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>>2957335
You manage to get out Agent Martin's contact card and get his number dialed once the RV is back in New Avalon proper. He picks up on the third ring.

"Agent Martin, TFV. With whom do I have the pleasure?"

You blink and then realize, duh, he gave you a card, he doesn't have your number or at least he didn't until just now. "It's ah, it's Colors, Agent. New Avalon Freehold, we met at Carroll House?"

"I remember!" His voice brightens up immediately. "Love what they've done with the place...well, I can take or leave the entertainment but the rest is amazing. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

You look around the RV. Vickie's playing a new match with the Rook; Fancy gives you a thumbs-up while Erin trims her nails. Fat lot of help they're being. Okay, um - "You know that thing kings do where you have an appointment with them and you didn't actually make an appointment they're just being really polite about the fact that they own you?"

"I feel that on an almost spiritual level, yes."

"I have one of those with you at the Denny's near the Juniper Building. We, um, gotta talk. Freehold to Task Force, sorta. King Morris reserved the party room, I'm gonna be bringing a couple guys. Um...it's sorta...now..."

The silence on the other end of the phone is telling.

"It wasn't entirely my idea," you add.

Martin sighs. "I'll be there. It's always somethin' with your Freeholds, you know that? There's gonna be words with Ms. Morris about whose Queen she is and isn't."

"I'm just the messenger."

"I know, I know. I'm just...on edge. Political stuff, you'll find out soon enough when it's on the news. Catch you there." Martin hangs up, and you hang up in turn before settling down to wait out your arrival. Fancy agrees to watch Fido while you're at the meeting.

The thought occurs to you that you should have asked the Rook to explain the whole 'let's make the Elemental the leader' thing that Vickie brought up before you were expected to go mincing words with fucking Valks.

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>>2957379
Before the Unmasking, this Denny's used to be where the Freehold went for reality checks. No Lost owns or operates it, or even works there; it was a place to be among normal people and maybe realize you needed some guidance back to the world where your breakfast cereal doesn't plead for its life. For a little while after, mortals came here to hang around the Lost of New Avalon, looking for a bit of magic in their lives. Now hardly anyone goes here regularly except the usual clientele of people who end up at a Denny's.

Still, you're made of rainbows and you've got two looming fuckers with you. You get recognized and lead into the party room pretty quickly.

"Coffee please," the three of you answer to the standard 'what can I start you with' question. Forum and Vickie start looking at their menus, but the coffee's not even back yet when Martin is shown into the room along with -

Huh.

There's a Lost with him.

He's gotta be Fairest; same kind of sharp suit as Martin, with long red hair pulled back into a web-clad ponytail, and a tiny, flickering flame in each pupil that dances back and forth. He gives your group a grin when he sees the three of you staring.

"Dame Eriksdotter, this is Agent Candle," Martin introduces. "This region's Lost liason, and originally of the Potomac Freehold."

"My pleasure," Candle says. He shakes each of your hands; the bite of cold that comes off of him gives away an otherwise absent Winter Mantle. "May we sit?"

"Please, do," you invite. "Coffee should be coming soon."

"I'll foot your bills," Forum offers. "Assuming it doesn't violate an ethical standard or something, I was always a bit fuzzy there."

"It's Denny's, I think we ought to be fine," Agent Martin agrees. "I appreciate the offer. Now, why is it that we had this appointment neither of us exactly made?"

Oh boy.

> Lay it out straight
> There's been...we have some...what can you tell me about the Valks in Philly?
> I actually need to talk about Fetches with you
> Vickiehelpplease
> Write-in?

>>2957699
>Lay it out straight
But when we fall down the stairs into a garbage dumpster over our own words,
>Vickiehelpplease

>>2957699
>> Lay it out straight

Good thing out mission isn't directly related to those events not yet on the news. That would be such an awkward coincidence, amirite?

>>2957699
>> Lay it out straight

>>2957699
>> There's been...we have some...what can you tell me about the Valks in Philly?

>>2957699
> There's been...we have some...I guess I should....
>> Lay it out straight

I need to write another thing, then I'll call and update. Votes remain open.

>>2957699
>> There's been...we have some...what can you tell me about the Valks in Philly?

>>2958601
Well this took way longer than I thought, but:

https://qm-vox.tumblr.com/post/178975595826/so-you-want-to-run-a-winter-court

Now I'ma go to sleep and update tomorrow.

