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Board's Plot: Blood Rites
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* Plot Informaton for Scelt

Scelt is a Territory in turmoil and peace is tenuously held together by the Sceltic Queens. Rivalry between the Clans errupted into horror for the Territory that resulted in many dead, on both sides, and culimated in Clan Sheane being outlawed in the Territory. Further troubles plague the Territory in a variety of manners - Landen villages are raided, Courts are attacked, and no one seems to be safe.
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Author Topic: Patron Saints of Lost Causes  (Read 981 times)

Description: tag: Clark

Offline Molly O'Kerry

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Patron Saints of Lost Causes
« on: Jul 31, 17, 08:46:55 PM »
Brought up to argue and reason with the Realm’s most affluent and bright students Molly was not accustomed to feeling exhausted after speaking before a group. Of course she was still getting used to being the center of focus in a room filled with Black Widows, each bearing the scars of a Scelt that hated them beyond reason. Cruelty was part of the only language and love most of them ever knew and insight made witch’s such as they particularly gifted in its delivery.

Everyone had a lot to say. Not all of it was bad but two hours of open forum in a room full of prescient women born to read people the way others read books took its toll. In the end there’d been a vote on a matter she’d meant to present as a command. The school, the farm, the trying to build something? They’d said yes. Molly was deeply thankful in those moments for being able to state with certainty that Lady Blodwen Lyons had agreed to grant the plan land in her Province as well as gifts for their harvests.

A Province Queen’s support was no small thing and it felt good to let them know she’d secured more official support for The Hourglass than any of her predecessors in recent memory. Confidence bolstered by pride she’d finished out the gathering on a high note. When at last alone in her office with Clark and a fresh pot of tea and a plate covered in biscuits Molly threw herself into the armchair she kept by a window covered in plants useful in their magics.

Following a large bite of a biscuit she  spoke behind a hand to hide her chewing, “I think that went well, don't you?” she asked in a chipper tone. Swallowing she allowed her gaze to settle on Clark’s form. She expected her second would have a more particular, less optimistic view of the afternoon’s proceedings. While it was unlikely the Coven’s leader would agree with all her friend’s criticisms in the middle ground of their day’s interpretations wisdom could be found.

hope is a thing with feathers

Offline Clark Erskine

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Re: Patron Saints of Lost Causes
« Reply #1 on: Jul 31, 17, 09:26:01 PM »
Clark didn't sit. Clark had been out among the Coven, a silent pale-faced watcher among many of the young Scelt widows. The elders had been more riotous, more talkative. Those who hadn't spent time out of the Territory were more skeptical of Molly's promises and claims. Clark herself tried not to doubt, but kindness was hardly ever borne out towards the Black Widows, and who was to say that Blodwen Lyons would keep her promises? Clark wanted to believe. Molly made her want to believe. She'd stood among her peers and voted yes, had backed this crazy scheme that made hares look smart. In public, the nine-fingered Widow would never do anything but support Molly O'Kerry.

In private, she said, "I thought it wasn't supposed to come to a vote?" The moment the elder Widows had demanded it, Clark's heart had jumped into her throat. They hadn't prepared for this. In that moment, Clark had been forced to let her personal shield collapse so she could work quickly through the younger contingent. Her arguments had been simple: If you'd had somewhere to go when you were young and alone and afraid, wouldn't you have gone? Wouldn't you have wanted to be part of something bigger, a better family, one that loved you? She worked best in groups, in the heat of the moment, but she could have done more if she had only known there was going to be a vote in the first place. "That was unconscionably risky. What if the vote had gone the other way?" It hadn't even been close.

Clark wasn't here to say nice things to Molly, though. Clark was here to ask the questions Molly wouldn't think of and to commit the post-mortem of their discussion. Only once she had fastidiously examined the empty chair by the window did Clark sit, uncomfortably on the very edge of the cushion. "It passed," she said, a wondering tone in her voice. How the hell had the damn thing passed? "A Black Widow... farm." They'd be self-sufficient. "We'll need a budget. And guards." Gathering all the Widows into one place would be such an appealing target. Scelt was not a large Territory. It would be so, so easy... "Plans for housing," she continued, "Approval from Lady Lyons..."

