[ Yes Alex, we'll take "just show up without one" for three-hundred please.
Since this city is apparently big enough for two of them, with just a teeny bit of warping and fraying where they meet up. Invitations are for squares, unless they're necessary for safety-of-passage and business like that. Not that they had business to do. No, not a lick of it. Not them! Gosh, that's like saying the north and south ends of magnets didn't wind up smacking into each other when in close proximity. Or that when you spilled bleach on your jeans, it didn't leave big stains. ]
[ Ah. Well, it's been too long since Dresden made a nuisance of himself. Really, John was becoming too productive and efficient-- it was only fair to his enemies that the occasional wizard road-block fell across his path.
Upon Dresden's arrival, John moves to shut down his computer. He had been reading Gard's report on the Malk surge in Bucktown, but clearly that will have to wait.
He doesn't say anything though. He simply sighs, as dramatically and long-sufferingly as he can get away with.]
Hiya John. [ Harry's all mock-smiles and elbows as he leans himself right on the edge of John's desk, drumming his fingers across the surface, presumably to the only-slightly-mangled tune of 'The Lone Ranger'. Suffer away, sweetheart. ] How's my least-favorite person in the whole wide world doing?
[ The Windows shut-down tune sounds just as Dresden wanders too close, and John exhales hard through his nose. Not that he can't afford a new computer very easily, but the set-up time is an unnecessary delay. And the people working tech support don't deal well with Gard. ]
Harry, [ Because one day, Dresden will slip and forget to be affronted at John's attempts at playing friendly. ] do you expect me to believe I rank lower than, say, Archleone?
[ Shame about that computer, John. The hard drive might have needed some remodeling, you never know. Harry give it a cursory look, but since it's not something that belongs to someone - well, that isn't Marcone - he isn't terribly bothered about his proximity to it. ]
I expect you to consider it. [ Harry's a shit liar; fact. Though he does wag a finger at his so-called "least favorite" (if that's the case, why was he even there) over being called "Harry". As usual. ] Have to keep you guessing. Oh, and your guy at the front door will wake up in a few hours.
[ John hooks his ankle on the cord under the desk and unplugs the system entirely. Just in case.
Dresden is a shit liar, though he's gotten better over the years. Not enough to sell that one, though. John gives him an unimpressed look, making eye contact hard and fast, like a chiding reminder to Dresden of who he's dealing with. ]
That was unnecessary. My people are under instruction to give your visits a certain level of priority. [A small, exasperated headshake.] What do you need this time?
[ Ruin all the fun, why doesn't he? Well, since the computer has been effectively spared from potential catastrophe, Harry sees no reason why he can't talk his half-perched self and turn it into fully-perched self on the desk. ] He looked a little lethargic, so I gave him permission to take a nap while I went to visit his boss. [ and make a nuisance of himself that's all, really that's all. ]
I don't need anything. You got quiet, ergo - I got curious.
[ So Dresden isn't going to just get to the point. Now, if John dared to take out his phone in a wizard's presence, he could message Gard and ask what the supernatural gossip network said about what was Dresden's life-threatening flavor of the week. Alas. ] Such behavior from a Council Warden. What will your superiors say? [ John's tone is dry as a desert; he's never cared for the White Council, especially since becoming aware of the business they conducted in Chicago. ]
[ Dresden does not show up without needing something. Every instance of their meeting has be the set up or subsequent payment of a debt. At the moment, they don't owe each other anything, so clearly Dresden's about to ask a favor. John smiles, a quick flash of teeth and leans back in his executive chair. ] You need something. Out with it, Harry; I have things I should be tending to.
They'd say: "bequeathing naptime upon mortals in need is illegal, off with his head". [ Marcone was a Freeholding Baron, which meant he was pretty-freaking-much in the know, so why hold back on the extra helping of sarcasm when it came to a governing body he thought poorly of and was quintessentially stuck with. Grr, argh and all that jazz.
John's not stupid, anyone who gets it in their head that he might be, even for a moment, probably deserves what's coming for them. No, he's so far from stupid and so far above merely "intelligent" that he's practically omniscient when it comes to matters. So, in that regard, the smile prompts a faint scowl from the wizard, but little other animosity because hell, he does need something, but he's never going to come straight out with it. ] I need a nap, and your settee in the lobby looks comfy. Let me use it for a few hours and I won't nuke your hard drive when I leave.
