2020.04.15 - Not Those Kind of Brownies
This log follows the story from: 2020.03.30 - The Difficult Talks
The story continues in: 2020.05.01 - Plan of Action
Early evening finds Ciaran arriving at the Hotel Oktober. He is dressed in a black tank top over which he's wearing a thin green windbreaker and a pair of dark jeans. The ensemble is completed by a pair of brown boots. He recalls quite distinctly the call he received earlier from Dean. Partly because it came out of the blue and he hadn't really expected it, but equally because it came with rather vague instructions to please meet him at the Hotel Oktober later that night.
As he enters the lobby of the hotel, his gaze wanders around. It looks like a typical hotel, albeit on the fancier side. The hotel is as busy as can be expected at the typical check-in time for many of the visitors - which is to say, there are a number of people crowded around the front desk and others taking up seats in the lobby. His eyes hone in on the people gathered in the hotel, searching for either of the two gentlemen he met not long ago at the Hidden Grove cafe.
It took a while to get ready and down to the lobby, but Dean's looking ready for action. And freshly-showered, wearing his best clothes, and of course the leather jacket that hides an arsenal. He looks at his watch, which isn't one of those fancy new things, but just a good old sturdy wristwatch, built to last and metallic in construction. After checking the time for at least the twentieth time in the past couple of minutes, he pushes up to his feet, looking around the lobby. "It ain't usually this busy," he rumbles, mainly to his brother.
Sam stands nearby, reading through something on his phone. Probably some tome he's researching for the cases they've been busy with. He glances up from the screen to Dean, when his brother moves. "Just calm down. Skitch and Ciaran will be here soon. These are just new students."
Speak of a Skitch, and he shall appear! Or he does, anyway. He doesn't know if he's been mentioned. But he, too, is ready for action, having gotten that specific instruction from Dean. He comes through the door shortly behind Ciaran, dressed in canvas dockers and a thick long-sleeved t-shirt under a battered leather jacket that in NO WAY resembles a Winchester's preferred coat. It's just -kind- of similar. Heavy duty boots top off the look. The blonde pivots around Ciaran as he comes through the door, offering a wave at a couple of familiar faces, and stops to look at the Fae. "Hey, dude. Ciaran, right?" He holds out a fist for bumping, looking around for the siblings. "Thanks for coming, man."
Today has seen an influx of new residents at the Hotel Oktober. Some of which were discovered in the region recently, others of which simply took time to move their residence to the newly-renovated place. It is a splendid, and very fancy hotel; while guests are limited, the bar is one place open to the general public, easy to monitor, easy to regulate, and easy to turn a handy profit for operating costs. It's a little early in the day for the bar, which makes it perfect for getting the new students to where they'll be staying.
Naturally, Myrtle Snow, chair of the Council, bon vivant, and in general mentor and role model for young witches, is in presence. She goes from one little group to the next, speaking softly here, a gentle word there, a pointed look elsewhere. It's when she notices the gathering of the men in one corner of the lobby that she drifts over. As usual, she's dressed to kill: a deep red shawl is wrapped around her shoulders, with floral embroidery subtle against the black jacket underneath. Her gloves match the shawl, as do her shoes, red with a slight, practical heel that still manages to look devastatingly stylish. The slightest adjustment of her glasses is made, as she joins the quartet there.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen. I do beg your pardon if I'm prying, but..." Myrtle smiles delicately as she lowers her tone and leans closer, "There is something of tremendous purpose about you. Might you be in the market for some assistance?"
Ciaran turns as he hears his name and nods to Skitch, "Yep. That would be me." Reaching out to meet the fistbump with his own, he adds "I'm going to hazard a guess I know what this is about, then." As the pair approach the brothers, he gives each of them a nod. Not having met Sam in person yet, he knew Dean mentioned his brother would also be there. "Good to see you again, although to be honest I wish it were under better circumstances." Because heading into the middle of the forest to deal with some twisted brownie-type creatures wasn't exactly funtimes.