Offline Molly O'Kerry

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Re: Patron Saints of Lost Causes
« Reply #2 on: Jul 31, 17, 10:39:44 PM »
I thought it wasn’t supposed to come to a vote?. Clark could make a question into a judging statement with just the slightest shift in tone. The Tiger Eye Black Widow could convey more with a well placed raise of the brow than some Prince’s could in soliloquy. Often her second reminded Molly of the professors who never gave a grade higher than an A with a damning minus attached. In response she only shrugged. “Plans change, love.” As if trying to be a brat, because she was, the Coven’s head popped another biscuit in her mouth and chewed a good portion of the way through Clark’s dissection of their day’s success.

That said Clark’s brand of assistance sharp though it could be was preferable to the way some men in her life were acting as of late. Given a choice between facing a Coven as riled as hers was and being alone in a room with Morgan Fucking Clery? She’d pick the Coven every time.

By her reckoning it was Summer yet certain blokes in the witch’s life were acting like it was rutting Spring. Desmond, in true masculine form, grew insecure and interested in her form only after his cousin made clear his interests. Though his father’s funeral hadn’t been the time to call him out on such basic jealousy fueled (in her opinion at least) interest, Molly was irate with him and Morgan both.

The recently named Head of the Hourglass sometimes lacked the time to brush her teeth. Romance was decidedly out of the question. For the other thing she had a fellow she paid to handle the necessities of her caste’s appetites. The Warlord Prince was trained in the Red Moon’s arts as well as that of a guard. His salary was worth every penny and his skills allowed her to remain focused. Even when it meant focusing on lacklustre reviews from Clark about performances she felt quite great about.

I have two guards already and I mean, honest to Darkness by my castings Lady Killan herself is going to send at least one man because she’s going to be certain we’re up to no good. Herbs, spidersilk, and wheat is what we’ll really be doing.” Using the power of her Summer Sky, Molly poured herself and Clark each a cup of the well brewed tea. A cup floated to each Black Widow, prepared to their specific liking. Molly took a sip of hers before continuing and then another for her mouth was dry on account of two rapidly inhaled cookies. “This is Scelt and wheat makes bread and whiskey, Clark. Everyone likes bread and whiskey, besides;” another pause was given to a sip of tea made with more sugar than most found comfortable, “We’re buying cheap in a district riddled with brigands and our magic is going to help clean the place up. Everyone loves a story of rebirth and renewal. We’re Blood for fuck’s sake. Witch is the heart of our people and she’s always breaking and remaking our hearts. The fact the Purge doesn’t stop us from celebrating Winsol says a lot.

If people can dance for her Glory after what she did to the realms, Black Widows can remake our place in Scelt.
" Serious though the matter was Molly chose that moment to remove the heels she'd been forced into for appearances sake as she went on. "Lady Lyon’s isn’t going to back out.  Even if contracts weren’t in the process of being signed? Doing so wouldn’t track with her public votes and stated platforms.

Molly reached forward for a second cookie but didn’t bring it to her lips before continuing, “it’s going to suck for a bit I’m certain. But Clark, what’s going to change if we don’t really try? Vengeance and stoic survival just aren’t fucking cutting it.” 
hope is a thing with feathers

Offline Clark Erskine

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Re: Patron Saints of Lost Causes
« Reply #3 on: Jul 31, 17, 11:38:09 PM »
"She'll send one man to kill us," said Clark flatly. "She's a Black Widow herself. She ought to be more sympathetic." But then, Loreniel Killian was a Dark-Jeweled Queen, not just a Black Widow. She'd been born into a fucking ruling dynasty. Of course there would be exceptions for her that a poor White birthright smuggler just couldn't have access to. Loreniel Killian had been trained. Loreniel Killian hadn't been fucking mutilated.