[ John nods. They understand each other, at least. And the part of John's mind that is always number-crunching makes a mark in a mental column, cross-section of the White Council and Harry Dresden rows: Becoming Warden has not cured Dresden's disdain for the Council. Good to know, the enemy of my enemy, et cetera. ]
[ Let's take a stab in the dark, John thinks, and gets up. ] Well, if that is all you require, my sofa is free. While you do that, I'll just go about my business. You don't need me for an evening nap. [ Unless of course Dresden does. ]
((OOC: Bedtime, but omg, having a ball with this, eeeee! Will reply in morning.))
[ What Harry needs happens to be that sofa he's been eyeballing as purposefully as he can in the hopes that Marcone will stop looking at him, contemplating his words, and then reading him like The Chicago Tribune. Barons get smug, wizards get uppity as a result. Things go south and sour, and Harry can't enjoy the benefits of a power nap on that really comfy couch. That's what he needs, yeah...
He'll keep telling himself it's that, and make sure his voice is nice and bright and dismissive and just the right tone for getting this sharp-eyed git off his case. ] Why Baron, it's like you read my mind. Shame on you, spoiling the surprise like that. Now, I have a date with your furniture, you'll have to excuse me.
((OOC: Sleep well! I'm glad you're enjoying it, I'm having so much fun too, ohgosh. ))
[ John sees you eyeballing that sofa, Dresden. He'd even let you have it, no charge, except... ]
Of course if you were here to take advantage of my protection as Signatory of the Unseelie Accords and I were to leave, you would be open prey for whatever you're theoretically hiding from. [ he says casually as he puts a few things into his briefcase. ] But since this is just a friendly check-in, I'm sure that's not necessary.
[ Days blur into weeks, and Harry manages to avoid contact with John Marcone after the travesty and embarrassment that was their last meeting. Whatever he had been thinking, he was quick to put it from his mind in the days following their parting, and had only just been able to break himself of the habit he’d developed – the one where he’d haul his duster’s collar up around his neck to hide the fading bruises made by a mouth he just did not want to remember. Harry is, if anything, a master of denial. The last place he wants to be is anywhere near anything even remotely related to Marcone, but as they both occupy their beloved Chicago, that’s a laugh track and a half. In fact, he winds up in Winnetka, winded and clawed up and lost in the woods lovely dark and deep in pursuit of his latest task.
A string of disappearances, and Harry a stickler to the ideals of responsibility and duty, result in his presence in the woods. Winnetka is outside of Chicago, and the idea of running onto John Marcone’s estate grounds is both daunting and looking like it’s inevitable. In hot pursuit of the dryad he’s uprooted (heh, good one) as the culprit of the disappearances, she’d taken a quick right and vanished into the trees. It left Harry, achy and annoyed and apprehensive, to resist every urge to commit himself to a scorched earth policy and slog through the treeline with her hair wrapped in a tracking spell that went haphazard the minute before the dryad clipped him in the face with her branch and left him to stagger back to his feet – cussing and utilizing wind over fire as he ran deeper into the woods, trying to cut her off before she reached her target.
Fucking Baron and the shiny new target painted on his chest, thanks a lot Accords, oh you’re welcome Harry. Regardless, there's a lot more scuffling through the woods after her, and a moment where she ends up stuffing him into a tree. Upside-down, with a branch wrapped about his knee, and he's left to mangle the thing in the hopes that maybe he can still find her. She has to be hiding nearby. ]
It is absolutely freezing in Winnetka tonight, the cold doubled by how remote John's house feels. A necessary status symbol to appease the more small-minded of John's class, but it is large and empty most of the time. It is an act of calculated risk-reward that brings him out here anyway. The ninth attack was on a Chicago University boy, who went missing in one of the cities many parks and only returned a week later with sunburns. In the middle of wintertime.
Goddamned Summer Court. Once he catches this dryad, he'll nail Titania to the wall for poaching inside the Chicago Freeholding. But that requires getting the dryad somewhere else, where a firefight will not draw too much attention. And there is no better bait for a wood nymph than the only human Signatory spending the weekend outside his city.
One dryad should not've been a problem, but with Monoc business recalling Gard and Hendricks going down too quickly...
John is suited up for dance in the dark with his visitor. A chair of protective runs lays on top of his kevlar. An iron truncheon is heavy lashed to his belt, hands preoccupied with a hunting rifle. John's steps barely crunch in the underbrush as he moves methodically through the trees, sweeping the area in a clear pattern, not missing a single winding corridor of trees. There's sound, like a chase going on
until there is a sound like a distant yelp and the chase stops. To the east. John exhales slowly, bracing his rifle properly before stalking in that direction.]
