14994/Books Candles Bells and Wolves

Books Candles Bells and Wolves
Date of Scene:	24 May 2023
Location:	Candle, Booke and Belle
Synopsis:	A Conversation between Nettie and Belinda. Belinda is officially unofficially hired as shop help for the Candle Booke and Belle
Cast of Characters:	Nettie Crowe, Belinda Gutierrez

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Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Late night at the Candle Booke and Belle Shop. The little sign on the door had been turned to closed (though the door always lets Justice League Dark members enter), the lights were dimmed and the kettles had been dumped and cleaned. Nettie sits on her stool behind the tea bar, a teapot and a pair of teacups in front of her, with her crow set on her shoulder. She was wearing just a gray shrug over a faded shirt, and was turning well-worn tarot cards over, a pair of half-moon glasses perched on the slight upturn at the end of her nose.

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
Quiet rules the night. The traffic of the city has withdrawn back into its own solemn ebb, with only the willful and the wicked making their rounds beneath the watchful gaze of the stalwart and stubborn. And the occasionally stealthy. Belinda's attempt at such quiet care are ruined by the gentle chime that sings from the door as it opens. Carrying that most wonderous of rarities-- a paper sack! -- Belinda enters, closing the shop door behind her.

"Buenas noches, Ms. Crowe," she announces brightly, smiling as she exhales a long breath. Drawing in-- dispelling the bitter scents of the city outside with the comfort of the store, the warmth and preswence and incense that tickles her nose with its serenity. She moves up to the counter, dipping her head to the Lady Grey. And swiftly biting back further words-- tarot cards. Reading. Serious Business!

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Buenas noches muchacha." Nettie cheerfully replies, knowing Belinda's voice as well as Belinda knows scents.

    "I've got some blueberry scones that need eating if you're feeling peckish, and I think a cup of cinnamon rooibos is just the thing to warm up the ol' bones on a night like this. S'posed to drop down to the forties." she states, and makes a vague wave to Belinda. "You got a jacket on you, yeah? In case you get chilled out there?"

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
Belinda giggles quietly, simple pleasure as she nods, setting her sack aside. "Si, Abuela Crowe," she returns, sighing with reverent bliss. "I shall get them when I put this up." She gives the sack a nudge with her foot, eyes twinkling. "I promised to bring a taste of home, and so I have. Used the school's facilities. Made cornbread. Old family recipe!" She shivers briefly, pausing to unclasp the first button of her jacket. "Mi mama sent a packet of corn meal from home, and instruction on how to cook it well, so I had to make it happen tonight." She grins cheerfully, a curious glance given to the tableu of cards before her.

"Do 'Dark' things stir?" she asks, a gentle tension with care. Taking note from the Greywitch-- if she is not tense, disturbed, then- not yet reason to be tense, disturbed.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Hmm? Home-made cornbread?" Nettie pauses, lifting her gaze and blinking owlishly. She Gives a small smile -- calling her Abuela would be odd to some; she looks hardly out of her twenties, but the old witch has admitted she's far older than she appears, often.

    "Well, I will have to try some, if it's an old family recipie and your mother sent it up." the Greywitch gives a small smile, and she sits up, raising her arms over her head and lacing her fingers together to stretch her back.

    "Hmm? Oh! The cards. No, no, sometimes I have questions, and I ask for some expert advice. This deck is one I picked up when I was escaping witch hunters. My brother and I crossed the Italian Alps." Nettie explained, and motions to the cards. "There, tarot is played as a card game -- like bridge, or pinocle."

    She plucks up one of the cards, aged paper showing a black and a tan hound, buildings, and a lobster-like creature drawing up from the water and is labeled LA LVNE. "But just as you can use a bicycle or hoyle poker deck for magic, so can you use any card game."

    And she sets her expression in a flat mouth, and takes a deep breath.

    "The *weirdest* one I've seen was ... pokemon cards."