Her face had grown stormy without her permission. She brushed a hand over her face, unintentionally highlighting the remainder of the fourth finger on her right hand. There was nothing left of it but a white scar. "I know what wheat makes," she said, her temper edging towards true irritation. She accepted the tea for something to do with her hands. Molly didn't like it when Clark re-organized her desk as she so longed to do. Instead, she could scrape the cup with her thumbnails, checking it for imperfections at which she could worry. "And I know we'll help clean it up. But--" But Molly didn't really know what it was like, did she? She'd gotten to leave, to go to Dhemlan and have all of the benefits of being a Black Widow in a place where it was something to be honored. Black Widows didn't even hold their traditional place in Protocol in Scelt. Why respect what was monstrous?

"It won't be enough on its own," she said. "We can help this Province gain its feet back. But I grew up in Dunkirk. The brigands serve a purpose. We can't come in and... do what? Justice at them? Where will they go? How will they support their families? Will we drag them all kicking and screaming into our farm and put the Black Widows who trust us to make a safe place in danger?"

She still had that flat look on her face. "I believe in you," she said, "But I don't believe in anyone else, Molly."

Offline Molly O'Kerry

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Re: Patron Saints of Lost Causes
« Reply #4 on: Jul 31, 17, 11:58:04 PM »
Molly flinched when Clark reminded her just how likely the Killan Queen was to see their attempt to rise within Scelt’s rules turned to nothing but a bloody stain on history’s pages. She could’ve concealed the feeling but what point was there? Everyone knew what happened to the Sheanes. A whole bloodline was outlawed because Tuathal’s Lady didn’t like the way they played their courtly games. It was uglier and more nuanced than that but it was difficult to give the Black Widow Queen who’d done nothing for the lives of those who shared the caste from which she benefited much but granted little anything resembling credit.

Loreniel Killan was that woman who sat surrounded by her bonded men and preened sweetly about how little like other women and other Black Widows she was. Molly wondered if Scelt’s Lady’s head would implode if forced to reckon with the fact that most of her Territory’s Black Widow’s were just as good, if not more, than she. Last Lady O’Kerry checked it’d been quite a few decades since any other Sister of the Hourglass had obliterated an entire Clan. That was the sort of thing mostly relegated to the past’s more dramatic ages but it seemed that no amount of running water or Craft powered finery could take the savage from some hearts.

Instead of joke in response to Clark’s rage she honored the stormy shift in her coven sister’s bearing. Her thumbs worried at the rim of her cup as the hard raised Black Widow whose body was mutilated for their nation’s bigotry loosed hurts and worries that were more than fair.

Just because it’s not everything doesn’t mean it won’t be the start of something, Clark.” Molly knew well how grating her stubbornly positive manners could be but she left the storms to Black Widows like Lady Erskine who grew up their whole lives beneath Scelt’s hatred for their nature. The Coven’s head was well aware the privileges her life had been afforded by a Dhemlanese education and she’d be damned if another generation of her island’s Black Widows were going to be raised in fear and ignorance. “You don’t have to trust anyone else for this to work. I just need you to believe in me and be ready to share what you know when they come to our door.

Molly sipped from the mug at which her long fingers fidgeted in a manner mirroring Clark’s own. Different as their ways of coping could be the witch’s shared much in common when it came to expectations of perfection and anxiety in its failing. “As to the Brigands? They do what they do because the district is poorer than dirt, since good dirt can be sold as topsoil. We’re not going to fight them, Clark. We’re gonna be just as profitable for them. Honest work when it’s done smart pays better than skullduggery and is kinder on life expectancy. Not everyone will like it but enough will.”

Another sip and the pragmatic seeker of silver lining’s added, “They’ll be fights. But we’ll have what's needed on our side. We just need to play our cards right and I need you on board to make sure we do. So what is it my plan is missing? What needs tidying?” After a beat the witch of Blood Opal rank amended, “what needs tidying that can practically be accomplished before I sign for the farm we surveyed?” 
hope is a thing with feathers

Offline Clark Erskine

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Re: Patron Saints of Lost Causes
« Reply #5 on: Aug 17, 17, 04:03:07 AM »
Clark wanted to shout that she knew it was the start of something. She knew that. She just disagreed as to what it would be the start of. It could go the way Molly thought, it could lead to nothing more than the emancipation of the Black Widows in Scelt and the reclamation of their proper place in Blood society. It could, but the chances were slim, the possibility was much stronger that simply having all the Black Widows save those permitted to serve in a court would be slaughtered without prejudice. "I do believe in you," was all Clark said, her words low-pitched and sulky. She finally pulled herself from her chair and started to pace about the office, gave into her urge to neaten the pens atop Molly's workspace. She arranged them by the color of their shell, then by the width of the nib. Molly needed more pens, and fewer sheets of paper with doodles on them.

