Always the Queen's Way

[rassafraggin]

Untamed reefs hedge the petering crossroads that lead off to distant House estates at the farther reaches of the Rebma waters, through staggeringly vast, tractless, and mostly uncharted wilderness. Long before reaching the true blue yonder, the glowing warning beacons of the breathable city limits may be seen. They describe a circular perimeter that supposedly rises in a hemi-spherical dome of influence, along with a corridor to enchant the road to the Great Stairs. Flatlanders are sternly advised by faded signage to stay close to the ground and not dipsydoodle into the upper reaches here, tempting disaster.

In order to reach the undersea territory north of Mount Rivlok, one is commonly obliged to find a way around the city outskirts and the broad base of the mountain, leading northwesterly; to the east of the capital, a powerful current rounds the mountain and rushes southwards, out of the bay and into the great dark wonder of the realm. Which ever way is chosen, travelers necessarily find themselves edged out of the enchanted zone along the way, making it a deadly prospect for unprepared visitors.

Anyone who has clocked time below the waves far from Rebma's capital will know the city's enchanted zone is a vastly different environment. Compared to the real deal, it is safe, mild, gentle. Easy. The Rebmans living out on the territorial holdings consider their cosmopolitan cousins soft 'Slickers', and the notion could not be more valid.

Moire has been making a point of coming out to the city limits, daily if possible. It's something Merrisol would do, and perhaps the routine of the body and brain has worked its influence. Whatever the reason, the monarch and Shao are now on the road between the gates and the great stair, roaming ever closer to the line of tarnished beacons that demarcate the danger zone for air-breathing visitors. Coral overgrowth has blurred that line in some spots.

Shao is happy to swim, only letting himself be dragged for the short spells he needs a rest and a nibble of varech. "We are getting close to the end of my safe zone, Madam," he informs the Queen. He is a little concerned, not yet worried nor afraid. "If something was to come our way, this is bad footing for me to offer an effective defense, with my back or flank to a cliff." He chooses to point that aspect of guarding her that is favoring keeping clear from potential waterlungs even though he could perfectly well use his eyes and ears to warn against threats from the very edge of the visitor area.

"It will be necessary for us to cross over that line, Shao-san, to draw closer to the might of the East Rebma Current," says Moire. "Of course you shall be receiving the Sea's favour for this. It is an ability of the Lord Warden which I have harnessed, though one I had not deemed useful during my own lifetime on the Throne." As part of the travel ensemble, she wears the long glass harpoon, hooded, across Merri's back, with the chain looping his waist like a belt. The field of magic is so solidly constructed, that even within a dozen feet from the edge, the waters are deceptively tame, the crushing pressure that should be, as yet absent.

Shao bows his head. "Your life is in my hands, Madam," he says, signaling his agreement on her terms. He looks past the warning beacons, his slanted eye giving him but the faintest of warning of possible danger. He also remembers someone warning him of the sea sorceress who would give the gift of waterbreathing conditional to their obedience.

"May I ask why we are crossing the line at this time?" A simple question that contains everything to Shao, for he is about to have a brush with death. A dying man's last request, potentially.

Moire turns to position herself arm's length from Shao, directing the Penglai to stand with his back to the unknown. "The divinity of my bloodline is that of the Sea. So it is that Lir and the Sea are One. I shall cross over meditate in Their embrace in its full unfettered potency." She sets her gaze lower, studying her companion. "Do you wish to remain here for now?"

"If I were to stay, I would fail my duty, Madam. Let us cross together," Shao answers, his gaze not faltering. "I understand meditation and so, I will be quiet as your shadow unless the need arises. What is required of me for this blessing?"

The Queen nods but then frowns lightly in contemplation. "In the vernacular it is known as the Selkie's Kiss. Indeed, the shapeshifters tend to be cavalier in its use, and so it would seem little is required of the recipient but to allow that touch, which needn't be a kiss at all," she assures in a detached manner, in case that part would be a concern. "From Lord Merrisol's scant notes on the subject, it would seem he believes there to be a pious connection to the ability, which has led to it being also ritualized as the Sea's Blessing." She pauses to ruminate patiently over her own words. "Although I have come to trust in his instincts, I do sometimes still deem his methods as rudimentary. As that of a child." With that, she reaches out a hand to Shao at the level of his throat, and moves to place Merri's palm at the base of it, while beginning to propel them both towards the edge of enchantment.

Is it the weirdness of Merrisol's hand at his neck or is it simply a prayer of his own, either way Shao closes his eye for the time it takes to the pushed in the deep end. For a second, nothing happens. The next second, nothing continues to happen and Shao opens his eye and he sees he is past the beacons. He looks to the Queen and puts his own effort in the swimming, into keeping up with her.

