Delicious Spite

Delicious Spite
Date of Scene:	20 January 2013
Location:	Bramble Orchard
Synopsis:	Will tracks down Madam Mim for a trade of information and gets trolled in return. No information. No Book.
Cast of Characters:	Will Sherman, Mad Madame Mim

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Mad Madame Mim has posed:
There is a distinct lack of sunshine in this part of the Old Kingdom that is almost anomalous compared to the beautiful day that it is outside of this particular patch. It is pretty obvious as well as there is an actual dividing line of gloom that cuts across the world.

The brambles are the next thing that are odd although not nearly in so obvious a fashion. No, every root, bramble, thorn, jagged rock and loose patch of stones seems to be attempted to be /exactly/ wherever it is you don't want them to be.

What makes them obviously enchanted is how these factors interact with luck. These same roots, brambles, snags, rocks and gravel can be literally seen attempting to become underfoot and are repeatedly thwarted. Roots snag on themselves. Gravel rolls under logs. Brambles catch on snags which catch-- and so forth.

This effect only gets stronger when the little cottage comes into view. It's an ancient and medieval design, with a thatched roof and wooden shutters over the windows. Drifting over the sounds of rocks practically grinded themselves down into stubs in frustation is the sound of a woman humming to herself from inside the cottage and the scratch, scratch, scratch of a broom.

Will Sherman has posed:
Thorns...brambles...AND LOSE STONES!

Luckily, Will was good on this being made of luck thing, but sense the thorns were contesting, he didn't QUITE through unscathed. A scratch running down his right arm as he was forced to chose between that, and falling into a whole bunch of them. His clothing also has some things stuck to it, Will finally managing to get into the clear, and takes a few moments to start pulling them off of him. "Ow. Freekin' what the <GOOSEHONK> is with this place? Seriously." Will complains to himself.

He was already feeling pretty...off. He really should have dragged others here...but...none of them thought this was a good idea, they all wanted to forget about it, or get Merlin involved...and to be honest, Will didn't wana get another nice person, if grumpy, person involved in his problems. So, with the book in hand, he walks towards the Cottage.

Not sure if he was going to brain her with the book or not yet.

Mad Madame Mim has posed:
The voice. At first there wasn't anything special about it. Just noise, obviously femine, tunelessly humming the same several bars over and over, but there is something that begins to nag as Will approaches the cottage.

It swells very slowly like a blooming flower into something that isn't quite recognition but is certainly eerie familiarity.

The brambles, stones and other bits and pieces of the forest fall still as he reaches the little cottage clearing. There is a small and well sheltered well on the property. Although from a distance this place looked ramshackle and half collapsing, from this close it actually looks neat and well kept.

The cottage seems transformed by distance into something that could have been taken out of any fairy tale. A flicker of movement sedately moves past closed shutters belying someone actually at home within the house. The scratch of the broom continues. That sense of familiarity grows cloying thick.

Will Sherman has posed:
Will pauses...something familar. He takes a moment, closing his eyes, and breathing deeply. Now's not the time to be feeling nestolgic, Will...just...focus on the old woman, trade the book for whatever knowledge she has..try not to punch her out.

Will opens his eyes, walking towards the Cottage finally. There was someone inside, but he was pretty sure WHO it was already...

Will decides to peek in anyway, maybe there was a pie on a window and he can steal it to spite her after he was long gone. Looking into the house, he tries to see if it was Mim home, and if she had any stealable pies.

Mad Madame Mim has posed:
She did in fact have a /perfectly/ stealable pie. It was sitting there on the windowsill as he looks in through the cracks in the wooden shutters that are secured only with a tiny and semi-ineffectual metal latch.

However, the view angle is just a little bit awkward. Inside he can see the small, one room cottage cluttered with the paraphenalia of someone living in a medieval time. There is a cauldron set on a hook, bubbling faintly as a cheery fire is carefully banked in a sooty fireplace.

There are shelves of neatly kept books and several tables including a central one in the middle that has a pitcher and some flowers kept in it that seem to brighten the slight gloom of the chamber.

Back to the pie, the smell of cinnamon and warm apples lifting from the crust as the occupant of the cottage is made clear. A clean bandana holding back her hair, the woman lays the stiff bristled broom against the wall and Melody turns towards the window after dusting off her hands, approaching the window and the pie-- and by that measure, Will.