She closed her eyes tightly for a moment. "But do we have the funds to pay them? Who's going to buy from us? The Province Court, perhaps. We need to find people to buy what we produce, whatever it is we produce. We need to acquire--" Her gray eyes raked over the desk, ticking off each item out of its particular place. "--At least one guard per fifty yards of perimeter. That's the brigands cared for. A method to pay them, too. We can pay them in produce once we have the resources; we'll have to function from trade at the start. So give the guards payment in wheat. That'll put the millers and the brewers in business again. The millers and the brewers will take apprentices from the sons and daughters. That's the next generation of brigands tended to. What's left after we feed ourselves and pay the guards, we'll have to find buyers for, once we've got seed enough for the next planting season.

"We'll have to gather compost. There's Queens enough, but I don't know if many of them will want to cooperate with us, work with us as equals. Even if we did have enough willing Queens the land would only benefit from using... night soil... and bones from fish..." Clark closed her eyes. "How far does Lady Lyons' patronage go?"

Offline Molly O'Kerry

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Re: Patron Saints of Lost Causes
« Reply #6 on: Aug 24, 17, 05:12:43 PM »
Sisters of the Hourglass were made to understand the mind and heart in ways more intimate than any of the other castes. Among them were bonds of soul woven compassion that even the cruel of their ranks couldn’t always deny. There were more reasons than just the practical that the leader of Scelt’s Coven abstained from matters of romance.

Not allowing her confidence to be drowned by Clark’s storm of worry was trial enough. What would keep her safe from getting lost in someone else’s need, especially if it mirrored her own? The task to which she’d pledged her soul was a consuming goal that left room for little else.

Clark fidgeted in time with her mood’s turns and the Dark Jeweled Widow remained composed in respectful silence. The feat was a difficult one to accomplish as Molly loathed when she executed her mind’s order the workplace she enjoyed best with a cozy aura. She bit back the urge to demand the other woman get her fucking hands off the desk she quite liked just a bit messy. Hiding her displeasure behind her mug of tea, the young leader listened with all her senses to Clark’s concerns.

"If we wait for everything to be perfect like you want it to be we’ll be too wrinkled and too out of touch to effect the same kind of change we can now when we finally start." Knowing it wasn’t the response Clark hoped for Molly sipped her tea and focused her gaze on the rain falling on the unmowed field her window overlooked. Glum weather and gray skies were a friendlier sight than the other woman’s disapproving attention.

Debate only worked when both parties paid attention. Lady O’Kerry and her second were devotees at the altar of details. However, they varied greatly in what importance they lay upon precision’s mantle. It was a difference that, cause stress though it did, was too powerful to ignore. What they were able to accomplish together was undeniable. "Whatever land we don’t have the funds to place guards on we have the Craft to ward. Without turning any profit we’ve got enough to pay four, plus my two on yearly contract, for eight months.” Molly clicked her tongue. "Maybe nine or ten depending on how much porridge and potatoes we can stomach. You correctly guessed at how I want to bring Dunkirk’s folk into the mix. Except I fully intend to have us ply our gentler wares to win the locals over aplenty. Scelt’s wealth’s been unevenly distributed in ways unconscionable for centuries. We can help with that."

As many of her plans did, the farm school’s beginning was mapped out taking heavy advantage of what their caste’s gifts could give that no others might grant. "Sure the odds are stacked against us most places but there’s something to be said for like calling to like when a Queen welcomes you home. We’re the biggest outcast’s in this nation but that district’s people come a close second.” Molly took another biscuit and dipped it in her tea til half the confection began to crumble into the calming but caffeinated brew. She ate the remaining bit in one bite she washed down with a drink. "It wouldn’t come naturally under any other circumstances but Lyons’s support? It goes all the way. Her Province loves her and best yet? She’s got precious little love for Killan.” At that, the witch grinned as she watched the rain.