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
"With permission, I will warm it in the oven," she says, delighted beyond words. "It can be eaten cold, of course, but the best is often warm. Sometimes with butter, or margirine, or whatever one can spread. Mi-- my brother Roberto loves strawberry jam on his." She gives the card a curious glance, rapt with momentary fascination. Nose quiver-- steal scent. Habit!

"...Pokemon cards?" she asks, gazing up with a blink. "Are you sure that there are no Mystical Magical Whatzagommut Spirits that would take offense? I mean..." She bites her lip, stifling a giggle of mirth. "There *was* that unfortunate Bitey Book covered in stickers and glitter and all things pinks and lacy and pretty."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Mm. Misters Ketch and Reyes and Miss Kinney attended to resolving the issue with the very bitey book. The young lady in question recovered well, but we're keeping an eye on her still." Nettie states. The card smells like old, like graveyard dirt and mint schnapps and water buffalo milk and vanilla.

    "And there probably are mystical magicall watzgommut spirits that took offense. They are as opinionated as humans are, sometimes more so." Nettie smiles, and she gives a nod and motions to the small warming oven behind the counter for Belinda to use.

    "Strawberry Jam? Hmm. I think I have some, with clotted cream. Have you ever enjoyed clotted cream, Belinda?"

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
Belinda finishes her scent-test of the card, chuffing with some instinctive satisfaction. She tilts her head with a pause, that absent motion as she attempts to recall. "I do not think so," she admits, returning to motion with a swirl. She bends to retrieve the bag of cornbread, walking down to the end of the counter before entering that semi-forbidden zone behind! "Is it very much like sour cream?" she asks curiously, setting the bag on the counter, opening it with a crinkle of old, well-twisted brown paper. Not a new sack by far-- it betrays its age in well-worn corners, the simple softness of brown wrap folded a thousand times... and the more modern plastic bag used as a liner within.

"I think that I saw some while in Europe for the class trip, but I was not brave enough to try it." She wrinkles her nose, grinning sheepishly. "Spicy stuff withdrawals. Ick."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Yes, the British did sail around the world for spices and then decided most of them were worthless. And now-a-days you walk down Portabello Road you can get kebab with spicy tomato sauce at one end, curry at the other, and fairy cakes in the middle." she gives a rueful smile, and then she stands. The talking didn't wake up Corvax, but her standing did, and he gives a grunt, a flap of his wings and looks up, peering about.

    "Oi! Breaky already?" he asks, and gives a very bird-like yaaaawn as he hops off Nettie's shoulder.

    Nettie reaches down below the counter and takes out what looks like a ceramic salt pig, except extra large. And she takes off the lid and shows what looks like some pale buttery item.

    "It's a bit more like butter. Except instead of whipping the cream to make the butter and buttermilk, you slowly heat the cream until the solids and the skim milk separates. When I was a wee girl, the skimmed milk was used in some foods, or fed to the animals." she smiles, and produces a jaw of seedless blackberry jam.

    "Nothing doing to try something new. I spent most of my later teens and twenties learning Hindi and eating the local fare where my brother and I set down."

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
"It is indeed!" Belinda replies quietly for the sleepy bird, grinning with cheer at Corvax before she removes the foil from the simple pan. Cold bread, yellow and soft-- crust mottled with faint touches of over-heated brown, she leaves it aside as she turns to rummage the cutlery drawer for a butterknife. Or two, as she gives the saltpig an intrigued glance!

"..that is Singapore?" she guesses, furrowing her brow. "Hindi, Hindu.... Central Asia?" She grimaces briefly, rallying as she sets to cutting the panned bread, slicing each circle into sixths. "It cannot be Africa. Ugh-- this is why they invented ElectricaMaps." She hums as she slices the bread with swift certainty, setting the knife atop before she turns, hunting for-- ah. She withdraws a trio of plates, setting them down on the counter each in turn. "I was not able to get the grapes before the store closed, Corvax. Will cornbread do for now, at least until tomorrow?"

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Grapes are a luxury item, lass. I'll keep. Worry not." the crow settles in front of a plate, and ruffles his feathers a bit.

