17164/The Fairy Returns

The Fairy Returns
Date of Scene:	12 February 2024
Location:	Apartment 3A (Phoebe's Apartment)
Synopsis:	Glamour pops in to thank Phoebe for the fantastic job at healing by gifting her a bag of fairy dust. Phoebe literally does not have the words to express her dismay.
Cast of Characters:	Phoebe Beacon, Glamour

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Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe Beacon lives in the apartment 3A, whose length and width and especially its claw-foot-tub-containing bathroom doesn't fit in the tenement building, but with the other apartments that also dwell within the Curio. Definitely not with where the Curio is fitting into Gotham City with its dumpster that insists it's from NYC.

    It's a weird time.

    Phoebe is wearing jeans and a Gotham University sweatshirt hung around her shoulders, looking over mail she's retrieved from some box or another.

    "Spam... spam..." she lifts a small box. She gives it a shake.

    "Possible actual spam?" she questions and sets the box to the side.

    She stretches her shoulders slightly, pursing her lips and reaching for the bottle of lemony fizzy water on her coffee table as she gives a soft hum.

Glamour has posed:
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

Phoebe's door is being properly knocked upon by someone. That someone would be Glamour, who has decided to size herself up so she can act ually knock on the door properly.

Reason being, it's very hard to knock on a door when you're like five inches tall, and presing a door bell? Forget about it.

So, there's a life-sized tinkerbell knocking on her door right now, dispensing glitter upon it with each blow.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "One moment!" Phoebe calls out, and she hops to her feet, barefootedly making her way to the door across the gray lumber of her floor, and undoing the three latches and deadbolt she purses her lips, eyes narrowing a moment before she regards --

    "Glamour?" she questions, her eyebrows drawing up. "You weren't kidding when you talked about size-shifting!" she exclaims, looking GLamour up and down a moment.

    "How are you feeling? There's no soreness where the injury is, is there? Scarring? Muscles feel all all right?" she questions, and her lips purse, her eyes narrow.

    "... did you find out if you had a liver?"

Glamour has posed:
"Yeah, it doesn't last long but when I need to, say, open a door, it does teh trick. I mean, I suppose I could SHRINK the door, but that seems pointlessly destructive since, you know, .. the frame wouldn't shrink with it and it'd pop off the hinges and what not. Useful, in the right circumstances, but not when I want to visit someone."

Glamour lays a finger on her chin in thought for a moment, considering the anser to the most important quesetion of the day.

"No," she tells her, "I don't know!" She throws her arms out wide like Temba the Tamarian.

The fairy wiggles her wings, sending ploofs of dust up in the air. Phoebe better hope she has a nice vacuum.

"Anyway, I came by to say thank you! And to introduce myself when I'm not terribly delirious. It's sore, but better every day." She lays her hand over her her side, where the knife wound was. "I heal fast most of the time, but this is taking longer than I'm used to. At least its healing. Anyway... lemme get back to my regular size."

And then the life-sized fairy is replaced by the blue-glowing five inch glittering one.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe looks up at the dust going everywhere. She opens her mouth and holds up one finger, and then she takes a deep breath, and her head tilts to the side before the human-sized person fairy disappears, and is turned back into the fairy-sized fairy person.

    "Cold Iron I suspect, with flakes. If you have a vascular system, with liver and kidneys and you eliminate waste similar to humans, it could take a little bit to come out." Phoebe states in apology, because who wants to discuss the elimination of wastes on their first non-delirious meeting?

    Medical people are weird, yo.

Glamour has posed:
Do fairies pee or poop? It's a good question. One will have to ask Glamour it directly, because she definitely is demuring on the subject for the moment.

"Hm, good to know," she muses aloud, coughing delicately once.

"Yeah, I am given to understanding that cold iron is bad for me, but like, it's one of those things that doesn't actually exist anymore than faeries like me are 'supposed' to. But I exist! And so do thigns that can hurt me if the right mythological conditions are met! It's fine, it's fine! Anyway, do you have like a ziploc bag or something around?" She asks, glancing towards her kitchen.

Presumably.