"Lady Blodwen’s promised regular gifts to our land for regular supply to her court of the more difficult to obscure plants and mosses with uses in Craft that Dhemlan’s Hourglass schooled me well in. Their Coven is particularly fanatical about the purity of ingredients and many of its witches prefer to source their own most precious stocks. Some of its tricky but most of its basic alchemy, keeping to a regular schedule and knowing the signs of common pests and infections.

Setting down her tea and brushing crumbs from her fingers that she vanished with Craft, Molly turned her eyes back to Clark. "It’s going to be uncomfortable, money will be tight, but girls will stop dying scared and alone because of their magic gone mad and wild. Everything else will figure out as it comes because Hell’s Fire, Clark, this has got to stop. The right moment won’t come unless we take it. Caution and careful vengeance haven’t gotten us anywhere. What’s left to us but shaking up what corruption has become a static web strangling our kind wherever we look?” It was Molly’s turn to be seized by temper. The Dark Jeweled witch’s showed in the set of her jaw and the challenging way her stare rose awaiting Clark’s response. Her time in Dhemlan made her agonizingly aware of how foolish Scelt’s sickened attitude towards its Black Widows was at its core.  One way or another the time had come for an end to her sister's subjugation.
hope is a thing with feathers

Offline Clark Erskine

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Re: Patron Saints of Lost Causes
« Reply #7 on: Sep 18, 17, 03:35:43 AM »
The problem with Clark's mind was that it didn't shut off. It didn't consider that maybe not every problem was a wolf walking behind her, in her footprints. It didn't pause to enjoy the scent of tea wafting through the air in Molly's office. She looked out the same window as Molly and her mind ticked off: tall, unmowed grass could be used as thatching. Earn the love of the townspeople by helping protect their homes from the coming weather. Summer would end soon enough and with autumn came storms. How did one make tar? It would be in a book somewhere. Clark knew how to thatch, theoretically, though her hands itched at the memory of patch-tar coating her hands and fingers as she repaired a small split between timbers in her family's ship. She'd been a smuggler, once. She didn't know that this role was any different.

Clark was not allowed to think of things simply being pretty. There was no kindness that was not attached to strings. Her family had claimed to love her and had maimed her; Blodwen Lyons had not earned Clark's trust as Molly had, with her fine words and her kind looks. The Tiger-Eye Widow stepped away from Molly's desk and looked out the window. "I don't know how well I'll be able to garden," said Clark, finally, her voice tight, her worries squeezing the air from her throat. "There are things in the soil, Molly." Creeping things, with their chitinous squeaks, their hard shells. Wriggling things, squirming when exposed to the open air, like maggots in an infested wound. She could smell it. Clark covered her mouth with her maimed hand, that smell testing her reflexes.

This was the heart of her problem. Was there space for her in Molly's new Coven?

"I am with you," she said. "But I am afraid. And I think the girls you name will be the same. Isn't it better to practice your assurances on me, who trusts you, before we must speak to them, who don't know you?"

Offline Molly O'Kerry

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Re: Patron Saints of Lost Causes
« Reply #8 on: Oct 09, 17, 12:53:57 AM »
Were the air not full of anxiety in the wake of Clark’s concern about gardening, a silly thing at the surface, Molly might’ve laughed. Instead, the steely-eyed Black Widow watched her friend from behind her mug. She did her best to let the waves of apprehension and Clark’s well-earned fear of abandonment not pull her down in their dark undertow. Were Erksine a different sort of witch the Coven’s leader might’ve pulled her into an embrace and allowed the Tiger Eye jeweled woman to feel just how impossible it would be for their dream and future to find form without her.

Deftly did the nine-fingered Black Widow pivot away from her personal concerns towards business. Her sister in arms was not so easily distracted from her friend’s pain. Molly made sure she heard those worries that followed the vulnerable moment though her mind cared more for what rested at the heart of her second’s queries than what details she wished to dissect for flaws before anyone else got the chance.