    Nettie tilts her head back a moment, sniffing the air as the cornbread heats up.

    "Don't spoil he old crow. He's practically impossible to live with now." Nettie teases li ghtly, and she sits down on her stool again.

    "India. We learned Hindi and Bangeli once we got there and established ourselves. My brother married a lovely lady named Rukmini, they had fourteen children."

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
Belinda giggles as she listens, nodding thoughtfully as memories and learnings click. "India was part of the British Empire for a while," she recounts, remembering. "Even today, there are a great many things shared between the two. If I remember properly. And Dios!" She shakes her head, smiling as she checks the oven (still warming), throttling impatience as she sets out a pair of tea mugs instead. "My family had seven children, and I always thought that was-- well, normal. But fourteen! Wow." She works quietly for a moment, caught between bubbling eagerness and thoughtful consideration.

"My father was fortunate enough to be American," she says quietly, "Though he worked for many years as many others from Mexico do-- he travelled with other migrant workers, helping pick crops and do other agricultural things. Everywhere from California to Florida." She smiles, lost in thought as she takes the kettle from the warmer, filling and refilling tea. "It was not uncommon that he would come home with a sack of fresh fruits or vegetables. Sometimes, Miguel would complain, because this was not the money he should have gotten for working, but papa-- he explained that sometimes they were just as poor in coin as he was, and produce was all they could spare in those days." She shakes her head, snorting softly. "Miguel did not stop whining, but became much more quiet about it. Especially after Abuela swatted him once or twice!" She giggles softly, setting a handcloth aside as she gazes at the oven.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Mmm. I was second to last in my family. Below me was Albert. Above me there was Ellen, Richard and William. I was alas, the troublesome sibling," she gives a small smile. "I used to enchant spoons to run around the house for my own amusement. I often was smacked with them as well." she jokes, and settles back.

    "India was part of the Empire when I was a child, Victoria was Empress, and let's just say that deeper into the continent, the English were beloved about as much as a stubborn splinter between your fingers. We were poor, we were British, and we were hiding from witch hunters. Fortunately, a priest took pity on us. A Hindu priest, mind you." she states quietly.

    "So I know what it's like to be starving and begging for enough to fill a belly. And the thankfulness you can express for a cup of rice and broth." She gives a small smile.

    "So, you come from a migrant family then? Do you get to see them very often?"

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
Belinda shakes her head, staring at the oven's dark glass intently. /Warm faster!/ "So far as I know, we have lived in the same house in New Mexico since my great-grandfather-- mi bisabuelo -- moved here from Europe and married. He only had one child, but his son and his son's son had larger families; they did not make so much as a wealthy person might, and what might be reasonable for a middle class family did not take into account having half a dozen children." She grins sheepishly, blushing. "Safe to say that we nearly ate him out of house and home. But no-- that is what he did, working as a migrant worker, for many years. He never finished school; it was all he really knew how to do other than construction work, after hurricanes on the coasts, or handy-maning around the house."

She grimaces, fingers tapping at the door of the oven, counting seconds. "He had to stop after he hurt his leg too badly to continue, but Miguel works at an automotive repair store in Las Palmas, and Marco, Antonio, and Matteo all took over migrant working. Less farther, but they all support the familia as best they can. We get by. Mostly."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Do they suffer a similar affliction, if you do not mind my inquiry?" Nettie asks, stirring the clotted cream absently before she flips over the tea cups, and pours tea for Belinda and herself. And then she gets out a small bowl and pours some for Corvax as well.

    "Only because magic ran in my family, on both sides." Nettie gives a smile, and she clicks her tongue thoughtfully, and she turns over another card as she considers.

    "Would you like to work part-time about the shop here for some extra cash? I'm afraid the League's stipends can come and go depending on the dangers you face, but you might learn a few things 'round the shop. And I could use the help. Paperwork has a tendency to pile up, and neither Miss Kinney nor Detective Pezzini appear to have much time for it."

