till you get to the Bottomland

It's Lord of the Flies in my mind tonight

In her self-pity, there is little the Wraith is sure of but this; she would rather be out in the opening world than here. She would rather hurl herself into exploration and doing the Voice’s work than herding cats, taking care of children, governing. She wasn’t in her right mind when she took the job. The Ascended needed a place to call their own, the world needed to know she was still here and protecting them - choose one, choose any, choose all of those reasons.

Now Wessex needs to choose herself.

She’s been rather grim and grumpy lately - even Daphne commented on it - so she’s trying her best to set that aside for this meeting, in a room she’s come to both love and loathe. A room that makes her think both where did I go wrong, and why the fuck would I leave?

A reconciliation of all the contradictory voices: that’s what Advisors are for. And the Queen needs advice.

A polite request has been sent to both Bastien and Henry, asking them to come have a chat about the Grounds with her tonight and she is, as usual, ready for them.

BASTIEN

'Cause you've got a mind that is so hell bent on
Fixing me up before I get my coat off

Bastien had his own melancholy worries; Azrael had left home, meaning he was now on his own for the majority of his time and he seemed to be having something of an art block, most paintings he did ending up tossed aside after a few failed strokes towards something better. When he received notice to come to a council meeting he was glad for the chance at a distraction, to feel like he had something significant to do; over time, he was beginning to understand why Rexanna had loved all her responsibilities.

Arriving at the Theskyra house, he headed to the council room. Dressed casually as always in bright, airy clothing and with his usual tousled hair, the artist absolutely did not look the part of an advisor, but his eyes were quick and sharp, ready to deal with whatever had come up.

"Wessex. I hope nothing has gone wrong?" He asked, going to sit and raising his eyebrows at her. Bastien had hoped for at least a season past Longnight to relax, but the Grounds often didn't allow such luxuries.

You with those hands that are so hell bent on
Making a mess to suggest you'd think something

there is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in

Henry received Wessex's request and pondered over it for some time, quietly, in his temporary living situation in the domiciles. Some open room, stocked with standard necessities, but it would never be his home. Nothing would be. He sits there, night after night, wondering where he went wrong, too.

So it is not with light spirits that he arrives several minutes late to the Theskyra House, where he's let in (because he's expected). He's dressed in clean clothes, at least, no more soot and ash covering him after desperate searches for anything, anything left of his family or the farm. But there is nothing left.

He enters the room and spies that he is the last one to arrive, and dips his head in greeting to both Bastien and Wessex. "Sorry to be late," he says, voice hoarse.

He simply finds a seat somewhere adjacent to Bastien, eyeing the way the other man also appears to be in a bad state. He needn't wonder at why; there is plenty reason to not be okay. He chews his lip before looking up towards Wessex, sighing quietly with the effort it takes.

HENRY

It's Lord of the Flies in my mind tonight

It doesn’t occur to her that Bastien may not be in the best way - or that Azrael’s absence may be the cause of it. In fact, of all the Ascended, he seems to have come out of it most unscathed, appearing ready, willing, and able. Wessex marvels privately to herself, concluding that Bastien will likely always be an enigma to her, and that that may not be a bad thing. She offers him a reassuring grin with a hint of fang, “No, not exactly. I’m actually in need of advice.”

Hence, her advisors. Though for those who’ve know the Queen long enough, the very fact that she’s reaching out instead of making a decision on her own may be either a mark of significant change in her or an impending apocalypse.

Henry isn’t as late as he think he is - or perhaps not noticeably so. And Wessex is forgiving to those she likes, so his apology is swept away with a wave of her wand.

Until she gets a good look at him. He seems worse than when they’d torn down the Barracks. “As I’d just told Bastien, I’m in need of some advice from my Advisors but first I think I need to check in with you two. I’m sorry for not asking earlier. How are you doing?” A slightly furrowed, concerned gaze sweeps from the Attuned to the Ascended

BASTIEN

'Cause you've got a mind that is so hell bent on
Fixing me up before I get my coat off

He'd always liked to give advice (not always under his own name ;) ); Bastien wasn't sure what it was he could help Wessex with but he'd try his best, knowing full well his opinions on most things would be different from the Queens. He had never really been a fighter in the same sense she was, preferred indirect methods and a lax approach - which is why he wasn't in charge, he supposed.