If nothing happening is equivalent to not dying, then nothing definitely happened. Crossing over, however, the differences can be detected immediately. Deep physics becomes Real, rules of water resistance, wave distortion, and buoyancy in effect; and even though they cannot be harmed by neither prolonged exposure nor hundreds of atmospheres of pressure that bears down at this depth, those deadly forces are indeed present. Even the quality of the water breathed and processed so mysteriously through the lungs has changed, and Moire at least seems invigorated by her first breath on the outside. She looks Shao over once he is turned about and moving under his own power, and nods satisfactorily. "The East Rebman Current awaits us," she notes, and begins to swim, slowly at first, while she acclimates to the greater resistance and exertion required. And consciously monitors Shao's own swimming ability at the same time.

Shao does as best as he can to ignore the changes. At first, it throws his moves off for he has more to cut through and he tends to float up. "How far, Madam," he asks, his voice a little to loud as he overcompensates needlessly. To be able to live here, to feel that pressure on every part of himself, it is yet another way Shao learns to experience what power is in the flesh. Now he gets better at moving and keeping his buoyancy in check, that shows how much practice he's had recently. The added resistance is already slowing him down due to fatigue.

There are no shortcuts to the Temple looming high on the mountain slope, and all supplicants who wish to stay in the good graces of the Clergy of Lir will take the humble footpath that describes rough zig-zag hairpins up the eastern face. Following the path is a contemplative, centering, cleansing experience for those who are dedicated enough to find themselves upon it. It is a rigorous journey up the slope without the benefit of the friendly physics at play within the city's enchanted limits, and blasphemy to try and appear there without first taking the proper path.

"The Sea facilitates Its Chosen in all their physical endeavors," notes Moire offhandedly while demonstating that Rebman agility ingrained in the vessel. With a pulsing kick, she dips lower to skim the sea floor, then banks right to climb the the eroded ridge that overlooks the ERC. Its pull and power emanates into the surroundings, and a slight drag can be felt even some dozens of feet away from the main body rolling inexorably beneath the bay. The ground is therefore plucked clean of any loose detritus. "It has taken several sessions of therapeutic exercise with Ruby to achieve this synchronicity between mind and body, outside of the enchanted zone," she calls, and Merri's deep voice carries above the tumult's disturbance of the water. Watching Shao labour his way up to the outcrop upon which she stands, her kelp mantle floating horizontal with the pull of the not-so-distant river, she begins to poise subtly to lunge out for his tether if it comes to that. For now, she only beckons lightly.

Shao changes his style from a crawl to a frog, his joined hands pushed before him to then pull do cleave better than single windmill arms and his legs pushing do more than when flapping. He adds a slight undulation of the body in between pulses, gaining a few inches more that add up to his effort. That is as far as his agility can take him, now it becomes a test of mettle. He clenches his teeth against the burn of exhaustion, pushing himself hard, reaching and pulling like a drowning man until, finally, he makes it. He opens a hand to receive the lead, forcing up a smile.

Here, exposed upon the ridge, the feeling of standing at the edge of a storm, so close to staring down its barrel and the risk of being swept away, far away, within seconds... it's a hell of a thing. Moire gets hold of the silk cord, but keeps it slack, so that Shao can dig in and stand against the torrent on his own. "This is as close as we shall get, today," she says, chin lifted and eyes closing. "The Sea is not forgiving even to the Chosen who fail to pay proper respect. For this is not the full witnessing of Its Will. A legend speaks of the current so alive it draws the incautious and weak of will under its influence, to ride along in joy and madness through all the seas of shadow." She is quiet, but seems receptive for now, until the communal spirit with the Sea that is her birthright, inspires deeper contemplation.

Digging in Shao does. He can feel upon him the relentless drag, the colossal amount of raindrops twice salted, pushed together until they are the body of such a willful stream. He must take a power stance but sideways, as to offer the least resistance and also lean into the power. He puts his whole being into staying there, from his neck to his toes. The lead at his wrist seems more a double suicide than a salvation. Somewhat, he was tricked by his duty and now he is the hostage of it. Suddenly, he finds equlibrium in a pose and all he needs is to keep steady. He dares not move anymore. There will be plenty of time to resplenish his strength on algae on the way back.



High above, the arch of Amber's sky is that deep, robin's egg blue that tends toward sapphire without losing any of the joy of Spring. White, fluffy clouds graze in slow, ambling herds, trailed by their shadows, across the sky. Even the sun seems to be taking his time traveling across that perfect expanse. Lunch is over, the dishes done and put away. Small people are either outside playing or upstairs taking care of homework or other chores. Maggie has just finished brewing a pot of coffee and the rich scent fills the lower floor with hints of impending industry or relaxation. There are gingerbread men and women sharing a glass cookie jar with cinnimon wheels on the table, ready for snacking.

