velesdonnersen | Halloween II, for Ilsa and Nall.

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Halloween II, for Ilsa and Nall.

[Tarvek has been busy-busy-busy making costumes. He's got one for Ilsa, a beautiful knight's armor, weapons and accessories for Nall, and he's working on his own costume, chuckling over the details.]

[The house is now occupied once more by drones and Tarvek, and he's taken advantage to convert every bit of space he can reasonably ransack to his work, but the main costume shop is in the garage. He's taken over the drone Betty-Luka's sewing machine, her iron and ironing board, he's usurped her laundry area. He's got dummies he's constructed all over the place.

Today he's sitting cross-legged on his own workbench, tailor-fashion, as he carefully creates the graceful curve of a coat lapel for himself.]

[He's expecting Ilsa, and possibly Nall to come on over and see what he's up to.]

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[ Ilsa has taken to knocking at the garage door, when she comes over. The drones still bother her, especially now that she can sense that there is nothing behind their eyes. ]

[ She's brought things for Halloween planning as well, but it is mostly maps and lists. ]

[He smiles, then sobers as he realizes she's uneasy.]

Liebchen?

Are you all right?

Just... wrapped up in preparations. Besides trying to figure out which way to jump for Halloween, there's the usual things I would be doing at home, canvassing the neighborhoods to see where it's safe to take the kids from the center, making sure all the doors between are being watched...

[ She brightens a little and hands over a list of measurements. ]

...and helping costumers.

[He gives her The Look. The look all GOOD costumers give darling friends and associates who think they can take their own measurements accurately and effectively. No-no-no, silly girl. He will take your measurements, thank you very much, and then you can watch him transform a dressmaker's dummy into your twin.]

Tsk. [Takes measurements and tucks them into pocket.] This I will do myself, love.

[He begins the dressmaker's samba, dancing around her, clucking softly, considering angles and lines and drape even as he gets her sizing. Now add in that he's a sparky madboy, and costumes in that mind-set...]

Hmmmm. I supposed someday I will be able to make you a true dress, liebchen. But I'll give you a fantastic little outfit even as it is.

I must admit, I don't entirely understand what this is about, though. All Hallow's, yes? Like All Saints? But the night before -- this we don't celebrate. Certainly not with all this costumes and children and not with scary stories...

Actually, those aren't mine - they're likely not as accurate as you'd like, but remember how I measured the basement?

[ She grins. ]

I got Egon's measurements for you.

Edited 2011-10-25 14:19 (UTC)

And the evening has a few more connotations when you can see the power flows.

[ She calmly follows his instructions for the measurements, and continues. ]

Especially when you've been taught in several different cultures and schools of magecraft.

[He's surprised. He'd gotten the feeling Egon didn't want a costume... or had other plans and concerns. But he's also pleased...]

Do you have any idea what he'd like as a costume?

Precision... the truth is I've got a very good eye. Between your measurements and my own guesses, it's likely to fit very well, so long as it's not close-fit like yours.

So... The time of year matters, for some reason? I find that aspect of the supernatural strange. Even a bit funny. Sparking doesn't depend on the dark of the moon or the right holiday to work properly.

[He's begun to transform a dummy into a doppelganger. There will be moments when she should almost feel reality shifting a little, as he makes things do what they're not quite intended to do. His spark is beginning to return...]

Honestly? He probably doesn't want a costume, but... if we can get some protective gear started for him, it won't take that much to alter it to fit, will it? Depending on the construction?

[ Still a bit of a worried look about her eyes, she "listens" closely to his responses as he works. Her tone is quiet as she explains the holiday as she understands it. ]

Well, the calendar isn't important for everything, but there are some schools that do use the wheel of the year. The schools based in agrarian traditions are tied closely to it.

But any of the traditions that follow the calendar generally mark the cross-quarter between equinox and solstice as a time when the barrier between worlds is thin, and spirits can walk the earth. So you need to hide behind a mask to fool them, and give tribute to turn their wrath away from your door.

