Logs:Terrible at Titles

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Terrible at Titles

Characters: Jacob, Ian
Date: 2020-03-29
Summary: In which the Courtless joins the Freehold and volunteers usefulness.
Disclaimers: Cats. Noisy cats. Spring Court business.

Jacob decides it's time to pay a visit to the CCC he's heard so much about, and see if he can't find and speak to the Crown. When he arrives, he shows the card he received from Gast to the staff, and away he is led. He enters the room, taking a look around. He's a tall man with dark, slightly curly, disheveled hair. Mostly human, at the moment, except for dark, depthless, alien eyes and the fact that parts of him seem to... randomly fade away. A cheek for one moment, a hand the next.

He's managed to change out of his rumpled suit and now wears a fashionable charcoal one - simple design, but with sharp lines that does him justice, despite his slightly rough appearance (it doesn't look like he's shaved in close to a week). Still, he carries himself with confidence and he wears a little, fearless smile.

He spots Ian right away - how could one not? - and heads in his direction. He stops a few feet away and gives a brief bow. "You must be Ian." It's so hard to resist 'Mr. Shiny Hat' but he manages. Damn Slip for getting that stuck in his head. He adds, "Your highness. Jacob, at your service. I'm new to town and wish to Pledge myself to your Freehold. And hopefully have a couple small questions answered." His accent is noticably British. He smiles.


There's a slight jolt from Ian as he realizes Jacob's there. "Oh Jes--" Wait, are monarchs supposed to swear? Probably not. "Shit." Well, there goes that restriction. Ian, smoked glass gone even smokier, closes his laptop. There's a slightly guilty look on his face and he sets it aside quickly. The cat at his side promptly clambers onto his freshly exposed lap and begins turning circles, kneading at his clothing with little cat claws in preparation for a proper sit-down. Crap, now he can't get up. Ian eyes her in dismay, then looks up at Jacob and... extends a hand in offer of a shake. "Ian, just Ian. Have a seat. Ask whatever you like. Can't promise I know the answer to everything but I'll try to be helpful." His wings draw up a bit behind him, fidgeting with themselves the way some people wring their hands when they're nervous.


As impressive as Ian looks, and the current Crown, Jacob certainly wasn't expecting his being startled. Nor the guilty look, the cat, or the wing-fidgeting. He lifts an eyebrow but he doesn't comment on it, and after a moment, he smiles. Laugh lines appear around his mouth, crow's feet at his eyes, and despite the alien depthlessness of his eyes, he seems mildly amused.

He gives another short bow and replies, "If it would please you, Ian, I would like to make my Pledge first. I wish it to be known that the questions I have to ask are intended to grant me the information I need to aid and strengthen the Freehold." He smiles again. So polite. Yet it's obviously that the man isn't simply a fawning lackey. There's something about him, in his stance, in his tone, that indicates he might be quite sharp, quite smart.


Well, when you're reading stuff on the internet and fall down a googlehole, things get /weird/ sometimes. Ian clears his throat. "Okay. Sorry Nita, gotta go down." He moves to start rising.

"MYAAA!" says the cat in protest.

Cue reassuring petting from Ian as he places her on the coffee table and glides to his feet, drawing his wings in close behind him. "Okay. Place your hand on the crown." The gist of the oath is that the sworn agrees not to bring harm deliberately to the Freehold, not to support the Gentry in any way, and to keep the Accords as best as they are able. "Swear it with glamour and it'll be sealed." He's now giving his full attention, wings gone still, hands tucked into the pockets of his khakis.


Jacob watches the interaction between Ian and the cat nonchalantly, although the corner of his mouth twitches. It's amusing, really, especially considering the conversation he recently had about cats. He pushes that thought aside, however, to focus on the task at hand. He nods to Ian, growing serious, and steps over to lay his hand upon the Crown. Changelings are /really/ bad at social distancing, it seems.

"I Pledge not only to never bring harm deliberately to the Freehold, but to protect it with all of my ability. To never support the Gentry in any way, but to help identify Them and Their minions so that we may be stalwart against their threat. To uphold the Accords as best I can, and, indeed, to work to improve them. I pledge this with Glamour and the acceptance of punishment should my true word be broken." He looks at Ian directly as he feeds Glamour into the Pledge, binding himself.

Once done, he smiles, drawing back. "Now, Ian, if I may bend your ear for but a few moments. If you like, you may call your cat back."