There was a lot of worry until it was made absolutely clear and sworn up and down that Merrisol wasn't lost, hurt, or going to be hurt. Still lots of What If and Is, Even Though questions to come as the kids think them up. Only Sela doesn't really get it.

Dressed fairly casual for a stay at the menagerie-residence of Luck Row, Moire is present in the open space of the main level, hunkered down on the recently swept floor. A largish pad of sketchpaper is open before her, while she listens with grave attentiveness to the little girl across from her describing the rambling scribbles upon the paper. Try as she might, the Rebman is racking up a terrible score for correctly labeling the landbound items depicted in randomly improbabe colour schemes by the childish hand.

Nearby, Shao interrupts his slow martial dancing to steal one or three gingerbread people and a cup of coffee. The dance resumes, with the added difficulty of stealing a nibble or a sip from either hand as they pass near his head. "Not to worry, Maggie-san," Shao says. "I will make more if we come short." As his hands come together for something alike a double push forward, Shao dunks a cookie in the coffee with a smile. Playful as he can, he has been showing signs of fatigue for the last hour in the form of stronger and more frequent tremors in the legs and arms. "Your Royal Majesty, I would ask for a moment of your time in regard to a fault in carrying my duties. One thing I did not ask and another I did not tell you."

Maggie grins at Shao as he swipes some of the goodies all mid-martial dancing. She shrugs once, "That will be fun, Shao-san." She has been watching him from time to time in order to monitor that tremor. So far, she has not had cause for much concern over the usual... But she is trying to take her own advice and trust that he knows what he is doing. "I'll see whose turn it is to help cook. Though I'm thinking that it is finally time to teach lemon squares. Or bars." Setting two cups of coffee amd a plate of assorted cookies on a tray, she adds a cup of milk and carries the lot to the floor where Moire and her young friend are. Curling down to sit with them, she sets the tray between her thigh and Moire's. Looking from the adult to the drawing to the little girl, her eyes dance with mirth, "This looks like fun. Though I would like to see some drawings of sea creatures. You could do the guessing..."

Moire's latest puzzle is what looks either like a bulbous insects or like a collection of bubbles, some with faces, being happily pierced by the wrong ends of tridents. She steadies the tray down to the floor with a nod of thanks to Maggie, and discretely flashes her a helpless expression at an angle that the young'un cannot glimpse. "These are not bugs, I am told. Or jellies," she states, faintly disappointed. "Sela my dear, if you would allow Maggie to take over, I must have a word with Shao-san." The Queen accepts a coffee mug, though it's really Merri who's the addict, and stands from her crouch to retreats from the sketchpad. "You may correct these omissions now," she says to Shao, regarding the man with more of a grateful expression than concerned.

The child doesn't watch her go, or take an interest in cookies, only gazes down at her snowman family with a scowl of concentration. She does reach out for Maggie's hand, after a moment. "Naggie, you tell him the names."

Shao slows his exercises and stops so they can have a normal conversation. Also he gobbles up all of his remaining pastries and chases with coffee. He avoids locking gaze, instead looking down and contrite. "I have been investigating, Madam. More specifically, I was doing a follow up on our expedition in Tir, asking about its past and the Great Seal. Nothing of the Great Seal was of use, it is forgotten even from House Karm but the fact it was commissioned by King Oberon. The real bit that got my attention is this: Rebma, Tir and Amber being the reflection of each other, would not it be true that each have their monarchs?" Shao takes a pause in his explanation to look risk a glance at Moire. "Then it dawned on me, a solid theory. Tir's King or Queen must be behind the Great Seal, imprisoned by King Oberon himself. What happens in one must happen in the two others, that is how reflections work. Therefore, King Oberon faded away and following, you Madam fell in a deep sleep. Any poison would only be instrumental, the trigger but not the cause, if it pleases you. I did not bring this up before because, to experiment it, I would need to find equivalences in all three realms and twist their fates. Tir, we have yet to influence." He kowtows as deep as he can, almost to an impossible angle. And stays like this.

Maggie shadows Moire a wink as she changes the guard. She does watch the Queen rise so gracefully and move away. Her hand and attention are captured by Sela and Maggie looks down at the smallest of their charges. Her hand curls protectively around the small one that has claimed her heart so thoroughly. Leaning forward, she places a light kiss on the child's head before she looks a bit more closely at the drawing and nods, "You know, Sela, my dear. It is so nice of you to share your snowman family drawing with him." Lifting the cup of milk, she offers it to the child, "I do not think he thinks in terms of snow, though. Actually, I can't remember if he's seen much snow. Certainly not snow families. I will explain, though." Her attention drifts to the child's face for a moment as she speaks softly, "Did you put one in for everyone?" The cookies still on the plate next to her are guarded from the Ravenous One though not jealously. Just until the child has the option of having one. As it happens, Maggie put one for each of the children and adults on the plate before bringing it over. Just in case. "I see Prof K and Maggie." She indicates the larger of the snowpeople. "And there is Gabe and Sofia with her scarf. Good detail there, Sela." Turning her head, she smiles at the little girl, then looks back, "And that has to be Mina with the... snow parrot? On her shoulder? Oh, then there is Jau Ye and Patrick over there with Chester. And Sela right there." She sounds triumphant, but will be crestfallen if it is Mr and Mrs Snowman with their SnowKids.