[ Harry's still upside-down when he hears the soft crunch of leaves underfoot, and with a whuff of effort, swings up and claws for one of the branches just within his reach, vying for getting into the tree rather than out of it. If it's the nymph, come back to check on her trap, he wants to be freed, rather than treed. The splinters in the abrasions across his cheek and temple alone are enough to remind him that his position might be meritorious. Cautiously, he gets a handful of the tree limb that's wound about his knee and pulls it out of the knot long enough to wriggle his knee free.
It's definitely Summer, that's a fact he's known since he'd begun his investigations. Titania and he have no love lost between them, for there's a few events that have played them up against each other, and the ire of a Queen is long-lasting. Erring on the side of don't fall out of the tree dresden, he wraps his fingers around another branch to balance himself as he judges the distance to the ground -- and drops out of the tree as gracefully as he can. He lands in a crouch, hits a knee and remains low and quiet - a feat for him. ]
[ There's motion, and he whispers into his palms, readies the thrumming rings at the base of his long fingers and gets ready to knock a nymph into next week with a well-placed blast of force. Just wait. Hold on. She'll round that tree in just... a... second--! ]
[You have to get up earlier in the morning to evade Marcone on his own property. There is a blood-soaked purpose to these woods. The trees deaden a lot of the more suspicious sounds. In a grove, in unmarked graves now grown over with brush, one might find the Vargassi heir and his father. John's killed men in these woods.
He doesn't intend Harry Dresden to be one of them, but when the man falls out of a fucking tree into John's path, the warden almost catches a bullet in the head. Christ.
John takes another silent, slow breath and aims his rifle. His finger is safely off the trigger, but the red laser sight hovers right next to Dresden's face, impossible to miss on this particular night. There's no moon, and the darkness is almost absolute, so that pinprick of light is bold and vibrant.]
[Once John has Harry's attention, he says,] Are you after the dryad as well, or has the Council elected to mount an invasion in their usual understaffed manner? [His voice is dry, but a whisper, in case the faerie is nearby.]
[ It occurs to him that the last time he was in these woods, lovely dark and deep, he wound up in a similar position. Marcone with the rifle, the laser sight, and all of it angled inches away from giving him a bullet to the brainpain and lights out for good. Uncanny, how the emotions he'd felt then were so similar to then. Except there was a loup-garou, not a dryad. More teeth than splinters.
Harry's own sense of mortality comes and goes when it pleases, crouched before Marcone as he is - he feels very, very, alarmingly mortal. He curls his fingers back to his palm, diffusing the hum he can feel aching at the back of his teeth and puts the focus into the shield bracelet around his wrist. Nice and agonizingly steady. Just in case the Baron decides he's still going to put his finger to that trigger. ]
The dryad. [ He answers pointedly, voice as low to the ground as he is. ] I've been chasing her all over, working a case. [ Now she was here, somewhere, on Marcone's estate and Harry's a trespasser as well. He stands slowly, his left hand out in what could have been a placating gesture, but was more likely to be him wearing his shield at the ready. ] I thought she was after you next. It wouldn't have been the first time, and on your own turf too.
I've been watching it as well. [He's not going to offer the fact that he's made himself bait for the damn thing, because in hindsight that wasn't the brightest thing John had done. Next time, they'll make sure the dangerous heroics coincide with Gard's office hours.
The fact that Harry thinks John's going to shoot him would hurt if John had time to care. Perhaps the mead made that night too hazy to remember, or perhaps Dresden's gone through the usual repression. It's not the time to figure out which it is. That is the remarkable thing about them. The personal doesn't matter in times of crisis; John has always trusted Harry to act according to his nature.
That Dresden may no trust John in return anymore--
John lowers the gun and offers a hand to Dresden.] Winnetka is actually not my turf under the Accords. That was the point. [He looks Harry over, now close enough to see how the man looks.] Are you well enough for this?
Of course you have. [ It's less than an accusation and just about what he's come to expect from Marcone. Harry makes it a point to brush his knees clean of debris, dropping his guard the moment it's confirmed that they are on the same side. Guns aimed at him make him twitchy enough to second-guess everything, but even though the laser sighting might still angle his way, he saunters forwards and briefly touches his hand to Marcone's, agreeing to the temporary team effort.
Memories and emotions aside, there's a dryad to catch, and Harry looks out into the treeline. I've got splinters in my eye and know this is going to leave bruises in the morning, he thinks of his face and general health. He gestures to the abrasions absently and shrugs a shoulder. ] It's fine, I've had worse.