Aight: called, tallying, writing.

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>>2957699
"Please, sit," you invite, and the two agents do. "This is gonna take a bit of explaining, to establish um...context. In case anyone's unfamiliar with anyone else, my friends here are Squire Forum Troll of Winter, and Arrayer Vickie Reeds of Summer. My Motley-mates."

"Understood," Candle agrees. "They are in your confidence, and your Motley will honor any agreements about discretion that the three of you can come to - on numbers alone, if nothing else."

Your waitress (you check her nametag - Claire - for later when you're gonna ask Forum about this whole 'leave a review' thing on the receipts that you keep seeing) comes back with a tray that has the coffee pot and usual trimmings, only to stop when she sees two more people.

"We've only just arrived," Candle reassures her, offering an easy smile. "When you have time, a second pot of coffee would be appreciate. Sleep and government work are not friends."

Claire laughs in what you're gonna call relief, sets the coffee and supplies on the table, does the usual inquiries about the check (Forum's paying for those two, you and Vickie are paying for yourselves), and goes off to get more coffee "while y'all think about food".

You take a deep breath and prep your coffee cup alongside everyone else at the table. Once you've got your cream and sugar stirred in you look across the table at Agent Martin. "There was an incident recently. Members of the Summer Court in Philadelphia, alongside a Fetch named Susan Moore, intercepted myself and Erin Peters in the Hedge in an attempt to kill us. One of the Lost is dead, along with Susan Moore; the other two are in the custody of Queen Morris. Given that everything happened in the Hedge it's...not likely we're going to give them to you, for a lot of reasons."

Martin takes the coffee pot and pours into his cup. "Whose Fetch is Susan Moore?"

"Mine," you answer, while you look away. "She went missing about ten years ago. That was my doing. I was...part of Philadelphia, for awhile. The attack was directed at me."

Martin lets out a low whistle, but Candle just nods. "Easy enough from our end," the Fairest notes. "Most of the relevant details happened before the Unmasking, and you've left essentially no traces. Why tell us at all? Understandings about...Freehold business...aside, we are technically a kind of law enforcement."

"We're an intelligence agency in a weird hat," Martin corrects. "But yeah, what he said."

You open your mouth, realize you don't have a sentence in your head, and take a drink of your coffee instead. Vickie squeezes your shoulder in quiet support.

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>>2962332

"It's not over," you say after you set your coffee cup down. "The person ultimately responsible for these attacks, the King of Jackals, needs to be held accountable for his actions. My Motley and a small support group are being tasked with removing him from the throne and ensuring that a successor to Summer that replaces him will not continue to stoke the fires of conflict between our Freeholds. Maybe more importantly...things are still delicate right now. Escapees are still coming home in record numbers. We, all of us, Lost and mortals, we can't afford for Philly to bring it all crashing down because Andy Nubis can't keep his murder boner in his pants. I have to finish what I started."

Agent Martin leans back in his chair and stirs his coffee. "You want our approval."

"We're not going to start a war," you tell him. "I just don't want misunderstandings. Especially if things end up getting rougher than planned. And...and..."

> I need the records of Susan's life
> I want permission to tell Dad about Susan. He deserves to know.

>>2962349
>> I want permission to tell Dad about Susan. He deserves to know.

>>2962349
> I need the records of Susan's life

>>2962349
>> I want permission to tell Dad about Susan. He deserves to know.

>>2962349
>> I want permission to tell Dad about Susan. He deserves to know.

>>2962349
>> I want permission to tell Dad about Susan. He deserves to know.

>>2962349
>because Andy Nubis can't keep his murder boner in his pants. I have to finish what I started."
This is rich coming from Colors, she had a murder boner herself before she fled to her current Freehold.

>>2963385
And nothing's changed since then? I'm curious about your perspective.

Called, writing.

>>2963790
Paused for a family event, still writing.

>>2963385

It's possible to recognize flaws in someone else that you, too, possess, and bring them to other people's attention. It's even possible to do so when you yourself either have no intention of fixing them in yourself, or want to but have no idea yet how to go about it. Just because someone is being a hypocrite doesn't mean they're any less right about the other person's flaw.

In this case, though, Colors is not the same person she was when she was in Philly, and identifying a flaw in someone else that you are actively working on changing in yourself is not even hypocrisy.

God fucking damn that took longer than I thought.

HERE WE GO

Anyone else catch the new Mystery Skulls vid?

