The Nightmares of Under-London

Interlude B - Devon Ransley

Devon escapes as soon as he can, and he can only hope he doesn't look too eager at the prospect. The narrow servants' hallway yawns dark and quiet, hiding him in its shadowy recess. In the main hallway, all lit and furnished, the Queen with her small entourage and the King with his spill out, each hiding barbed teeth behind thin-stretched smiles as they part with pleasantries. Lady Poppey and a few other Ministers trail off on their own, frustratingly neutral in the whole matter after the shameful display in the House yesterday.

It had been teeth-gratingly torturous to watch that traitor sit there, drink wine with them while he knew what she'd done, with no recourse, no definitive proof.

Worse, the whole purpose of dinner with the Queen had quickly gone arse-over-tits. It was meant to butter her up, to sympathise their position and hopefully make her more receptive to the King's proposals tomorrow; she made it abundantly clear before they'd even gotten their fussy, disappointing little entrees that she has no intention of negotiating anything. Rather, she reveled in the verbal sparring. Even though Sig held his own, Devon had never before seen in person how much of a sodding bully she is.

Danu, what a mess for both mounds, and all on a pigheaded fey stuck in her ways. At the very least, she should recognise importing tech and machinery is as necessary to the Seelie need as the Unseelie their agricultural bounty.

He scrubs the heels of his palms against his eyes.

Today has been hard.

Really, though, what's one more day, after the last two weeks?

Digging into the bins of CDs and vinyls in his collection has done fuck-all to distract him--he hasn't been in the mood for anything faster than sedate mid-Naughts Shoegaze music. He missed being able to slip earbuds between his feathers and into the flat holes of his ears and just wander.

It had taken practice to build the glamour correctly to even try it here: it was surprisingly tricky to detail the glamour so minutely and shape himself just right to have sidhe ears match where his ears hid, so that the earbuds didn't seem to be floating halfway back on his head.

Something as simple as going around glamoured is difficult these days, though, with his face being recogniseable even while presenting like a sidhe--and who really had the energy for that all the time, anyway? It was exhausting, just keeping up appearances. That was one of the few things he missed about living in the Seelie mound, that small slice of anonymity until people got thrust into his bubble and found out who his family was.

Even though it's always been limited here at best, it's become near-impossible since the riot. And thanks to the vote this afternoon--Sig had called it what, lancing a septic boil?--well, getting away is impossible now.

Still, the one time he's managed, it hurt to discover that Gran Lomas's bakery has lost its appeal. He can't smell the cinnamon buns without feeling lonelier than he has in a long time.

That in itself has been a whole little barrel of issues he hadn't realised would dump itself on his head: seeing Mr. Dillon haunt the hallways as he's worked tirelessly with his uncle only leaves Devon thinking of Eden. For the last four days he's avoided the main hallways at all. The Procol Harum shirt Neil had left him only reminds him of the day he took those clothes to them. It had meant so much to be able to cheer both of them like that. And there were a tonne of other little things--ones that reminded him of their time here, and how Eden and even Neil had made things a little brighter.

It had been easier before she'd come. Solitude was an illusion he could wrap around himself, could grow numb to. His mum had never understood that--being a fachen in their family, the isolation meant coldness, distance. He never saw it that way: if he could bring in more flies with sweetness, it was far easier to win people over, even if they never made it close to him. He could be alone and friendly in a way the rest of his family failed to comprehend.