[ She shrugs. ] All Saints and All Souls were the church's answer to the traditions in some areas. Then there's the different flavors that occur with the location, like Dia de los Muertos.

[ She opens the small container with her and brings out a sugar skull, a little smaller than the palm of her hand, brightly decorated with icing. ]

[Putter-putter. A startlingly good sculpture of headless-Ilsa forms. He's caught the cant of her shoulders, the weight of her breasts, the strength of her waist... It's clear he's an artist, among his other abilities.]

[He looks at the little candy skull, and twitches, slighly, then grimaces.]

"Eat flaming death"? [dry chuckle] That's a term I've heard since coming here. It kind of fits my world's fire, flame, lighting and storm cursing.

So, date or no date, this is about...thin walls, scary other worlds, and spirits misplaced?

Sounds like us. Sounds like Mayfield.

Displaced, but unable to wander.

[ She's still worried, but wanting to hide it from him. ]

Considering what other residents have reported about last year, I'm not sure it's all that inaccurate.

[He may not have her skill reading people, but he does have the skills of a boy whose life has depended on being able to read others. And he loves Ilsa.]

Ach, sweet: what's wrong. Something surely is...

[ She sighs. ]

The more I gain back, the more I'm aware there's something I should be doing, but the ability isn't there yet. The casual deaths here are getting to me, I think.

I met Death, in the park the other day... he isn't a figure for fear, not always, but here he seems, I don't know, out of sorts.

[ Ilsa is pacing, and mostly murmuring to herself. ]

I can't see the edges here, and I don't know if it's because I haven't gained that back, or if I've been blinded to them.

[Fascinated, but also skeptical of some aspects.]

Death? A person-Death? I'd expect that to be... not quite Death itself in any world... and almost certainly not the one true death if it's here. I still think we're all just echoes of other people.

[Reaches out, and smiles, tracing her hand.]

Really great echoes. But...I have a hard time believing you met Death itself, as a person, here.

As for not seeing the edges? I don't know what to say about that. And I don't really know what the difference is between being blinded to the edges, and not having been given back the skill.

[ Ilsa shakes her head, not at him but at her line of thought. ]

It's not like I know how to slide between planes yet, Daddy says I need more practice, like a couple of decades. But being able to see the edges, I could point them out to others, and maybe we could focus on them for more study. If the ability is tied to my father's bloodline, it could be that I haven't gotten the ability back. If it was tied to Mama's I could have it, but be blocked from using it.

I haven't tried trancing out to find them anywhere else but the house. Not something I'm comfortable with doing in an unsecured spot, not without having someone to watch out for me. But I will try if we need more information.

[ She seems to wake up out of her fugue and smile at him, only to be distracted by the dummy he's constructed while she was distracted. ]

That is... amazing and creepy at the same time.

[Hands on hips he looks, very pleased with himself.]

It is, isn't it? Maybe when the costume is finished I should add some fake blood and a disembodied head, and use it as decoration for this Halloween thing?

[Considers what she's been saying.]

So... you think if you could see edges and travel between planes it might provide a way out of Mayfield...assuming Mayfield is within a "normal" plane. I'm still not convinced it's not a completely artificial reality, contained, and possibly actually cut off from the sort of thing you're talking about. You don't expect... a book, for example... to contain "planes" or for characters in the book to be able to escape.

[ Ilsa shudders at the image of herself as a headless corpse, turning her back on the dummy. ]

It's what I have to work with, as far as the tools. If we can mix everything, our talents, ideas, and will, getting us... out could happen.

[ Not a suspicious hesitation, nope. ]

[The simple truth is he thinks she's wrong. He thinks that no one "escapes" Mayfield in any reasonable sense, any more than characters in books escape novels, or SL avatars escape the computer environment. He's not sure what would be involved in an "escape" for a Mayfield resident, but he's pretty sure the answer is not one anyone wants to hear. For example, he's not really looking forward to finding out that the only way he could "escape" would be to be downloaded into another body, like Lucrezia into Agatha.]