[ He puts his palm to the scope of the rifle, coaxing it down to John's side absently. It's not the man's intentions that he's worried about, not concerning something between them, nor the writ of the Accords. For all he knows, it's full of tranqs, not bullets. It's just that the rifle is a big ol' extension of Marcone's power, and Harry doesn't it want it between them when they talk low and private about their game plan. ] She hasn't killed anyone. Just watch out for the glamour-whammy, it's a doozy and you can take my word on that. We catch her, send her packing home to Summer with a message saying something like: "sincerely, warden dresden and baron marcone". Deal?
[John's lips tilt upward in a very slight smile. Things are not so bad. In the future, John should probably avoid announcing his presence with a red laser sight. Especially in combat scenarios.
Harry's instant invasion of John's space is comfortable and familiar in a way it really shouldn't be. A powerful entity without a sense of personal space would earn nothing short of a bullet between the eyes if they were not Dresden. It certainly makes the night more interesting. What more could a man want with his evening but a deep, cold night, a rogue dryad, and a tall, dark and magical man who smells like smoke and static?
John of course doesn't let any of that show. Not the time, especially after their last meeting. His voice is cold and quietly furious.] She has been preying on my people, and Summer is going to pay for their trauma and injuries. If any changelings have been seeded in these last weeks, I am going to want that dryad's life along with a weregild. [There's a sound to the right, and John swings the rifle up, peering into the dark.] I imagine a wood nymph burns quite well, Mr. Dresden. I wouldn't mind finding out for certain.
[It's that moment went the fucking tree seems to take offense, slamming a branch into John's side, sending him stumbling.]
[ There's enough distance between them to pretend things haven't changed, and not enough to convince anyone that it's anything but a lie. He might have his hand on Marcone's rifle, but the look in his bright eyes is anything but safety-on. Harry didn't know that his people were caught in the crossfires, and that changes the tune of the evening, because he does know how viciously John takes care of what's his. If he's on the warpath, something happened that he has already weighed and tallied, and has deemed personal action necessary.
Harry's seen him like this before, has heard the stories of those who wronged John Marcone -- in comparison to those who wrong his people. Instead of protesting, he emits a faint noise. A sigh that means he might not like it, but John isn't going to be stopped. Trauma and injuries, hell. ] All right, but again: watch out for the--.
[ Whammy. She's not flighty any more it seems, their combined threat must have pushed her to aggression. Harry reacts immediately, a glance to check on John's status before he triggers the rings at his fingers and takes chunks out of the tree in question. A mortal Signatory and a boy bitten by Winter: both of them can be harmed. ]
[ Now he's in his element, eyes fever-bright and grin the only thing holding back the flames. He might have dropped his staff around the time the dryad smacked him upside the head, but he's multi-layered ready for some payback if this is how it's going to go. ] Upsie daisie, or you'll miss all the fun!
[The blow is a glancing one, and John know better than to push back. He tips his shoulder downward and rolls, getting distance and his footing back in one moment. The sight of part of the tree exploding under a wave of invisible force is... remarkable. Something to replay in his mind's eye later.
The rifle comes up, the laser sight sweeping, and John is squinting into the scope. So much of him is built on John internalizing his own press, and this is a fucking junior Summer faerie taking a swipe at a Signatory. If took out the right-hand man of a Freeholding Lord. He wants its head on his wall.
There is a shadow, and John fires, and it's an iron bullet that makes contact with something that shrieks, but remains hidden.]
It's moving, Dresden, watch your back. [No time for nonsense. John moves over to stand behind Harry, covering him and in turn being covered. Harry is vibrant and ecstatic, full of fuel. It takes so little to set him off. John just hopes that they don't end up burned as well.]
[ Harry darts and fumbles his way across roots that try to wind their way up his legs, to immobilize him or put him to the ground where he can be pinned down. Things he hates. The moment the root touches anything higher than his knee, he shatters it with another well-placed blow and a vague snarl. Relying on force and wind, rather than his favored element, means a slight re-calculation of how to effectively attack and defend. Since he doesn't want to burn down the woods (a notion which he has oft attempted to avoid, only to commit to in the end), he's trying to hold back, to rely on John to back him up.
The dryad's shriek causes his head to swivel, and Harry backs in closer to John, one hand at the ready with shields, the other wrapping around his blasting rod to level it at the surroundings. ] You're at my back, Marcone. Are you trying to tell me something?
[ A snide, delighted little comment that precedes the act of Harry's head snapping to his left to gauge a movement he deems important enough to pay attention to. He's playing cautious and reserved because he can afford to with John practically breathing down his spine, a gun in his hands and they are the steady hands of a man well-suited to stressful situation. Dresden, on the other hand, starts whistling Tiptoe Through The Tulips while his breath mists around his sharp smile. ]
[There is the role. There is the rage of having his territory poached. But there is also a rising manic feeling in John when his back is against Dresden's. Like it is transferring through touch. John chuckles, heat flooding his veins.] Lesser evils, Dresden.