Will Sherman has posed:
Will's hands move up...ready to lift the pie from it's place, his eyes darting to make sure Mim doesn't catch him with his hands in the cookie jar so to speak, his eyes snap up and..

For a moment he's caught in his own memories, Melody as young as she was on the day he met her. His hands shake, so vivid was the illusion that he can't see through it. Even though she's been dead for...nearly a hundred years at this point.

A single tear runs down his face, and he immediately ducks down again. Every FIBER of his being wants to run inside and embrace the woman he still loves. The shock of seeing her face like she had been alive this entire time is enough to even shake his control. He nearly falls on his rump, using the cottage to support himself, fighting to keep himself under control.

No, she's been dead for all this time, he finally reminds himself. He KNOWS she uses magic...but the obvious thing like 'she must have known he was coming' completely escapes his thought processes. He moves towards the door...maybe it was her...but why now? Why here? Does he dare hope against hope?

Mad Madame Mim has posed:
No rest for the emotionally wrecked for life apparantly because there is not much time before the window squeaks. The wooden shutters part, pulled back inside to keep from sweeping the pie off the ledge onto the ground or perhaps a Will Sherman.

Melody continues to hum tunelessly, seemingly oblivious to being observed as she sweeps the pie off the sill. She leans her elbows on the window sill, holding the pastry just over his head as she speaks with barely concealed amusement.

"Well. Are you going to come in, or do I have to come out and fetch you?" Perhaps not so oblivious.

Will Sherman has posed:
Will looks up.

He is not sure rather to hug or punch her.

He restrains the urge to do either, and sits up.

Okay...right...magic. Ignore the face. It's not really her. It's not her...

"Yeah, I found something that belongs to you." he says...and looks at the door. He REALLY doesn't wana go in there now. But...well, whatever. He goes inside, opening the door, and closing it right behind him. "So I am trading it for information on...something if importance to me."

Mad Madame Mim has posed:
Melody begins to laugh. It is a hideous, ugly noise as she watches Will force his way through that sentence.

There is suddenly no pie, no fire, no bubbling cauldron and the room is covered across every surface with dust. The flowers in the pitcher are dead. "Well, well dearie. Well well. Puck was right. You /are/ fun to tease." she rubs her hands together and then across her face and-- yes. It was all a lie.

Mad Madame Mim continues to cackle as she waves him towards one of the shelves. "Put it on the table. I'm sure after it's.. adventure it requires a bit of drying out."

Will Sherman has posed:
The illusion is dispelled, and whatever SMALL bit of hope Will held onto was dashed completely. Where sadness was, anger flashes for just a brief moment...but Will smashes it down immediately...even SHE didn't deserve that...but he was REALLY REALLY thinking about calling shotgun on her.

Will's voice is suddenly cold, "Information first, book second. If Puck told you I was comin' then you know what this trip is about, Mim." What goes unsaid: Because the little I talk to you, the better.

"I want to fix the issue with Loki, you want your book. So lets deal." it seems Will has been taking lessons from Mercade.

Mad Madame Mim has posed:
Mad Madame Mim's eyes sparkle with malice. "Tsk Tsk. Rushing about here and there gets you nowhere dearie. I thought after the first hundred years or so you'd learn enough to slow down-- appreciate the smaller things in life." she smiles viciously, clasping her hands.

"I've always wanted to take up art, myself. I'm sure you know some /fabulous/ graveyards to take rubbings from. --- " There is a tea seat on the table where there was none before. "Sit. Sit. I believe these proceedings require a little refreshment before conversation. Did you have trouble making your way here? I hope it was dreadful."

There is a sickly sweet tone of concern in her malignant voice as she pulls herself out a rickety chair and sits down at it, busying herself with the tea.

Will Sherman has posed:
"No worse than falling into the Hudson." Will pauses, remembering the time he fell in...even HE was sick for a week afterwards. Poor Mercade...poor poor Mercade.

Will sits down, still holding the book, because he was sure as hell not going to give it up without getting what he wants. "I can be surprisingly patient, when I want to be. I rather be on the go, and always under they sky, as opposed to a ceiling." he says, with a annoyed tone.

"Also, can we forgo the poison or enchanted tea trick? I mean, I seen you turn Merlin into a fish. I'm not too keen on putting anything you had your hands on into my mouth willingly."