There'd been a few coming and going from the council in the last years; seeing a new face within it wasn't all that surprising, though he did seem young. After Oliver, Bastien hoped Wessex knew what she was doing. He waved a small hello, a gentle sway of his fingers.

How had he been? Bastien leaned back and shut his eyes with a huff of air, a distinctly dadly way of expressing that he was tired. "I am as well as I can be. Azrael has left for their own life; a necessary part of growing up, but after Rexanna is gone too...It is hard not to slip into depression in the evenings. But ah, I will get over it. Longnight was...successful?" He asked, opening one eye to look over at Wessex. "So at least we have that."

You with those hands that are so hell bent on
Making a mess to suggest you'd think something

there is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in

Henry regards Bastien's wave with a small, unenthusiastic nod. There are bags under his blue eyes and a starkly dead inside expression on his face. That Wessex, or anyone, cares to ask how he is... isn't an appreciated spotlight at the moment. He'd much rather cut to the chase of Wessex's issues, to try and solve whatever problem she is facing, because it's a duty he's signed up for. He's still glad to do it, and it might be the only thing he's glad for right about now.

Bastien, however, earns a sympathetic huff from Henry. The mention of LongNight being successful hits him like a wall of bricks, though, and he's stunned by that. LongNight was successful... just... not everyone got to see that success through. It's a causal part of life, Henry knows this. The circle of life is no foreign concept to him. He's the son of a farmer, or he was, anyway...

Henry sinks in his seat a little further and, with a forced indifference that's painful, he says, "The farm... it's gone. Burnt to the ground, and..." He's not sure how to put the rest of it, swallowing down the tears that threaten to spring to his eyes. He lets the silence carry out its own meaning, and maybe they'll take the hint.

"Later, if you can send a few people my way... to help... that would be appreciated." He addresses this towards them both, because he's got no one else now.

HENRY

It's Lord of the Flies in my mind tonight

It’s difficult for Wessex to judge when she needs to be empathetic and when she needs to be all business; the former can sometimes fumble and fall flat, despite her best intention, and the latter is often seen as uncaring, hard, and selfish. So she’s once again stuck her foot in her mouth and doesn’t quite know how to deal with Henry’s obvious loss - because as she well knows, nothing will make it better and nothing will bring them back.

Offering Bastien a sympathetic nod (that he can’t see, oops), Wessex listens to his empty-nester woes. “You have much to be proud of, though. Azrael is remarkable, in more ways than one. They’re going to draw up plans to rebuild the Barracks in stone. And other buildings, hopefully.” To protect against Sparkbirds and fire-wielders alike. As for the success of LongNight - it has her sending a guilty look towards Henry, already aware that the farm had burned.

“Yes…” she begins slowly. “I think the Monsters are gone, but we won’t know until next LongNight. The Sparkbird… it did most of the work for us. And all of the damage. At least in the settlement.” They’ll likely never know how the Walker farm burned - out in the Outskirts - had the fire spread that far? Did the Monsters get in? Did the Walkers get in one last fuck you by taking those nightmares with them? “Of course. Whatever help you need, it’s yours.”

And then perhaps to take the spotlight away from Henry, she tries to move on.“Any idea why it might have been so… angry? Did something happen last LongNight?” Because in the interim, the Sparkbird had been out of sight and out of mind, and the Wraith thought it might have left entirely.

Except it hadn’t. Obviously.

BASTIEN

'Cause you've got a mind that is so hell bent on
Fixing me up before I get my coat off

In another very fatherly expression, Bastien grinned wide at the praise for his child. "I am glad you are giving them the opportunity. I know they will amaze." He'd hoped, before Azrael had come into the world, that he'd have a child with the same artistic ability as he did. Azrael had not only achieved that but their own creativity had a new application, a function.

Perhaps in the future they could collaborate on his idea for an Ascended temple; he suggested asking about that, but then Henry's sad announcement rang out. Bastien did not know the man, had no way to know he'd even owned a farm or that it had been destroyed, but he had the decency to sympathetically frown and say: "I am sorry. As Wessex said, any help needed can be drawn from myself if you need it."

As for the Sparkbird, Bastien really had no idea. "I'm afraid I don't know. Maybe...we could ask The Voice? Or ask one of our friends to ask the Old Gods? They might know better than mortals, if no one else has an idea."

