'Twas Brillig

“Hm, no. It probably wouldn’t be.”

Rye, leaned over, trying to catch a generous peek inside before it was closed and hidden from her once again. “Aw... I just wanted to see... Maybe flutter in and flutter out. Something really quick?” She grinned.

Warren rubbed his hands together to keep them warm. “Well, then where are we off to. I suppose we could get some tea and go to my flat. I could make dinner. Or we- oh, wait! I haven’t got any food to make dinner. We’ll stop for dinner. The BCP, maybe. Yes, now where is my…” Warren patted his pants pockets before suddenly reaching into an extra-dimensional pocket and pulling out his wallet. “Aha! Now then, where were we?”

Rye laughed lightly as he rambled through his through processes. Watching in awe as he put something into an extra-dimensional pocket. Eyes widening, she couldn’t help but be curious. “I bet it wouldn’t be fun to get stuck in one of those things... Ever know anyone who has?”

He stamped his foot, loudly, making a large booming noise at the floor. This wasn’t the bottom-most floor; he was trying to tell her. “I’d like you to stay. I won’t hurt you, but I do have more to show you. I like you, Rye. I won’t let anything bad happen to you. Well, nothing permanent anyway. If you go now, it’ll be worse for you later. You want friends here in the glen, don’t you?”

Rye jumped at the sound, her hear speeding up a bit at the sudden noise, always finding herself to be rather startled by them. Swallowing, she rubbed her arm. Her fear of being absolutely alone rising in her once again. “I... worse later, how?” She didn’t take kindly to being threatened, but that also didn’t mean that she knew what to do about it.

“Well,” he sighed. “that’s a bit of the old upstairs / downstairs problem. Most of my … guests aren’t here willingly. They aren’t served drinks. Though, a significant elevation in histamines during uh … times of stress … does cause a person to be excessively thirsty. If you study art history, and see a painting where a person is being tortured, and there’s a bucket near by, you know that was painted by a person who really witnessed real torture. Similarly, when the figure is painted head down. Keeps more blood in the brain, the person stays conscious longer. They didn’t understand why back then but they knew when something worked and when something didn’t.” He set out a few tea cakes as well. These normally weren’t very sweet, but he had a jar of strawberry preserve and a spoon nearby.

Rye listened, her face falling slightly as he spoke. For some reason, she hadn’t quite put the pieces together until that moment. She hadn’t quite made the connections. Rye took another sip, feeling her own nervousness grow as she tried to decide what to do next. “Um... perhaps I should... go.” Her eyes flickered in the direction of the nearest exit. “I do have a paper due tomorrow.” She mused in a forced casual tone, preferring not to mention how she’d finished the paper the day after it was assigned. She wasn’t quite ready to accept this as her cup of tea. “I apologize for wasting your time...”

Once inside his kitchen, he set the kettle on to boil, laying out his various ingredients. “I’ll fix you some of my mother’s recipe for butter beer. I’ll leave out my sugar for you to sweeten as you see fit. It’s already buttery smooth and sweet as a child’s laughter, but you may want to fix it to your liking.” He served it warm, in frothing mugs. His he left much of the sugar out, adding much more scotch. Hers was about as alcoholic as a mudslide mix drink. It might take eight or so to really get a human drunk. It would taste to her very like a butterscotch candy.

Rye walked inside, keeping her hands together in an attempt to keep herself from touching anything. “Mmm...” She smiled, always having wondered what it would have been like to learn recipes from a parent. Quickly picking up her mug and sipping, she sighed as the warm liquid made its way down her throat and into her stomach. As delicious as it was, she still ended up adding a bit of sugar for good measure. “Do you often make drinks for company?” She sipped again, finding it to be rather addictive.

Orion grinned, putting his foot down. “217 mph, on a straight line. 0-62 mph in 2.9 seconds. It’s a little… squirrelly but that’s why you buy a Lamborghini. They aren’t for everyone.” Now he was actually preening, checking himself out in the rear-view mirror. “It’s got a V12 engine so, it practically kicks over a hippy commune each time I accelerate, but I do love it, even if it does get like… single digits in gas mileage.”

Rye couldn’t stop grinning during their short little trip. It reminded her of flying, something she was sure to do as soon as she left him. Arriving in the garage, she nodded, and pulled her sleeve up and over her hand before gripping the handle of the door to get out. 