Mad Madame Mim has posed:
"Would I do that?" Mad Madame Mim seems shocked. Shocked and appalled by the suggestion, which sends her into another fit of cackling mirth as she takes the tea and drinks it herself, snickering around the edges of the cracked cup. "Why. So I would. Well well-- why don't we talk about some more interesting than stuffy, old, ridiculous /bunglers/ like Merlin." her teeth grit slightly, face pulled into a rictus by the words.

"Let's talk about you. I am, after all, a magnificent host. It would be /shameful/ to speak only of myself. You don't really want this little trick to end, so what do you REALLY want? " she gestures, holding a watch in her gnarled claw of a hand.

"To turn back time?" She winds the watch, shaking it next to her ear. "Difficult thing to do with a stopped clock." Mad Madame Mim callously smashes the watch several times against the surface of the table, discarding it on the table as she takes another sip of tea. "Oh-- please tell me you made some delicious puppy dog promise like you'd be together forever. Those are /always/ delightful. Almost as much as the sad and forlorn sight of immortals forever carrying a spluttering torch for a slab of meat long since relegated to fertilizer."

Will Sherman has posed:
"I knew as soon as I got involved with her what was going to happen, Mim." Will says, evenly, staring at her. "It didn't matter, even after I told her. There was something inside her, something bright and vibrant, that the years haven't dulled." Will says, not glaring at the witch. "If I want to carry a torch for her, then it's my buisness. If you wana go around living in a thorny forest with nobody to hold close, then that's yours. I didn't come here to be your entertainment, I came for answers."

"Answers to a problem even /you/ can't ignore. Why you feel this is some sort of joke I can't get, but I don't care. What I want is to find a way to stop Loki from getting out...to right whatever I've done to myself and make sure nobody else is threatened by him...even you."

Mad Madame Mim has posed:
"The thing is dearie-- you /did/ come here for my entertainment. That you do so with a serious face and a desperate need to dictate to me what I /should/ or should not ignore is even more hilarious. "

Mad madame Mim picks herself up, the chair scootling along underneath the table as she turns her back on him. "..And you are starting to bore me, so let us play a little game shall we? If you dictate to me again, then I promise I won't help you. Puck can go spin on a tack for all I care. Ask yourself."

The sorceress turns around and the glee in her face. "Why /wouldn't/ I ignore such a delicious potential for chaos? I certainly won't poke the bee's nest dearie-- but I am /certainly/ capable of allowing you to do it."

Will Sherman has posed:
Will was starting to think the nice way wasn't the way to go here...it wasn't too late.

"Ugh fine." he mutters, really getting annoyed with this word play and crotchedyness...wait what?

"Allowing me to do it? What do you mean by that?" He asks, not getting the meaning of the words.

Will still has the book too, he considers threatening her with getting hungry, and reminding her as a hobo he knows a few reciepes for paper soup. But he decides that threatening is probably not going to work, she's just too freekin' crazy. "Alright, so a game, sure. Lets...play a game." Ugh.

Mad Madame Mim has posed:
The sorceress only laughs. Her hideous cackle goes on for quite some time and she claps her hands with enthusiasm.

"Oh yes. I love games. They are almost as marvelous as I am. Fetch me that jar over there will you? There's a good boy." she gestures to a high shelf where a blue colored ceramic cookie jar is sitting alone, cracked and covered with dust.

Will Sherman has posed:
Will makes a face, looking at the jar and wondering for a moment at what Trick this was.

Was it that the Jar had a human head in it? That it would break as soon as he got it? Was the Jar actually electrified?

With a shrug, Will dragged the chair with him, got ontop of it, and simply reached up to grab the cookie jar without much fanfare. He could probably be flashy about it, but SOMETHING just made him want to make this as drab as possible so that he'd make Mim bored enough to give him what he wants.

"What's in the jar?"

Mad Madame Mim has posed:
Madame Mim gives him a look of smug satisfaction, raising both eyebrows into her matted, tangled jar as she laces her gnarled fingers together.

The jar doesn't break or turn into an eel or anything else. "Cookies, dearie. What else? Yes yes. The blue one just there. Bring it over here. Set it down on the table and I'll tell you exactly what you want to hear. I promise."

The trick was actually getting the jar down from the chair and carrying it across the room to the table. The blue cookie jar, on being found, appears to have relocated itself onto another shelf than the one he dragged a chair to.