The Wyrd-induced sturdiness of Changelings helps quite a lot. The place is looking a bit quiet, but there are still staff around to let people in and help out, most of them living in the building right now. "All right," Ian says, and smiles, just a hint relieved. "Bathroom's over there if you get the urge to wash your hands," he adds, and jerks his chin at it. "Nobody in this building has the disease that we know of, but we get new guests all the time." Back to the couch he goes, and... the cat's in his spot. Ian lets out a huff of startled laughter and picks her up, sits down, and plops her firmly on his lap. "This is Nita. There are a few others around, she's just the noisiest." Siamese, right? "So questions. What have you got?"


Jacob doesn't seem particularly concerned about catching a virus. He nods to Ian at the offer of the bathroom, however, and allows the Spring Monarch a chance to get comfortable once more. He even smiles as the cat is named. He, of course, already knew it from the previous interaction, but he doesn't point that out. Instead, he moves closer and, assuming there is room on the couch, takes a seat next to Ian. Bold.

He looks at Ian and says, "I have but two questions. I will not hide my reason for being here. I am in search of something, something that once belonged to me. Although finding things that are lost has long been a strong suit of mine, I cannot find what I seek. I believe it has something to do with the history of the city, the re-emergence of Lost in the city, and perhaps a certain sinkhole." He's not sure about the last but people were secretive enough about it that he thought he'd throw it in there.

"Ian, I wish to know about these things, if you have any knowledge of them whatsoever. And, because I am sure the entire mystery has not been made clear to you, either, I offer you the assurance that anything I discover using the information you give me will be relayed, first and foremost, to you."


Introductions are important, officially speaking - and if it doesn't show that Ian treats the cats like monarchs themselves, well, introducing them by name probably helps. He startles slightly at the choice of seating arrangements and sweeps one wing down behind the couch and out of the way so as to make room for Jacob, studying the man curiously.

"A sinkhole?" Ian's brows furrow. Smoke twirls inside him, responsive to his emotions. "Hmm." He refocuses abruptly on Jacob, the blue glass chips of his eyes intense and still thoughtful. "First, I know not why the city was so inaccessible to the Lost before November last year. That was when I emerged, among the first, and at the time I didn't know much of anything. It seems worthy of investigation. I am concerned that it will involve the Wardens and I've been cautious about poking too deeply there, but I am in a position to get answers and I will do what I can." Which... is going to take some doing. These aren't things Ian has had to think about before now.

"What is it you're looking for?"


Jacob listens intently to Ian's words. those depthless, alien eyes locked on Ian, taking in every detail. He nods slowly, mulling it all over - what Ian knows and doesn't know, what he thinks. When Ian asks his question, Jacob looks away a moment, gazing out over the room, a crease forming between his brows. His cheek goes intangible for a moment before fading back in. He looks back at Ian. "When I escaped, part of me broke into dozens of pieces. I will not rest until I find them all. I believe one to be here, in New Orleans, but when I arrived, my lead went cold. And my leads never go cold."

He smiles as that sinks in, although his gaze doesn't waver. "Which brings me to my next question. Which, truly, isn't so much a question as it is an offer. I wish to help you. I have the skills to acquire information, to make friends. You do, as well, but you are the Crown, which limits your freedom. I, however, am largely unknown. I wish to be your aid. To search where you cannot, to make connections where you cannot, to deal with problems that you cannot. So, my second question is... will you accept my help? Will you allow me to be your shadow, who can do what you cannot? Together, we can make the Freehold stronger. And..."

He smiles again, looking directly at Ian. "And, with our efforts together, perhaps even gain official recognition within the Accords."


Idly, Ian scratches the cat, glass nails perfect for prompting loud and comfortable purrs. "I'll take all the help I can get. What form that help takes, and what authority it requires to execute, that's the real question. We're not in a place where we need assassinations and secret spies just yet - that's Autumn's domain, not Spring's, though needs don't always fit the season." He taps one finger on his lips - it makes a quiet clicking sound. "Do you have something in particular in mind?"


Jacob smiles at Ian's words, and the smile seems genuine. Something Ian said pleased him. He shakes his head, "I'm not interested in assassinations and secret spies, although I have some experience with both due to necessity. My methods, however, are more along your own. Spring is the season of new beginnings. Of growth. I am a diplomat and a seeker. Now is the time to make new friends, which is why I am very interested in the Accords, and bettering them. Particularly, bettering them so that we are held equal."

He looks down at the cat and smiles. "I would pet you, Nita, but I do not wish to invade upon your space." He looks back at Ian. "Let me be your diplomat. Let me go to those meetings you cannot go to. Let me make friends with the others. I would, of course, only be doing what you could not. You are a busy man. But I would still be strengthening this alliance we have. And not only that, but helping it to grow, to flourish. I also..."