Pausing a moment, Ciaran adds "I've been trying to do some more research, but I haven't gotten very far as of yet. Rowanwood came up again in a conversation with someone else, though." As if on cue, right at that moment Myrtle approaches the men. Ciaran glances over, looking only slightly startled. Not sure who she was, his gaze drifts to the others. His head inclines ever so slightly, indicating they should field this one.
"Yeah, I ain't exactly chompin' at the bit to get back to that, but it's somethin' we gotta deal with." Dean jerks a nod of his head at Sam. "Sam, this is Ciaran."
Sam smiles his thin smile and offers a hand to Ciaran. "Sam Winchester." There's not that much more said; from what Dean told him, he wasn't exactly best friends with this new acquaintance, but the situation calls for more power than they can probably bring to bear by themselves. Nothing wrong with using your advantages. "Uh, hello, Ms. Snow!" Sam gestures in the woman's direction. "This is, ah, Myrtle Snow. Chair of the Witches' Council, she's been here setting up the, uh, facility."
Skitch nods at Ciaran's wish, and subconsciously rubs his arm as they approach Sam and Dean. His smile for the brothers is warm and open, and he moves to stand near them, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Rowanwood does have a pretty strong reputation," he offers to Ciaran, lifting his eyebrows. "Their library is amazing. Seriously."
He falls silent when the red-haired woman approaches, taking in her appearance carefully before lifting his eyes to her face. When Sam introduces her, he smiles, and extends his hand. "It's very nice to finally meet you, Ms. Snow," he says cheerfully. "I've heard your praises sung from a number of throats. I'm Sam Maxwell, but everyone call me Skitch." See? He has good manners. Ma Skitch would be proud.
"Avec plaisir," Myrtle intones with a flowing cadence to her words. She nods to Ciaran and presents her gloved hand to Skitch, expression pleasant in an almost tentative way. She gives his hand a squeeze, then releases it and turns her head to look to each face around her. "It just so happens that I have, in my regular forecast, noticed a recurrent motif. That motif was one of intrigue and danger, in need of adjustment of the ether. For the occasion, I took the precaution of preparing draughts of purification."
The older woman purses her lips after speaking her piece, though she does soon continue. "This is a matter close to home in numerous ways. For the sake of all those you see here, I hope you won't object to my accompaniment."
Ciaran's eyes kind of boggle at hearing Myrtle's title. Once she's said her piece, he appears pensive. Nodding to Skitch, he comments "Rowanwood's library appears to be well known amongst witches. And given that we've had a witch with us each time I've gone up against one of these things so far, I see no reason to break the pattern now." There's a bit of a wry grin on his lips as he says that. Reaching out with his own hand to the elegant woman, he introduces himself. "Ciaran McGrath, of the Spring Court. A pleasure. I would be most appreciative of any aid you can lend, and those draughts sound like they would be particularly helpful given what I believe we may face tonight."
Glancing at the assembled, he turns his focus onto Dean. "Do you remember where you ran into those things? I'll probably be able to pinpoint their location once we're closer, but heading in the right direction to begin with would help."
"Yeah!" Dean dusts his hands off, even though there was nothing at all on them. He's very clearly ready to go. "Me and Skitch ain't gonna forget that place anytime soon. Sounds good, let's get goin'!" He makes for the door, having to sidestep one of the students with a luggage rack.
Sam remains with the others, and his face shows visible relief that Ciaran appears accepting of her help. "Ms. Snow is a library unto herself, I understand." He smiles a little wider to her, then steps over to Skitch, patting him on the back, between the shoulders. "Let's get going. Nice jacket." There's a knowing glint in his eyes.
Skitch shudders a bit at the memory of the place in question, and he nods at Dean's confirmation that they can find it again. "I mean, we were running pretty fast, but I'm pretty sure I could walk right up to it." He motions for Ms. Snow to precede him before he joins Sam in bringing up the rear. He grins at the younger Winchester, looking down at his jacket and tugging the sleeves. "You like it? I figure it'll help keep my arms from getting chewed off again. That poison was no joke."
