Between the Sea and Sky

[rassafraggin]

Some things were done. Zack had to run off to do a thing. Quinlan moves the ship from Pathi to Amber, because Pathi is shiny, and shiny things distract. Giselle? There's alcohol things, so she's good. Then, there are trumpy things, to bring Zack back, and then Maggie. Along with Merrisol, because you rarely get one without the other and that's okay because he's a bright sort, that one.

Quinlan has indeed taken his ship away from the shiny, shiny waters of the forbidden isle of Pathi, just so he doesn't have any crispy fried relatives on his conscience. Besides, Amber's docks have far more varied options in takeout, and don't make the Rebmans swim as far. Gestures get the ship's foldable deck chairs to unhook themselves from their racks, and scoot into a conversational circle around the deck as they unfold. "No idea what to order, mind," he admits. "Any ideas on food?"

Giselle had used some of the time to make herself a few fairies. Five in all. They're only a foot and a half tall, and each has a different colored wings, dress and hair. They mostly just sit for now, and one occasionally flits over to refill glasses as needed. She hmmms, thinking about that. "The Rose and Crown has good assortment of snacks. A bunch of us have been teaching them shadow foods." she says to the others, since Quinlan certainly already knows that.

"Sommat shellfishy. Shrimps. Can we order sommat from th'Mermaid's cove and get it here, ya reckon?" Zachary had arrived back in Amber the night before, utterly exhausted but at least all in one piece. Bright eyed and bushy tailed today, which is testament to the ability to sleep like a log with untroubled dreams, the blessing of those that have a clean conscience. "Got a thing fer shrimp and shellfish, me."

Claiming one of the chairs after it skuttles into place, she scoots it closer to Merrisol's. While she wears a pale blue flannel shirt with faint glints of gold in the weave and rust jeans, her boots appear to be fairly brand new. Taking one of the offered drinks, she leans over to speak quietly to her husband. "That is my cousin Zachary, Kerf." She indicates the man with a lift of her glass that is nearly a toast, "I don't think you got to meet him when I painted him." Skipping Quinlan, she nods next to the other woman, "And you recall my cousin Giselle, I'm sure." Once the pseudo-introductions have been made, she focuses on food. Or not, "Um. I am not very hungry, so whatever is fine."

Privately, to Merrisol, Maggie says, "Giselle is a brilliant alchemist and provided you with some useful potions."

Quinlan nods, and sends some whispers into the wind. "Shrimp platters from the Cove, chicken wings, goose nuggets, and potato skins from the Crown. And beer from both. Give 'em an hour." He takes a seat. "And we've got the job of seeing to it the Tir pattern gets fixed, without screwing the place over."

Merrisol pushes down the backrest of his chair a few times as a warning for the animate furniture to stay put, but to also be strong. He eyes Zachary, and although Merri did indeed meet the man at his trump sitting, and a Minos unveiling party, and at the Council of Lords, and who knows where else, he accepts Maggie's intro offer and merely nods to the man like it's the first. Why not, saves time explaining, perhaps? He also gives Giselle a polite nod, and a, "Good Eventide," to all, before easing into the deck chair.
"I am certain whatever you decide to provide will be acceptable," he notes to Quinlan, listens to the short preamble, then inquires, "What reason did Princess Fiona give for her being unable to restore the Pattern of Tir herself, as she did the Pattern of Rebma?"

Giselle smiles at Maggie and Merrisol, waving to the latter as she's mentioned. She's already well into her second full glass of wine. "Well, she didn't exactly fix it perfectly, right? Which, actually, we were discussing might have been a good thing because Rebma's been more free to have its own identity, right? Fixing it perfectly might have forced Rebma back into place, and changed what's been happening there. And, the Tir problem's different. For example, the floor under it's broken, so we also have to fix that somehow." She looks at the other two, both to be sure she's putting that right and also for more to add.

Quinlan coughs. "She can't," he says simply. "Rebma's...state of non-identicalness, it wasn't an intended result. But because it *isn't* identical to the one in the palace, the tool she used broke. She doesn't *have* another one. So, a new way has to be found. Hence, throwing the problem at a think tank."

