. "Yes."
Ciaran listens as Tenebris talks, at first his face is rather passive as he listens. When the discussion turns to the woods, he scowls. Otis jumping in is rare, and causes Ciaran to glance over at him with a faint look of surprise. "That's... a rather specific question to ask. Have you been into the forest and noticed anything that would cause you to suspect that?" The scowl lessens a degree into just a frown. "Matter of fact, Otis is right. There have been some... peculiar happenings." Tilting his head to the other man, Ciaran regards Tenebris very carefully, giving him an almost appraising look. And not the sexy kind.
The sudden interjection by Otis makes Tenebris pause, and he looks directly to the large hunk of man that he had become so fascinated with. He waits, however, for Ciaran to qualify that answer more; "this isn't a yes or no question," he might have said, but thankfully it was cleared up. Unperturbed by the scrutiny, Tenebris takes up his macaron again and chews it thoughtfully. Once he's swallowed his mouthful, he sets the pastry down again. "I haven't been into any of the local woods in a good long while," he answers plainly. "But anyone with the slightest experience of this sort of trouble would want to establish a fundamental level of what you're dealing with. If it's just natural occurrences that are dangerous, that's not worth a specialist taking their time and energy to look into. Nature provides. But if it's not nature..."
Ciaran blinks slowly once, a thoughtful expression on his lips as he purses his lips. "Well. Since you're asking, there have been some... suspicious things happening in the woods adjoining the park. Nothing we don't have under control, for the time being. Nonetheless, it's... something I would rather resolve sooner rather than later." Shrugging, he glances over at Otis again. "You're right that establishing some idea of what is happening... exactly... would be nice. And I'm sure we will, I just haven't had the opportunity to investigate as thoroughly as I'd like." It's all very vague, but the message is pretty clear if one reads between the lines.
Otis' expression is a bit flat as he shakes his head. He jabs a finger at Ciaran, then at the woods, and cups a hand behind his ear pointedly. One large hand falls on the Fae's shoulder encouragingly, a firm squeeze applied before the bear is falling back in his chair, his expression thoughtful as he regards Tenebris, scratching at his beard distractedly.
"Well, why not?" Tenebris taps a fingernail against the cup of tea, which makes a pleasant sort of sound. The dishes here are well-made as the refreshments. "I'm sure I could spare an afternoon to help a local problem." Then Otis sort of speaks up, in his way. Tenebris watches closely, taking in the gestures and attempting to apply them to what had already been interpreted to him. "Are you saying he should wait and see?"
Ciaran glances over at Otis, eyes narrowing. "Huh." Shrugging, he reaches over and gives the large man a pat on the arm. "I don't know that waiting is going to work this time around. I think a more proactive approach is needed, I just need to get myself on it. If you're offering... what exactly /are/ you offering, by the way?" Ciaran gives Tenebris another curious look. Pursing his lips, he cocks his head to the side again. "Where did you say you were from again?" He taps his lower lip thoughtfully as he waits for Tenebris to respond to his questions. Because he's so inquisitive today. Inquiring minds want to know! And Tenebris doesn't seem to mind asking questions, so. Tit for tat.
Otis shakes his head at the assessment, although he doesn't attempt to elaborate. Not when there's Ciaran to do the lion's share (or bear's share) of the work. He leans forward a bit when Ciaran posits his own questions to the man, his ears visibly perked to hear -that- answer.
The flawlessly-dressed Tenebris chuckles, waving a graceful hand in reply. "Oh, I didn't." It would seem that his origins, he intends to keep a mystery. Or maybe he's just amusing himself by deflecting the interest. "I was offering to help you look into it. It's what I do." He settles back in his chair, to lift a leg on the other and idly bounce his heel. "Most of what my work is...well. Do you know what abominations are? And I mean in a technical sense. Though you might not call them that."
Ciaran looks suspicious at Tenebris' casual dismissal of his question. As the man explains what he 'does' however, the Fae's eyes open a little wider and he glances over at Otis before looking back. "Abominations? No. No, I cannot say that I've ever heard that used as a -technical- term for something. I only know the word in a literary sense." Leaning on the table, slightly shifted towards Otis, he tilts his head at Tenebris and asks "Why don't you enlighten us, then? I assure you we're quite open-minded folk." There's a wry grin at that last statement on his part.
Otis' eyebrows lift at the question, and he exchanges that glance with Ciaran. He straightens in his chair, shifting his own weight towards Ciaran protectively before extending a hand, palm up, and waving it in encouragement of an explanation.