>>2966616
It was a cool video but ghost is still by far the best song, on a musical basis.

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>>2962349
You reach a decision mid-sentence. "I want permission to tell Dad, to, to tell Erik Moore, about Susan and me. About what happened. He deserves that much."

The agents raise their eyebrows. Forum raises his eyebrows. Vickie offers you a low-five and you take it without looking; the Darkling squeezes your hand before returning both of hers to her coffee cup.

"I thought," Candle begins carefully, "that Spring's mission is to leave the past behind, and create a new future unburdened by yesterday."

"You tried to kill your past lately?" you ask. You sound tired even to yourself. "It doesn't die easy, Agent Candle. I want my father back in my life, and Spring also says Your Desires Are Your Own. I know there's complications -"

"Fetches don't officially exist," Agent Martin interrupts in a sharp tone. Vickie starts to twitch, but before anything further can happen Claire comes back into the room and stops.

"We have got to stop traumatizing our waitress," Forum drawls. He turns his attention to her. "Can you just bring one of every appetizer on the menu and divide the bill three ways? Including the samplers, please and thank you."

Claire nods slowly and steeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeps back out of the party room.

Forum raises a finger to pre-empt the agents. "I'm gonna say some things, and you're gonna double-check them when you're back at the office and realize I'm right. Erik Moore is a successful businessman who's had to claw and fight every day to stay on top of a competitive industry. The boom in the glass industry from the Unmasking being what it is and the Hedge boiling over like a bad pot of rice has made it more cutthroat than usual, so the fact that he's still floating? Means he's not stupid. He will figure out something is wrong if we try to lie to him, and that's leaving aside that Colors here has about as much deception in her as macaroni art."

Vickie laughs. "You want her to change the oil while she's under that bus."

"It'struethough," you mutter into your definitely-empty coffee cup.

"So," Forum continues, "you can let this happen on its own and hope Erik Moore is angry enough at you personally to try to go to you, or you can get in front of it. A pillar of the community in Philly ain't a bad guy to have on your side if you can spin it right."

Candle raises an eyebrow. "No appeals to our feelings or morality?"

Snowflakes swirl past Forum in a gentle scattering. "Spare me," the Troll says, and he and Candle share a bitter chuckle.

"Say we agree," Martin proposes. "Which I can't necessarily say we do, but let's go with it for now. Who all would be included in this disclosure?"

"Erik," you say. "He's my dad, like I said."

"Her mom too," Vickie adds. You open your mouth to say something and get a vicious kick right to the shin; you hiss sharply and lift your foot to clutch at the affected area. "I dunno her name but she's supposedly with Erik again so whatever. Mom's gotta know."

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>>2967234
"I'm going to guess you want this moved on quickly," Martin says. He drums his fingers on the table. "...New Avalon's done us some solids. The agent in charge in Philly is Vasquez and her team. I'm gonna step outside and make a couple of...expediting...phone calls, get you your answer fast. Leave me some mozz sticks, if you'd be so kind?"

"You can have mine, I don't like 'em," Vickie says. Every living human on the planet stares directly at her. "What? Their texture is weird - what?"

Agent Martin leaves, shaking his head the entire time.

"People are allowed to like things," you quote back at Forum, getting him to wrench his disbelieving gaze away from Vickie.

"Well how dare you use my own words and beliefs at me like I'm accountable for them," the Troll returns, to laughs all around the table.

Appetizers and more coffee arrive while Martin is on the phone. The four of you pass some pleasant time eating, checking your phones, and massaging your poor abused shin.

Martin comes back in, swipes the remaining mozz sticks, and sits down. "Two conditions."

"I'm listening," you agree.

"First, you meet with Vasquez and her team within 24 hours of entering Philly. That'll give you time to meet with your father first if you want to, or at least find lodgings. Second, we will provide you with a writeup. Give that to your father and mother, and then burn it once they've read it. Then you can talk about Susan Moore."

You look at Forum and Vickie. They nod.

"Sounds reasonable," you agree.

> Get this show on the road Vox
> One more thing (what?)

>>2967302

> Get this show on the road Vox

>>2967302
>> Get this show on the road Vox

>>2967302
>Get this road on the show Vox

>>2967302
>Take the time you need, Vox

>>2967302
>> Get this show on the road Vox

Aight.

Let's get this show on the road.

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>>2967302
Apologies in advance for the upcoming wall of text.