With Ciaran's hand presented, Myrtle takes it and squeezes gently, as she did with Skitch. "The Mistress of Rowanwood is one of my dearest, most intimate friends, and its library is truly a wonder of the world. I'm very pleased to render my assistance, Mr. McGrath. It is, in my opinion, very important the Coven and the Courts remain on very good terms. One can never tell when such association may come especially in handy."
Once that has been said, Myrtle nods her head to Skitch and takes the position in sequence offered by Skitch. It seems to suit her fine, and she's certain that Coco and Mallory can take care of any outstanding needs from incoming students. They do give a curious look at her leaving the hotel, but the witches appear to have enough confidence in each other's abilities that it isn't an issue.
"I should introduce you to Bubbles sometime," Myrtle calls back to Skitch. "Or perhaps you, Mr. McGrath. Or both of you. She's an actress, you've probably seen her on...some thing or other. She takes on work like most people take breaths. A true dynamo."
As the group heads towards the hotel exit, Ciaran tilts his head at Myrtle's words. "Bubbles? If that's the name she goes by, I'm sure she's quite a fascinating person indeed." Pausing, he adds "I agree that it's important the Courts and the Coven work in tandem. I believe this… presence… is the reason why the Spring Court sent me here." Then he casually asks "How far into the woods was it? Should we take a vehicle?" Offering Skitch a sympathetic look, he says "I hope they don't get that close this time. Perhaps Ms. Snow can offer some insight when she sees what the creatures are. I have the feeling the tactics I used the first two times won't work on these."
Turning his head towards Myrtle, Ciaran explains "I've encountered creatures two times before that are… spawn… more or less, of the entity we believe is the source of this problem. The first were mutated plants and the second was some kind of tentacled monstrosity. It seems each encounter is different thus far."
Dean leads the way out, turning back to the group that has fallen in line behind him. "So, uh, we can either hoof it, or we can take a car or somethin'. It ain't that far. Just in the Jardin place." Sam could probably pronounce that better, but Dean figures it's down to him to say it. "Up to you guys."
Sam looks to the others. He doesn't really care, but then he's been walking the city a lot lately. By now, he's committed a sort of map to memory, of all the places he's found useful. Though the mention of tentacles makes him scrunch his nose up.
"I'd defintely be interested in meeting someone named 'Bubbles'," Skitch says lightly as the group makes their way out. He frowns a bit as Ciaran talks, and leans forward. "What, exactly, is the Spring Court?" He wrinkles his nose. "Is it a Fae thing?" he wonders, and lifts his eyebrows at the other young man. "I mean, you -are- Fae, right? You remind me of my friend Idao back home, but he never mentioned any Courts."
He looks over as Dean posits his question, and shrugs. "It's really not that far," he agrees. "But we could probably walk over by the time we got all of us situated in a vehicle."
"News spreads quickly." Myrtle waves off any concern about vehicles versus simple walking. "I'll go with the consensus of the group. This is a creature of a kind of chaos, based on the research that young Sam has done. Like factory pollution and every other form of taint and corruption, it twists what it touches. I believe you've seen the effects of this thing spreading like spilled milk on a kitchen floor. If we wait too long and it dries...well. You aren't getting that smell out." She makes a distasteful expression and idly pulls at the wrist of one of her gloves.
Ciaran nods once at the mention of the short distance into the woods where the creatures were sighted. "Walking it is, although I have to be honest. It makes me uncomfortable how close to the edge of civilization these things are all coming. Whatever this thing is, it's not afraid of people or cities. All the more reason to get rid of it sooner rather than later." Skitch's question earns a wry grin. "Yes, the Courts are very much a Fae ‘thing' as it were. One for each season, and Fae tend to be different depending on their Court. Though, even within the Courts, we're all rather unique. As a Fae of the Spring Court, my gifts tend toward new life and rejuvenation."
