Dreaming in Detroit (a changeling RP)

"The fruit is not harmless for The Dog, it is like chocolate and grapeskin," Switch says slowly. "Not allowed."

They look at Emer, long-fingers tapping on Dog's leash. "There was no pixie, only The Dog. Is this a private meeting we should not be in attendance for?"

 

"There was bacon. Is there still bacon?"

 

"I mean, you're obviously weird fairy people," Goose manfully resists another fae/fairy pun, because he is still not 100% sure if flirting with these two is a good idea, "and it's weird fairy people business, so if the person who's invited us all here is chill, then I'm chill." He shrugs. "The more the merrier, and all that?"

He looks at the Dog. "I'm assuming there's still bacon?"

He looks over at Emer. "I... I'm sorry about your friend," he adds. He's gotten very practiced at sympathy over the years--it's kind of a requirement, in his line of work. "I'm assuming our quest is 'find the piece of shit behind this'?" He frowns, looking at the floor. "One of my boyfriends... got really sick. He didn't die, thank whatever's out there, and this was a while ago, but..." He trails off. His generally easy demeanor has disappeared for the moment, and he's mostly just upset on someone else's behalf. A lot of someone else's, actually.

He looks back at the Dog. "You are... very shirtless," he finally says, which is not what he was intending to say, but the same part of his brain that makes fairy puns as a way of coming out has apparently temporarily taken over. Go him.

Goose puts both his hands over his face.

 

"Truly, a more dashing and cunning band of heroes has ne'er been seen." Aish watches the others from their perch atop the car, amused at the awkwardness. "The twitchy one- Logan, right?- mentioned something about a plan? You do have one, I hope?" They ask Emer.

 

[song]

Emer rakes her hand through her hair. This was probably a bad plan. A terrible plan. But she'd had no idea what else to do, and still doesn't, really. "I - maybe? Sort of. The first step was to bribe the pixies with bacon to get anyone who would be interested to come here. Sorry, yeah, that means all the bacon is gone. I think we need to find the distributor or the grower and get them to stop. I just -"

Emer takes a deep breath and reminds herself that she's an engineer, goddammit, and a grown ass adult. Talking to purebloods shouldn't still throw her. "I'm a process person. That's what I do. I don't know how to run an investigation. But as soon as a changeling tastes goblin fruit, they're addicted unto death, and it's not right that there's so much of it on the streets. There's no reason save malice for it to be anywhere but the Summerlands."

 

Ophidian allows itself for a moment of thoughtful consideration, then poses a question.

“A pattern to the victims? Yes? No? ... Could be hatred of changelings...could be more targeted. Killed for what they are, or who they are? ... The latter is scarier...Very scary, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.”

Like Ophidian.
Like Mother.

 

"We can ask. Fruit is pleasant to This One, it may be found," Switch responds slowly, one hand absentmindedly and gently stroking Dog's mass of messy hair.

"Dog, This One will go into The Dennys and get you Bacon, if you provide The Payment." They consider, then pass the lead to Goose. "You may watch The Dog? Yes?"

 

Goose blinks, and looks at the lead in his hand. "Um, yes," he says. He represses the human-world-born urge to thank Switch.

He looks at the Dog, who is still in human shape, and still shirtless. "I'm sorry about the bacon?"

He looks over at Logan. "You good at patterns?"

 

"...No." Someone of candela heritage should not speak so much. Besides, it is best that Ophidian not reveal too much of its true nature.

 

"Alright," Goose says, turning back away from Logan. He doesn't want to be rude, but... but that's about the sum of it, really.

"You smelled anything weird recently?" he asks the Dog. "Less recently than the bacon, I mean." He's also not entirely sure of the guy's cognitive state, so he adds, "You do understand why this is a problem, right?"

 

The Dog laughs soundlessly, fishing a battered wallet from the pocket of his jeans and passing it to Switch.

He slowly cocks his head. "... Many strange things. What kind?"

 

In answer to the Dog's question, Goose says, "Goblin fruit appearing where it shouldn't, something that seems related?" He shrugs. "I'm not a detective."

There's something amusing about the Dog being the one with money, but Goose doesn't verbalize it.

 

The Dog considers, shifting from foot to foot thoughtfully. "Switch, wear the Skin," he calls absently.

"Switch buys fruit sometimes. It is Not For Dogs. I thought it was like chocolate."

 

"Wait, are you a changeling?"

 

“Do we even know enough about the dead to find a pattern, if there was one? A pattern beyond ‘changelings are dying,’ I mean.” They sigh.

 

"Mmhmn," he agrees, nodding to Goose.

 

"So, it's mostly changelings," he says. He looks over at Owens, squints. "I should trust my pattern recognition more, seriously."
He claps his hands together. "So! Horrifying possibility: it is in fact completely random. There is no pattern, other than the desire for maximum chaos."
He looks back at the Dog. "It's like chocolate. Except I'm assuming you, unlike a dog, are capable of understanding why chocolate, or goblin fruit, would hurt you." He's distracted by a thought. "Can dogs become addicted?"

 

"Any changeling who tastes goblin fruit instantly becomes addicted, and they generally die of that addiction within a few weeks."

Aish looks at Owen, trying to figure out if they've seen the other cat before.

"Are you part of the Queen's court?" They ask the changeling. "I don't believe I've seen you around the King of Cats' court."

They turn to the rest of the group. "Anyways, if Switch knows a distributor, that's already a lead. We can go and find them, and ask for their source." They look around at the group. "Probably not all of us, though. And while we're there, we can ask if this dealer is careful about who they supply."

 

Ophidian ponders this task, and visibly relaxes somewhat. This is more within its realm of expertise. Ophidian begins to mumble aloud to itself.

"The distributor's cooperation must be obtained, no? ... A geas would be most reliable, yes-yes... But further coercion is recommended to avoid potential loopholes, yes, yes, yes. ... It will manage."

Ophidian looks up at the group, a glint in its eyes.

"If known names and general location is provided ... the target will be found."

Ophidian sees nothing amiss with wording the sentence this way.

 

Switch nods absently, slipping out into the street, pocketing The Wallet as their magic flares, the scent of ozone and zinnias filling the alleyway as their eyes go far more human and they slip into The Dennys.

They smile wide at the human who takes orders, and starts talking, doing their best to convince them to deliver a big set of many flavoured pancake stacks - blueberry, plain, salted caramel & banana cream, dulce de leche, double berry banana, chocolate chip - and over a pound of bacon to the alleyway, finally settling for taking one of the strange mechanical buzzing items that will let Switch know when the food is ready, shifting uncomfortably inside the restaurant. It's warm in a way Switch finds uncomfortable, though the scent of food is pleasant.

They flit outside again swiftly, fidgeting in the light outside the doors, juggling the little item in her hand.