Hands get shaken. Martin thanks you for thinking of VALKYRIE before just tearing off on your own, even if what you're after is "a bit annoying, logistically". Candle leaves to go get the writeup in question while Martin provides you with a contact number for Vasquez and eventually ends up in an extended conversation with Vickie about, of all the things, candles.

Supplied, prepared, and with the last of your business being settled, you and your friends agree to pack your bags and leave at around 2 in the afternoon tomorrow, so you can arrive in Philly at around dinnertime.

* * * *

October 8th, 2017 (1 day later; Present Day)

The freeway is so much worse than the highway down to the beach. There are other cars everywhere. You sit with your head buried in your arms, hunched over the table and trying not to cry; Fido has his head in your lap, and you can feel Vickie's weight as she leans comfortingly against you.

Some small part of your mind reassures you that if anything goes wrong, the glass will hit her first. You choke back a sob and just about manage to not cuss yourself out aloud.

Forum's up front with Sally again, singing along to something on the radio that sounds sorta like country, but not enough like country. You're not sure the Troll is getting the lyrics right.

"Lord here I come," Forum sings (along?) with the song. "A bullet is on its way, tell the whole world that I'm comin' home, someone's gonna need a grave..."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W9chF9gYZqI - Urban Country, "Gonna Need A Grave"

"Maybe we should have walked," Fancy says from across the table, her voice full of concern.

"No," you mumble. "I'm fine."

"Colors, honey -"

"I'm fine!"

The Rook hacks a wet cough from across the RV. "Now is not the time, Ms. Miller," he suggests. "Weren't you given a job?"

"Why's she watching for ruebens again?" Vickie asks.

"Gotta have one," you mumble again. "...Gotta."

"...Alright," the Darkling says in a soft voice. "You just focus on holdin' up, alright? We'll be there soon."

At the back of the RV, where the bed is, the sound of tossing and turning and Erin's musical voice ("Open up! Please! Please open the door!") tell you that you're not the only one having a bad time on this trip.

The speed of the freeway gives way to the stop-and-go of city traffic, and little by little you work on raising your head and trying to wipe your eyes. Vickie gives you a handkerchief from somewhere in the extradimensional realm that is her pockets, and you pet Fido with a shaking hand.

"We really thought this'd be better," Vickie says. She won't look you in the eyes.

"Some days are better than others," you whisper, and you leave it at that.

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>>2972066

There's places in old cities where houses exist because no one can tear them down. Dad's house is like that, and it puts him handily in town. The yard's a distant memory, of course, but...

It's raining. How you didn't notice that before now is beyond you, but it's pouring in the City of Brotherly Love, your home and native land, a real Autumn witch that comes down sideways and drives even the bitter city folk indoors for shelter. Forum pulls up alongside a diner advertising its "New York" ruben sandwiches; Fancy goes running in, coat clutched against the storm, and comes back into the RV with a paper bag in a plastic bag in another plastic bag, to keep the precious dishonor on your house warm and dry.

It takes ages to get into the parking garage nearest your house that can fit the RV. You sit just outside of the vehicle while Forum makes the arrangements, holding Fido tight to your chest while the glass windows laugh at you in tinkling voices.

"Do you want to wait?" Erin asks you. Her face is drawn with fatigue.

You shake your head and then remember she's blind. "No. It's...I gotta...now."

The others have their things. You clip a leash to Fido and stand slowly when you see Forum coming back. Him and Vickie have umbrellas, as does Erin; most of you huddle beneath them as you set out into the streets. Shipmate Sally walks ahead of all of you, almost skipping. She's soaked to the bone in an instant, but she doesn't seem to care; the nautical Elemental prances through puddles like a kid, laughing under her breath so as not to catch the rest of you in her hypnotic voice.

Dad's still driving that undead Ford of his; it's parked right outside the house, along the side of the street. He calls her Theseus, because he's replaced just about everything in her at one time or another. The lights are on in the dining room and the kitchen, spilling out of the windows.

Voices, in your head. Old memories...

"Fancy, can I please?" you ask. The dancer nods and retrieves the sandwich from its protective layers. You pass Fido's leash to Vickie, take the precious ruben in one hand, and ascend the short steps to the door. You raise your free hand.

You raise your free hand.

You raise your free hand.

