[Meatball Parade on loop for 10 hours]

[falsify]

Catchall for Eames to keep clutter to a minimum! As always, PM or PP to chat it up, or just throw a starter down I'm probably amenable.

Comments

[thelittlemerman]

Finnick's face twists a little in disgusts as he thinks about the cat. "He'll be very useful to her if we try anything. Hard to tell how long it's been since he's been free but he'll still recognize any of our tricks."

A pause, and then he continues.

"He tried to guilt me into pointing out any potential enemies of the Mother at the party."

[falsify]

Eames very nearly laughs. Maybe he thought a Seelie would be softer? But that's ridiculous. Either way he shakes his head, "I imagine that was about as effective as expected."

[thelittlemerman]

He shakes his head in disgust as he recounts it in his head. "Maybe other fae are foolish enough to forget that familiars are only extensions of their masters, but I've dealt with more than my share. If he's been inherited like you say we may have to choose between freeing him or killing him to help stop whatever traditions Samantha is following."

[falsify]

Honestly freeing Mogget hadn't even crossed Eames' mind; he's likely bound by something more powerful than your average spell and Eames wouldn't really know how to go about undoing that. Maybe if he could get Samantha's full name, but even then it may not be hers enough for that to work.

"She offered me a bond, of 'trust and friendship' she said," Eames says with a scoff, "I suspect she conveniently forgot to mention 'magic and servitude' when she suggested it."

[thelittlemerman]

"So it's exactly as I feared," Finnick says. "They don't want us in the mortal realm except if they can use us. She's going to force us into a fight."

[falsify]

"It feels that way. And it's certainly the smart way to go about it," Eames sighs, frowning as he considers this, "force our hand into justify her position."

[thelittlemerman]

Finnick lets out a frustrated noise as he brings a hand up to his face, restlessly rubbing his forehead like he's physically trying to work out some of the pure anger he feels. He hates that they have to be fighting all the time, fighting just to be allowed to exist without the witches deciding they're a threat or a tool to be used. It's infuriating.

"If only someone had some sympathy for us so we could play on it," he says bitterly. "At this rate we'll have to make some, to go begging for help, or else we'll just have to meet them with force. I don't know if we can win that way."

[falsify]

Eames echoes that frustration, curling his fingers into the fabric of his jacket where they sit with his arms folded.

"You've seen the way mortals are," he says, tense and annoyed. "They only feel for the ones like them-- and even then rarely."