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
"I would love to!" Belinda exclaims, cheer in her voice-- almost hiding the pause as she considers the question with quiet, grave care. She bite sher lip, tugging a cooking mitt over one hand; just as much to pause the conversation as she opens the small cooker, removing the cornbread from within (with a reverent breath!), setting it on the cooling plate with a soft sigh. Long breath before speaking.

"...I am the only one," she says quietly. "Though it came over from Europe with my great-grandfather. He.... did something. Something bad enough, terrible enough, that someone there did this to him, and he ran far away rather than face it, or risk it, or.... Something." She bites her lip again, cheeks a warm sort of rose. Not lying, but (obviously) not telling the whole truth. Quite yet.

And pausing anew, drawing a sudden, steeling breath.

"...my great-grandfather. He came from Europe. From Germany. I think...." She sets the butterknife down, leaning across the counter with a short, sharp breath.

"....I am not sure. But he... he was with...." SHe purses her lips, exhaling a tiny, silent breath. Fingers curling, white on the counter. "...Paperclip. Something called 'Paperclip'."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Belinda Gutierrez," Nettie states softly, her voice very much no-nonsense, and she reaches out, offering a gloved hand for Belinda to hold.

    "I want you to close your eyes, take hold of my hand, and concentrate on my voice, and only my voice." she pauses, those too-teal-to-be-real eyes focused on the girl.

    "You are safe. There is no one here that will harm you. The Candle is a safe place. You do not have to go any further than what you feel /comfortable/ sharing with me. I shall tell no one, unless it were to save your life, and that I promise." she gently whispers.

    And it's not magic. Nettie is trying to stop Belinda from having a panic attack, using all that skill from being a nurse, and treating the girl with the respect and caring she deserves.

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
Belinda trembles, so much less like the wolf than what she appears-- vulnerable, terrified, fighting back the deepest fears. Bravery over an old,dark pit of wounds.

She closes her eyes, cheeks burning in heated flame. "...Greatgrandfather has been alive for a very long time," she finally answers, voice quiet and soft and feathery-light. "He was old, is old. He has always been old, for as long as I can remember. Great-grandmother died before I was born, but I carry her name--" She smiles faintly, exhaling slowly. "Isabella. Belinda Francesca Isabella Gutierrez. Abuela y Bisabuela. Culture, legacy." She swallows deeper, pressing on.

"Great grandfather... his mind wanders now. He is not always himself. But after I won scholarship, to come here to New York and Happy Harbor, I did research on the family line. History. It...."

She swallow again, thickly. No tears. "...old pictures. Maybe horrible ones. But I could not ask him if they were true, what they meant, because...." Despite herself, she sniffles. Sighs. Bites down a cough. "He is still there, but in mind, he is long gone. So I cannot know."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Nettie's fingers gently press to Belindas as she speaks, and Nettie listens, taking in the story. Putting things together. A young woman afflicted with lycanthropy whose great grandfather was from Germany, with old pictures, horrible ones. Nettie's mind of course goes to one place, the horrors she had seen -- she was old enough to be a great-great-great grandparent. None of her nieces and nephews any longer carried Crowe as their last name -- most of them were Rau or Mishra, Smith and Cole -- and she frowns a moment.

    "That is a difficult bit knowledge to deal with, for one so young, Belinda." Nettie replies quietly. "There is a difference between a family legacy and what our forefathers have done. It sounds like you know you may never get a proper answer, and for that I am sorry, my dear. That is difficult to acknowlege." the old witch replies.

    "Culture is our names. Our food, our clothing. Our legacies for our families are as different and varied, but remember my darling, it is up to those who are living in the now to decide what to do with the information and the legacies you have been given. You are a smart girl, Belinda. And kind. Elsewise why would you bring an ol' crow like me your family's corn bread?"

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
The girl giggles and sniffles and snort and doesn't quite try to rub her nose on her sleeve. "Because you ar ewonderful and wise and have a store that does not smell like all the cities of the world trying to use deodorant and aftershave to cover up rotting garbage?" she answer, eyes gleaming as she nods. She squeezes Nettie's hand, sighing softly as she bows her head. "I do not think he did anything terrible, because he would have been very young in those days. Young as I am now. But I do not know." She draws a long breath, emotion under control, off the wild rollet coaster of high and low as she sighs quietly.