[Harry's head turns, and John forces himself to mirror that, looking away from the danger, in case it's a feint. They need back-up, John knows. They are courting danger like this. The trees are against them-- why did John lure the dryad here? Obviously because it was the fastest solution, but goddammit, a tree just attacked him.
The whistling is a bigger startle than the tree was, and John turns to snap at Dresden to stop taunting the faerie.
That's when it happens. He catches the eyes of something, glistening bright in the forest, and then he's down.]
[The ground should be cold, but it's not. The grass is alive and vibrant and springy, a pillow of green beneath him
it's 15 degrees out
the sun is warm in the perfectly blue sky, so clear and cloudless, like the sky over the lake in June
it's past midnight
the hot wind warms him and ruffles his hair and seeps through his clothes and draws the cold out of his lungs
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timeasmymeasure
[open]
Date: 2012-10-26 02:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-27 01:40 am (UTC)Since this city is apparently big enough for two of them, with just a teeny bit of warping and fraying where they meet up. Invitations are for squares, unless they're necessary for safety-of-passage and business like that. Not that they had business to do. No, not a lick of it. Not them! Gosh, that's like saying the north and south ends of magnets didn't wind up smacking into each other when in close proximity. Or that when you spilled bleach on your jeans, it didn't leave big stains. ]
will follow any lead you give, btw
Date: 2012-10-27 01:49 am (UTC)Upon Dresden's arrival, John moves to shut down his computer. He had been reading Gard's report on the Malk surge in Bucktown, but clearly that will have to wait.
He doesn't say anything though. He simply sighs, as dramatically and long-sufferingly as he can get away with.]
oh no don't tell me that i'm notorious for bad decisions!
Date: 2012-10-27 02:12 am (UTC)oh god. idk. harry hiding under John's skirt from something? upside of local Accord Signatories?
Date: 2012-10-27 02:25 am (UTC)Harry, [ Because one day, Dresden will slip and forget to be affronted at John's attempts at playing friendly. ] do you expect me to believe I rank lower than, say, Archleone?
"hiding under john's skirts" oh BOYS!
Date: 2012-10-27 02:59 am (UTC)I expect you to consider it. [ Harry's a shit liar; fact. Though he does wag a finger at his so-called "least favorite" (if that's the case, why was he even there) over being called "Harry". As usual. ] Have to keep you guessing. Oh, and your guy at the front door will wake up in a few hours.
8D
Date: 2012-10-27 03:10 am (UTC)Dresden is a shit liar, though he's gotten better over the years. Not enough to sell that one, though. John gives him an unimpressed look, making eye contact hard and fast, like a chiding reminder to Dresden of who he's dealing with. ]
That was unnecessary. My people are under instruction to give your visits a certain level of priority. [A small, exasperated headshake.] What do you need this time?
john's got the biggest skirts to hide under in allllll of chicago!!
Date: 2012-10-27 04:07 am (UTC)I don't need anything. You got quiet, ergo - I got curious.
Only at the Baton of River North on Saturday nights, baby
Date: 2012-10-27 04:17 am (UTC)[ Dresden does not show up without needing something. Every instance of their meeting has be the set up or subsequent payment of a debt. At the moment, they don't owe each other anything, so clearly Dresden's about to ask a favor. John smiles, a quick flash of teeth and leans back in his executive chair. ] You need something. Out with it, Harry; I have things I should be tending to.
the question begs asking: sequins or leather?
Date: 2012-10-27 04:51 am (UTC)John's not stupid, anyone who gets it in their head that he might be, even for a moment, probably deserves what's coming for them. No, he's so far from stupid and so far above merely "intelligent" that he's practically omniscient when it comes to matters. So, in that regard, the smile prompts a faint scowl from the wizard, but little other animosity because hell, he does need something, but he's never going to come straight out with it. ] I need a nap, and your settee in the lobby looks comfy. Let me use it for a few hours and I won't nuke your hard drive when I leave.
.... i don't understand, are those mutually exclusive in some way? 8D
Date: 2012-10-27 05:02 am (UTC)[ Let's take a stab in the dark, John thinks, and gets up. ] Well, if that is all you require, my sofa is free. While you do that, I'll just go about my business. You don't need me for an evening nap. [ Unless of course Dresden does. ]
((OOC: Bedtime, but omg, having a ball with this, eeeee! Will reply in morning.))
well played, i say. well played, and touche...