Zachary plops back into the seat, not so choicy about his expression of gravity to mobile furnishings. 'Tis the ease of the hammock familiar, his legs stretching out and crossing his fancy boots at the ankle with it, go faster stripes widening as he flexes toes, like gills. He tugs his forelock to Merri and Maggie, "Cap'ns" offered politely and a grin for the introduction as indeed, 'tis a formality that's been observed more than once. Never hurts to restate though, eh? He laces his metalclad fingers over his midriff whilst Quinlan explains, wrinkle-nose sniffing with it, "Yup and yup," to Quinlan and Giselle's information. "S'problematic. I really gotta get me a good gander at the damage there, but so far, I keep gettin' turned around in the darned place. I'll get there, eventual like."

Maggie lifts a brow at something, but does not persue it. Maybe later. Taking a sip from her glass, she listens. Reaching forward she sets the glass down on a table. "I have not been to Tir for a long time now. It was pretty hard to get anywhere what with the angry denizens. But, okay. I know that this might not be a popular question, but has anyone asked them if they want the Pattern fixed? I know that Miriam does and that might count for all of Tir, but I do not know if she has spoken with her people about it. And... I think that it would be good to make plans based on where we are in the process. So, what is first? Repairing the floor?"

Merrisol considers Giselle's summation and inclines his head to it rather than offer the full nod of agreement. The news about Fiona's Pattern-rendering implement is met with a nod, however. Question sufficiently answered. He weaves his fingers together once he's assured of the chair's stability underneath him, and rests his elbows on the armrests. "For the refugees of Tir-na Nog'th who have become residents of Rebma, the Princess Miriam is their spokesperson and protector. For those Tir who remain in the city above the clouds, even she has been unable to break through their spiritual stasis. There are countless more who have been locked within the realm beyond the city by a Great Seal of Karm, and cannot be reached." He settles to nod to Maggie, acknowledging her question.

Giselle nods as Quinlan and Zachary weigh in on where they are so far. She takes another few gulps from her glass, emptying it, and a blue fairy carries over the bottle to refill it. She says "I've never been up there. Can you actually have conversations with the people there? I thought they were just ghosts. I mean, I've heard they're angry ghosts, and are attacking people, but conversation?" What Merrisol says about the city and the Seal peaks her interest, but doesn't seem to hold it tightly. Then, she gets up long enough to get pen and paper. "Okay, so a list of exactly what we need to figure out." She starts writing. "How to fix the floor under the Tir Pattern. How to fix the Tir Pattern, including finding or making whatever thingie of power is needed, to do it. Whether to fix the Tir Pattern exactly the way it was. Whether anything still has to get done to the Rebma Pattern. I guess eventually it has to get decided who gets to fix the Tir Pattern, but that won't be us. I'm guessing Fiona." She puts down the pen long enough to drink quite a bit from her glass. She's pretty lucid, really. Be afraid.

Quinlan gives Maggie a wry sort of twisted smile. "Before we can sort out solutions, we need to define the extent of the problems. We don't know a lot about Tir - not as it is now, not as it may have been before. And currently, it's both difficult to get to and hostile. While wanting to know *everything* is my usual approach, right Gis is right; it's a case of focusing on what we need to know to solve the problem in a way that makes things better, or at least not worse. If no one can actually speak for Tir's people, that's...not going to make things easier. I can camp out up there and observe, I suppose?"

Zachary listens as the weigh-ins begin, the problems laid out at hand. "Well, not necessarily it'll be Fiona as does it. If she does it, it might end up wit' th'same issue as rebma's got, which is sommat we don't want, right? Can't be makin' two patterns locked ta just th'bloodline o' Fiona or whatever it is as is the case." He taps his thumbs together, gazing up at the mast above, for a moment or two and back down again. "As to repairin' th'floor, yeah, that's one thing as's gotta be done. T'aint sommat I can do easy an' tha's why there's a team, fer deligatin' bits and bobs o' the task. Get it all rollin', right?" he checks on Quinlan and Giselle here, as the two other initially tapped for this. He then takes on a deeply thoughtful look, squinting at the middle distance. "Nnnng. Gotta measure the effects pan-dimensionally, o' Tir currently bein' broke. That's gonna be tricky, ta find anomalies."

