#gentryfae

♘ :How you prefer to kill someone

A young, brightly smiling Michelle simply pulled a slim knife from her boot. It was a functional knife- one she often used for things like cutting up apples or drawing in the dirt. 

“This usually works well enough. It’s quiet.. Mostly. And I can throw it. Most of my knives can be thrown, so there’s that. I mean, Magic is good at killing, but I’d prefer not to actually use it. Taking a life with magic tends to give me… nightmares. With a knife, it’s always self defense. Not that magic isn’t, it’s just… a more even footing, I guess. Most the times… magic is as good a deterrent as it is a subduing agent. No killing necessary, which is how I prefer it.” She slipped it back in her boot.

“And when you put a bit of magic into the knife, it’s usually better than either. Nothing like a lightening sword to make people run away and leave you alone. Or a singing sword. The amount of times I’ve had a mugger at the goblin market stop and just start cracking up when my sword started singing ‘Mack the Knife’…. well…. I’ll have to introduce you. I still go out drinking with them, actually.”

“If it’s not clear- I don’t like killing sentient things. Animals and food things? Well… archery is always a pet favorite of mine. Never hurt anyone with a bow though.”

♙ :Most malicious act tied to your name

"Jeezus. I’m not quite sure how to answer this one." Michelle said, the thin, white hair into a low bun. Soot sat upon the bridge of her nose- remnants of her previous experiment. Her table was scorched too, save for the new ingredients on it. 

“I mean, Personally, I think taking Riverside was pretty damn malicious, but… well…" She waved off the rest of that sentence and began working. Wrinkled hands poured salt peter into a bowl and reached for a small jar. 

"There are a few things. There was a cleansing I did a few years back, at the behest of Lord Winter. While I don’t disagree with the thought that things needed to be resolved, and that cleansing would be the best way to do it, I do disagree with the haste in which it was done. We could have saved a few. I mean, after th’ fact, we found out that some High Puffs and Big Names were in there…. and that they had really good PR people. Normally I get a lot of flak for that."

"There’s also the thing with the Witch of SoumerSea. Or the Fey War. One of them. War is like that- no matter what side you’re on, you’ll be labeled as a murderer by someone."

Both women looked at the deer in front of Michelle’s now smoking car. 

Oh dear. Her insurance rates were going to go through the roof after this run in. 

Heh. 

Run in. 

Michell stifles the laugh as the queen beside her gives her a rather unamused frown before returning to tutt over the deer. 

They talk for a few minutes- Michelle wants to call the forest services and report the animal so she can take it for the meat, but Mab seems a little reluctant to do so. 

There’s a few moment’s bickering (Michelle wins, for the sole reason of winning a rock-paper-scissor’s match), and the service called. Given the go ahead, she quickly gathers the supplies necessary to prepare the carcass for transport, mainly removing the organs that would spoil the meet (although she is saving them for another red-headed friend of hers. It’s about time to send him another pseudo-courting gift). 

As soon as the entrails are laid out before her, practically leaping from the dead animal in their enthusiasm for imparting their knowledge of yet to come. 

                Michelle could have done with a little less leaping, though. 

The fey queen seems large and bright, a shimmering star above the night, Here like precious mother-queens of old, With wisdom deep and magic bold, 

Here she enters into contract, With whom she has a vicious spat, Sits upon a throne of earthen bone, Sits upon a throne of airy stone, 

On her left, a gilded consort, Who hunts the white stag for sport, Ever chasing silver hindGreatest virtue, clever mind. 

On her right, advisor Loan’dFrom bitterest enemy own’dLips of poison, words of honeySweetly sings of iron Money, 

Both are needed, Neither wanted, For the queen of starlight Studded, Comes hereafter, met mundane, Courses path through bloody stain, 

Mage of River, wise and foolish, Walks behind, Hindering, churlish, Not through will Or want of injury, Simply herself wounded and surly,

Look for courser of earthen sinew, Iron, steel and metal blue, Tail of smoke and voice of thunder, Look in vain for simple blunder. 

With a snort Michelle quickly pushed the entrails off the side of the road. Alright- those obviously weren’t fit to eat. Anytime something burst into rhyming quatrains it was usually a sign not to eat it, lest you end up with the worst kind of trip afterward. Acid didn’t even compare to vision-spewing meat products. 

As soon as the Deer was wrapped in a tarp and shoved in the back of the car, they took off. The car was smoking, yes, but it would last until they got to a mechanic. 