Date: 2012-10-27 05:55 am (UTC)He'll keep telling himself it's that, and make sure his voice is nice and bright and dismissive and just the right tone for getting this sharp-eyed git off his case. ] Why Baron, it's like you read my mind. Shame on you, spoiling the surprise like that. Now, I have a date with your furniture, you'll have to excuse me.
((OOC: Sleep well! I'm glad you're enjoying it, I'm having so much fun too, ohgosh. ))
no subject
Date: 2012-10-27 01:59 pm (UTC)Of course if you were here to take advantage of my protection as Signatory of the Unseelie Accords and I were to leave, you would be open prey for whatever you're theoretically hiding from. [ he says casually as he puts a few things into his briefcase. ] But since this is just a friendly check-in, I'm sure that's not necessary.
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From:so, i'm totally unable to keep away from this thread.
From:EXCELLENT. i am so fucking rusty tho ugh
From:a bit of oil, a bit of manipulation and you'll be good as new! :D
From:.... fuck that icon should come with a warning
From:his face should come with a damn warning...
From:... sudden mental "Toxic" by Britney Spears. thanks.
From:intoxicate me nowwwwwwwww! you're so welcome.
From:now they are warming up and acting cute, d'aw. 83
From:gosh, things they should do more often! maybe they'd, idk, GET ALONG?
From:the supernatural world lives in fear of them having regular coffee dates
From:oh god, the image of the coffee dates...
From:I have a weakness for this pairing and coffee shops for some mysterious reason
From:It's perfect middleground. Otherwise they'll be bickering about location location location...
From:also: caffeine.
From:(no subject)
From:paging John's borderline-creepy Dresden obsession to the white courtesy phone~
From:harry's brain never really catches up with his mouth jfc
From:harry you are so dumb and playing with so much fire ilu
From:oh my god john marcone you really are a ridiculous creature
From:I'VE BEEN SAYING. though, really, pot, kettle, etc.
From:i can't stop internally screaming now ARGH
From:oh my god this is so good I am biting my knuckles uuuuugh
From:gnrghr i can manage only inarticulate noises!
From:/SCREAMS INTO KNEES
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From:1/2
From:2/2
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From:I have something in my eyes
From:I just c an't anymore
From:jhsfkjdja you are a fucking poetic RPer do you know that
From:kgddgnd what can i say you bring out the best in me? :D
From:/creys
From:my keywords are "don't you cry" in reference to your subject oh my gosh
From:i can't get over him saying this considering how he kills Susan ABLOO BLOO BLOO /TEARS
From:kill what you love, kill love itself I BLAME YOUR FANMIX
From:it doesn't seem fair Harry would fall for the kingcraft of a meritless crown?
From:i thought that said 'minecraft' and nodded sagely: 'yes yes he'd be burning the forests'
From:jkdfd half-expecting Harry to punch John for this buuuut here we go
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From:oh hai let me impotently try to emulate your style
From:oh hello let me devour it because it's that delicious
From:hedjkfhfdjdf TO CHICAGO, WITH LOVE /crying
From:if people went in search of john's birth records, that's all they'd find.
From:oh my god yes please /sobs over the idea of it
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From:precious sleeping asshole
From:precious stupid boys, uUGHHH!
From:and tbh John is stupider when sober, so
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From:harry jfc STOP IT
From:NO KIDDING.
From:COMMUNICATION IS KEY IN ANY RELATIONSHIP.
From:/SOBBING
From:no subject
Date: 2012-11-06 04:27 am (UTC)A string of disappearances, and Harry a stickler to the ideals of responsibility and duty, result in his presence in the woods. Winnetka is outside of Chicago, and the idea of running onto John Marcone’s estate grounds is both daunting and looking like it’s inevitable. In hot pursuit of the dryad he’s uprooted (heh, good one) as the culprit of the disappearances, she’d taken a quick right and vanished into the trees. It left Harry, achy and annoyed and apprehensive, to resist every urge to commit himself to a scorched earth policy and slog through the treeline with her hair wrapped in a tracking spell that went haphazard the minute before the dryad clipped him in the face with her branch and left him to stagger back to his feet – cussing and utilizing wind over fire as he ran deeper into the woods, trying to cut her off before she reached her target.