"Because I think you have very strong opinions and memories of those days," she answers more gently, "And did not want you to think I was hiding terrible things, or being ungrateful, or going to sneak in one night and eat Corvax because I could not get a proper chicken." She glances to the crow, teasing with a faint wink. "Besides, he would not appreciate it and is very stringy besides. The cornbread is from my mother's side of family; food is very serious business. It is best I havea to give, and means, "I am sincere' in only way I know."

She pause, biting her lip. "And has jalopeno juice. Is good for old bones and creaky muscles and sinusues.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "If you're talking about either of the World Wars... Aye. I do have strong opinions and memories of those days." Nettie gives another squeeze of Belinda's hand, and then releases her as she straightens up.

    "And I remember the heroes as well. I may not have served with the likes of Steve Rodgers and his Howling Commandos, but many of us did what we could do. Including accidentally finding a Nazi spy cell on a drunken bender while stealing a tank in the buff." Nettie states, adding a good amount of humor to the statement.

    "Ah, well you know how we British ladies are with our spices." Nettie states with a wink.

    "I'll bring some Bhutanese around sometime, ooh is their naga pepper jelly *ever* so hot. Breathe fire through your nose hot." she smiles, and sets out the clotted cream for the cornbread.

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
Belinda bites back quivering laughter, pressing her lips firmly together as she quivers in silent laughter. "I've been told that if a cow even looks at spicy fodder, British people will swoon and faint across their chairs." She nods with somber gravity, mischief dancing in her eyes as she serves the first warm slice of bread to a small plate. "Dress as you please, Mrs. Crowe," she says with gentle cheer, moving a second, smaller slice to another plate. For good measure, she slices it into smaller portions, crumbling it down into handy peckable pieces for Corvax. "The Recipe is not completely mine to give yet," she explains, "But part of it is in the mixture used with the meal. Sometimes it is water, sometimes it is milk, but for either, a small amountf pepper juice is added-- mixed with the milk or water, with more added to give greater spice. Perhaps one day, I will be able to add my own idea for it, but in the meantime..."

She sighs dreamily, pausing. "....the Howling Commandos. Were they *really* all werewolves? And el Capitan-- blond and blue-eyed and ten feet tall 'awoo'? Because /GUSTO/!"

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Aah, but I'm the crazy sort of British Lady. I cut my teeth on curry and moved on to Nepalese and then Japanese foods." Nettie smiles, adding some of the clotted cream, which is a bit like very sweet, unsalted butter, and she slides the little ceramic tub to Belinda after putting some on Corvax's.

    "Total Misnomer. Ain't a supernatural one of 'em. I saw them, once, runnin' an errand for Nettie. Only one that's anythin' special was Cap and the guy who could speak six languages." Corvax boasts.

    Nettie gives a small smile.

    "Alas, I've not had the pleasure to know many lupine shapeshifters, but I do beleive that the good Captain America is the sole superhuman of the Commandos."

    *ASIDE FROM BUCKY but we don't know that for *certain*.

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
Belinda's hopeful smile falls slightly. "Really?" she presses, sighing sadly. Magic, mystical, demonic-- accepted without issue. Long-held beliefs on lupine superheroes? Harder belief to change. Mostly.

"Well, perhaps for the best," she admits grudgingly, half-smile on her features. And serves, as appropriate. Late night snack at the Booke!

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Hmm. Now. British Royalty on the other hand? Definitely has lycanthropy, pretty sure in any case. Supposedly coming from ALbert and Victoria themselves, so most anyone who can trace back to them? Has a chance." Nettie states with a sly smile.

    Hey, gotta keep hope going in the world. "Mmf... this is... positively fantastic, Belinda! Best corn bread I've ever had!" she replies, and gives a bright grin to the young lady in the shop.

    Nettie already knows she would go to great lengths to keep the girl safe.