Ciaran nods to Myrtle's statement. "You've got it right, Ms. Snow. That's exactly what we're dealing with. I have a feeling we're getting closer to the source with each piece we chip away at." As they head towards the woods, he turns to Dean. "Do you want to take point or shall I? Either works for me."
Dean thinks it over for a few seconds, starting to move again since it seems like they're walking. "How 'bout you?" He motions for Ciaran to come to the lead of the group. "I can be up here, let you know which way to go. You got a connection with the woods, right? So you're a good pick to be up here in front."
Sam figures he'll let Ciaran answer Skitch's question, and he just stays close, in case he's needed for anything. He has his own arsenal, smaller than Dean's, that he stows in his own coat.
Skitch nods at the explanation. "That makes sense," he says. "Idao never mentioned them, but I know you guys are cagey about that stuff." His tone is bright and cheerful, carrying no censure for this quirk of the Fae. At all the talk of corruption, he frowns, and rubs his arm, very aware of his -lack- of a coat arsenal, unless you count a cell phone and a can of pepper spray an arsenal. Still, he's stalwart. Yeah. Stalwart. When Dean defers the point position to Ciaran, the teenager's eyebrows lift, but he doesn't say anything, falling in beside Sam in thoughtful, arm-rubbing silence.
Myrtle's eyes go to Skitch, thoughtfully settling there for just a moment too long. She nods softly to herself, resolved in something unspoken and only ever silently addressed, before turning her gaze before her again. "I think your gifts will come in very handy today," she answers Ciaran. "Rejuvenation is going to be exactly what these woods need, when all is said and done."
Ciaran moves up ahead of Dean, nodding to the man. "Connection is putting it mildly," he says with a smile. Nodding to Myrtle, he says "I agree. The forest is a living, breathing thing and I speak its native tongue. Which is part of the reason why this… pestilence… is so offensive to me." As they make it to the woods, he steps closer and rests a hand on a tree trunk. "Nothing nearby, so they must be further in. If they have the taint of that thing on them, I'll notice. I'm familiar with picking it out now."
Calling over his shoulder to the others, Ciaran explains "I'll encourage the trees to make way for you, just watch for roots or things on the forest floor that might trip you up." True to his word, as he makes contact with the greenery of the forest his magic flows out and allows the trees to shift slightly so that branches in their way tuck closer to the trunks. "They'll go back to normal in a few hours," he mentions off-hand. "I'd never dream of doing anything permanent."
"That way." Dean points, glancing back to Skitch for confirmation. He's not becoming second fiddle, just because some other guy's up at the front! But he's not going to be stupid and stubborn about something that could be useful to all of them. He's used to finding his way through way more inhospitable terrain, so the forest actually working with them is a new experience. "Thanks! Real handy." He steps through the underbrush.
Sam follows along with Skitch, nodding his gratitude. He's taller than most, and well-built, so having branches and boughs and underbrush helping him instead of hindering him means more than he could express in words.
Skitch is a little awestruck at the display of Fae magic, watching as the trees and foliage draw back to allow them to pass. "That's just incredible," he murmurs, his own scant experience with magic not rivalling -this-, and it's very clear he's the neophyte in the group. He nods confirmation when Dean looks at him. "It wasn't much further," he says, his expression wary. "But it's not like there was a sign of them or anything. They just came out of no -- "
There's a cracking sound in the underbrush, and a tiny humanoid figure appears. No more than a foot tall, its completely naked, with grey leathery skin and long, pointed ears that match its teeth and claws. It stares at the group for a moment, pausing to look directly at Skitch. Then it makes a screeching sort of noise, and disappears into the brush. Which immediately starts shaking -everywhere-.
"That's one of them," Skitch offers bleakly. "There should be a million of them along shortly."
