Work Friends Are Like Prison Friends [October | Closed to the Ocularum]

[restingslasherface]

Who: Agent Jean & Members of the Ocularum They Don't Know Well Yet

What: Post-Gala Follow-ups & Allaying Concerns

When: Early October

Where: YOU pick

Warning(s): Honestly hard to list but, y'know, Jean Things. Violence, corporate exploitation, discussions of brutality, depression & self-loathing, absolutely bonkers capitalist bullshit


Those members of the Ocularum who have recently joined, or whom Jean does not yet know well, find handwritten letters delivered to them. The writing itself is neat and professional, though at some difficulty; the thick paper bears the marks of scouring sand for the ink, indentations where spelling mistakes or sloppy handwriting from picking up speed has been destroyed and replaced with something the author deems more suitable. Still.

Esteemed Peer,

You may recognize me from the recent meeting. I must apologize for not being at my best during that time; I offer no excuses. However, given the state of recent events, and especially rising tensions in Pumpkin Hollow, I am moved to correct my previous state of negligence. It would be my privilege, if you are amenable, to meet and discuss at a time or place of your choosing and explain whatever happenings at the Gala you deem in need of explanation, and answer questions you may have as to my intentions, qualifications, and background. Food and drink can be provided; time of day or inconvenience of locale are no object. Please send your reply via letter, telephone, or sending stone to:

Agent Jean of Hyrule (pending), Pumpkin Hollow Recovery Task Force

Comments

[Sending Stone]

[ss_buttcrack]

Crichton has never been the letter-writing type, so he decides to call over the sending stone and get this meeting planned pronto. He does have some questions.

"Is this Agent Jean? Commander John Crichton, speaking. I got your letter. I'd like to chat."

[restingslasherface]

|"You have successfully reached Agent Jean, Commander! At your service! How can I be of assistance?"|

[ss_buttcrack]

"Well, you wanted to schedule a meeting, right? Figure we can do that now?"

[redlightgreenlight]

Valdis writes back, inviting Jean to her house while Max is at work. She is deeply curious about the events of the gala and what connections they may have to the demons. After all, it takes a special weapon to successfully kill a demon prince and she doubts even River has the skill to forge something so powerful.

The tea is ready before they arrive, and Shasta went to Cesar's for the day, just in case things get a little tense. Anani also went, but he came back and because he's a cat she just let him stay.

When Jean arrives, she shows them in.

"It about time we sat down to talk."

Not going to beat around the bush.

[restingslasherface]

|"Absolutely! If you have no location of preference my home is available."|

Jean's player absolutely does not remember the address right now but Jean sure does, and provides it; a beautiful seaside cottage shared with Zelda and Link.

[restingslasherface]

"I suppose it is, Comrade," Jean agrees. They offer a little bow, one arm crossed over their chest (the emotions here aren't quite reverence - courtesy, closer? It has about the tinge of a polite handshake) before they sit. Jean is dressed as they were in the Gala, that odd, militant outfit, with the sword that comes with it peacebonded and slung over their back.

It, too, feels strange. Jean's soul is their body, but the outfit, here very much to include the sword, seems to be a fragmented piece of another, broken off without violence. An old, tired, bitter soul, but not one devoid of love. Not entirely.

The little nugget spreads their arms in a 'the floor is yours' kinda gesture.

[liesdontfindyou]

CT confirms a time and place via sending stone shortly after finding the letter—in the evening after her shift, in the small garden attached to the side off her house in Northwest Hollow.

It's a small rectangular space, with a high wall. There's unused planter boxers; a tree with a home-made wooden target attached to it with dozens of knife marks; scuffs on the ground from other training; and a somewhat rickety old bench.

CT arrives a touch late, but not by much. "Agent Jean?"

Hm. Calling someone Agent again feels... anyway.

[redlightgreenlight]

Jean has always made her uneasy, but she's become rather practiced at ignoring strange souls and powers. She would drive herself crazy otherwise.

"Who gave you the weapon you used against Mendel?"

Apparently she's not keen on small talk today either.

[restingslasherface]

Ah. This line of questioning was unexpected, and now Jean is conflicted. They really had no intention of anything getting back to Comrade Dyer, especially not when they hadn't followed up with her themself just yet...hrm.

This is perhaps a good place for a workplace trick?

"To the best of my knowledge, the blue blade is a working of Aster, or at least of the Dark Feast," Jean technically-answers, bright and sunny, pointy teeth all a-smilin' because that is their resting facial expression. "Which! I am not happy about! The weapon has proven difficult to destroy, however."

[restingslasherface]

Jean hadn't really intended on attending in Cobalt Scar but the honest truth of it is after about an hour in the morning of the biting October winds they called their shot; the furry suit is, y'know, warm. So when CT arrives late, Jean's got their hands in their pockets, and they nod brightly to her inquiry. "Yes indeed, comrade! My pleasure, and my apologies; I don't think we've been formally introduced?"

[liesdontfindyou]

That... is definitely one of the more interesting outfits she's seen. It doesn't visibly surprise her much, but she does almost slip when she introduces herself: "Ag— eeeveryone just calls me CT. Just CT."

