ph_logs | [OPEN] The Page and the Stage is the Cage

[OPEN] The Page and the Stage is the Cage

Who: Annabel Lee Whitlock and You
When: End of November
Summary: Carnival Aftermath, Daily Work, Other Chaos
Warnings: Will be noted in comment subject lines

1. Pandora had a pretty little box [For Jean]
It is a couple weeks after the carnival when she works up the ~~testicular fortitude~~ balls to find Jean, but she does, accosting him near the docks when the ship's returned to land.

"We...should talk?"

2. And wisely she kept it hid [Whitlock Needleworks]
Annabel's working on embroidering a length of ribbon for trim, sitting on the front porch of her home-slash-shop. It's a nice day, and she's enjoying watching the ebb and flow of people in town as she works. Do you need clothing mended or decorated? Now's a good time to catch her.

3. 'Til one day she couldn't resist [Ice Skating]
Annabel's managed to befriend exactly one Pokemon, a shiny Froslass that she's calling Ligeia. An ice/ghost type, they get along really well. Especially when Ligeia gets creative ideas.

There's a pond on the Leeds estate, and Annabel has obtained permission to let Ligeia freeze it solid so that she (and anyone else who gets dragged out for fun) can go skating. Find her bundled up skating lazy laps around the edge of the pond, or perhaps trying a couple turns.

(Note: Skates are 50B if you want to buy your own pair.)

4. Playing around with the lid [Wildcard]
Catch me at darkersolstice on plurk or discord to plot.

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[ WOE! NEIL BE UPON YE. ]

Neil knocks on the door of the door of Whitlock Needleworks before letting himself inside with a wave. He's holding a grey tweed vest with a split seam. "Hello there, Ms. Whitlock! It's been a while. I hope I'm not imposing, I do have business for you."

"Dr. West. You're not imposing at all. I can guess exactly what you need, seeing that vest. Hand it over, that's a pretty simple fix."

She sets her embroidery aside, offering a soft, warm smile.

Neil gladly passes the vest her way. "Ah, thank you very much."

He takes a seat nearby. "It was damaged in the Parade, I fear. Jean certainly gave me a run for my money! Not that I can remember much from being hypnotized, as it were, but I did wake up in a minecart, so I can only assume I died. It took me this long just to get all the coal dust out of the fabric, only to find it ripped."

"Ah. Yes, the parade. Two or three disasters ago."

She's picking out some thread to match the color of the vest, humming as she examines the damage.

"Always something going down."

Annabel I really hope you came emotionally prepared for Swag-Ass Jean. There's a new brand on their cheek, a skull & crossbones with a single tally mark beneath; the skin is blackened and scabbed, as if it was only just burned. They favor their (friend? Asset? Murderer?) with a sunny smile, their sailing bag slung over their shoulder. "We should, Comrade Whitlock! But first: are you well? Have you been attacked or coerced further?"

"I'm fine. No new troubles. That outfit is..." Lenore would look good in that, too. It's a good outfit. "...new?"

"Yes! I can explain but would you like a more private venue?" Jean offers a hand to Escort Annabel, should she so wish it. "...In the aftermath, while I directed Zelda to you I didn't...your business hasn't left my lips, Comrade Whitlock. Not as of yet. It's. Yours. If I'm, hahaha, ha...if that makes...sense?"

"I haven't told anyone at all yet, either. I am certain some would immediately condemn me, if they heard what I did. I was trying to weaken one brother by invoking another. It is hardly the first time I've aligned myself with someone who's evil. I don't think it will be the last."

She accepts the offered arm, seeming to deflate visibly.

Jean leads the way away, first by trolley and then to the bridge over the river. It's as private as they can get outside of someone's home.

Plenty of time to think instead of comment, too.

They hop up onto the railing and sit, doffing their hat. "Comrade...I understand, and I don't blame you. My concern now is harm reduction, to you and to the mission. I could go on and on about how you got less than nothing from your deal but it doesn't matter. Employers fuck people over. What else is new? But...I may have an avenue for you to pursue."

“Harm reduction…to me? I’m fine, Jean. Nothing happened to me.” There’s a defensiveness to her tone that doesn’t come from dishonesty, but confusion. She is fine. Right?

"Yet. What happens when he comes to collect, Comrade?"

She looks down at her hands, not at Jean.

“I don’t know, but whatever happens, it’s what I deserve.”

"Bullshit." Surprise Annabel, the polite if somewhat overbearing tooth-nugget is capable of genuine fucking vehemence. They reach out and clasp Annabel's shoulder, squeezing. "If we're handing out punishments for aligning with predatory forces, then I, hahaha, ha, HAHAHAHAHA, have something big coming! But you know what? Bad people don't get punished. They get paid! That's how it works! You hurt people and money falls out of them like candy from a FUCKING PIÑATA!" Jean stops.