The manifestation of the creatures is concerning to Myrtle, but she is more interested in the exact progression of this corrupt touch. Producing small bottles from within her shawl, which is almost as mysterious as her hair, she carries one in each hand, waiting for the greater number to appear from the brush. She knows a thing or two about brownies and the type. This just confirms her forecast, and everything she'd put together from hearing the neophytes talk at Rowanwood.
Ciaran frowns as the creature emerges, concern touching his features. "That looked like a brownie. They're small Fae creatures without Courts." Reaching up to rub his chin, he adds "But the coloring was all wrong. And they normally don't look quite so… vicious." As the underbrush begins shaking all around them, he explains "They're definitely tainted, but it doesn't run as deep as it did with the last thing. So perhaps we can save them. It's like," he closes his eyes for a moment, then reopens them. "A dozen tiny pinpricks of black amongst the normal green. Probably why I didn't notice them sooner." His gaze drops to Myrtle's hands and he asks "Care to clue me in on how your potions work?"
All of a sudden, from every direction around them, the tiny creatures emerge from various bushes, behind trees, crawling underneath roots to get to the assembled group. They're squeaking and screeching and causing all sorts of ruckus. "Should have known better," Ciaran mutters. "They were around us the whole time, no wonder I didn't hear any other wildlife. They let us come this far in, we're trapped." He glances around at the onslaught approaching them. "Please, try not to kill them. It's not their fault. They're not normally like this!"
Sam steps in front of Skitch, extending an arm protectively across him and generally making himself something of a human shield. He reaches into his coat and pulls out something that doesn't look like much at first, until he gives a flick of his wrist and expands it into a kind of shield. Handy! Probably not good for using against something like firearms, but against polearms and arrows, it might just be enough.
Dean frowns at the familiar things, keeping Ciaran between them and him for the moment. He's tempted to pull his sawed-off, but even though it's only loaded with rock salt, he's concerned that it would do more damage to small creatures like these. "They're like they were last time, looks like. Don't let 'em poke you with that shit. It's nasty poison."
When the creatures appear, Skitch grimaces, and steps behind Sam as he steps forward, allowing the big man to shield him. Literally. Sam really IS Captain America! Astounding! Skitch would have more respect for that, were they not surrounded by a thousand murderous brownies. Speaking of which... "I guess they -are- tainted, because these are less friendly than my grandmother advertised." He steps closer to Sam, moving to sandwich himself between the Winchesters. He doesn't have a shotgun or a shield, but he does a have a heavy boot that he employs when one gets too close, booting it back into the brush. "Do -not- let them scratch you," he agrees with Dean. "It does not end well."
"These are designed as projectiles," Myrtle calmly explains, drawing nearer to Ciaran as the group is surrounded by the brownies and holding one of her little bottles up for her new allies to see. "They are made to be flung with force, so that they'll break open and fill the immediate area with their purifying mist. I have a limited supply, but I may be able to improvise, if it comes to that." Without a gesture or a spoken word, Myrtle only thinks and looses a telekinetic push at the brownies, to rebuff them and buy some modicum of time. "If you could gather them somewhat, the potions should work instantaneously. If we can eliminate the corruption from the most of them, the rest will be easier to address, with less risk of injury." She frowns slightly. "Theirs or ours."
Ciaran nods at Myrtle's explanation, and the force of her telekinesis does indeed buy them some time. "Gather them together. Right." One of the creatures emerges from a tree right behind Ciaran, launching itself at his leg. Teeth gnash together but his jeans are just tough enough that they shred somewhat without giving completely. Shaking his leg, he growls at the tiny imp as he manages to dislodge it. "That's enough out of all of you," he mutters as he drops to the ground. "Watch your faces," he calls to the group. It's not immediately apparent why, until his magic stirs the earth around them and creates a cloud of dirt and dust that swirls around their feet, just over brownie-height, some of the particles floating higher into the air.