Gently, ever-so-gently, Vickie puts her hand on the back of your wrist and pushes it until your knuckles touch the door. You look at your friend, and she flashes you a wan smile, without any teeth. "It's okay," she tells you, her voice just barely louder than the rain. "Colors, it's okay. You'll see."

You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and knock three times.

"I'll get it!" Your father's voice. You step back from the door and hold up the sandwich with your heart in your throat. It feels like you're going to crack from the inside and fall down into a pile of glass and slag and bones.

Footsteps. The floorboards creak loud enough to get heard through the door and over the rain, because of course they do.

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>>2972080
Dad opens the door. It's been 17 years since you were kidnapped, and just about that long since you've seen him. He's gotten old; Erik's gone grey in the hair and in the goatee and mustache, and his face is lined from grief and from worry. It hits you again, full in the chest, that you did this to him when you made Susan disappear. He hasn't gotten all the way out of his suit from work; the jacket's hanging open, and the tie is gone, sure, but...

Dad looks at your face in puzzlement, then down at the sandwich in your hands. His eyes go wide, and he looks up again, right at you.

"Suzie Bee," he whispers. "...Suzie, is that you?"

Your throat squeezes shut. "Hi Dad," you manage, before you get swept up into a crushing hug that makes you drop the ruben. You cling to your father and cry into his shoulder; he squeezes like you're going to vanish into thin air at any moment. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry Dad, I'm so sorry, I...I did...I did so many bad things and I'm sorry..."

"It's okay Suzie." Dad squeezes harder. "You're home. It's all gonna be okay."

"It's...it's Colors now Dad, they...I..." a fresh wave of tears cuts you off. Behind you, Fido barks and whines; you feel Dad look up and see your friends for the first time, or something like it.

"You'd all best come in," Erik Moore decides. "This is no kind of night to do this outside."

Out of the corner of your eye, through tear-blurred vision, you see Vickie yank her cross back into her sleeve. "Thanks, Mister Moore," your Darkling friend says. "You're too kind."

"Any friend of my daughter is family of mine."

* * * *

There are so many spare chairs. There's the dining room chairs, the kitchen chairs, and some folding metal chairs from the basement that Dad's owned since time immemorial. Most everyone is wrapped up in a towel, except Fido who in the way of dogs was dried off only to immediately shake water fucking everywhere out of his fur.

Betsy, your sister, is eight. She looks just like you did at that age, all dark hair and big serious eyes. She's supposed to be watching TV in the living room with your mother, but she won't stop sneaking away to look into the kitchen.

Vickie has somehow managed to start doing the dishes.

Dad holds your hand at the table. Fancy's there next to you, close by in silent support, while the others let you have your moment. No one's said a word since you came inside.

"After the news came out, about...about the Unmasking," Dad starts into the silence. "Your mother and I thought...you'd just vanished. We never gave up hope that you were coming home, even though the police said there were no leads -"

"Dad, please stop," you plead. "...That's...not when I went missing. I was thirteen, when...when it...it was just after that big fight we had about Chrissy..."

"Sweet Jesus," Erik says. "This is my -"

"Don't say that either. Dad, just...just listen, okay? I...the thing is...we..."

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>>2972099
> Give up and just pass him the Valk brief on Fetches. Dad's a smart guy. He'll connect the dots.
> Try to explain why you didn't get in touch, about, about Andy, and Summer, and...
> Deep breath Colors. Introduce your friends. Work your way up to it.

>>2972100
>Pass him the Valk brief on Fetches
But walk him through it. Or at least attempt to. The thing that looked like us wasn't us, but was enough like us that it would have made shit worse if we had come back and confronted it at the house.

>>2972100
> Deep breath Colors. Introduce your friends. Work your way up to it.
Take it easy!

>>2972100
>Deep breath Colors. Introduce your friends. Work your way up to it.

>>2972100
> Deep breath Colors. Introduce your friends. Work your way up to it.

>>2972100
>> Try to explain why you didn't get in touch, about, about Andy, and Summer, and...

>>2972100
>> Deep breath Colors. Introduce your friends. Work your way up to it.

>>2972100
>> Try to explain why you didn't get in touch, about, about Andy, and Summer, and...

Called, writing.

>>2972100
>> Give up and just pass him the Valk brief on Fetches. Dad's a smart guy. He'll connect the dots. (And if he doesnt let one of your Motley do the talking)

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>>2972100
You trail off, trying to find what you want to say in your head. Your head is not being particularly cooperative, but Dad is being patient.