She seemed a little anemic or something. He knew he had this power over her limbs. He wondered how far he could really take it. Did he have power over her mind beyond being able to manipulate a person’s fears, adding to them and subtracting them? He helped her stand, felt how … lithe she was under her flimsy and airy outfit. He helped her into his car, a douchey orange Lamborghini Aventador LP 700-4 and drove to his home, tailgating and whipping around little old ladies while trashing his sound system, too loud for his enjoyment but just right to annoy the other drivers.

Rye stood, watching him carefully as she did so, not knowing how she felt about his hands on her after she’d already felt his control through no touch at all. She swallowed, standing before moving with him towards the car.

Warren gasped. “And here I was thinking you kept me around because of my punctuality.” Warren squinted at her with slight suspicion. “Let’s head inside somewhere. You’ll catch a draft out here.” Warren cared for Rye’s well-being and he offered her his suit jacket so that she would not get cold.

Rye laughed a little. “I keep you around for all kinds of reasons.” She nodded quickly, hopping up to stand by him. “You worry far too much about silly things.” She still took his jacket, having been rather cold despite that she would never admit it.

He fluttered her about for a bit, realizing his power. Better to use caution when exercising it. He stopped, withdrawing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. Unseelie are about using power for our own benefit, not from taking it from others. I didn’t realize I had such power over you. If you come to the funhouse I promise you won’t be punished for playing. You can’t make a mistake there. It’s only purpose is enjoyment.” He tried to instill in her a fear of boredom. A fear of always being picked last. A fear of not going to the funhouse. He honestly wasn’t sure if it would work.

Rye’s fists clenched as her body contorted this way and that, not unlike a poorly-stringed puppet. Finally, she slumped as he stopped, staying on her knees. “I-I don’t even know what you mean by that...” She muttered, backing away from him slightly before feeling an immense fear of going anywhere else. “I don’t know... I...” But he actually wanted her to go there. People rarely wanted her at all... It was all very confusing. She didn’t like how he controlled her, but when had she ever thought before acting. “Fine... Let’s go.” Anything, but going back to her apartment. 

“None I’m aware of so far. But, there’s always more carnivores. Unseelie I feel is more  … complicated in that way. The alliances / enemies / friendships are maybe harder to figure out than in Team Goodguy. I think you might do well there. But it’s also a lot more fun.”

Rye furrowed her brow. “I do enjoy fun.” She mused. “I don’t tend to find myself... doing well in most places.” She explained. After years of feeling rather like  hot potato in foster care, it was understandable.

Warren laughed. “No! You and the raisins, it’s mind-boggling.” Warren shrugged. He thought about sitting next to her, but his khaki pants would show the dew from the grass. “That sounds to me like you don’t think I’m fun.” Of course, Warren hardly did ever get into trouble, except with himself. It was not in his nature.

“What’s so hard to understand about raisins?” She smirked up at him. “They’re perfection in a tiny wrinkly form.” She nodded once. “Of course, I think you’re fun. I wouldn’ t have stuck around this long if you weren’t.” 

“Come with me to meet some of the members of the court. I’m sure they won’t mind meeting someone new. I’m sure you’ll learn a lot about how to take care of yourself before anyone else decides to take advantage of you. Maybe you could think a little about what you want.”

“You say that like I’ve already decided to join.” She smirked a little. “Anyone else?” She question, perking a brow while remaining steadily in her spot.

“Ah, and with sprinkles to boot.” Warren saw the tulip and made a mental note to set aside some tulips for her later on. “And don’t worry. The day I forget that I’m sure to be in trouble, as well.”

“ooh! And raisins, maybe?” She smiled over at him before picking up the remnant of the tulip to play a chaste kiss to the petals. “Oh, no. You in trouble? That’s unheard of!”

‘Oh, someone else who smells a whiff of evil on him and has to leave. How unusual. She seems interesting. Seemed. Now she’s trying to wave off the conversation. Well, I’ll show her, I’ll make her hate me. I’ll make her leave before she can leave me. By telling the truth.’

Rye’s brow furrowed as he spoke. Everything he said made sense to her. She shifting her weight, half stepping forward once more. “I believe in that too... I mean... I wouldn’t have magick if I wasn’t supposed to use it... I wouldn’t be able to do the things that I do if I was meant to be normal.” The word was almost painful in her mouth. “I’ve been on the losing side of things for longer than acceptable.”

“Oh…” Toodles thought about it, trying to think of a reasonable answer. But there was only one she could give. “Well, everything.”

“Oh.” Rye nodded once, with a small shrug. “Fair enough.”