[restingslasherface]

"Ah. My apologies, 'comrade' was suggested to me as an appropriate and gender-neutral honorific." Look at them CT. The nugget is all guilty and sad now. "...Well! How may I be of assistance?"

[liesdontfindyou]

CT's brow furrows momentarily like she's not sure what provoked the response, before it visibly clicks into place a second later— "Oh! No, that's— that's fine. I only mean that there's not another real name to call me. I realise CT sounds... sometimes people expect more to it. The gender-neutral thing is actually rather appreciated."

[restingslasherface]

Visible relief, and with it a much more natural smile that shows less teeth. "I understand, Comrade CT. Honestly -" they chuckle, interrupting themself, and shake their head. "A friend thought 'Agent' was my given name briefly. The culture shock gets very interesting!"

[redlightgreenlight]

Valdis drops her chin slightly as she considers what they are saying, it will be completely clear to Jean that she is not satisfied by that answer. Though it seemed that CT was right about Aster being involved. In which case, she's certain he wanted Dahlia to be revealed.

"So you are either serving Aster, or know who is. Which is it?"

And she's not thrilled they are trying to destroy the weapon as it could still prove useful to them all.

[restingslasherface]

Uncharacteristic venom flashes across Jean's face; the sheer anger at the suggestion is hot and righteous, alloyed with outrage, hate, and a distant, worn guilt: "I do not have dealings with hostile management, Comrade. Never."

[redlightgreenlight]

Ah. There it is. She knows three things now. One. Jean carries many emotions in regards to her question, one of which includes guilt. Two. Jean is telling the truth about not serving Aster. Three. Jean knows who gave them the weapon.

"So who is."

Valdis might be a tad less forward if she weren't still reeling from the events of the Gala, but as it is, she wants to get on top of this as quickly as possible.

[liesdontfindyou]

Were she more open to sharing this detail, there'd be a joke here about how someone using her full Agent title always felt like being full-named by an authority figure. As it is, she just breathes a laugh.

"It certainly does. And you never really stop running into it, in a place like this." Too many people from too different places. There are so few people from a context anything like her own, it's... strange, sometimes. Anyway. "Right. So. The Gala."

[ss_buttcrack]

"Works for me." He writes down the address in his handy little notebook.

"If now works for you then I'll be right over."

[restingslasherface]

|"Please, feel welcome!"|

Unless Crichton has learned to teleport lately, there is coffee and cookies by the time he arrives. The cookies are decidedly mid, the product of a hesitant amateur baker attempting to follow a recipe (religiously, it should be said) but without the technique needed to really make them shine. However, the coffee, done in the Turkish style, is itself quite sweet, and should rescue the cookies just fine.

These treats can be found in the sitting room; not far from it is the little wall desk that is Jean's study and work area. The walls and window around it are completely coated in drawings that have been gently tacked onto the walls, depicting dozens and dozens of subjects. Fragments of the town, portraits of people - candid and otherwise - sketches of beasts, post-facto blueprints, detailed diagrams of plants, animals, and monsters, and more besides. The window stands out, for it is there that drawings of Parade Day rest, gently colored in droplets of now quite-rusty blood.

"Welcome! Welcome to my home Comrade, please feel free to help yourself..."

[restingslasherface]

"...I decline to answer," Jean says at last. And it's a serious 'at last', the amount of thought that goes into this is pretty unusual for them; they're used to snap decisions and this is a good solid three minutes and change of silence. "I have not had time to conclude my own investigation into the matter, and given the current social clime I am reluctant to entrust this knowledge to others. I hope you understand, but I will not be budging on this topic."

Jean only really knows Alice as the funny clerk at Town Hall. The possibility that she is a mere victim in this is too large; they won't expose her to the mob for no reason.

[restingslasherface]

They nod, just once. "The Gala. I will be frank, there are aspects of what happened that I am still investigating and will not share, mostly for the safety of others. My own safety is...not a concern."

On most other people that might be self-destructive behavior but this here is just confidence. Jean is unconcerned about their peers attempting to kill them. They're still fairly certain that in a straight fight, they remain the deadliest thing here.

[redlightgreenlight]

"The current social climate?"

The quiet venom in her tone will certainly not help her case, but she greatly resents the idea that she would be swayed by emotion when it came to investigating anything related to this.

"You clearly don't know even the slightest thing about me if you think I'm going to go after someone on a mere whim or because I dislike the demons. Cerrit would be in a much worse place if that were the case. If I went after everyone I was suspicious of, I wouldn't have the position I do, nor would I be able to converse with, or have the respect of, people who are on opposite sides of this. I understand your position, but to clump me in with the the angry rabble is quite insulting."

[restingslasherface]

Oddly, Valdis's anger is almost calming to Jean. It is a familiar territory; perhaps too familiar, with the faint twinge of old emotional scars. Nevertheless, they answer quietly: "Comrade...I don't know you. I apologize for the offense I've given, and assure you that this is a question of absolute caution and not of your character."

[liesdontfindyou]

"I understand that." As much as she'd prefer to have all the information at hand, she knows too well the sting of saying too much and someone else getting hurt for it. Though that knowing won't stop the faint itch. "I assume, then, that you did receive the weapon from a third party?"