Maggie nods as Giselle begins taking notes. Her gaze flits to Quinlan as he clarifies a few things, "Okay." She nods to Zachary in agreement with part of that at least, "Right. Whomever fixes the Pattern itself should try to fix it for all of us rather than just a subset. Miriam has mentioned that she would like Martin to be the one to do it. I think that should be taken into consideration.." Turning to Giselle, she tilts her head, "You haven't been up to Tir?" She does not reclaim the drink sitting forelornly on the table. Glancing to Quinlan, she considers. One leg extends slightly, "I don't know if you can do that, Quin. Maybe? Also? Tir isn't showing up as regularly as it used to. So, maybe the first order of business should be to go up and take stock of where things are now." Her attention shifts again to Zachary, "Explain that last, please?"

Merrisol says, "Regarding whether Princess Fiona necessarily will or will not ultimately draw the new Pattern. The restoration is not for its own sake, but to provide stable anchor for Amber. Would there be a benefit to that stability if the two Patterns were identical as far as being drawn by the same individual?" he puts that question out there to the Pattern-savvy, but otherwise sits quietly and listens, having lowered his gaze in thought over the issue of communication with the ghosts of Tir.

Giselle listens to the others as she drinks more, the pad on her lap, the pen in one hand, and the glass in the other. The fairy just stays nearby, with the bottle. She smiles to Quinlan observing Tir. "Man, does that sound boring. At least it's only up there once a month." Then there's the mention by more than one about the bloodline issue of who will fix it. "Huh." she says, thoughtful as she shakes her head to Maggie. "Nah. Never really seemed worth the climb. And if I want to see things that aren't really there, I'll just take more drugs." Her mind's stuck on something, though. She frowns a little. "Huh." she says quietly. "Fix it for all of us, without King Cockwobble." Distracted now. She drinks more.

Quinlan looks toward Zachary. "Dude. Consider yourself called to answer Pattern-related stuff, you're our expert in this group. For my part...if Tir and Rebma's are identical but Amber's is not, I'm thinking...that Rebman prophecy would kick in somehow and the effects would be deeply unpleasant." To Maggie, he says, "I may have to spend several months flying around up there in a fur lined robe, but logically...the people who'd be able to study Tir the most safely are Aeroporoi. Air masters like me. We can fly, we can *breathe* up there. Sense magic. Study the place. And stay out of reach of any angry ghosts. We don't even know if its irregular appearances are tied to the Pattern being broken, or what they may be tied to now. Research mages seems the best option for that, while you guys focus on what tools may be needed to actually do the fixing."

"Well," Zachary blows a breath out with a raspberrying of lips, pursing them in the wake as he considers how to do timey-wimey stuff without being boggled at. "We consider amber ta be th'center of all things, with its mirrors reflecting everythin' outwards, right? Rebma's got effects that wash out to every where, yeah? So's Tir. Everything the pattern reaches, is affected by Tir as well as Amber as well as Rebma. In some ways s'easier to measure wha's weird with REbma, ya got lots o'folks with the magic o'Rebma to observe close hand and no doubt can see stuff further afield. The past ain't as fixed as it usetta be and we got amnesiacs now, though they seem to be fine ta be 'ere. TIr? What's the effect of it bein' cocked up, on everythin'? In order ta figure that out, in order to decide the gravity o' that, ye'd have to look at the causality effect of non-linear time on shadow extensive out from Amber. In the fundamental, ye've got a neverwas coulda-been future that ain't fixed, but also might never happen... there might be doom on a lot o' shadows which otherwise oughta have a future and a stable one, because Amber's future's broke. See? Thing is figurin' out how ta study anomaly and if it's got string vibrations in th'fundament o' shadow matter." He scratches at his cheek, looking hopeful that that helped, but the truth is probably not helpful. He nods toward Quinlan, frowns a bit and adds also. "Also, if'n Fiona fixes that pattern, there's a possible paradox as might occur, cos two'd be in alignment and one wouldn't. Though I don't quite know how ta s'plain it better'n the elasticated paper demonstration, ya could end up with Tir and Rebma comin' together in synch and squishin' Amber flat as a pancake."

Maggie listens, her gaze intent, "Ah." Though that could be the sound of someone just not wanting to hear anymore, it isn't. "I see. So, you think that we can figure out what we need the Tir pattern to be if we can figure out where the triumverate of Amber, Tir and Rebma is out of alignment based on what should have been in the past and what could have been in the future? That is a cool thought, Zach." If that is actually what he was saying. She can hope. Then, however, she blinks and looks from Zach to Quinlan, "That is certainly one way the prophecy could be made manifest. I would like to leave it that Martin and Miriam got married and their children won't be of the land. It is enough and does not cause any death and destruction." Lifting a hand, she taps her cheek lightly, focusing on Quinlan, "I talked to Miriam about how to fix Tir's floor once. We did not come to any conclusions though taking a Gozar there in the Dreaming was suggested. I don't know that it would work, but we can't really use stone from Amber or Kolvir to fix it. I'd like to see, though. Maybe we could take some small stones up to Tir and see if they remain or fall when it vanishes. Has anyone tried taking stuff up there?"