Fucking Baron and the shiny new target painted on his chest, thanks a lot Accords, oh you’re welcome Harry. Regardless, there's a lot more scuffling through the woods after her, and a moment where she ends up stuffing him into a tree. Upside-down, with a branch wrapped about his knee, and he's left to mangle the thing in the hopes that maybe he can still find her. She has to be hiding nearby. ]
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Date: 2012-11-06 04:48 am (UTC)It is absolutely freezing in Winnetka tonight, the cold doubled by how remote John's house feels. A necessary status symbol to appease the more small-minded of John's class, but it is large and empty most of the time. It is an act of calculated risk-reward that brings him out here anyway. The ninth attack was on a Chicago University boy, who went missing in one of the cities many parks and only returned a week later with sunburns. In the middle of wintertime.
Goddamned Summer Court. Once he catches this dryad, he'll nail Titania to the wall for poaching inside the Chicago Freeholding. But that requires getting the dryad somewhere else, where a firefight will not draw too much attention. And there is no better bait for a wood nymph than the only human Signatory spending the weekend outside his city.
One dryad should not've been a problem, but with Monoc business recalling Gard and Hendricks going down too quickly...
John is suited up for dance in the dark with his visitor. A chair of protective runs lays on top of his kevlar. An iron truncheon is heavy lashed to his belt, hands preoccupied with a hunting rifle. John's steps barely crunch in the underbrush as he moves methodically through the trees, sweeping the area in a clear pattern, not missing a single winding corridor of trees. There's sound, like a chase going on
until there is a sound like a distant yelp and the chase stops. To the east. John exhales slowly, bracing his rifle properly before stalking in that direction.]
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Date: 2012-11-06 05:18 am (UTC)It's definitely Summer, that's a fact he's known since he'd begun his investigations. Titania and he have no love lost between them, for there's a few events that have played them up against each other, and the ire of a Queen is long-lasting. Erring on the side of don't fall out of the tree dresden, he wraps his fingers around another branch to balance himself as he judges the distance to the ground -- and drops out of the tree as gracefully as he can. He lands in a crouch, hits a knee and remains low and quiet - a feat for him. ]
[ There's motion, and he whispers into his palms, readies the thrumming rings at the base of his long fingers and gets ready to knock a nymph into next week with a well-placed blast of force. Just wait. Hold on. She'll round that tree in just... a... second--! ]
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Date: 2012-11-06 05:32 am (UTC)He doesn't intend Harry Dresden to be one of them, but when the man falls out of a fucking tree into John's path, the warden almost catches a bullet in the head. Christ.
John takes another silent, slow breath and aims his rifle. His finger is safely off the trigger, but the red laser sight hovers right next to Dresden's face, impossible to miss on this particular night. There's no moon, and the darkness is almost absolute, so that pinprick of light is bold and vibrant.]
[Once John has Harry's attention, he says,] Are you after the dryad as well, or has the Council elected to mount an invasion in their usual understaffed manner? [His voice is dry, but a whisper, in case the faerie is nearby.]
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Date: 2012-11-06 05:48 am (UTC)Harry's own sense of mortality comes and goes when it pleases, crouched before Marcone as he is - he feels very, very, alarmingly mortal. He curls his fingers back to his palm, diffusing the hum he can feel aching at the back of his teeth and puts the focus into the shield bracelet around his wrist. Nice and agonizingly steady. Just in case the Baron decides he's still going to put his finger to that trigger. ]
The dryad. [ He answers pointedly, voice as low to the ground as he is. ] I've been chasing her all over, working a case. [ Now she was here, somewhere, on Marcone's estate and Harry's a trespasser as well. He stands slowly, his left hand out in what could have been a placating gesture, but was more likely to be him wearing his shield at the ready. ] I thought she was after you next. It wouldn't have been the first time, and on your own turf too.
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Date: 2012-11-06 06:10 am (UTC)The fact that Harry thinks John's going to shoot him would hurt if John had time to care. Perhaps the mead made that night too hazy to remember, or perhaps Dresden's gone through the usual repression. It's not the time to figure out which it is. That is the remarkable thing about them. The personal doesn't matter in times of crisis; John has always trusted Harry to act according to his nature.
That Dresden may no trust John in return anymore--
John lowers the gun and offers a hand to Dresden.] Winnetka is actually not my turf under the Accords. That was the point. [He looks Harry over, now close enough to see how the man looks.] Are you well enough for this?
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Date: 2012-11-07 12:39 am (UTC)Memories and emotions aside, there's a dryad to catch, and Harry looks out into the treeline. I've got splinters in my eye and know this is going to leave bruises in the morning, he thinks of his face and general health. He gestures to the abrasions absently and shrugs a shoulder. ] It's fine, I've had worse.