Moire takes a few more steps to listen to Shao rather than the guesses supplied by Maggie behind her, confident that they will go over the stack of squiggly drawings later so the Rebman monarch can obtain a more detailed explanation of each. She thinks a moment, then says, "It is the Pattern which dictates the appearances of the cities of Rebma and Tir, Shao-san, and when the Patterns were perfectly in tune with the will of a single godlike creator, this rigid shared identity was so. It was after Oberon departed that this stability began to dissolve, and his sons and daughters delivered the realms to the disparate states they are in now. The Pattern of Rebma was shattered by Prince Caine, and redrawn by Princess Fiona," reminds Moire. "And the city of Rebma was rebuilt from the devastation of the Cataclysm by Lord Martin, in an image which was no longer obliged to follow the blueprint of the city of Amber. It was by then that my illness became such that I departed for Martin's private shadow, and once there, declined and was let to lapse into my preserved slumber." She gazes at Shao expectantly before reiterating for emphasis, "This occurred after Rebma slipped away from Amber, Shao-san, by however much the difference is between Oberon and Oberon's daughter. And that would mean my situation is a product of forces other than the bond to Amber. If anything, it is a product of the schism." She glances over to Maggie in case the actual Patternite in the room might cast greater understanding.

Shao riskes everything nodding at the end of his kowtow. "Thank you, Madam. I see I must redouble my efforts in finding how you came to slumber. I shall not stray again." He quiets how and where he will direct his efforts, for such things matter little to leaders of men, as long as the duty is carried to completion and in time. He recovers from his precarious position showing a sweaty brow and not a bit of relief from his guilt, not yet. "Before we move on, madam, was there a king in Tir that you remember? Princess Miriam never mentioned the name or I must have missed it." Watching the child nearby he silences himself, for now is not the time to slip into the miracles of life.

Moire nods to the question. "Princess Miriam is the daughter of the Tiresias, Prophet King of Tir. It is possible he lives yet, beyond the Great Seal. You must make your inquiries to the princess if you believe it a significant point." Then she tilts her head. "Is it the nature of my deathsleep you investigate, or the identities of the conspirators responsible for ensuring my illness would lead to my death? The former is a case long closed, however the latter remains inconclusive due to insufficient evidence, as well as a deliberate attempt to cloud the issue by promoting both Martin and Miriam as potiential suspects."

"Thank you, Madam. I will ask Princess Miriam. I was hoping that by finding more about your illness, the trail of books might lead me to the ones who knew the black mold could prove fatal," Shao explains, keeping his voice even as best he can, "although I fear the real medical treaties are guarded by the Feldanes or the Karms or even harder to get to, the Chantris. For now my best hope is to ask around discretely and hope for luck."

Maggie hears the others talking. She even registers the need for her input. But there is something happening here that needs her attention first. Her gaze remains focused on Sela and her drawings. Leaving her coffee and the plate of cookies where they are, she scoots closer to the child. Moving gently, she scoops the girl up to sit on her lap. If Sela is okay with this. Speaking softly, fingers gentle in the child's hair, she speaks quietly, "Sela? Do you remember when we told you about Moira staying in Prof K's body for a while? Kind of like... an extended visit. Just until Moire's own body is well again. Honey, what that means is that for now Prof K is not able to communicate with us directly. He can't really talk to Moire, either. It's like... he is sleeping. Sort of. For now, he can't tell Moire all about us. That is why she does not know what snowpeople are or our names. We have to teach her. Then, when she returns to her body, she will know who we are. And Prof K will be awake then. We might have to tell him all about whwat happened while he was hosting Moire. But, dear heart? Prof K has not forgotten about us. I promise you, Sela. He loves us. Loves you, just as I do. Even if he can't directly let us know. He would not ever forget us." She waits for a moment to see if the girl replies, gently prodding, "Do you have any questions?" The adults? Sorry, adults. This can't wait.

Sela doesn't look like she's listening too closely to Maggie's earnest words, instead fidgeting and gazing elsewhere as though in denial. She even shakes her head a little in response at the end, starts to slide out of Maggie's lap and then squirms back on to instruct sternly up at her, "Mine is mine, Naggie. It's *mine*. I don't want to share mine!" As long as everyone is perfectly clear on that, the girl is fine with trotting off to sulk around with the others outside.