He pauses a moment, looking at the cat, then looks back at Ian. "I am familiar with their worlds. The worlds of the wolf, of the restless dead, of others. I can support them in ways, forgive me, that you cannot. And bring us closer to friendship. For the Freehold."


"I'm so busy," Ian says wryly, "that when you wandered in here I was reading an awful, smutty, hilarious web comic someone sent me." Thus the guilty look. "But you're right. I don't go out. My face is too familiar to people. I've been harassed before. Stupid Fetch." Grr. Fetch. "Tell you what. Go out. Make friends. Put a friendly face on us. If you want to make deals of any kind, we'll meet them somewhere that isn't here - this place needs to be /safe/ - and we'll talk. Right now there's not much to bargain about, but here's the thing." A serious look flashes over.

"We are officially signed to the Accords with that oath. I'm working on bettering our position with the Wardens - they've never encountered a structure like ours, where leadership changes every season. The Accords provide a framework to handle interspecies disputes. If someone intrudes on one of ours, I want to know about it. If one of ours harasses one of theirs, that's my business too. I want to keep a very close eye on how this sort of thing plays out - and I /don't/ want to be blindsided if some vampire or werewolf takes offense. Make sense?"


Jacob can't help it - he actually laughs at Ian's first words. It's a brief but honest laugh, a laugh that shows he has a bit of human left to him, too. "And what, Ian, does Nita think of your webcomics?" It's clearly a joke, but then he's growing serious once more. He nods as Ian speaks. There's a grunt of understanding when he mentions his Fetch, but he doesn't elaborate. It's clear, however, that he knows /exactly/ how much of a pain a Fetch can be.

As Ian continues, he leans forward, taking in every word. He nods at certain points. When Ian finishes, he smiles. "I knew this was the right thing to do. You and I, we will do amazing things for the Freehold." He then nods his head, drawing back slightly out of respect, and giving a seated half-bow. "This, Ian, I can do. I will talk to people. I will know who stands where and who threatens the Accord. Consider me your humble servant." There's a twist to his lips that indicates he's not all that humble, but his expression makes it clear Ian understands what he means, and that he's genuine in his own way.

He stands up slowly, then, offering another bow. "If it suits you, I would get to work right away. Unless you and Nita would enjoy company? Perhaps there are questions you wish to ask /me/."


Nita thinks, "Myaaa!" because someone said her name and Ian has stopped petting her and clearly she should speak up.

Smoke swirling quite energetically, Ian clears his throat and scritches the cat's chin - it's the only way to shut her up. She resumes her earthy purr, and Ian echoes her with a noise that sounds fairly inhuman - but then again, so is he. "Naah, its' fine, although if you want to stay, you're welcome to. I do want to suggest you check the French Quarter. There are stalls there selling things that would be better off in the Goblin markets. It's not quite a real market yet, but it's growing. I've heard nothing of a sinkhole but I'll keep my ears open."

It will be about now that one of the current crop of foster kittens, a little orange striped creature, goes bouncing by with his tail pointy and puffed, to dash under a couch. That's Spring, full of growing things. Tiny noises of 'fft! fft-fft-fftss!' come from under the couch, and then a lazy little 'thump' as the kitten rolls back out again.

"Oh!" Ian remembers. "Do you want me to announce that I've appointed you to be friendly to the others, or just keep it on the down-low for now?"


Jacob smirks as Nita meows. She's definitely a cat and he can't help but be amused. When Ian speaks, however, he focuses on the man intently. He doesn't respond to te part about having a place to stay just yet, instead nodding slowly as he talks about the stalls in the French Quarter. He smiles, and there's confidence in that smile, intelligence, and then responds, "Let me see what I can discover."

At Ian's question about announcements, he pauses, his expression growing thoughtful. It's easy enough to see that there's a bit of a conflict, that Jacob has reasons to want both. He sighs, then, and looks towards Ian. "Wait. People will be less predisposed with or against me if they don't know who I am. We will receive more honest information." It pains him - what Fairest /doesn't/ want a title - but it seems he is putting effectiveness above pleasure.

He starts to take his leave and then pauses once more. "As for a place to stay, I have that covered for now. I am in the process of purchasing a house but things have been... delayed." Pandemic and all. "I think this will be a lengthy stay." Indicating that he's not just fly by night, gone in a week or two. He's already buying a house.


"Okay," Ian agrees to waiting, and breaks into a grin. "Good, because I'm terrible at titles. And welcome to New Orleans." Pandemic and all. "And to the freehold." That probably needs a real title too. Oh well, someone will come up with one eventually. Ian begins the process of shove-shove-nudging Nita to the side so he can pick up his laptop again and re-drape his wings on the back of the couch where they won't get in anyone's way. "We're glad to have you."