Clark,” she spoke in a tone of concern rather than holding firm their debates mood. “Not for one second did I imagine you’d be readying the earth with your hands or preparing the land with fertilizer. You’re far too valuable to me and to our sisters who have no need for schooling to be set to such tasks. I’m going to need you here as often as the school can spare your teachings and eye for detail. I need you to help keep those with whom we weave in line with our Coven’s quest for something like respect in this backward place we love too much to leave even though anyone with sense would.

There was more Clark wanted to see her optimistic leader answer for. However, Molly would speak no further of business until her dearest friend understood beyond a doubt that no plan for their Territory’s rehabilitation towards their caste was complete without her second’s ever clever and oh so careful attentions. Someone had to do the math and the damage control on all the leaps of faith and prophecy the coven’s youngest leader in centuries insisted on taking.


hope is a thing with feathers

Offline Clark Erskine

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Re: Patron Saints of Lost Causes
« Reply #9 on: Oct 12, 17, 08:41:19 PM »
Clark looked askance, running a hand through her hair. Normally her posture was impeccable, but at this moment she slumped her shoulders, greenish eyes cast away and downward. The thought of assigning others to duties she wouldn't do herself rang discordantly against her soul, a bell half-muted or cracked. It was morally incorrect. But she couldn't. Thinking about the worms and the fat, squirming things with their many shiny black legs made her want to puke. Too, she had proven herself with her work with her teaching-mistress and Molly's schedule. They wouldn't need to hire a prince or an accountant unless they needed an enchanted contract; Clark had been balancing books when she was a young girl of twelve. She knew exactly how all of this worked.

"Thank you, Molly," said Clark, finally. "I'll remember that." She could copy the letters for the few young Widows they had been able to track down, send responses and assurances. Would families pay tuition for accursed Black Widows? Hardly. Other revenue streams would be secured. She had to trust that Molly had bargained as well as she thought she had. The school required it, and the pair of them would die for this project, Clark knew it. As terrible as it was to think of her own possible death, at least if she did die she'd not have to live this awful tormented life anymore. Clark could do this because there really was nothing else to do with herself.

She took a deep breath. "I had a thought, about how we could secure the mowing for the fields. The long grass is well-suited for thatching. We could offer the local villages the opportunity to take whatever they cut home to dry and use as material to insulate their homes. Once tried and bundled, it will likely work as well as straw, and certainly better than nothing. We'll want to keep some back for ourselves, but we don't have the numbers now to be able to prevent the grass die-off in the winter from making our jobs much harder in the spring.

"But it's only a thought."

Offline Molly O'Kerry

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Re: Patron Saints of Lost Causes
« Reply #10 on: Oct 26, 17, 04:17:37 PM »
“It’s a good thought, Clark. I’m annoyed it wasn’t mine,” Molly only half jested. The Coven’s leader felt it her job to think of every angle in a situation and her most trusted sibling regularly came up with things she hadn’t. The Tiger Eye Jeweled witch who moments before fretted about her place in their plans for the Hourglass was insightful and honest about everything but her own brilliance.

Taking a deep breath Molly released it slowly as her eyes traced the ceiling in search of answers it would never hold lest she wove them up there. “We’re getting the farm later in the season than what the original budget for making it through winter considered.” Molly bit her lower lip, chewing idly in thought before speaking her mind.

“I think I’m going to need to redesign our curriculum for our start into skills the girls can immediately put to use and not just for the coin that could bring in once folks start getting used to us and the ways we can make their lives better.” Molly adjusted for her comfort so that she sat legs crossed upon the plush chair like a child might sit on the floor. Her ever-present mug of tea was forgotten.

