|Characters:||Stasya and Wesson|
|Summary:||Wesson seeks out Stasya for some help in getting her plans for vengeance in motion.|
With her leather jacket off and draped over her arm, Wesson makes her way through the Community Center in order to reach the backyard. She doesn't seem to be as bothered by the heat of the summer day either as the fire within her veins brighten just a bit. Her fiery eyes scans the beautiful and lush garden, but once she spots Stasya her whole focus is on the small woman with the cloudy pink hair. Making a beeline towards her, Wesson strains her head just a little bit to catch a glimpse of what Stasya is doing. Her footsteps are heavy, thanks to her boots, and if someone is observant enough they could hear or feel her as she is definitely not being stealthy.
Stasya is making no effort to hide what she's doing, but it might look pretty bizarre if one weren't used to Changlings doing at least a half dozen bizarre things before breakfast, let alone lunch. Currently she's pouring what looks to be straight up sugar into a small crucible, waiting until it melts and then pouring it out into a waiting pan behind her. Right as she finishes pouring the latest batch of molten sugar down into blade like shapes, she spots the newcomer and gives a nod of her head before setting the hot metal canister safely down back on the grill. "I've been seeing so many new faces lately. Are you new as well?"
Sugar knives, Wesson can definitely appreciate violent confections. Her eyebrows quirk upwards curiously before she looks back towards Stasya. She stands a few feet away, to make sure she doesn't get in the way of the cooking. "I have stepped outside of my hovel, so I may as well be," she answers, her voice husky and deep though monotoned. "It’s Summer already, we have to take advantage of its heat." She lifts her head up towards the sky as if to soak up the harsh sun, but is quick to look back down at Stasya. "Something I see you can also appreciate. I was told a pretty thing with a penchant for sugar and pastels was the Quartermaster during Spring. Is this true?"
If one looks closely at the cooling knives, one might see that the confection mix seems to be turning to actual metal. Stasya tilts her head a little at the mention of hovel and glances back to the cottages in the back of the yard. "One of those?" It's a guess, but she does give a nod at the mention of taking advantage of the heat. "Indeed. Although this is more for relaxation than for need at the moment. The militia is quite well stocked." The Wizened's words are clear enough though bear an unmistakenably Russian accent. She smiles a bit and gives another nod for the last. "Indeed. And she would have remained Quartermaster if the Wyrd didn't have other ideas. Now we have a raccoon with a penchant for explosives in that position. Do you need the Quartermaster? I can probably find the Way if needed."
The shifting of the knives to metal seems to utterly fascinate Wesson for a moment. Her eyes widen as she stares in silent admiration before commenting quietly to herself with a straight face, "A moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips." The question from Stasya is enough to draw away her attention as she shakes her head, "Not here. Sometimes quiet is necessary." The mention of a racoon with a love for explosives causes her eyebrows to quirk once more as she reaches up with her free hand to rub the back of her neck. "Fickle as the wind, I bet, but no, that isn't the reason. This," she nods at the once sugar blades, "however, is why I came looking for you. As a child of Summer I am hoping you can help me with a little plan I have in mind." It is only then that she realizes she hasn't fully introduced herself. Stepping closer to Stasya, the Elemental extends her hand in greeting, "Wesson."
Not being a native speaker, idioms do sometimes get the best of Stasya and so the wizened just blinks a bit at the comment about moment on the lips. "Take care of a blade well and you should be able to carry it on your hip for life?" She at least believes in the quality of her work, and nodding in agreement about quiet. "Yes... others value the safety of being near others at all time. But privacy, privacy is nice." Especially when one might get tagged for official business at any hour if they were easily available at every hour. The mention of a Summery plan has the fire in Stasya's eyes light up. "That might depend on the plan. Do I need to find the official crown for this? I'm Stasya, as you may have guessed," And she'll reach out to take the hand in a firm, quick shake.
At Stasya's response about the hip, Wesson blinks back owlishly as well before a wry little curl of her lips gives hint to her amusement. Her own handshake is firm and quite warm, even more so thanks to the hot day. Once her hand is back, Wesson absent-mindedly begins to reach into her back pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. The light in Stasya's eyes seem to feed her own as Wesson locks eyes with the Wizened. "No, think of it as a personal project. I will pay you for your gift, if I can, but I wish to have a blade; light but incredibly sharp. I own a machete at the moment, while ideal for the Hedge and the occasional beast, I want something a bit more...powerful. Say, powerful enough to help me against a certain Demon dressed as a God." Remembering the incident with the idiom, she quickly adds, "One that would make even our prison warden tremble..." before trailing off. She lifts her pack of cigarettes, "Mind if I light one up?"