Glancing up, Ciaran says "It's just a diversion, it won't disorient them for long." Looking to the brothers, he asks "If I make a cage, do you think you can corral most of ‘em into it?" Closing his hand into a fist, he pounds the ground with it. A small quake doesn't do much to anyone, but a particularly large patch of ground several feet away begins to have an effect. The earth molds and rises up, creating a sort of half-dome.
"You got it!" Dean decides that the best thing for him to use at the moment is a thick pair of durable gloves that he pulls out from his coat. Sometimes, it's not about offense, and defense is the real key. He moves with purpose and with precision. It's easy to see why he's regarded as a skilled hunter.
Sam nods too, glancing back to Skitch, to make sure he'll be okay. After a moment's hesitation, he passes off the shield to Skitch and does the same as his brother, pulling on tough gloves and moving to engage the brownies...and herd them into the place Ciaran gets ready for them to use as a corral.
Skitch is definitely outclassed, and he makes a mental note to rectify that if they live through this, which seems pretty likely. He boots another brownie back into the crowd, and turns, taking the shield from Sam and holding it awkwardly, but correctly. He can swipe his arm with the best of them! "You couldn't have said gloves in the text?" he wonders at the brothers, before bonking a brownie towards the larger mass. "It's literally six letters. There's a friggin' -emoji-."
"I've always found gloves to be an indispensable accessory." Myrtle spares a glance back to Skitch, gesturing with one of those hands, though she doesn't strictly need to. It releases another wave of gentle enough telekinetic force, which should be sufficient to repel any of the brownies gathering in too great a number for her comfort. It'll be something of a war of attrition until they get the bulk gathered, but then, she is confident, the tide will change at once.
Ciaran, stuck on the ground for all intents and purposes while he channels the spell keeping the dome up, calls out "Get as many of them into this dome as possible so she can throw a potion in there!" A number of the brownies are now running somewhat maniacally around between the dirt in their faces and noses and the herding everyone is doing. They still claw, and snap their teeth, but for the most part the chaos is enough to keep them from connecting with anyone.
"That's it, I think it's working!" Ciaran yells. Myrtle's telekinesis is spot on, keeping the tiny creatures away while Sam and Dean do the heavy lifting. The dome widens slightly, the dirt rearranging itself as more of the creatures run in and smack into the unyielding earth. Given the frenzy the creatures are in, it does not take long for over half of them to run into the large dome and crash against each other. There are still some stragglers managing to stay out, though.
Dean and Sam work together really well, dancing like they want to win. It's almost a kind of spectacle to see them so coordinated, moving in tandem, almost like they're the same entity, but divided into two bodies. They don't even have to say much, with the occasional grunt or shouting of one or the other's name, as they're scooping up brownies and tossing them into the makeshift earth dome. One brother or the other will glance back, every so often, just making sure that Skitch is safe.
If anybody told Dean this is what his afternoon would be, he would have probably told them they were full of shit. But here he is.
"I'm definitely putting them on my list," Skitch says to Ms. Snow, using his shield pretty effectively as a brownie-bouncer. He's probably taking more chances than makes the brothers comfortable, but he manages to avoid any real danger. For several minutes, even. When the tide looks like it's beginning to turn and the brownie horde begins to be contained, he's struck again by the magic in play. Both that of the Fae and that of the witch. His shield drops, just a bit, and he narrows his eyes thoughtfully. Yeah. He's gonna have to learn how to do -that-.
Now more exact in her application of her power, Myrtle tries to shove, as gently as possible, the brownies into the dome. Stragglers, she can deal with. This will be a demonstration of her fine control, and it is fine indeed. Telekinesis always was Myrtle's favorite, or right up at the top anyway, of the standard Seven Wonders.
Once a majority of the creatures have gotten into the dome, Ciaran looks up to Myrtle. "I think now's as good a time as any. Wait longer and I'm afraid some might get out." He slowly closes the edges of the dome, leaving enough room for her to throw her potion but effectively trapping the area of effect within. "Almost there," he whispers to himself. If they could just get most of them under control, the rest should be easier. Right?