[ He puts his palm to the scope of the rifle, coaxing it down to John's side absently. It's not the man's intentions that he's worried about, not concerning something between them, nor the writ of the Accords. For all he knows, it's full of tranqs, not bullets. It's just that the rifle is a big ol' extension of Marcone's power, and Harry doesn't it want it between them when they talk low and private about their game plan. ] She hasn't killed anyone. Just watch out for the glamour-whammy, it's a doozy and you can take my word on that. We catch her, send her packing home to Summer with a message saying something like: "sincerely, warden dresden and baron marcone". Deal?
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Date: 2012-11-07 01:35 am (UTC)Harry's instant invasion of John's space is comfortable and familiar in a way it really shouldn't be. A powerful entity without a sense of personal space would earn nothing short of a bullet between the eyes if they were not Dresden. It certainly makes the night more interesting. What more could a man want with his evening but a deep, cold night, a rogue dryad, and a tall, dark and magical man who smells like smoke and static?
John of course doesn't let any of that show. Not the time, especially after their last meeting. His voice is cold and quietly furious.] She has been preying on my people, and Summer is going to pay for their trauma and injuries. If any changelings have been seeded in these last weeks, I am going to want that dryad's life along with a weregild. [There's a sound to the right, and John swings the rifle up, peering into the dark.] I imagine a wood nymph burns quite well, Mr. Dresden. I wouldn't mind finding out for certain.
[It's that moment went the fucking tree seems to take offense, slamming a branch into John's side, sending him stumbling.]
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Date: 2012-11-07 04:11 am (UTC)Harry's seen him like this before, has heard the stories of those who wronged John Marcone -- in comparison to those who wrong his people. Instead of protesting, he emits a faint noise. A sigh that means he might not like it, but John isn't going to be stopped. Trauma and injuries, hell. ] All right, but again: watch out for the--.
[ Whammy. She's not flighty any more it seems, their combined threat must have pushed her to aggression. Harry reacts immediately, a glance to check on John's status before he triggers the rings at his fingers and takes chunks out of the tree in question. A mortal Signatory and a boy bitten by Winter: both of them can be harmed. ]
[ Now he's in his element, eyes fever-bright and grin the only thing holding back the flames. He might have dropped his staff around the time the dryad smacked him upside the head, but he's multi-layered ready for some payback if this is how it's going to go. ] Upsie daisie, or you'll miss all the fun!
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Date: 2012-11-07 05:08 am (UTC)The rifle comes up, the laser sight sweeping, and John is squinting into the scope. So much of him is built on John internalizing his own press, and this is a fucking junior Summer faerie taking a swipe at a Signatory. If took out the right-hand man of a Freeholding Lord. He wants its head on his wall.
There is a shadow, and John fires, and it's an iron bullet that makes contact with something that shrieks, but remains hidden.]
It's moving, Dresden, watch your back. [No time for nonsense. John moves over to stand behind Harry, covering him and in turn being covered. Harry is vibrant and ecstatic, full of fuel. It takes so little to set him off. John just hopes that they don't end up burned as well.]
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Date: 2012-11-07 06:36 am (UTC)The dryad's shriek causes his head to swivel, and Harry backs in closer to John, one hand at the ready with shields, the other wrapping around his blasting rod to level it at the surroundings. ] You're at my back, Marcone. Are you trying to tell me something?
[ A snide, delighted little comment that precedes the act of Harry's head snapping to his left to gauge a movement he deems important enough to pay attention to. He's playing cautious and reserved because he can afford to with John practically breathing down his spine, a gun in his hands and they are the steady hands of a man well-suited to stressful situation. Dresden, on the other hand, starts whistling Tiptoe Through The Tulips while his breath mists around his sharp smile. ]
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Date: 2012-11-07 07:00 am (UTC)[Harry's head turns, and John forces himself to mirror that, looking away from the danger, in case it's a feint. They need back-up, John knows. They are courting danger like this. The trees are against them-- why did John lure the dryad here? Obviously because it was the fastest solution, but goddammit, a tree just attacked him.
The whistling is a bigger startle than the tree was, and John turns to snap at Dresden to stop taunting the faerie.
That's when it happens. He catches the eyes of something, glistening bright in the forest, and then he's down.]
[The ground should be cold, but it's not. The grass is alive and vibrant and springy, a pillow of green beneath him
it's 15 degrees out
the sun is warm in the perfectly blue sky, so clear and cloudless, like the sky over the lake in June
it's past midnight
the hot wind warms him and ruffles his hair and seeps through his clothes and draws the cold out of his lungs
wait a minute]
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From:THIS THREAD EATS MY ATTENTION /claws at face
From:mind your nails
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From:/CHANGES WRITING STYLE
From:prose > brackets aw yeah
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