Stasya's arms cross as she considers the proposal. "That sounds like a tall order, one I'm not sure if I'd be able to fulfill alone. I'm more Witch than a smith, though have been capable enough for the more mundane armaments," her head tilts to the knives that have mostly cooled. "But light and sharp, that sounds like a job for a rapier, one of my favorites... combine it with certain contracts or perhaps even swear oaths on it and you should have a fairly formidable weapon?" As for the cigarettes, she gives a quick shake of her head. "We're outside, go ahead."
"A rapier would be incredible. I haven't played with one in quite a while," Wesson muses as she eyes the knives. "I tend to prefer the gun, but sometimes you want an added boost in case one weapon doesn't land, or when quietness is preferred," she muses thoughtfully. Nodding at Stasya, she pulls out a cigarette and places it between her lips before lighting up with a flick of her lighter. Pocketing both soon after, Wesson takes a long drag and seems to relish the heat of tiny ember at the end of the cigarette. Blowing the smoke away from Stasya, she nods in full agreement. "Yes, that is what I was thinking. I just want to make sure the weapon is one worth all that effort. I plan on visiting some of our Fall cousins to see if they have any wisdom on which Contracts or oaths would be ideal." She pauses then, obviously uncomfortable in broaching the next subject. Taking another long drag, she blows the smoke away once more before asking, "What of Cold Iron? Would you be able to shape a rapier with it if I can find it?"
Stasya wrinkles her nose a little at the mention of guns. "Guns are loud. And unpredicatable. A sword is always a sword." And in her mind, that's the only argument there needs to be in favor of swords. At the mention of the effort, she laughs a little. "Well, there are certainly simpler ways to go about things than finding the perfect sword and enchanting it if you want to go about contracts. Elemental weapon, sure..." She grins a bit as she glances at the elemental in front of her. "But when in real need, I tend to turn to my Crimson contracts. A Fiery Tongue can go a long way, ripping the Fae to shreds with mere words. Or perhaps reach up to the sky and bring down a bit of the sun itself to fight. For cold iron..." She gives a bit of a shiver. "I do not touch the stuff myself. Not if I can help it."
At the mention of elemental weapons, the end of Wesson's cigarette suddenly flares a little brighter but calms down soon after, indicating her own excitement at the prospect. Her eyes narrow in amusement as she gives a quick nod in approval. "I am not very good with words, but put a weapon in my hand and I can crack the skies. However, I wish to be prepared in all fronts. A good defence is the best offence. If planned right, my one chance is all I need." The mention of the cold iron causes her shoulders to slump a bit but Wesson seems to not be too surpised. "That is understandable. It is not something I look forward to, either. If I go through with it, however, do you think the Freehold would accept such a weapon? I wish to cover my bases before I go forward with this, and some tend to be a bit more guarded having such a thing around."
"Sometimes it's not so much the words that matter, but the will behind them," Stasya smiles, a bit of mischief sparkling in her eyes. "But right, it's good to have more mundane options available if needed." She nods and can fully support that as she moves to check the grill, making sure those coals were safely dying down. "As long as the weapon is being used for fighting the Fae..." She gives a little shrug. "Do not bring it to the Center though. And if you were to ever bare it against one of your fellow Freehold members, I'd hunt you down myself."
At Stasya's threat, Wesson finally cracks a little grin, her teeth bared in admiration. "As a bearer of the Summer crown would. I have no desire to do so, it would be cheating anyways." Another draw from her cigarette then Wesson lifts up her foot to kill it against her heel. She shoves the stub into her small front pocket to be disposed of later. "As sweet as the candy but as sharp as those blades, I would be a fool to cross you, and anyone in this Freehold. The weapon won't be done now, its just a thought to consider and explore." Brushing her hand against her thigh, as if it would get the nicotine smell off of them, Wesson pauses for a quick beat before she finally adds, "I can see why the Wyld has picked you." She then stands straight once more, like an iron rod has been jammed down her spine. "The summer's heat is spurring me onwards and there is nothing more I wish than to heed its call. If there is anything I can do for this Freehold, let me know and I will do it with a smile."
The smile Stasya turns on Wesson is almost wicked although the aura of heat surrounding the Crimson Queen smolders down a bit when her words appear heeded. "Good, you didn't strike me as an idiot. And while some might think that our court relies more on brawn than brains... we should always prove them wrong." As it appears that the elemental is getting ready to leave, Stasya gives a nod. "Take one, if you wish. They're simple enough, but might come in handy if you find yourself somewhere that your machete won't fit. And good luck. Enjoy the heat, Wesson."At the offer, Wesson is quick to reach for the blade in her eagerness to test out its sharpness and weight. She lifts it up to admire it against the sunlight, murmuring a quiet, "From sugar. Who would have thought." Pocketing the blade, she gives Stasya a quick and appreciative nod. "Thank you. I try to keep my head screwed on right. Sometimes it doesn't work in my favor," she murmurs in amusement. "I will be around if you need me. Or if you simply wish to spar." Another nod, this time more courteous as she moves back towards the Community Center. "See you around, Queen of Summer."