[But he loves Ilsa. And Ilsa wants to go -- or to at least find out. He sighs, because he's going to back her. But he's also going to try to warn her, as he did Agatha.]

I don't think it works that way. But...I'll help if I can.

I -- I think we'd be better off trying to learn what it would take to control Mayfield, or at least make it saner than it is. This place really could be heaven, if it weren't so determined to dump mayhem on us...or, worse, set us against each other.

[ Ilsa nods. ] I know there are going to be people who have tunnel vision about getting home, but that's not a great option for some people.

[ Like for your girl, when she showed up. ]

As a second line of inquiry, taking control might be another option. I won't turn that down. But, if I can get home, and take anyone that wants to go with along...

[ Ilsa shrugs. ]

I'd like to know the answer, no matter what. I think the worst part -- for me and for everyone -- is having no idea what the real situation is.

[Head ducks over his work, as he tries to cover his own disturbance. He doesn't even know what he'd do if he could escape. It might depend on exactly that that meant. Even if all his theories are wrong, and he could return to a Europa that had a space for him...would it have a place for him? Or just some air to breathe and dirt to stand on while waiting for one of a gazillion factions to remove him from life, this time permanently?]

If I didn't go home...

If...

Would you...

[He falls silent, stitching fiercely.]

Tarvek?

[ Her voice is quiet. ]

If there's a way, would you like to come home with me?

[Scowls and hunches in tighter. He's NOT good at being this form of willingly-vulnerable. There are a million ways he's insanely courageous and open, but telling someone he's scared, and wants to be wanted, and that he's dependent, and that he has no idea where he's going or what any of it will mean... that's the sort of thing he never dared let anyone know, and he's not going to get past that easily.]

[He sets his stitches with such firm, precise thrusts. He gives a grunt, that may be some form of "yes," but then it could just be indigestion.]

[ Gently, hoping to not startle him, she puts a hand on his shoulder. ]

I'd like for you to meet my parents.

[ She has no idea what that would mean in his world, but it does have a bit of meaning to her family. ]

[He melts. Setting aside his sewing, he leans over and wraps his arms around her waist, pressing his face into her tummy. He holds her like that for awhile, his shoulders shivering slightly with the intensity of his reaction. Only after a bit does he relax, and then very suddenly chuckle....]

I hate to say, but even if my parents were still available to meet, I don't want you to meet them. They had a history of being rather hard on young women...

[He pulls back, smiles a crooked, wobbly smile, and removes his pince-nez to clean them.]

Thank you. I'd... be honored.

Um..

I don't know how things are done in your world. In mine that sort of introduction would require that I spend a few hours with them explaining my intentions, circumstances, future prospects, and waiting for permission to pursue my interest with you.

[ She relaxes when he finally sets aside his sewing and embraces her. ]

It means little in my world, these days, but in my family, it usually means a weekend of food, punctuated by some subtle grilling and interrogation.

[ She chuckles and kisses the top of his head. ]

So, about the same, but less intense and hopefully less stressful.

[He's not sure what he thinks. He's not slow to commit -- but it's still a huge step off a tall cliff. Taller, because it's all tied to another world, another culture, a strange family... But he does adore her.]

It... I...

If it happens, and we can go through, then... yes. I'd like to try. But....

[small voice]

I don't know if I will be any good at it, you know.

[And the truth is, he doesn't think it will happen. But he does think that, here, given half a chance, he will stay beside her forever, if she lets him.]

[ She pulls him up to her level, chuckling. ]

You're rather good at what you've applied yourself to so far.

[ She gives him a slow, soft kiss that promises a lot of forever, no matter where they are. ]

[Nall teleports over with aforementioned tuna noodle casserole, much applauded by his housemates (well, it would be if they were the vocal sort, but he knows they like it), his favorite tasty treat with peas cooked right into it (because otherwise his kids back home wouldn't eat their vegetables.]