("I have time, little bee," his voice says, from the depths of your memories.)

Fuck it. If you can't figure out what to say you can at least be polite. You take a deep breath. "So, Dad, these are my friends. You met Fido already, he's my dog." Fido's tail starts wagging at the sound of his name; you see Dad wince when it gets him right 'cross the knees. "The gal doing your dinner dishes is Vickie Reeds, from Summer. One of my closest friends."

Vickie waves with a plate. "You've got nice sponges," she says without turning around. "Really gets the scrub on."

"Why is she doing my dishes?" Dad asks in a low voice.

"It's easier not to question it," Forum advises. He offers his hand out. "Forum Troll, Winter. My pleasure."

"Likewise," Erik agrees, shaking your friend's hand. "Is that really your name?"

"That's another one of those questions it's easier not to ask just in general," you tell your Dad. "That gentleman there is the Rook, from Autumn."

The Rook goes to say something and ends up coughing into his sleeve instead. He ends up gesturing for you to just keep going.

Fancy waves shyly. "Fancy Miller, dancer," she says with a sunny smile. "It's nice to meet you at last."

Your father gives Fancy a kindly look and your Southern friend goes red in the cheeks and turns her head. Dad gives you a questioning expression, and you shrug. You've got some ideas, given that Fancy is A. gay and B. from the South, but you don't know, not really.

"The quiet gal there is Shipmate Sally from Spring. She's got a hypnotic voice so she doesn't talk a lot," you explain.

Dad nods and then looks over at Erin. "Which means this must be your girlfriend."

Vickie drops a plate. You can't see the expression on Fancy's face, but Dad probably can, and Erin's is caught somewhere between 'sweet gods, someone said it, praise be to Freya' and 'I have no eyes and I must scream'.

"That's Erin Peters," you say very carefully. "Also from Spring."

(Vickie swears under her breath while she picks up shards of plate from the floor.)

"Sorry," Dad manages. "I - you had a type, for awhile."

"Did she now?" Erin asks.

"Dad!"

Erik holds his hands up with his palms spread. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry! And to you as well, Ms. Peters."

"Erin, please," your (friend, friend. friend, definitely friend right now) replies. "I'd rather not be Ms. Dicks if I can avoid it."

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>>2973828
Vickie manages to drop her plate shards again, though this time it's from laughing; she holds the edge of the trash can and gestures vaguely at Erin while she chuckles.

"All of you are welcome of course," Dad says. "But, and again, everyone here is welcome, any friend of my daughter is welcome, but..."

"Why in blue Hell are we here?" Forum supplies.

Dad nods. "And...Sus - Colors, I really do think your mother should be here for this talk. She must be beside herself."

You take a deep breath again.

> Invite Mom in
> After thirteen years of not bothering she can wait a bit longer

AND

> Try to explain about Susan
> Answer Dad's question; he's gonna need to know about Andy anyway.

>>2973868
>Invite Mom in
> Try to explain about Susan

>>2973868
>Invite Mom in
Vickie added the stipulation, so we throw Mom into the mix as well.

>Answer Dad's question

>>2973868
> After thirteen years of not bothering she can wait a bit longer

We only have so much emotional strength. Gotta deal with Mom separately.

> Try to explain about Susan

>>2973868
> After thirteen years of not bothering she can wait a bit longer
One thing at a time.
> Try to explain about Susan

>>2973868
>> After thirteen years of not bothering she can wait a bit longer
>> Try to explain about Susan

Best to delay that potential kefuffle until we've gotten as much good out of this as we reasonably can.

>>2973868
> After thirteen years of not bothering she can wait a bit longer
> Try to explain about Susan

It's like our Dad WANTS this to turn into a fight that will tear our family apart again by bringing Mom into it.

>>2973868
> After thirteen years of not bothering she can wait a bit longer
> Try to explain about Susan

>>2973868
>> Invite Mom in
> Answer Dad's question; he's gonna need to know about Andy anyway.

Called, tallying, writing.

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>>2973868
"No, Dad," you answer. You hold your hand up to interrupt him. "Not...not just now, okay? I need some time before I try to talk to her. Especially because this conversation is about to get..."

Erin clears her throat from where she's standing near the cabinets. "I'd have trouble having this talk to my dad too, and I actually like the guy."