Will Sherman has posed:
God...if it turned into an eel, he'd throw it at Mim so hard her head would spin. NOBODY LIKES EELS! EVEN EELS HATE EELS!

Will blinks for a moment, as the Jar goes from one shelf to another. Stupid magic...he checks the spot where it was at anyway, just in case it wasn't actually moved, and she was just being a old crone.

If it does move, Will jumps off the chair and considers it for a moment. Closing his eyes, he walks over to THAT shelf...well, he peeks just so that he doesn't run into anything, and then JUMPS straight up, trying to get the drop on the elusive cookie jar!

Mad Madame Mim has posed:
Madame Mim growls in disapproval as Will figures out her trick so soon. She drums her fingers on the table twice as /not/ looking at the cookie jar means it can't get away from Will Sherman when he grabs it off the shelf. As long as he doesn't do so on his way back to the table, it stays put. " Pppfh. You're no fun after all, are you?"

Will Sherman has posed:
"...What? Seriously! That wasn't hard to figure out!" Will says, holding onto the Cookie jar...and actually opens it.

There had better be COOKIES here!

"Thinking of non-obvious solutions to problems is what I do. I mean, litterally, it's my entire thing. Also, luck...and...okay I guess I got a lot of things." He says, with a grin.

"Don't be so glum, perhaps you'll come up with something that will get me."

He might be enjoying beating her far too much.

Mad Madame Mim has posed:
Of course, gloating would be the absolute /LAST/ thing one should do to a maniacal sorceress with a power fixation and a grudge. Madame Mim just gives him this /wide/ wide smile as he opens the cookie jar to reveal.. nothing. There is nothing inside, not even dust.

"Glum? Oh no. No indeed. You /seriously/ think you can best me? Well you barked up the wrong tree, my boy. That LUNATIC with his crooked hat can't best me. I have more magic in one little finger than any of Oberon's overblown scrap projects." she gets up from the chair.

" You want to know? You /can't/ because there is nothing. Puck pulled you around on a string like a puppet and now, gleefully, I will marvelous cut the strings. There's nothing to help you. There never was. You'll just fray and fray and eventually come apart at the seams like an old blanket." she smiles cruelly. "But at least it will be a lucky one."

Will Sherman has posed:
"Oh bah." Will REALLY wanted a cookie. He sets the thing down, and looks back at the Sorceress as she makes her boasting. Whatever, he thinks, everyone thinks they are the best...until they are not. Whatever the case might be...

"Wait what? Seriously?" Will looks...oddly not surprised, it was only on a whim he came here anyway, and took up Puck's quest...so he's right back to square one, no clues on what he can do to make sure Loki can't get out...and a lot of wasted time and putting his friends through danger over nothing.

"Gee thanks Mim, what I always wanted to imagine. Well, if that's it...I'm going to go back home." he thinks.

Maybe..

Mad Madame Mim has posed:
"Oh, she may be lying through her teeth out of spite." comes another voice from the window, a man leaning in from the open window and looking about the room. "Get out of here you /miserable/ Kachina!" Madame Mim rages in a huff. The tea set, plus kitchenware and the cookie jar go flying at the sandy-haired man in slightly threadbare clothes. "You're ruining everything."

"No. No. I think you've done that to yourself this time, Mim. You underestimate people far too often." The man ducks under the teapot and the knives, snagging the cookie jar and digging a cookie out of it as he tucks it under one arm.

Will Sherman has posed:
"Yeah. Love to stay and chat.." Will says, but he quicky EXITS the house.

Closing the door behind him...

Okay so...who was this guy?

Will turns to gaze at him, with that strange fate sight like he looks at everything else. "Uh, hi?"

Mad Madame Mim has posed:
And Will gets a /very/ unnerving view of someone holding up a mirror to himself while at the same time pointing and laughing, like a funhouse mirror that is somehow being the one who is laughing.

The man casually salutes to Will with a broad grin. "Hi." and disappears in a poof of smoke and a laugh after tossing him the cookie jar.

There is an images full on Mim temper tantrum going on inside the cottage, magic billowing out of the window along with books and more crockery. "You miserable mutt. Come back here so I can skin you." Maybe this place is not the safest ever.. especially if the sorceress turns her ire on Will and not on the quickly disappearing coyote disappearing into the woods.

Will Sherman has posed:
"Yeaaaaah..." Will says, and runs right after Coyote.

He's not going to stay here.

Not with her book still under his arms.

Tee hee.