Merrisol seems to be following along fine as long as he sets his unwavering regard on the speaker of the moment, and devotes none of his brain to coming up with more questions at the same time. A partial consensus reached on the potential catastrophe of Tir and Rebma having synched Patterns with Amber as odd man out, he nods and files that away. Pancake. "Or, they could form the toasted bread ends around the juicy burger," he mutters over to Maggie.

Giselle stares off at a wall. That hamster's running its little legs off in there. You can almost see it. It's hard to tell whether she's absorbing any of the other things being said. "Huh." she says, then her words kind of meander to echo her thoughts. "Fool the Pattern. I mean... ugh. Sucks for the person, but..." She's still staring at the wall. Finally, her forehead wrinkles, and she looks at Quinlan. "Imbue someone with so much of his distilled essence that the Pattern thinks it's being created by Oberon?"

Quinlan just twitches. A lot. "Oberon's essence has some serious carrying power," he says quietly. "And to put it bluntly, the man was the biggest dick in the universe. Provably so. This entire *mess* is down to Oberon having biggus dickus to an unprecedented degree. And while I do not doubt I have uncles *utterly stupid* enough to volunteer for that experiment, I'd like to register a 'hell no' and 'please send me a note if you want to do it anyway, so I have time to get to the farthest reaches of Shadow I can get to beforehand'. I've spent all my time since arriving here studying what he's done. To Amber, to the Houses, Tir, Rebma, the Golden Circle...he could fix the problem, I'm sure. He *himself* could. And we would, I am nearly positive, be fortunate if we didn't live to regret asking him to. Giving the power, even temporarily, to someone else?" His hands make an eloquent 'foom' gesture. He takes a few breaths to steady himself before saying to Maggie, "It's on the list of things to study. As are the properties of Tir-stone. Take some out of Tir, does it turn into water vapor? Rock? Does it turn back if taken back to Tir? We've got a lot to find out. But also, we need to find tools that can do the work of repair. Or the means to make such tools at least."

Zachary twists his nose to the side at this juncture, scratching at the back of his neck. "I'd do it. I reckon I could, too," he offers to the diabolical notion of amalgamated Oberon-essence. "The trouble'd be, blood's /everything/. And the more concentrated ya get, would ya suffer the same, as ya said there. I uh... I got Iron in my soul though, Quinlan, but even I'd be hesitant to s'pose I'd come outta that unchanged. I'd still do it though. S'gotta be done. As to how though? Ye've got ta have a good tunin' fork." He quiets then though, musing on a million different things and chewing on his cheek with it.

Quinlan murmurs, "Iron in the soul means the strength of will and sense of self to cross the Black Road to break it. Very few of us have that."

Maggie blinks at Merri and turns to look up at him. Her smile is slow in coming, but warm, "Mmmhmmm. Yes. We're going there tomorrow." She offers her husband a wink, but then pauses and looks thoughtful, "Though that is an interesting possibility. I wonder if having Tir and Rebma's Patterns in synch would encircle Amber protectively. Or crush her." Her hand lingers near her chin, then lowers, "I kind of doubt it would end happily though." She nods to Quinlan, "Oberon was a dick." Looking up, she focuses on Quinlan and listens through the rest of what he says. She nods over the last bit, "Right. I can talk to a Gozar and present the problem. Maybe one of them can come up to Tir and see if fixing it works. Though we'll have to be careful that the repair crew do not step on the Pattern that remains. That'd be awful. But, wait a minute. Hold up." She turns to look at Zachary, one hand lifting, "I don't even know what having Iron in your soul means beyond having the will to do what must be done. Which isn't negligable. But, if Giselle can distill Oberon's essence, perhaps we can infuse whatever tool we use to redraw the pattern with it. That way, it isn't really available to the weilder in any format useable beyond drawing the pattern. Because you are right. No one wants to give granddad's power to any one person."