"... do I have kidneys?" She reaches back behind her, clearly now wondering about this fact. "Anyway, I'm feeling better, but it's only been like a day since we met so I expect even better soon. "

It's been longer, Glamour, than a day -- but who's to say that a faerie's sense of time is anything like a human's?

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe knows Faerie Time is different than Human Time. She's stayed the hell away from the dimension, but knows of someone who's living there. And time is weird. And the kid is weird. But she shakes her head.

    "Ah, sure, ziploc --" she states, and she goes to rummage in the little galley kitchen.

    "I'm glad you're feeling better. Any remaining throbbing pains, worries about internal poisoning?"

Glamour has posed:
"Open it up and hold it out, would you?" says Glamour to Phoebe when she returns with the ziploc inevitably, assuming she finds one.

"Naw, nothing like that. I feel properly charged up for the first time in a while. I guess the iron shavings were keeping me from getting a good night's rest."

When the bag is ultimately presented, she hovers over it for a moment and then begins to do a little dance, shaking herself off. She is sprinkling glittery, magically potent fairy dust into the ziploc. "...erf... god this is humiliating -- you know, this concentrated fairy magic and you can use it at your leisure. My way of saying thank you for saving me from dying of cold iron poisoning -- oof, I guess!"

Shower of glitter into the bag!

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    It's humiliating. Yes. that's a good word for it.

    "Really Glamour, you don't have to -- I like helping people! It is literally my calling!" Phoebe protests as she takes a deep breath and tries... not... to get glitter on herself.

    She begins to list various household gods in various religions with little asks of 'please let me find all the glitter'.

    "I can only imagine. Cold iron is not exactly a popular item to make weapons out of these days." she replies. She's removed heavenly glass from people too. '

Glamour has posed:
"Look, I had a kid grab me by the ankle and try to stick me in a bottle because 'Zelda'. This may be humiliating, but it's also the least I can do and is not the actual worst defeat I've suffered! And this is how I pay it forward, right? I should always pay my debts or something."

Glamour makes a tiny face at this, and then adds, "Yeah, it seems they were lookign for me specifically! And then they chased me into a diner, and ran into a couple of guys who beat THEM up. It was pretty wild, the guy who did it was like 'I'ma break every bone in your hand', and then did it. Scary dude, but I was glad he was on my side. New York is a weird city to live in."

SHe shrugs her shoulders, then places her hand on the back of her head, giving herself a little shake. Her glow diminishes slightly for a moment. One more shake, one more ploof of dust dissipating into the air around her.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "... seriously Glamour this is more fairy dust than I know what to do with. I orinarily work with powdered demon bones and slices of horn or my own internal abilities focusing -- this is... a lot."

    And she presses her lips together.

    "I think we're more than good, and I don't like owing a fairy. You're the first one I've worked with that's not... well." she purses her lips. "Been scary."

Glamour has posed:
"Lady, I look like fuckin' Tinkerbell. Scary is the last thing I'm ever going to be ninety nine percent of the time," says Glamour, somewhat wryly, "And don't worry. For me, that's less than a day's supply of magic. I promise, it's not hurting me. There's a reason sorcerers occasionally try to grab me and shake me by the ankle, unfortunately." She puts her heand to the back of her head. "Yeah, I know the stories. Truth be told, I know exactly shit all about faerie stuff that isn't, you know, really out of fucking date or just ciruclating in pop culture." She looks down at her form, her wings buzzing now openly. "Ugh."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Ah. Yeah, I know one who worked with Morgana," Phoebe states "And one who's the daughter of Gaia. But I don't get on well with either of them at the moment." she explains quietly, then rubs the back of her head.

Glamour has posed:
Glamour's tiny mouth goes 'daughter of Gaia' and 'Morgana' soundlessly.

"...well that all sounds nice and terrifying! Ahaha. I'm the only fairy I know! Probably a good thing. We're kind of scary," She glances from side to side, making a show of anxiety about the rest of her species.

"But it hasn't stopped my life from turning into a never ending cycle of Fey Bull Shit O'clock."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I'll trade you. I'm waist-deep in Demonic Bullshit Week every Week." Phoebe gives a wry smile.

    "So you're the most agreeable fairy I've worked with."