some of us are wild ones

The grumpy Ellis brothers, Deryn and Fizban, had agreed that staying the course was the most sensible thing to do, with Valerie keeping her thoughts to herself, as always. Chrissy, the saytress in charge of the Mousehole’s tech, was less thrilled at the idea, arguing that the reprieve ought to be seized as just that. Her and the newest recruit to the team, Fraser, had gotten into arguments over this point so frequently residents had begun to place bets on how long it would take for the grey haired Scot and the redheaded sayteress half his size to next square off for a fight. Awaiting a last couple of people for her meeting, Connie was eyeing Fraser as he glowered in Chrissy’s direction- the two sat on opposite sides of her office, him glaring at her and her deliberately ignoring him as she played a game on her ipad. The sight of modern technology and the youth to whose short attention span it catered seemed to be priming the old man for some sort of cardiac episode. James, (not officially a member of the team, but so often found in the company of the facility’s only human that they might have been surgically attached) curled up in an armchair next to the man, touched his arm gently and murmured something that had Fraser reluctantly give up his one-way staring contest, nodding, though retaining his frown.

On Fraser’s other side was Rhine, eyeing Chrissy with a matching frown that was as delicate as it was pointed. The melusine had recovered a lot of her mobility, thankfully, but she still begrudgingly used a stick to get around, so unused was she to walking after more than half a century in a tank. It was a relief to Connie to see the residents who had arrived a little worse for wear than others showing signs of recovery, and the quiet woman seemed to be getting along alright, all things considered. Chrissy was perched on the arm of the sofa next to them, with Arianwen sitting in an armchair in the corner. Maurgerite was leaning against the wall behind her, looking sour. It was still a source of mild amazement to Connie that Fraser had, since his arrival, managed to maintain more friends that Maugerite. Neither of them were especially popular, and both had personalities that were unlikely to endear them to anyone in a hurry. A few incidents early on (mostly featuring projectiles being deflected by sympathetic bystanders into Connie’s innocent walls) had lead to a crackdown, but the sentiment bubbled under, and neither of them seemed to feel very inclined to do much to stop it. Fraser of course was doing slightly better, having a pair of immortal bodyguards (albeit incredibly exhausted ones), but Maugerite was either too proud or else (Connie could only assume) had a death wish.

Valerie and Fiz arrived together, both looking a little shattered from a long shift. There was a magical flu making the rounds, and it was spreading as quickly as they could inoculate and isolate people. So far the incidents had been minor, with the exception of a witch who had contracted it in the basalt wing and sneezed a corridor’s worth of pink bumblebees into her surroundings, whose stings had turned out to alter the pitch of their recipient’s voice. Fizban had managed to quickly knock together a cure (and then almost as quickly used the remaining bees to manufacture a powder that could induce the same effect, which Chrissy had already slipped to Fraser half a dozen times), but they were keen to avoid any further incidents of the type. Connie stood up as her tired doctors collapsed onto the sofa- Valerie still maintained a degree of poise and wasn’t quite as liable to exhaustion as Fizban, in spite of having been working for twice as long, but they both seemed ready to pass out at any moment.

"This wont take long," she said, as James quickly sat up and began pouring coffee from a pot on the desk, "Deryn has another security report- Deryn?" The eldest Ellis nodded, sitting up straight in his chair but not standing. For the most part, the group straddled the line between discipline and familiarity, and Connie desperately hoped their clumsy bid at family would not be damaged by conflicts in the future.

"So we’ve still not heard anything about the big man himself, but there’s a lot of background noise and rumours flying around," began Deryn, hazy southern accent warming his tone with the verbal memories of thick sunshine, "The biggest news right now is that Handlers from other cities’re moving in. They’ve been spotted at the old building and around town. Our Handlers are still pretty disorganised but they’re definitely regrouping. Supernaturals still aint coming into the open… sorry, Chrissy, but I think we’re looking at an operational Bureau being up again by the end of the year at the very latest, and most likely it’ll be sooner even than that."

This pronouncement seemed to be the cue for Chrissy and Fraser to begin their argument again, kicking off with admonishments from Fraser to the lines of a five year old’s argument upon having been proven correct, and rebutted with extremely low blows from Chrissy as to her opponents previous occupation. James smiled faintly, looking slightly ill. “Our handlers,” he said, quiet voice only noticed by Rhine and Connie, who glanced at him as he stared at a spot on the carpet, “Like we’re still all one big team working for the betterment of everyone.” Connie opened her mouth, as if in preparation to speak, but thought better of it and shook her head, turning her attention to the argument developing in the middle of her office. Arianwen was surveying Fraser and Chrissy alike with a degree of disdain, turning to raise an eyebrow at Connie, who cleared her throat pointedly over the noise.

"Thank you, both," she said in a tone that could not be mistaken as containing an iota of gratitude, as James tugged Fraser back into his seat. Connie turned to Chrissy. "Chrissy, we just can’t afford to take the risk right now. We have to assume we’re still in a high-stakes situation, there are far too many unknowns to declare it safe up there." The saytress shook her head. "You don’t think I don’t know that? The stakes are high- the stakes have been high forever. But people can’t live on red alert forever. The people-" she gestured towards the door, "Most of them can’t take living underground. They need the freaking sun sometimes, you know. What’s the point of surviving if we’re barely what we’re supposed to be?"