While slowly absorbing the gist of Giselle's theory, Merrisol gathers Quinlan's take on it, then gazes at Zachary for a long moment, before he looks back at Quinlan with brows raising. A case in point made for Q, right thar. He clears his throat, seeking to steer the topic away from crazy, stupid, and/or stupidcrazy. "The idea of bringing a Gozar mason into the Dream Realm warrants consideration. So too, an experiment to determine whether the ghosts in Tir do dream. Should it be possible for Princess Miriam to influence her people through Dream, they may be persuaded to become more cooperative with efforts, or even be mobilized to make the necessary repairs to the palace."

Giselle shrugs to Quinlan. "Puzzle was posed. How to make a Pattern we can all use. Puzzle was answered." she says to him. "Got a different answer? Otherwise, it'll just be a subset of us. Anyway, essence wouldn't grant specific abilities. Or knowledge. Just, I'm sure, lots and lots and lots of dickishness. The core of who he was as a person. Enough dickishness for a Pattern to think that's who's making it. It wouldn't actually make someone Oberon. And I'm sure it wouldn't last very long. Really, it'd probably be better, used by someone used to being a huge dick of some stripe. Makes it easier to handle getting hit with it." She thinks then about imbuing an item, instead of a person. "Huh. Maybe?" Then, Merrisol says something interesting to her. "Find a way to get the Tir ghosts to fix it for us... Now that's interesting."

Quinlan sighs. "Fair point, Gis. Fair point. I don't have an alternative. I'd just recommend, strongly, that some way to knock whoever takes that essence flat once the repairs are done be handy. Repairing Rebma's nearly killed Fiona. Someone with enough of Oberon's essence to fool a Pattern...probably not so weakened." Back to Zachary, he says, "You've been finding strange things in Shadow. Can you find things that can make a tool to repair a Pattern? This sword, maybe, you were mentioning?"

Zachary clucks his tongue, looking at various faces, honing in on Quinlan and Giselle again, he grins at the acceptance of some point or another. "I can find all kinds of things... usually stuff as has a resonance that the pattern either finds pleasin' or anomalous. The more impact it has, the easier it is ta find it -- artifacts. Mind, artifacts don't precisely tell me what they are, I just can feel'm as I near'm or travel through a place as has an anomaly. The sword I'm looking fer, t'aint an anomaly nor an artifact, 'tis a lost sword o' power. We got a listin' that states seven were made..." he looks over at Merrisol and Maggie now. "Of which I'm given to grock, that Rebma's got access to one of. Dunno which it is though, sword of waves or sword of stars?"

Maggie looks at Quinlan steadily, then to Zachary, "Ah. Crossing the Road. Not as rare in this crowd, then. We share that, cousin." Hearing Merrisol's comments, she nods, her attention shifting to him. Her nod is slow, "That is a very good thought and not one I have ever heard before. The Tir masons made it in the first place, at least in theory..." Leaning back, she turns to Giselle and shoots her a nod. A brow lifts and she focuses on Zachary, "Now, that is a handy talent." Tilting her head slightly to one side, she considers, "I... Now, I am not sure, honestly, Zachary. Stars, I think. But I do not know if the Sword of Waves is also down there. Kerf might know. Or, we can ask Martin."

Merrisol nods once to Giselle, then Maggie, with the assurance that said thought will dream into action before long. He appears to think about the question posed by Zachary. "The names you give these weapons may go by different ones beneath the waves. I will take the question of their existence to the Lord Regent."

Giselle's brain is still on the essence thing. "Honestly, I think you'd be in more danger from whatever rube you got to make the essence. That's a whole lot of absorbing elements of Oberon in order to understand it enough to distill it down properly. Probably take a long time. Some serious exposure." She listens to the others again, as Zachary speaks of finding interesting things. "Sounds pretty cool, really." she says. "I've never had anything to do with the Road. Just avoided it in shadow. Much easier than bothering with it." She finishes off another glass of wine, and it's refilled. "Food should be about here. Hows about we take a short break to eat?"

Quinlan nods, and heads to the rail to see where the food might be. "Oh. Forgot to run out the plank." Clicking his tongue, he gestures at it to go do its job, and out it slides - much to the consternation of the delivery staff. Up they come, setting down trays of shrimp, wings, nuggets, dipping sauces, and small casks of beer. Payment is made in small pouches tossed to each of them. Once they're gone, another gesture and the gangplank pulls itself back up again.