Hello!

Hi, Nall!

[He gestures to Nall's nearly complete armor. It's awesome: check it out! The lines are a flashy blend of both European and Asian armor, with shining sheet steel and gleaming lacquer-over-formed-bamboo melded to create a shimmering jewel of a suit. The armor has been designed to hint at a dragon -- but a very human dragon. When Nall wears it, he will peer out of a helm designed to protect his face while still leaving it visible to his friends, with a sleek dance of steel rod blocking all but the most precise attack and echoing the lines of a dragon's face. The back of the helm blossoms with a chrysanthemum of feathers and tendrils, like the mane of a Chinese dragon. The shag of color and fluff cascades over the wide shoulders of the armor, a touchable bit of silken poof among the glowing jeweltones of the lacquer and the fancy shine of the etched steel.]

[Yes. It works. It's a costume -- but it's also real battle armor. That's what happens when you let a Spark (even a recovering spark whose talent has not yet returned) make your Halloween costume.]

There's even a sword... if you like.

You're going to be a heck of a handsome knight, my friend.

[Sneaks a bit of tuna noodle casserole. Not bad... though he still thinks it is a very odd food. And, being biased, he thinks Ilsa would do it even better. But he thinks Nall has done a very good job with it. It's yummy!]

I... Tarvek, this is insane! It's... probably the best damn looking armor I've ever seen! If it functions even HALF as good as it looks, Mayfield isn't going to be able to scratch me... ever!

[He grins hugely.]

There's a sword too?!

[He shrugs, and blushes, delighted to have someone like his work.]

Yes. It's not as good as some of the special swords I've seen people carrying here. But it's not bad.

But it's just armor. It's not magic or anything. And we need to try it on and make sure it all fits as well as I hoped. If not I can adjust it so it's perfect.

Can I see it? The sword, I mean??

[Excited little boy voice/expression.]

[Mischievous enthusiasm bubbles up in his eyes, and he grins in shared glee.]

It's a Grosse Messer. There's one like it in my Fathe...in my... in the old armory of my...my...my palace. What was my palace. It's a European style, but it's enough like the lines of some Asian swords that it seemed like a good choice for this...and it can be used one or two handed, with a nice long hilt to give you some leverage. You're not so big that a bit of leverage won't be welcome.

[The sword looks like this: http://www.rockynational.com/3410_88GMS_Cold_Steel_Grosse_Messer_Sword_with_Leather_Scabbard.html. It is, however, more elegant and refined: the hilt has been bound in leather, then tight-wrapped with a grid of silk cord binding to give traction and stability to the grip, and there's a bold pommel cast as a steel dragon with enamel detailing to match Nall's new armor. That's one nice thing about getting your costume from a Madboy: it tends to be designed and engineered to WORK.]

[Of course, it's a good thing Tarvek's talent hasn't really come back in full, yet, or it might WORK quite a lot more oddly and excitingly...]

Wow... [Nall is dumbfounded. This sword would be worthy of a Dragonmaster... And you clearly put a lot of thought into making it for him in specific.]

Could... could I keep these? They're awesome... I'd find a way to pay you back for them...

Of course you can keep them, idiot! [Goofy smile] I made them for you, after all -- no repayment needed.

Welllllll....[He's born and trained sneaky and used to dealing the deal. He can't help it. He does give with true generosity, but he's not against storing up favors.]

Well, perhaps if I need help someday, you'll remember this, eh? And in the meantime, maybe help me with a *little* favor?

[Nall gives you a blank stare for a moment before grinning, chuckling and giving you a pat on the back.]

Now you're being an idiot. You know I'd help you with whatever you need whenever, Tarvek. Although I sure will remember this for a loooong time. [EQUIPMENT. IS. AWESOME.]

What can I do for ya?

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Halloween II, for Ilsa and Nall.

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