You with those hands that are so hell bent on
Making a mess to suggest you'd think something

there is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in

Henry listens as Bastien and Wessex discuss the promise in Azrael, and he can't help but to agree - at least, inwardly. Outwardly, he remains stoically silent. From what he knows of them, they are bright and eager to actually help, far more inspiring than some adults he knows. He's not quite aware of Azrael's sped up aging process, though, and so he's a bit confused as to what Bastien means. Not that it needs to be dwelled on now, of course.

He nods gratefully to them both, a bit of relief shrugging down his shoulders. At least they are still a strong community through the end of the battle against the monsters. However, something does bug him. "If it's like you say, and we won't know until next LongNight... if they come back, I want to fight against them with you the next time," he pipes up, and his darkened tone leaves no room for argument, "I may not speak for anyone but myself, but this was not a battle that should've been on the Ascended's shoulders alone to begin with and I will not be able to rest if they still haunt these grounds."

But he eases back, fine with letting the subject drop as Wessex moves on to ask about the Sparkbird. The very thing that had caused his farm to become demolished. It was too close to the settlements, the dry grass had caught fire and nothing had survived. Not even the damn animals.

Henry's gaze shifts towards Bastien, because he is in the same boat; he has no clue why the bird had done this to them. But a solution is required, and so he leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees and look up between the two of them, "I can go to Frey, since that seems the most reasonable option. I'm not an Accepted, but I am Attuned thanks to them. Maybe they'll be willing to tell me something we can do."

HENRY

It's Lord of the Flies in my mind tonight

Whether or not it was the Ascended’s battle to fight, Wessex will not begin to contest. She’d had her reasons, many of them, and none of them were meant to be exclusionary. They were cleaning house and the best suited for the job. But there’s no point arguing about it now and she senses that it might be an insult to insist otherwise, so the Queen nods and accepts Henry’s declaration for what it is - and hopes it won’t come to him needing to help them fight the Monsters again.

His next offer comes as a surprise; she didn’t know Frey had attuned him (in fact, she knows very little about Henry Walker and that is pure travesty) and can’t advise whether or not they will want to help a man who aligns himself with Ascended. But if it’s a risk Henry is willing to take… Wessex pauses briefly before answering. “It’s worth a try. I don’t know how they will feel about your willingness to align yourself with us, but if you do go to Frey and they give you some way to help, you’ll have all the Grounds resources behind you.”

Wessex won’t hold her breath about Frey’s willingness to help, but something in her hopes to be pleasantly surprised.

With pleasantries and small talk out of the way, the Queen folds her hands on the table in front of her and looks down at them for a moment. “I asked you here for some advice. I’m more and more leaning towards stepping down, but I don’t want to leave the Grounds in a state of disarray or vulnerability. I wouldn’t do it until after we complete the quest, but after that -” spreading her hands, she shrugs a bit. “We’ll be safer. In theory. From the Order and the Monsters. I’ll have accomplished some of my goals -”

To leave them safer than when she’d stepped up.

“But I'd like to hear your thoughts before making any big decisions. Honestly, please.”

BASTIEN

'Cause you've got a mind that is so hell bent on
Fixing me up before I get my coat off

Bastien nodded gratefully at Henry's offer to go and speak to Frey; this, partly, was why he didn't believe in an entirely Ascended Grounds. They had different strengths and abilities, could be made more by their collaboration with each other. Hopefully, speaking to them would help and clear up why it was the Spark Bird was attacking what, as far as Bastien knew, was it's home.

He looked up for Wessex's next matter of business and did not hide the surprised raise of his eyebrows when he heard it. Bastien had always thought Wessex enjoyed being in charge, getting to have the final word, leading the people; he had to admit he couldn't think of anyone else in the Grounds more qualified for the position.

Sickeningly, the most likely person after her, he thought, was probably himself. Maybe that was egotistical, but regardless, the thought made him want to shudder. "I...would want to know why it was exactly you would choose to step down. But...the leader should be someone with their full heart in the task, if we are to have a leader, so I believe if you want to, you should step down." Bastien said, measured and considered.