Opposite Ciaran and Myrtle, Skitch is currently busy being awed by their magic. Unfortunately for him, even the constant gazes of the two brothers and a borrowed shield aren't enough. The moment he drops his shield a little bit, an almighty screech can be heard from the bush near him. The very first of the creatures that spotted the group leaps out from behind where it was hiding. It takes only moments for it to surprise everyone and jump onto Skitch, digging its claws into his leg and /biting/ him on the thigh. It's not a deep bite, but it doesn't have to be – the venom from claws and teeth is potent either way.
"EY!!" Dean barks out at the little thing, reaching out to grab it and pitch it into the dome. "Potion this bad boy!"
Sam, while his brother is doing that, takes Skitch firmly in his arms and tries to get him to get off that leg, to sit on the ground. "Here, don't try to move it. Uh. Should I try to suck the poison out?" He hasn't experienced these creatures before, not in the state they're currently in.
Skitch makes a strangled noise as the brownie latches onto his thigh, and he instinctively brings his shield down on it as hard as he can. Repeatedly. Until it finally breaks free and drops to be rounded up with the others. He wobbles a bit on his feet, his breath a bit ragged and his movements jerky as the toxin takes hold -- aided by his elevated heart rate. Less tipsy-feeling with more of it in his system, he manages to shake his head negatively at Sam before his legs lose their ability to hold him and he sags heavily against the younger Winchester. He might be trying to say something, but it's slurred and so incoherent as to not even be typable. What -is- clear is that his leg is bleeding heavily and Skitch is heading toward unconsciousness.
A flick of the wrist, and Myrtle tosses one of the vials, then the other following close, to Ciaran's handy brownie corral. The thin material shatters, presumably with little shrapnel; these are made to be tossed and, as they are purifying, aren't likely to make things worse, by design. "That should do." She seems very sure of this, and then she's turning to walk over to Skitch, kneeling next to him and holding up a hand to Sam that somehow has another little bottle in it. She's surprisingly quick. "Pour this on his wounds. Use it all."
Then she breathes in, filling her lungs slowly and, with that familiar, gentle smile, leans closer to Skitch. "My life to yours," she murmurs. When she exhales, it is a white mist, lightly pearlescent, and it flows into Skitch's nostrils and mouth, whatever he might inhale. This is the fundamental witch healing of Vitalum Vitalis. That will stem the flow of blood, at least, and the potion should handle any poison lingering.
Ciaran's eyes widen in shock as Skitch gets attacked. However, his focus is on the dome as Myrtle's potions fly in. The first shatters and sprays mist everywhere, the second following close behind. Once they are both inside, he closes the dome effectively leaving the mist to do its work. "Is he alright?" he calls out about Skitch.
There's still a scurrying around of a few of the stray creatures, but now Ciaran is beyond irate. Slamming his other hand on the ground, several small outcroppings of rock begin to jut out and up, catching the brownies and tossing them upwards into the air. The outcroppings disappear as quickly as they appear, the earth falling back once more. More and more of them keep appearing, effectively ‘bouncing' the brownies.
Dean looks conflicted, between the brownies who are now not much of a threat, and Skitch. Finally, he just ends up scrambling over to Skitch and staying respectfully on the other side, opposite his brother and the witch tending Skitch's wounds. He's never liked being unable to do something, but healing really isn't his wheelhouse.
Sam, on the other hand, is pretty good at first aid and basic medicine, but he's not a professional. He's definitely not a healer through magical means, though their other brother, Adam, might be able to throw something together if he were here. But he's not, so Sam takes the potion with a nod and immediately uncorks it, going to pour it on Skitch's wounds. He can't help but be fascinated, though, and he keeps looking up, to see what effect Myrtle's powers have.