Moire is considering Shao's words. "Perhaps then, there is no great whisper campaign above the waves to discredit the Regent of Rebma and his new bride," she murmurs. "I certainly have not heard anything whilse traveling these streets. Princess Llewella had heard talk about Princess Miriam being involved, but she was quite delicate about her source. Lord Jhavid was insistent on the likelihood of Lord Martin's involvement, and claimed he held evidence to support it. Perhaps these are tuly isolated claims." She falls silent as the child gets strident briefly, but Moire doesn't turn to look back at them. She only looks a bit distant for a moment, herself, while she waits for that outburst to resolve itself.

Shao nods, stern and without hesitation, to what the Queen just said. He gets his journal out as well as a coal and jot down the new informations. A glance at Moire tells him the situation with the younglings requires her full attention. Confusion assaults Shao who finds himself at a total loss in front of Sela's outspoken expression of anger. Distracted, missed the Maggie's tries at consoling the girl and even if he had paid attention, his hands were trained to find weaknesses and exploit them, not to reinforce a budding life. All he can do is remove his leg out of Sela's way by fear she would trip on him. He gives Maggie a worried look, powerless and concerned. "I fear my presence exacerbates intestinal conflicts in your family, Captain-san."

Maggie listens to Sela, focused. Keeping her tones quiet, she sends an "I understand, Sela" after the girl. Her tone catches right at the end, though Sela has probably made it outside before it sounds. Sitting for a while after Sela leaves, Maggie does not face the adults for the duration. Picking up the milk and cookies, she places them carefully on the tray. Lifting it, she takes her coffee in the other hand. Turning to the table, she puts the cookies on it and dumps the coffee into the sink. Sitting, she shakes her head once then focuses on the rest of the discussion. Addressing Shao first, she lifts a shoulder, "Maybe. Maybe not. They do need to learn how to interact with adults other than Kerf and myself. They..." And she leaves it at that for now. Closing her eyes, she tries to mentally rewind. "I am not an expert on the Pattern, though I know more than some. It is true that the Pattern as drawn currently, allows a measure of difference between Rebma and Amber. But. I do not believe that identity in reflection would have been required, so a Kind in Amber would not require a King anywhere else. Rebma is Amber's reflection so shold be opposite. I think. I'm not sure. But, if so, it stands to reason that as Amber's King failed, Rebma's Queen should thrive. This did not happen. As for Tir? Tir is supposed to be Amber's possible futures made manifest. During times of turmoil in Amber, the visions seen in Tir change. If Tir has its own destiny apart from Amber? Well... Until Miriam and her people showed up, I would have said that was impossible. Now? Honestly? I do not know how to interpret it."

Moire refocuses as Maggie speaks her thoughts on the correlations between Sea, Land, and Sky. While it is all quite interesting, there is one bit which stands out for her. "While we moved around the city, the ghosts of Tir were enacting military preparations, were they not? And so that is one possible future of Amber given the current events within Amber," she muses. "One might take that to mean the more obvious tension between Prince Regent Caine and Rebma. But then there is the other." She starts to raise a thoughtful gesture with one hand, then subsides.

"Another theory was brought forth by Prince Carmichael," Shao offers, realizing too late he is about to contradict the Queen's last statement and maybe some of Maggie's as well. A deep breath comes to help him continue. "Perhaps Tir was not always as immaterial as it is today and in light of Miriam's very line, were allowed to be otherwise than just under the moon. Any sort of disagreement between King Oberon, the Shaper of the Land and the Seer King on how the future should be and there would be turmoil, even war. King Oberon had the Seer King and his people bound, a measure to prevent changes to the outcomes of his work in shaping the world. After being imprisoned for so long, the Tirians only wish for revenge." Shao pauses to wipe his brows. "This is not my own theory, just Prince Carminchael's."

Maggie closes her eyes, then opens them and focuses on Moire and Shao. "Yeah, I noticed that too. Those are possible reasons for military activities, but certainly not the only ones." Looking at Shao then, she blinks in surprise, "I... Uh. I do not think that the people of Tir can currently want anything. At least, not in the same way that you or I do. But we should talk to Miriam about that, to be honest. I am not an expert on Tir at all. But... It is an interesting thought. And if true, would they attack Amber if that Seal is released? Has anyone talked to the Karms about that possibility?"

Moire doesn't appear to see a major conflict in their thoughts, merely nodding in a patient manner when Amber's newest prince is mentioned. "Yes.. it could be a literal interpretation of Tir's war-bound attitude towards Amber, as well. Though if it is specifically Amber's future, then it is Amber's acts of war preparation. Amber has other enemies at her doorstep, not only those from without, but those within," she notes. "Whether it is a matter to bring to the Prince Regent's attention, will be upon Lady Vialle's judgement."