You with those hands that are so hell bent on
Making a mess to suggest you'd think something

there is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in

"It is worth a try," Henry clarifies, repeating Wessex's own words back to her. If the Old Gods think it is so black and white, then that is their own problem. Not his. He should still reserve the right to ask their guidance, at the very least; it is always their decision whether they want to give it, however. That, he is perhaps a touch nervous about now that Wessex has mentioned it, but deep down he's confident in the decisions he's made in regards to the Ascended.

Henry watches as Wessex seems to prepare herself to say what it is that's truly on her mind, as her hands fold and she stares downward. Even if it lasts for only a short moment, he can see that this is going to be something difficult for her to say. He tries to respond neutrally, though he can't help the furrow of his brows as her words are given and he feels as though he is suddenly floundering internally.

Stepping down.

What would she do? Where would she go? At this moment in time, even though LongNight is over, the Ascended still need her here, leading, planning actions, and so on and so forth. He wants to say this isn't fair, that it isn't right, but he allows Bastien to speak first, clamping his mouth shut over his tongue as his jaw rolls with the motion.

Henry takes a moment of consideration, and he finds value in Bastien's input. Her heart should be in it... and if it's not, it might impact her decision-making negatively, it might lower her own spirits to be kept in such a role that she no longer wishes to be in. In that, a domino effect would certainly happen, others would feel it too. Morale would take a dive. But why? Why now?

"Wessex," Henry leans forward in his seat, feeling anxious but trying his best to contain the way his leg jitters, "I can think of no one better than you for this job... you have experience, you've accomplished a great deal in your time as Queen - and before it. If you're overwhelmed, you have us to lean on... we're here to help you and the Grounds," he purses his lips, silences himself for a moment so as not to go on a tangent fueled by emotions. Then he asks what they must all be wondering, "Where is this coming from?" He looks at her with concern, a great deal of it.

HENRY

It's Lord of the Flies in my mind tonight

“It’s not a matter of being overwhelmed,” Wessex replies gently, intending to assure Henry that she’s not running away from something just because it’s hard. Even though, yes, this job is fucking hard and she'd very much like someone to say they understand.

“It’s a matter of unity. Cohesion. I don’t know if either of you can feel the tension in the Grounds right now,” glancing between her two advisors to see if they’re aware of what she’s talking about, “But I don’t think it’s just because of the degree of clean-up involved or Sparkbird destruction.” With the tiniest of sighs, her hands claps in front of her and she looks down at them, running thumbs together while she confesses. “I was careless with the group I was with in the Outskirts and even though everyone’s alive, there’s an obvious avoidance and change in energy in the rest of the Ascended. And I can deal with that.” (Can you?)

She can. She’s always been a polarizing person. People either seem to love her or hate her, there’s very little in between.

Looking up once again at her Advisors, Wessex is both frank and sad at the same time, finding what she says something of an admission of failure. “But it raises worries about being able to unite in the future. Not just the Grounds or the Ascended, but everyone who might disagree with genocide and stand with us. And if there is someone or two or three who can unite people, they should have time to learn how to lead.” Because it does take time. She might have been better at this if she hadn’t been thrown into the fire from the get-go.

“And finally, if I’m brutally honest with myself, I’m tired. It’s -" impossible to maintain without some kind of partner. It’s exhausting. It's unfair to ask of her time and time again. But she doesn’t finish that thought, she just shakes her head and looks out the window for a moment lest she avoids whining some more. "I think my heart's always been set on exploring Caido, once the barrier lifted and we knew that was possible."

“But if there’s a solution I’m missing, I’m open to it.” After all that's what they're here for - to find solutions and do what's best for the Grounds.

BASTIEN

'Cause you've got a mind that is so hell bent on
Fixing me up before I get my coat off

Bastien watched Henry's reaction, his clear upset at it all; he supposed that once being the Queen's husband, now in the council, he was more used to the idea that leaders would change. Honestly, it was true that Wessex was polarising, and while he admired her strength, her determination, he could understand her reasons.

As she spoke of uniting people, again he felt the odd mix of obligation and horror in his chest, knowing that he'd been fostering a community in the Grounds for years now. Not that that immediately meant he'd be a good leader (he would refuse to ever be a 'King'), but it would be a good start.

"I...am wondering how you would choose your successor?" He asked thoughtfully, meeting her eyes as if he could somehow see into her mind.

You with those hands that are so hell bent on
Making a mess to suggest you'd think something