Arianwen scoffed. “And a great help the sky will be to them when they are recaptured,” she said haughtily, “The cycle never changes, it will repeat for as long as time passes. The Handlers will return, they will find a way- a quieter way; a subtle way, so that those who are looking for the ‘warning signs’ do not see the regrowth until it is too late and the garden has become a pit of weeds, choking out the lilacs and daffodils.” She turned to Connie, but addressed everyone: “Never think for a moment that those who abused you and held the leash to your perpetual collar are downed - they are merely resting. And they will rise, and if you are not wary, they will crush you. And you will have none to blame but yourself.”

Chrissy flicked a goat’s ear and stood up, but met Connie’s warning glare with a raised handed gesture of surrender. “If that’s the way it has to be- I can live with that. But you’re gonna have to find better than that to say to the people who live here. People are going to start thinking it might be better for them to brave it- some of them already are. We can’t live like this indefinitely- and if we do, we wont have survived, because what we were- what we were meant to be- that’s not a bunch of terrified, ruined things cowering underground because they’re too scared to set foot outside.”

Pressing her fingers together, Connie wished badly that she could make her residents feel as at home under the ground as she did- but she knew it was a vain hope. It had to feel as unnatural as it did to her to stand above ground- all that open sky that Chrissy so craved, holding court with unhappy supernaturals at lunchtime, just scared her, made her think of the Gods that may be watching. She had a feeling that even they were too busy to give aid, should she pray for it- Hecate even was not what she was- her power stronger than some of her contemparies, but waning all the same. In any case, this was no cut and dry problem- Roy Talbot had already been struck down, but the insidious roots of the machine had barely been touched. Arianwen was right, the Handlers would regrow, and continue to advance their hold on San Fransisco. If the world was lucky, it would stop with the big cities and the covert operations. But, such concerns were really not hers, nor did they belong to anyone in the midst of the storm. Their prerogative- what had always been their prerogative- was to survive.

The group had broken off into quiet, subdued chatter after the argument had dissolved. Chrissy, Val and Fizban were talking about the flu- it seemed to be getting better, at long last- but their expressions were grim, eyes avoiding the people surrounding them, as if not to let the morbid thoughts cloud their minds. The doctors at least had their work, the daily crises that stopped their minds tearing themselves to shreds. James and Fraser had linked hands behind their chairs, where they thought no-one could see them- they were chatting to Rhine, James clinging to his human for security, for companionship- for something, in the face of their predicament. Rhine was shaking her head- if it came to it, she’d flee, and live on. It was odd how the older residents seemed to have the most varied responses to the situation- some viewed it as a passing annoyance, others as the potential end for their long, long lives. Rhine it seemed was somewhere between the two, significantly disturbed by the handlers, but not in fear for her life- not just yet.

Maugerite was bouncing sardonic remarks off Arianwen’s tacit comments on the situation, and how it compared to many she’d seen before. Steeped in history, and filled with the fury from it- the woman from Wales was perhaps the only one in the room who might have surpassed Connie’s own power for protection and offense. Connie wasn’t sure what direction Arianwen would jump, if the situation got desperate. Perhaps she’d never find out. Her son Aeron seemed to be the anchor that held her to the city, but she wondered at how long the weight would be enough to keep the wise, powerful being from taking them both as far away as possible. There was, perhaps unsurprisingly, a clarity of response amongst the former Handlers- anyone could be immortal, not many found their way into Handling. Maugerite and Fraser both seemed to consider themselves among the living dead- existing on borrowed time, laughing in the face of the flames they beheld that they were sitting amongst. Perhaps they were the only ones truly clued into the situation.

"Attacking the Handlers has been out of the question for a long time," Connie said at last, cutting across the various conversations, which babbled and died like ending April showers, "It is my opinion that it’s still out of the question. We don’t know what their contingencies were, we have no idea how many Handlers from other cities there are. A move that aggressive may prove disastrous for us- if they have regained a fraction of their power, they could discover the Mousehole, undo everything we’ve worked to protect here, and wipe us all out." She shook her head, expression wavering on the edge of an emotion, before returning to calm, like a wind-ruffled lake going glassy and still. "We will need to find a way to raise morale. I will talk to people who have been concerned- Chrissy, I’d appreciate if you could talk to them too, explain the risks and the potential losses." Chrissy nodded, expression mutinous. "We have to trust one another to keep each other going," Connie continued, "No matter how long this lasts- we can outlast it. We just have to keep our heads. I know it’s hopeless. But if nothing else, we here can protect the rest of the ‘Hole from that despair. That is what we are here to do- we protect them."

Fraser cleared his throat. “With all respect, most esteemed leader,” he said, and Connie braced herself, “That was the most unconvincing load o’ crap I’ve ever heard.”

"I trust you’ll manage to be more convincing than me, then, Fraser," she smiled mildly.