"They are the worst of things," Tenebris explains openly, with this topic. He may be tight-lipped about where he comes from, but this he seems to regard as more of an issue of public awareness. "They exist to be the antithesis of any form of nature. Where they take root, you'll only find ruin. The only thing they aren't a poison to is themselves."
Ciaran's eyes widen suddenly at Tenebris' explanation. "You can't be serious." He shares a very meaningful glance with Otis. "Okay, now you've piqued my interest. Let's just say there is something... bizarre happening in the forest. Something inexplicable and wholly /wrong/ to nature. You're saying that might be the cause of one of these... abominations?" He purses his lips thoughtfully. "And what exactly is your relationship with these things?" He looks more and more intrigued as Tenebris speaks, however he's being very guarded with his words.
Otis' eyebrows hike when Tenebris describes abominations, and he looks pointedly at Ciaran, tipping his head and hiking his eyebrows again pointedly. Then he's turning back to the witch, his jaw set as he nods along with the Fae's questions, leaning forward and -looming- slightly.
Tenebris chuckles at the question presented to him. "I fight them, of course. They also don't respect any other form of...well, I suppose you could call what they are alive." He uncrosses his leg and leans forward, picking up his teacup. "They manifest in places not their own, and if left unchecked, they wreck them. Eventually, they become the only things that can exist there. There are...exceptions, I guess you could say. But that's a special case. Suffice to say, they should be found out and fought, as soon as possible."
Ciaran frowns, the gears turning in his head. "Alright. Well. I suppose there's no harm in telling you about an occurrence recently." Leaning forward, he lowers his voice slightly more but still enough to carry to Tenebris. "Some nights ago, there was an incident in the park. Something... foul was in the forest. I can't describe it any other way. It... corrupted and mutated some of the plantlife into these... things that attacked. Fortunately, it was after hours and there wasn't anyone else there but us. We managed to subdue the creatures and I was able to... undo whatever was causing it. But only that night. I suspect it might happen again, I know I didn't stop the source." Folding his hands together, he tilts his head and asks "Does that sound like the work of the things you're describing?"
Otis nods somberly through Ciaran's retelling of that night, his face dark. When the Fae finishes, he reaches over and rubs a meaty paw along the kid's back. He gives Tenebris a dark look, jerking his head slightly towards Ciaran, indicating how hard it really was on the kid. Which earns Ciaran another sturdy shoulder rub.
The incident darkens Tenebris's usually-brilliant eyes as he keeps his gaze fixed on Ciaran. His face angles down slightly, and his mouth he pulls into a taut line. At last, he lifts his tea and takes a long, leisurely drink from it. "That sounds like something they could do," he answers. "There's a single operative they've innovated in creating who loves to do that sort of thing, but any abomination could probably cause a reaction like that. There's just no way to tell except by investigating the situation. But well done for undoing the damage. That can take a lot."
Ciaran lets out a huff, nodding at Otis. "Yeah, well, it wasn't easy. Drained me dry that night. If it weren't for a friend helping me, I doubt I would have been able to. This guy had to carry my unconscious ass back home." He offers Otis a warm smile at that statement. "Either way, whatever did it is still out there. I haven't gone exploring, to be honest I was worried about what I might find. I don't sense that /wrongness/ in the forest anymore, but that could just be because whatever did it is waiting to make its next move." Steepling his fingers, he stares at his tea which has gone cold. "Do you know how to find these things? Assuming one were hidden away somewhere in the forest? Or do they tend to come and go?"
Otis chuffs a noise when Ciaran tells the rest of the story, his face dark and unreadable. Too many of his people were in that forest that night, and he is still unhappy about it. He reaches over and places a hand on Ciaran's shoulder, squeezing it once and leaving it there, heavy and reassuring on the kid. He looks at Tenebris, hiking his eyebrows in Ciaran's direction as the teenager posits his questions. Clearly, he's invested in the answers.
"You did good." Tenebris smiles wider at Otis. "They don't hide well, but they can hide for short periods of time." He finishes the first macaron, and doesn't speak at all while his mouth is full. That wouldn't be sexy or sophisticated at all! But once he's swallowed, he speaks again. "They get stronger and the corruption spreads. Eventually, if there's one around, you won't be able to ignore it. Because eventually, it will become impossible not to notice. I'd imagine you two probably have a strong connection to nature, so you'd be able to find it better than most."