Shao finishes his coffee, giving his parching throat some relief. "It is my humble opinion that we cannot let the Seal be opened before we know more, it was from the start. Prince Martin's sword could be the key to open the Great Seal and he follows Princess Miriam's wishes, I observed." He shows a little agitation in shuffling to shift his weight from one leg to the other. Finding no comfort he goes to sit down but not before he strips to his waistcoat. Once off his legs, he works at taking his waistcoat off as well. "Forgive me, I must get out of this harness at once," he warns. His tunic also comes off and underneath is a fishing net fashioned into a shirt, from which flat plates of lead hang, muffled with cloth sleeves fitting on like socks. Shao undoes the straps at the shoulders and the lead shirt falls off of him to slip for the floor, ending with a low 'boom'.

Maggie nods to Moire's observations but pauses to frown over one smallish detail, "I wonder... Does she know? Lady Vialle, I mean. Did anyone tell her about the martial preperations? I don't think she can see and they were silent." Leaning back a bit, she folds her hands on the table and studies Shao. "I kind of understand the relationship between the Pattern and the sword. Maybe. But, I can't even begin to guess whether there is a relationship between the sword and the Seal. I would be surprised if there were. But it may be worth a try if it gives us some information about Tir." She taps her fingernail against the table's top, "Tir is Princess Miriam's realm, Shao-san. It is right and proper that Martin champion her wishes for her own land. He does not follow her wishes in things related to Rebma. Unless they are in alignment with his own intent and Moire's." She smiles up at the Queen, then blinks and looks back at Shao, "that is a lot of weight. Do you need more water or cookies?"

Moire listens in silence, nodding acknowledgement of some points, but her gaze slides to the strange netted accoutrements on Shao's person, following their drop to the wood board floor. Studying the weights, she frowns more deeply. "The very drag of the air above the waves is enough discomfort. Do you compound the forces as a challenge.. or for penance, Shao-san?"

Shao is less sitting now than slouching in the chair. "Not penance, madam, but training," he counters. Before he explains any more, he answers Maggie. "I would get sustenance myself if I could, Captain-san. I need your help, please. There is also a belt around my waist and more at my ankles." He offers a lopsided smile for Moire. "Not long after I was asked to protect you, I had a chance encounter with Prince Brand on the Palace's grounds. Others were there, talking big of fate and who is Lady Aine's father. At some point Prince Brand went overboard and summoned some green dancing flames. I would have fled if I did not know better than run in the shadow of a dragon. Suddenly, the flames flew at me and I felt strong. In two days, my muscles were back to normal, a real miracle. I thought, maybe this will continue, so I got this whole weight system made for when I am above the waves, to get stronger. The magic slowed down yet I decided to keep at it, adding more lead once in a while."

Maggie rises slowly, "Uh. Okay." Turning, she moves to the sink first. Pouring a glass of water, she takes it around and sets it on the table at Shao's elbow. Sinking to her knees, she moves the heavy shirt out of her way. Feeling its weight, she looks up at Shao, then over to Moire and back again. Shaking her head, she reaches for the man's right leg, "How are these fastened, Shao-san?" Keeping her gaze focused on the task at hand, she adds, "Are you getting the weights from Ruby? I'll bet she would be interested in this setup."

Moire considers this calmly, taking to watching Maggie perform these favours in a helperly fashion. "When the weight comes off, the immediate feeling of relief would be like the weightless moment of a whale's great breach," she murmurs, with a faint smile.

Shao drains half of the water in the glass. Some of it trickle down his chin in his urgent thirst. "One would belief so, madam. There is some but then, a pain is felt as the main bones come back. Floating in water provides the full relief on the joints and the resistance of swimming is the necessary compliment for the best results, I found out." For Maggie, he points to his leg. "Just leather garter for the legs and a belt at the waist. I had the weights made by a smith, in secret. I take my bodyguard duty seriously."



Giselle is skipping along the beach, towards the 'little' house she built there. She has a basket in one hand, and it swing as she skips.

There's a more temporary shelter set up a ways down the beach, where the dunes provide some wind shelter and the path to some fascinating tidal pools is fairly clear of rocks and debris. A family with an impressive brood of children appears to have set up sometime in the past hour, and the aroma of their clam bake pervades the breeze. The adults are of familiar appearance, given that it's Maggie and Merrisol, though it is probably confusing given the gaggle of kids.

Trailing a little behind because of his cane, Shao does his best to keep up. Hopefully, once in a while a kid evades Maggie or Merrisol and the whole caravan has to stop until Shao herd the youngling back in. An easy task, given the children are a bit shy of him and as soon as he closes with one, they run back to safe distance of the adults they like most. Through his struggle, he finds a second to wave to Giselle, which he met once or twice.