“Ideally we’d begin with theory, ethics, application, and understanding of the caste’s instincts. But..” She shivered though the room was warm. “Something keeps telling me our girls are going to need a sharper cut to their poisoned fangs if we’re all going to make it through winter. I keep seeing dark, dark clouds on the sunniest days and having dreams of hungry wolves carrying banners in their teeth. Whenever I manage a proper glimpse of them the Crest of the culprits of our downfall is obscured. It shifts and shifts but never lands on one thing. No matter the interpretation the implications aren’t great.”
hope is a thing with feathers

Offline Clark Erskine

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Re: Patron Saints of Lost Causes
« Reply #11 on: Oct 27, 17, 02:24:52 PM »
"Theory and practice need not be separate from learning the basics of defensive webs," Clark ventured. "We'd use such things to establish a perimeter, and make what guards we have work for us." Even one Dark Jeweled male would make such a difference here, she thought, crossing the floor to the office's windows. Though it was midsummer, this part of Scelt was gray and cold. She thought of the crops which could grow in Dunkirk's rocky soil; what could they plant now and expect to survive? What could they do quickly to ensure Molly's vision didn't come to pass in the way she saw it?

Winter barley. Scelt production of barley was largely concentrated in the spring, but winter barley was a well-known and often little-produced product. It had, if she remembered, much application in the brewing of malted beverages, prevented erosion, and provided for the fertility of plants laid in after. A single season's planting of winter barley could greatly improve the yield of the farm. Would the budget allow it? They would need to hire out. Time was the problem, time and money. They had to do it soon if they were going to do it, and the people of Dunkirk were flat broke. Perhaps... for the labor for clearing the weed-grass... and assisting with the planting of winter barley... they could ensure it took with Lady Lyons' assistance...

Clark smiled to herself, and turned to Molly again. "I've had an idea that could turn our late acquisition into a benefit, but I want to make sure it works before I get attached to it. If I write a letter to Lady Lyons, is there a way for me to get it to her and make sure she sees it quickly? If this is to work, then we'll need to move as quickly as we can. This will buy us more wiggle room in the future, and may endear us to the people nearest the farm, but we've still no time to waste."

Offline Molly O'Kerry

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Re: Patron Saints of Lost Causes
« Reply #12 on: Nov 03, 17, 09:14:52 PM »

Relief took hold of Molly’s tightly wound being. “You’re right, there’s no point in coddling them. This island is going to demand sacrifice from our students again and again. At least we will only expect their best.” Worries that their students would have too much asked of them thinned her mind immediately turned back to money. Normally confidant to a fault, the weight and responsibility imposed by their shared dream for Scelt’s Black Widows had a way of dragging  Lady O’Kerry’s mind to the worst corners of possibility. A generation of girls hinged on their success in turning the course of centuries of oppression.

Clark faced her and the smile she wore graced the Hourglasses’ leader like benediction. It was not an expression the serious Widow often wore. The curve of the Dunkirk raised woman’s lips was almost always a sign of an idea bright enough to make Molly proud, of the mind from which it came. One day she hoped her confidant would see herself the way she and much of the rest of their Coven saw her.

What the Tiger Eye Jeweled witch said next did not disappoint the witch who carried the Blood Opal. It took a force of will not to push Clark for more information on what course they saw for a safer way through their first winter on the farm. “Whatever you have to say to the Lady Lyons, I’ll make sure it’s delivered personally. We’ve gotten on well and have a meeting coming up within the week to finalize details of the accord between her Court and our Coven,” Molly assured Clark’s concerns about their ever shortening time with a confidant smile.

“We’ve a lot to do and precious few hours for it all to fall into place.” As if remembering a forgotten appointment eyes more gray than blue found the clock and what it showed made her rise from her seat. “You get to it, Clark. I’ve got lunch with a Prince who fancies himself an ambassador between our people and the Landen. I’ve need of his support finding some assured buyers of our wares and services. Close up for me here will you? I’m already going to have to race the winds to make our dinner. He doesn’t seem like the type to forgive a tardy merchant no matter her title.”

At that Molly made her way for the door in two long strides before returning to where she’d sat to retrieve the shoes she’d kicked off for tea. “Do I look alright?” She asked, before remembering with whom she spoke. “Nevermind, doesn’t matter. He’ll see me as I am and have to like it. Get to it, Erskine. Send word to me directly when your ducks are in a row and you’re ready to share. I don’t care about the hour, wake me if you must.”   A brief flurry of hurried tidying, a frantic search for the dossier she’d prepared, and a grudging brushing of her hair and Molly was off, as ever, in pursuit of that the dreams they sought to make truth.
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