Skitch is largely unaware of what's going on around him. His consciousness swims on the edges of blackness. When Sam applies the potion, it fizzes and hisses when it touches the wound, and the green tendrils of poison dull and darken as it works through the wound. When Myrtle bends over him and breathes out her healing magic, he inhales sharply, the mist sucking into his nostrils and mouth and working its charm. The blood in the wound in Skitch's leg immediately thickens and slows, allowing Sam time to affect triage. The teenager's limbs loosen, as well, and his breathing eases. His awake state, however seems to be still in doubt, most likely from shock.
Myrtle keeps watching Skitch, until she has decided that he will pull through. She stands up straight and, pulling her shawl tighter around her again, steps back. This is the time for the brothers to care for their wounded. She has done all she can, as a witch, and it should be plenty to carry him through. Brownies must not be underestimated, but a single one of them could not test their toxins against the comprehensive magical puissance of Myrtle Snow.
Ciaran watches quietly as the others minister to Skitch. As the moments pass, Ciaran unclenches his closed fist and drops the dome. The brownies, now brown-skinned once more with no more of their former crazed aggression, look dazed and confused. His ‘bouncing' has gotten the few stragglers closer together and he flips his hand over, causing a dome to form above them as well. This one is completely closed off from the start. "I don't suppose you have any more of those potions. I think this is the last of them. I can't do much, sadly. Fae are outside the scope of my healing."
Sam snaps to and produces a handkerchief, which he uses to clean the wound. He soaks up the leftover potion on the surface of Skitch's leg to help him with that, and surely it can't hurt since it's made to purify. Soon, it looks like the young man is going to be fine, if he's given some opportunity to rest.
"We better get him back to the hotel," Dean announces, stepping forward and crouching to haul Skitch up. He'll carry him back if he has to.
Fortunately for Dean, Sam moves to help him, with that silent understanding between them. They don't need words, sometimes.
"I do indeed." Myrtle produces another of the little bottles from within the folds of her shawl, which is really a bit more like a wrap, with how large it is. She pitches it to this second containment area, and it shatters just like the previous ones, imparting its purifying mist to those contained within the earthen dome. "I made half a dozen," she casually explains. "Though I made more potion than I put into these little bottles. I didn't expect to need all of them, but you know the saying: better to have and not need, than to need and not have. N'est-ce pas?"
Ciaran nods to Myrtle. "I appreciate you coming with us tonight, then. I admit I was unprepared. You saved a life, and I have the feeling it's not your first time doing so. Nor will it be your last, probably. But I thank you for this one." Turning to Dean and Sam, Ciaran looks somewhat apologetic. "Thank you for coming. I'm… I'm sorry about Skitch. But at least it looks like he's going to be okay. I appreciate your help. We /will/ get to the bottom of this and stop these things from happening anymore."
His piece to the others said, Ciaran turns to the brownies with a frown. The dome drops and they're all back to normal now. The dazed looks are replaced with ones of shock and fear and suddenly the brownies are scattering everywhere. "I'll let the Autumn Court know about them. They must have drifted over from the Enchanted Forest," he tells Myrtle.
The brothers heft Skitch up, between them. Dean's mind is more on getting him back to the hotel, to rest and recover from the trauma. Sam, though, looks a little more distracted by the brownies scattering to the trees and brush.
"Glad we could do this," Sam comments, aware he's understating his own feelings. "It's a little unsettling to think that this kind of thing might happen to one of us, if we're not careful."
Myrtle watches as the brownies rush off into the greenery. She turns back to Ciaran with her patient smile, as if she were amused by all this more than appalled. But in her mind, her thoughts are racing. This is serious, and much more serious than she has had reason for concern in some time. "Let's take Mr. Maxwell back to the hotel. If you're not opposed to the idea, I might be able to turn this into a learning experience for some of our students! They can heal him, and I'll be sure to emphasize the importance of making those we heal comfortable and happy."
Her smile widens slightly. "Mr. McGrath, I expect we will talk further, later. After you make your report. I'd like to become better friends." With that said, Myrtle starts back on the path from whence they came, back towards the hotel and to an undoubtedly interesting evening.
The story continues in: 2020.05.01 - Plan of Action