Who: Jareth Monaco & Peony Min What: A Fell Knight and Saint talk about Mages Where: Jareth’s office When: Today! Rating: Tame except Jare’s potty mouth Status: Complete
The thing was, he’d expected the Mages to be targeted. Fuck, if he hadn’t known firsthand that the top didn’t trust the bottom and no one ever really knew what the fuck was going on, then he’d have probably been one of them. But he had that experience, knew that the only person to blame had been killed with his ax (something that still made him feel as close to warm and fuzzy as he got), and so he’d taken a position of neutrality.
He wasn’t going to go out and champion them, but he sure as fuck wasn’t going to let them get their asses kicked when he was on watch, either. Which was why he’d reached out to Peony.
Who he hadn’t spoken to since the Sage went down.
But fuck, she’d agreed to come by, and really, the EKP needed to know what the fuck the Mages’ Guild was planning on doing because practically all of his other work had been put on hold making sure that there was no mage blood running in the streets. And he’d been meaning to talk to her since his conversation with Pyr, and fuck, he probably needed to check on Sky, too.
When the hell had his life gotten so complicated?
He sighed and put the papers down, each case stacked neatly in a pile. At least a dozen. And they had been from the last week. His coffee was cold, but Cat was sleeping in his lap and he couldn’t move. Another sigh and he opened the next case.
Peony arrived promptly on time, as was her habit. She had not encountered trouble in the streets, though she had long since stopped paying heed to those who looked at her with malice. She could do nothing but live her truth -- they could open their minds, or not. The rod prominently displayed in its back holster was perhaps deterrent enough -- just because she could understand the malice did not mean she would tolerate violence. Fortunately, it seemed people were content to leave her be today.
Things were, in a very small way, getting better.
She did not display apprehension when she entered the precinct -- if anything, her smile and nod to Lilith were exactly the same as always, as were her greetings to those who acknowledged her (fewer people now than previously, but that was expected, too). Things were… different. In some ways complicated. But she wanted to believe herself above pettiness.
Only Faram may judge.
And so she approached the man behind the desk -- with cat napping in his lap, she greeted him with a softly polite, “Good afternoon. Am I early? I can wait if it is preferable.”
Jareth looked up and shook his head. “Take a seat,” he told her, reaching down to scritch under Cat’s chin; she rewarded him with a sleepy meow and rolled over, exposing her belly. Damn cat was getting too big for this. “Thanks for coming on short notice,” he said to Peony.
And damn if he wasn’t getting better at this polite interaction thing. He still didn’t like it, but he had at least learned to communicate in words rather than grunts and gestures. Improvement or some shit like that.
She didn’t look any worse for the wear, but then, only a fucking moron would fuck with one of the Councilors. “Wanted to see how the Mages’ Guild was planning on dealing with this shit.” He nodded at the casefiles. “Sixteen assaults just last week. No serious injuries.” Well, for the mages, anyway - that guy who’d been fucking with the Faram-damned twelve year old scholar had suffered a concussion from the butt of Jareth’s ax.
She slid the files over the desk, opening each in turn, silent for awhile as she digested their contents. Some of this had been reported to the council, but some had not.
She wished she could say she was surprised.
The final file closed, she was silent another moment before saying, “We have strongly suggested traveling in groups, but we cannot require it -- nor can we set a guard on any but the most… vulnerable.” Hippolyta’s situation was doubly dire, not least because she might actually lash out and hurt someone instead of stopping the harassment peacefully. “The guild can only do so much. We have opened our doors to any and all who are suspicious of what and how we teach. Some have accepted the offer for what it is, others, I think, do not trust us enough to walk through our doors. We keep… few secrets.” She could not say none -- the papers in Vivian’s office had been deeply troubling -- but they had fewer than people suspected.
They hardly knew what had happened, either.
“There is little we can do aside from the slow work of proving ourselves trustworthy. I do not think it will happen overnight.” She met his eyes, added, “If there is something we have not thought of, I will gladly take the suggestion back to my guild’s leadership.”
He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Fuck if I know,” he said, frustrated. For every legitimate use of the EKP’s time, there were at least two mages getting harrassed that they needed to deal with. And she was right - no one had the resources to keep guards on the fucking mages, and that wasn’t exactly a long term solution to begin with. If people were constantly on the mages, people would think there was reason to be, and that was the last thing anyone wanted. It just seemed like there was no good way to win that fucking battle, and it pissed him off.