Ciaran just nods once at the assumption of his connection to nature. Reaching up, he pats Otis' hand on his shoulder. "Yes, that's true. Otis here is quite at home in the woods, and I and the friend that assisted me with combating the corruption both have an affinity for the natural world." Frowning, he shakes his head faintly. "I don't like the sound of any of that, truth be told. It doesn't bode well for the forest. Or anything else around here, for that matter." Chewing on his lower lip, he asks "How do you normally go about getting rid of one of those things, anyway? Not that I'm sure that's what this is. But if it were."
There's an actual growl that comes from somewhere deep in Otis' chest at Tenebris' explanation of what will happen to the forest. As was mentioned, he has a deep affinity for the woods. Ciaran's question gets a nod, and the big man hikes his eyebrows. He lifts his hand from Ciaran's shoulder, curling it into a fist and slapping it into his palm loudly enough that people a table over jump from the noise.
The jewel-like brilliance returns within the man's eyes. Not even the bold sound disrupts that, but there's a clear fondness that Tenebris has quickly developed for Otis. He traces a fingertip around the lip of his teacup silently, looking down at the glassy liquid, barely disturbed by his touch. Tenebris says simply, "Witchcraft." He looks to the two remaining macarons, separating them and setting each side by side on the plate. Finally, he chooses one and lifts it up. "Failing that, fight them. Beat them down, do enough damage, and banish them from this plane."
Ciaran aims a smirk at Otis. "Otis is very, very territorial. And this is his territory. So, for the sake of whatever thing is out there, it would be best if it made itself scarce. Barring that, we've no choice but to get rid of it ourselves." When Tenebris explains how abominations are traditionally gotten rid of, he frowns. "Is witchcraft enough? It was a witch that helped me turn the tide of that night. I wouldn't have been able to do it without his help. But, then again, he's a different kind of witch." Tilting his head, he leans closer to Tenebris as he asks softly "Exactly what kind are you?"
Otis grins at Ciaran's explanation, and his canine teeth look just a bit longer for a moment before reverting to normal. Then he settles back, taking up his cooled coffee and taking a long drink, listening to the talk of strategy and interested in the answer to Ciaran's question.
Chewing his tiny bite from the next macaron, Tenebris listens to Ciaran as he fleshes out their situation further. Now he has a more complete image in his mind. Now, he's sure he can go into this with some modicum of awareness. "The best kind, of course. But I'm sure that a decisive application of witchcraft surely would have driven it off. I just don't know if it will have prevented it from coming back. That's a little trickier."
Ciaran notices that subtle shift in Otis, but doesn't draw attention to or comment on it. As Tenebris skirts the question, Ciaran narrows his eyes. "Best is subjective, but either way, the keeping it away part is what I'm interested in. Or, preferably, getting rid of it altogether. Such an influence should not be tolerated at all. If we don't do something about it here, it is liable to cause blight somewhere else. Where there isn't anyone to deal with it."
Otis snorts at the lack of modesty from Tenebris, and the look he gives him is a bit flat and exasperated-looking. He spreads his hands, hiking his eyebrows, and motioning towards Queen's Cove, and the aforementioned woods where the blight might spread. "Home," he growls, his brow knitting and his back hunching. Then he's leaning forward, and -staring- at Tenebris expectantly.
"Agreed, one hundred per cent. We should get out there and make sure it's not shitting all over the natural world and turning it into a metaphysical sewer to kill us all." Tenebris works his way through that macaron a bit faster than the last one, though he goes to his tea after that's done instead of pushing onto another of the little goodies. "Of course, since this is your territory and not mine, I'll defer to you in scheduling our little excursion. When would be good for you?" He looks between the two other men, settling on Otis after he speaks. It must be important; he's made words!
Ciaran gives a curt nod, glancing at Otis again as the man speaks. "Agreed. If you're familiar with this sort of thing, we can head out into the forest and see what we can discover." Thinking it over, he says "Less people around at night, but it might be harder to spot any traces of the thing. Not many people go too deep into the woods, typically, so we might be fine during the day as well. I think that's our best bet." Giving a decisive nod, he adds "I'll check in with the folks at the Court and make sure none of them have anything to add. Otherwise, this is as good a hunch as any for what's out there. I have the feeling its not gone for good. Whatever its purpose, it will be back. If only because I'm pretty sure it's pissed I stopped it once already." Ciaran looks determined as he finishes speaking. Watch out, baddie! We're coming for ya.
The story continues in: 2020.03.26 - De-Briefing of the PG-Rated Variety