Maggie has made sure to leave a nice, soft spot for Shao to sit near the warmth of the clambake. There is a smallish cooler near his spot with his name on it. It is packed with snacks for their ever-hungry friend. A matching thermos has been nestled next to it. In case the man gets thirsty before the clams are ready. Seated on a spot of sand that has been sort of smoothed, Maggie reaches forward to dig her fingers into the sand. Scooping a bunch of sand, she patpats the sides of the hole she has made. A few small people cluster around her, watching the hole partially fill with water. The words 'sand' and 'sculpture' float over the beach.

You paged (Maggie, Shao) with 'Gabe (13), Sofia (12), Wilhelmina (10), Patrick (9), Jau Yee (8), Chester (7), Sela (6), they are street rats from the Lower City, various orphanariums , taken in by Merri at first, then introduced to Maggie a bit later. The tidal wave destroyed the orphanages and therefore their records (mostly) so they are basically free and clear to live at the Upper City cottage and are awaiting official adoption by M&M.'.

Giselle doesn't need to be looking that way, to sense all the people over there. They're touching the ground, after all. She pauses, looking curious. Then smiles and waves to the familiar faces as she's diverted and heads towards them. Skipping and looking interested. "Hallooooo!" she says once closer, looking at all the children. "S'up? You guys have been busy, looks like." she adds with a grin, obviously not really thinking they're all theirs.

Merrisol has gotten into the water about hip deep, which means the older children with him are forging through the swells at around chest height when they aren't swimming. Naturally he has overseen their swim training, so they're pretty good, and apparently trusted to stray out beyond arm's reach. At the moment they are clustered, since he is talking about the lift of the waves, about the cause of it, their yearning for the sky. That's more or less technically correct, right? He stops and glances around, back to the sand, as Giselle comes skipping along from the direction of that curious abode. "Good Eventide, Lady Giselle," he says just loudly enough to clear some of the gurgle of the surf, and begins to wade sedately back towards shore. Disregarding the quiet remarks about the woman's copious tresses that come peppering up at him from the four adolescents who follow in his wake.

"Lady Giselle," Shao greets, adding a bow. Is it the welcomed distraction or the addition of a female figure near this cornucopia of little monsters that bring a smile to Shao's lips? "I let you guess which of them are not mine," he adds, his smile getting a little mischevious. He gets to the place Maggie made for him and seats himself, getting the bottle. "We are having clams. They must be near ready by now."

The smallest of the children kneels in the sand next to Maggie. She has a cup in one hand and reaches into the hole Maggie dug. Filling her cup, she presses the sand within with her small hand. Maggie watches, then encourages her to add more sand until she can't squeeze any more water out of the accumulation. Then, Maggie scoots over to let the small girl plop her cup-load onto a corner of the hole. This creates a small sand tower. Looking up, Maggie spots Giselle and lifts a sand-flecked wave. "Hello!" Golden spangles of sand filter down to glitter on her skin and in her braided hair. Looking down, she speaks to Sela first, "Good. That is a sturdy tower. Now, we need to make the walls." Looking up and over, she nods, "Mina, would you please help with the walls? I should check the clams." Leaning back, she adds, "And remember, you do not have to make it into a castle. There are lots of other fun things to make with sand."

Giselle looks at all the people here, including the young ones. They're all given waves, then she chuckles at Shao's comment. "What, they're not all yours?" she replies as she nears where the cooking is happening. "What's the occasion?" she asks them, looking like she has nowhere she needs to be.

Mina, a brassy-hued girl with more ribbons than tangles in her wildly corkscrewing hair, meaning plenty of each, gives Giselle one more prying glance before she rampages agreeably through the surf to help the younger set with their tower-building. The older girl sticks around the adults long enough to lift a slender hand and shyly admiring smile to the strangely bubbly noblelady. Merrisol looks down, then introduces her gravely as This Young Lady, Miss Sofia, and aged 12. That seems important, somehow. The dark-haired Sofi then excuses herself to bring her handfuls of beachcombed shinies to the building efforts.

"No occasion," says Merrisol, "except the notion that another day spent above the waves did not mean we could not remain close to the Sea. The shoreline around the Great Stair is still under constant watch - here, it is not so oppressive." The two boys still linger in the shallows nearby, after being introduced as Gabe, the eldest, and Patrick. It's just not that often that they get to meet one of Maggie's relatives. Could even be a sister! Merrisol shakes his head to that, but doesn't elaborate on the connection.

Shao unscrews the thermos' cap and has a sip. Iced tea! "It is a lovely day," he says. He throws a cautious glances toward the ones playing in the sand, showing more concern as he would like to. "It could be my birthday, for all we know. Amnesia is sometimes convenient." He tries more of the iced tea and it brings him back his smile.

Giselle's hair does draw the eye of children, of course. It's pretty over the top. Another smile is given to each of the children as they're introduced, then says "Yeah, people come and go, of course, but it's not like being supervised or chaparoned." The face she makes tells a lot about how well she handles being supervised or chaparoned. She bounces on the balls of her feet, not sitting yet. She does put down her basket though, and starts doing something with her hands. It looks like she's growing dirt between them, actually. A dirt egg, specifically. There's a chuckles as Shao supposes it could be his birthday. "Or, more likely, your unbirthday! A very merry unbirthday to maybe us all!" she says with a grin as she makes that egg to about three inches across.