His hand scrubbed over his face, the stubble grating against his palm. He needed to shave one of these days, but there just hadn’t been the time or energy to do it. “You haven’t run into any problems, right?” There was only the hint of hope in the question; somehow, Peony had made his list of to protect. He was sure it had something to do with Banes, but there was no point in trying to figure it out.
Her expression was pleasantly neutral as she said, “None that I have been unable to diffuse.” There was a great deal of utility to simple Hold and Bind spells when used against toughs in the street who thought a woman alone might make a likely target.
She bowed her head and told him, “I apologize for the inconvenience to you and your colleagues. We do not mean to add to your work, but there are circumstances outside of our control.”
The apology was waved away. “No one said any shit like that. Mostly concerned about the potential victims.” The city didn’t need any more of those, and he didn’t want to be the reason there were more.
Silence fell between them. There really wasn’t anything else about the case to talk about; logic told him he should bring up the thing with the Sage, but fuck if he knew a good way to do that. And he wasn’t even sure she’d want to talk about the fucking thing. And there was also the issue of his class.
Maybe silence was the better option.
“I am saying it because I felt it ought to be said,” she corrected. “I will bring this up to… our Sage.” Only the slightest of pauses. “He is also concerned about the potential victims.” Softly, she added, “Our guild has already lost far too much.” And that was something not to be discussed lightly. Perhaps once she might have opened up to him, but…
“I will continue to encourage means of… peaceful self-defense among our members,” she said at last. “Faram willing, people’s attention will soon be focused elsewhere.”
“Right,” he said. He’d heard something about an election, but it didn’t affect him so he’d mostly ignored it. Didn’t mean he hadn’t heard of the candidates. “That other guy who was there in the fight, right?” Matsu-something. Hadn’t seemed important to get names when a huge fucking monster was trying to kill them.
The mention of Faram nearly made him flinch, but he remained still. “That other mage, the white one,” he started, figuring this was as good a time as any to broach the subject. “I need to thank her. Those… skills require a healer nearby.”
“Almalexia,” Peony said. “She is not guild, rather… a church mage.” It was as much warning as she thought her place to offer. “I can pass your gratitude along to her, if you prefer.” It was doubtful that Almalexia had seen such… skills in use before, but it seemed likely, too, that she had been taught what to look for, being involved with the Blades as she was.
Not all who followed Faram preferred to leave judgment in His hands.
SIlence ensued, which she filled eventually when she said, “And you were correct -- Councilor Matsudaira ascended to the Sage’s seat. He will be a good leader, once he is permitted to be.”
No way in fucking hell he was getting near the Cathedral any time soon. “If you could,” he said awkwardly. He could also try sending her a message on the network, say his thanks and be done. He’d kept his promise to Araceli, and she was the reason for it. And he had a sinking suspicion this Almalexia was Celi’s Almalexcita. Which only meant he had to play nice.
Always fucking playing nice. It was exhausting.
“Can’t be any worse than the last one,” he said, careful to keep his tone from being too dismissive. Unless Matsudaira went on a murderous rampage, the Mages’ Guild was already doing better.
“Yes,” Peony said, tone carefully neutral, “I suspect you are right.” But he had heard Vivian’s apology, just as she had -- there had been more afoot than met the eye. Who could say if she might have been any different, had she been in Vivian’s shoes? She could not say.
She looked again at the folders, her mind cataloguing the names of those who had not come forward. An internal problem -- one to add to her ever-growing list. “Unfortunately, I can be of little aid in this matter. Rather, it seems that you and your colleagues will continue to aid us. I thank you in advance for your assistance.” He looked uncomfortable, and that made her feel a touch of regret. What were the circumstances which had driven him to such poor choices? He was not a friend, as Wilham had been once, so she could not ask -- nor could she offer her advice. “Was there anything else?”
“No,” he said, mind wandering elsewhere. What if all the Guildmasters were fucking nuts? A mage was hard enough, but fuck. One that could summon big ass creatures to wreak havoc? And who the fuck knew if Duhl would go psycho on them in the future. Suddenly, this idea of wanting roots - however fleeting it had been - seemed like a really fucking bad one.
“I’ll walk you out.”
“Please do not feel obligated, if you are busy.” But she would not stop him if he chose to dislodge the cat and rise.
He picked up Cat, who glared, and set her on the pillow he’d gotten for her in his desk drawer. “No obligation,” he said, standing.
“As you like, then.” And if the physical distance between them was, perhaps, infinitesimally wider than it might have been a few weeks ago, and other manners of distance might have increased far more dramatically still, they still walked through the door side by side.