Laughingly, Michelle told Mab about the fortune. She was rather amused with the extremely obtuse phrasing for ‘automobile’, but aside from that, it seemed the standard ‘queen ruler- stereotypical prophecy’ that got spewed out every century or so.

"I mean, I’m in it- and the last time I was in a rhyming fortune, I ended up stubbing my toe so hard it broke." She laughed, not concerned. Mab relaxed a little- Michelle’s levity easing the lines of worry that had appeared as Michelle recited the fortune. 

Lines that for some reason,              reappeared. 

And then there was a loud crash.

{{i'll do this both ic and ooc uM}}

My eyes.

How I look in a dress.

My skill with magic.

My fashion sense.

My impeccable timing.

{{and now ooc:

how i look in a trilby/fedora

my hips

my ass

my sense of humor

☢ : Describe a thought or dream that would cause them to have a mental meltdown.

The idea that there might really be something seriously wrong with him. Everyone's always called him weird and crazy and I think the only reason he's been able to ignore them and keep going is that he knows that he's not, that however hard stuff gets he's going in the right direction because he is not fundamentally flawed in the headbox. And I think it's been a very close-run thing. He's a kid and he's got a very resilient mind but he's been through a lot and he's come pretty goddamn close to losing his marbles a whole bunch of times. He's always managed to hang on to his sanity in the face of everyone else calling him bonkers- not just kids, adults, teachers, his father, EVERYONE- so I think the idea that maybe he really IS crazy and all this struggle has been completely pointless would mess him up badly. There's a reason why he still dreams about the stuff that happened that Halloween, and it's not because the Halloweenies were all that scary. (They were scary, sure. But they weren't the worst part.)

❤ : Describe a physical action that shows complete trust.

Dib's natural eyesight is pretty terrible. Without his glasses he can see close up but the world is a fuzzy blur and for him it's a scary fuzzy blur, he's so self-reliant and visually focused and the world is such an unpredictable place that he feels a lot of anxiety when he can't see what's coming at him. Hence the constant use of infra-red to see in the dark, his CCTV, and probably a big part of his obsession with videotaping everything. He's also probably lost or broken more pairs of glasses in his life so far than ten normal people usually do in their entire lifetimes. Whether they're trodden on by a giant deathbot or just thrown over the jungle gym by some jerk of a bigger kid, he feels very vulnerable without them, so he's learned to keep a very close guard on them at all times. He rarely takes them off, even for a moment. He even sleeps in them so he'll be immediately ready to go if anything happens in the night.

Tl;dr: if he's just handed you his glasses to hold while he does something else, even if it's just to pull off a sweater or something, he super-triple-mondo-seriously trusts you. Don't drop them.

⊗ : What is something that causes them to question themselves?

When he's proved wrong. He tends to run with his own decisions and judgements very hard- if he's certain about them, he'll stick with them in the face of any opposition, so if he's confronted by the fact that he's been wrong or his judgement's been flawed it tends to pull him up short while he tries to work out how his magnificent brain could have possibly been in error. He'll get it in the end and sometimes he'll even be okay with admitting that he was wrong- or actually apologizing!- but the fact he WAS wrong will really bother him, at least until he understands exactly why he messed up.

✓ : Name at least two people who can trust them with their life.

I am not sure anyone should ever trust Dib with their life. He's too much of a morally questionable disaster magnet, and he's got this nasty habit of making spontaneous decisions that even he admits afterwards were really, really stupid. If you reworded the question to 'Name at least two people who Dib would never, ever knowingly endanger unless he totally thought it was safe, no, really, I mean how was he supposed to know they had a debilitating allergy to mutant locusts?' then I'm sure Simon, Mab and Dee could trust him to really try to not fuck up too badly.

✏ : What are their creative outlets?

Dib can't draw very well (which irritates him) but he draws doofy little pictures of monsters and aliens, and he draws very careful labelled diagrams of things, and decorates his room with posters and stickers. The star map on his ceiling is flawless. He makes things, tinkers creatively with math and chemistry and software and devices and machines- he could probably be a successful inventor in his own right someday, if he concentrated on that side of his interests, but he's perfectly happy focusing on Parascience, so he's more likely to use his skill for making stuff to create monster-hunting devices and tracking equipment, security and database software, and defensive weapons (his experiments with creating offensive weapons generally end badly. For everyone.)

✉ : Do they tend to rely on words or actions more?

And yet, Frank was there both times. Frank was with Kass when he went through all Dib's notes on Dee, he spoke to Simon the night of the bridge and he knows what went down with Mab.