Merri skews his head a little, not certain about Giselle's grammatical accuracy with that term. Should not this be may-be-non-birthday... er well, nevermind. His gaze drops momentarily to the small feat of earth gathering that takes place mystically between the woman's hands, then lifts questioningly while he takes a few more steps out of the rippling tide line. A bit of extra surf appears to run after him, rummaging about the sand around his heels, melting it away, then presently giving up and retreating back into the rolling shallows. "That house is your dwelling, I take it," he deduces. An inquisitive glance towards Shao's beverage du jour passes the time while Giselle builds up her dirt egg. Gabe and Patrick are, however, riveted on the demonstration.

Shao frowns at the egg, straining his eye to understand how this could be. "A very peculiar talent, Lady Giselle," he compliments, nodding at the dirt egg. He glances toward the cabin Merri pointed out. He swallows some iced tea, licking his lips to lose nothing of it. His free hand drags his cane along the sand, the begining of a sketch. He steals a glance at Giselle's eyes, adding another line to his drawing, situating a nose. "Do the patrols visit you often, Lady Giselle?"

Once the egg is big enough, Giselle stops playing with it and the thing 'hatches'. Inside is revealed a small fairie, curled up, with bright blue and shimmery hair, dress and wings. The little thing yawns and stretches as it 'wakes', and seems to be maybe four inches in height. Giselle promptly sends it flittering off towards the two boys as she starts to repeat the process. "The stone house? Yup. Well, as much as anything really belongs to anyone. People are welcome to use it. I made it, though. Figured a place on the beach would be great for parties. And they stop by sometimes. Mostly, they leave me alone since they're not allowed to drink a lot while they're patrolling. Sometimes they come get something to eat, though."

Merrisol grows alert to the culmination of the egg, blinking slowly though not straying any closer to the seeming creation of fae life. He merely nods acknowledgement of the glittery thing then all vestiges of curiosity fade away back behind a cool veil. "A festive 'unbirthday' event upon this shore would not be viewed amiss by the citizens of both Sea and Land, except the military commanders of Amber who would see it as a distraction set by an invading force," he says drolly. "Enough resources have been wasted by this show of unvalidated paranoia." Meanwhile, the kids are given to exclamations of wicked-awesomeness, while they duck and weave around the fairy's flight, splashing off.

Shao says, "By the Emperor's dirty linens," Shao mutters when the fairie flies past him. He looks to Merrisol for reassurance in the face of a magical being. He purses his lips as he notices his bottle in the sand that he dropped, the precious liquid being drank by the beach. "Happy unbirthday," he wishes to all the crabs and sand fleas. The cries of joy from the rowdy crowd amplifies his warriness. The kids get a full dose of unhappy gaze. "It is not paranoia when it is validated. Then it becomes wisdom," Shao reflects.

Giselle pauses in the creation of the next egg, and tilts her head to what Merrisol's saying. She thinks, then tilts her head back the other way. "That sounds complicated and exhausting." is her reply. "And I'm delighted that my brain doesn't really work that way. So, you know, screw military paranoia. If they want to get their panties in a twist over a little party, let them." She doesn't look very concerned about it. The second egg is finished and hatched, and this fairy's color is red. It's sent to play with the girls.

Merrisol can only reiterate to Shao with a quietly reflective undertone, "It is a show of these things." He considers Giselle for a moment, this time paying more attention to the process of birthing another sprite. The whimsy is noted along with her apparent agency over their will. "There will be more cause for celebration in Rebma in the coming weeks. When that comes about, it is fitting that joy should rush upon the coastline with the tides." He smiles faintly as the girls' shrieks of wonder pierce the air and send a flurry of seabirds into the air from the nearby dunes.

"I will have a new set of garments ready for the occasion," Shao promises. He returns to plowing lines in the sand, correcting the corner of an eye, adding more joy to the lips, entangling hair and braids together. His stomach rumbles loudly, eliciting an arching of his eyebrows. "Apologies. I have been running errands all day. Are you back from the market, Lady Giselle?" He means her basket, where his gaze is trying to pierce holes to see in it.

Giselle can't help a grin as the children enjoy the fairies. For now, she leaves it at two of the things. "Hey, I'm all for having more reasons to celebrate. I really need to get down there and look around more, now that I have my outfit all done for it. I just have to do my hair." Anyone want to guess at what she might be planning there?" She smiles again to Shao, and says "Yup! Some cheese and sausage and grapes and wine. Feel free." She gestures at her basket. "If we need more, I always keep a few things at the house in case a guest is hungry."