Breathes.

Lowers their voice: "I don't see your hoards of earthly wealth, Comrade Whitlock. I did see you make a desperate choice in an effort to help someone you don't know, and maybe don't even like. I know I came off strong. And I'm genuinely sorry for the distress I caused you after the parade. But don't talk to me about deserving anything. No one gets what they deserve, ever. For any reason. Please let me help you."

Annabel doesn’t even know what to say to that. There is a prolonged moment of silent staring, and then a shuddering sigh.

“I don’t know how you think you can help me, now.”

"In the long-term, it is my intent to give Efrain a pathetic death for daring to presume ownership over one of my comrades-in-arms and for participating in the attacks on this region. He is a mission objective, and I don't leave jobs half-finished. But, in the short term..."

Jean holds up their other hand, where Kora's ring is. "...Do you remember when the enemy referred to me as a possession of Manager Kora?"

DOT DOT DOT…

“You just called a goddess ‘manager’.”

"She's an authority figure with the resources and dispensation to make hiring decisions. I call the demons managers too. Unlike Efrain, however, Manager Kora has proven amenable to appropriate workplace relations; specifically, she's provided both payment and support to me after I made it quite clear that if she expects my service I will not be tolerating an armchair executive."

They put their hat back on their head. "This outfit is not clothing as such, Comrade Whitlock. It is the Page of Kora's Avatar; armor and work uniform both. I am in her employ at this time until such a time as we part ways, provided she continues to act as a good manager."

“Is this where I inform you that I’ve never held a job and the expectations set for me were to marry and bear children with no real duties or thought of me having a mind of my own?”

"...And? You had wasteful and stupid management, and I'm sorry for that. It leaves scars. But here you're powerful, and managed by no one." Jean hops down and gently takes Annabel's hands. "Comrade...when you express so little value in yourself you're also necessarily implying that I misspent my life back there. Did I?"

“I didn’t have management. I had family.” There’s an audible scoff behind the words. She finds herself squeezing Jean’s hands. In this form, she doesn’t leach heat, but she still craves warmth and contact and…

Their concern hurts somehow and she doesn’t have the words for why.

“And I’m not trying to say anything about you and your life. I’m really not. I just. Don’t know what I’m doing, here.”

"Indeed." He takes a seat. "Although, I do believe I have something that will help in the works. It's a temporary solution that I am still testing, but it should be ready in December. Just in time for Givingstide! I'd be grateful to be able to give you the gift of a peaceful holiday for once."

"What, something to stave off demonic intrusions? Tell me more, Doctor."

She leans in, genuinely interested. (Is there anything greater than listening to someone brilliant infodumping?)

Zelda typically doesn't spend time near Leeds Estate, but seeing a burst of snow flurries on the hillside draws her attention. Before long she is heading up to take a peek.

Her Honedge, called Fi, floats over to Ligeia and swirls around her in a dance as an expression of delight. Perhaps they get on well?

"Oh! You've made a skating pond!" She grins, nostalgia glimmering in her eyes. "I haven't been ice skating since I was a little girl."

It'd taken some prodding to get Jon to do anything that wasn't his day-to-day busy work, but finally, he caved in. With the track record for horrible happenings, surely, if he stayed inside too long, he'd turn into some wretched cave creature. (The thought came as a joke, of course - but a split-second of it lingering too long had it feeling like a too-real possibility. Eugh.)

He isn't an avid ice-skater, of course - but with a rented pair of skates, he makes his way to the pond in front of the Leeds Estate, offering a wave as soon as Annabel comes into view.

"I'm sorry if I kept you waiting!" He calls over the short distance. As soon as he's close enough, he stops to sit on a bench and put on the skates, giving a nod to the Frosslass to the side as he does so. "A fine evening to you, as well. Grimmly sends his regards."

He brings his attention back to Annabel, calling over again, sounding a bit tentative, still, but considerably too far in it to flake out now.

"How's the ice? No cracks or any signs of trying to thaw?"

"...Comrade, I'm going to say something and it will be heartless. I sincerely apologize." Here Jean bows, one hand folded over their chest as they do. They rise with a preparatory sigh, and then: "So what? You're here, now, presumably because you are qualified. If you don't feel like you're meeting the qualifications, your choices are to advance your own training or resign your commission. The latter is, hahaha, shockingly easy from my perspective. You can, at any time, simply not participate in the problems that have come to you or that you have helped create for yourself and others - but if my opinion matters at all, I'd rather have you here."

"So if you prefer the more difficult option, what would you like to know how to do?"

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[OPEN] The Page and the Stage is the Cage

{And wisely she kept it hid}

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1. Pandora had a pretty little box

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Ice Skating!

'Til one day she couldn't resist

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