"Yeah," you agree. You retrieve the Valk brief from your inside coat pocket, smooth it out, and push it across the table. You had the chance to look it over earlier; it contains VALKYRIE's findings on Fetches, why they have chosen not to make Fetches public, and their signed word that you are Erik Moore's true and original daughter. With those is a statement signed by you to not release this information further, as well as a warning that one Agent Vasquez will be visiting your Dad and your Mom to secure their NDAs. "I need you to read this, and then have Mom read it, and then come back in here so I can explain."

You look out the window while Dad reads to himself, and watch the rain slash sideways through the air. After what feels like an eternity, he goes into the living room with the brief; you catch him on his way upstairs with Betsy in his arms, saying something in a kind voice about bedtime.

"Where were we planning to sleep tonight?" Forum asks after awhile.

"Jesus Forum, read the room," Vickie says from the sink; she's drained the water and now leans against the counter, watching everyone. "It can wait."

You put your head in your hands and close your eyes.

Eventually, Dad comes back.

"Ms. Miller, can I take that seat next to my daughter?" Dad asks in a soft voice. You hear Fancy get up, hear and feel Dad sit down. You flinch when you feel his hand on your shoulder.

You feel the breeze of the papers when Dad sets them back down in front of you.

"I was so mad," you whisper. "About Chrissy. About you dating again, about...about Mom. We had that fight and I was gonna go to Charlie's house, spend the night and just...be angry. I never made it to Charlie's. Another kid said she'd run away from home too, I never even asked how...she said she had someplace to go. Someplace amazing. So I went."

(Behind you, Vickie takes in a shaky breath. Forum gets up from his chair and goes over to her.)

"And this girl made something to live your life?" Dad asks. "This...double?"

"They're called Fetches," you tell him. "And I don't know who did it. I don't...I don't remember a lot from back then. Most of us, of, of the Lost, we don't remember Over There, or immediately after we come back. I know I came back swinging, that I hurt people. I was so scared...so angry..."

("It's okay," someone encourages in a soft, almost musical voice.)

"I learned about Susan from them," you continue. "They told me she stole my life. They told me she was working for the Jotnar, for...the things that live in the Fairest of Lands. I took a team out and snatched her from her bed, and dropped her in the river."

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>>2979074
Dad rubs your back in slow circles. It feels so much like when you had bad days as a kid that you almost start crying again; it takes you a second to get yourself back together.

"I thought she was dead, that Susan was dead. Started spending more and more time with the Summer Court. Tried to forget how much I missed you. Eventually I went to New Avalon, you might have seen me on the news, but..."

"The report says your double died in New Avalon," Dad says. It's not an accusation, you think.

"Yeah...she didn't die in the river." You're shaking. "Dad, I - Susan..."

"Why do you call her by that name?" Dad asks.

> I did her wrong Dad. I shouldn't have done what I did.
> That's not my name any more. It's...Susan Moore is dead, Dad, even if I'm still your daughter.
> She died on her own terms. She deserves that much.
> Write-in?

>>2979088
>> That's not my name any more. It's...Susan Moore is dead, Dad, even if I'm still your daughter.

Answer his question first.

> I did her wrong Dad. I shouldn't have done what I did.

Then tell him what happened to her.

>>2979088
>> That's not my name any more. It's...Susan Moore is dead, Dad, even if I'm still your daughter.

>>2979088
>> That's not my name any more. It's...Susan Moore is dead, Dad, even if I'm still your daughter.

>>2979088

In order of importance:
> She died on her own terms. She deserves that much.
> That's not my name any more. It's...Susan Moore is dead, Dad, even if I'm still your daughter.

https://qm-vox.tumblr.com/post/179223333976/so-you-want-to-run-an-autumn-court

And now I go the fuck back to sleep.

>>2982325
These are all good notes, but I can’t help but feel like you’re ignoring a big part of the autumn court - the subject of the eternal autumn contract. Fall is the season of the harvest and death just as much as it is about fear and sorcery, and while it’s not nearly as flashy as spellbound and fleeting, eternal autumn as a dark reflection of springs verdant fertility is one of its most interesting aspects I think, especially because of just how important harvest is in human culture. Hell, a big part of being a changeling also involves harvest- harvesting glamour.

Called, tallying, writing. One of these days I'll get out of short thread hell.

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>>2985684

>>2986208
Look you, you can't just mock me for my consistent behaviors that have in no way changed for many months.

NEW THREAD

>>2987289
>>2987289
>>2987289
>>2987289