Taking into account

[Lirssa Sarengrave]

She blamed Mr Matt. And Ms Jewell. Only on the inside though, in the secret corners of her thoughts where she kept herself hidden. It was safe there to think and feel things: fear, joy, amusement, amazement. On the outside, though, she was Lirssa. Lirssa who had a barony to her name, for however brief a time. She had promised Maggie she would visit the people, and she had. Today, she would take the streets to the west from The Cardinal Inn. She always started there.

Arriving that afternoon, she was glad to find Diana and Ollie had taken advantage of the offer to stay a night. A night of safety and warmth. There was some question of whether one of the blankets was missing or just misplaced, but Lirssa waved it off. They could spare a blanket.

She walked the hallways, kitchen, and store room. It needed none of her attention. With the long reign of Maggie, and the perpetual change of baronial title holders over the year, it had developed a way of letting that change be unfelt unless the baron took a deeper hand. Lirssa did not feel compelled to mess with it at all.

So, with the tour taken, she sucked in a deep breath and moved out into the surrounding areas. She stopped and spoke with the people that lived there, worked there, and all without announcing who she was. Some knew. Some would give a wink or nod their head. They knew what she was about, though. It was understood. She had been a shadow child among them once, and it was that part of her they saw and recognized. It was the part of her she understood. The performer in the motley, tumbling for her supper.

Now, she was a performer, in everyday wear. Her role? Baroness. Special performance. Limited time only. Make it good.

[Lirssa Sarengrave]

Beltane festivities were in full swing. The usual chaos of the city was heightened. A limning of merry mischief colored smiles and strengthened laughter. This was not something that touched Franklin, however, and he was still as brusque and surly as he ever was when Lirssa walked in the doors of the Cardinal Inn.

The tavern part of the inn was busy. A few residents of the neighborhood taking their ease, those that hadn't ventured out to the carnival, or who already had. One man was resting his chin on a rather large stuffed dragon he won, looking very pleased with himself -- and with the view of a lovely lady at another table.

Lirssa hid her smile at the silent flirting between the two, and took a longer route around the table up to the bar. Franklin's greeting consisted of an upnod and a grunt. This was progress. "Evening, Franklin," Lirssa responded cheerfully enough without going full out starshine smile and sing song voice.

"Baroness."

"Lirssa."

A grunt.

"Yeah, so, looks like a good night." Because small talk was all the rage with the keeper.

"Mmhmm." He set out a glass and poured in some juice, giving her a sour look as if she had offended his entire family.

"Thank you."

"You ever gonna drink something more worth my time?" Franklin turned to pick up another clean tankard, using the bartowel from his shoulder to dry it.

Drinking down half, she set the glass down and pointed to him. "You are just what I need."

These were clearly words that Franklin was not used to hearing, and particularly from ladies of Lirssa's age. Even that crotchety old soul was not able to keep from blushing. His hands stopped drying the tankard, and he strengthened his frown, but nothing kept a touch of pink from those whiskery cheeks.

"Oh, for pity's sake, you're married, and..." she waved off what she was going to say. Franklin did not need to know her interests were occupied elsewhere, and even if they weren't -- just no.

She scampered her way behind the bar. "I need you to test some drinks I'm trying to create."

"No."

"Yessir. You're perfect. If there's even a hint that you like it, then I'll know it is good."

"I'm working."

"I'm the Baroness." Lirssa realized she said the title with no conviction -- even more as a question. When the keeper resigned with a sigh, she was very surprised indeed. "Great! I need some hot sauce and..."

[Lirssa Sarengrave]

A bowl of chili thunked the table next to Lirssa's hand. It was followed by Franklin taking a seat across from her in the buzz of the Cardinal Inn tavern.

The world was coming to an end.

"Afternoon, Franklin," she smiled, lifting her attention from the com device spitting out message after message. She put the scroll on pause.

"Heard a warlord asked titled folk to do a bit more than prance about all fancy-fied."

Lirssa snickered, "Not sure that describes any of them, really."

"You know what I meant."

"Yeah." She looked to the chili and then to Franklin. He nodded. It was offered up clean of ties to whatever he had mind to say to her. Drawing the bowl close, she took up the first bite and just let the beauty of the blend of ingredients do its fiery dance upon her tongue.

Franklin was a wizard of the non-sparky kind. Well, as far as she knew. But put him a kitchen with his favorite makings for chili and the grand designs of the universe came to fruition.

"He isn't exactly wrong, you know."

Lirssa nodded. "I know."

"Either it means something or it doesn't."

A sip of juice helped balance out the burn of her mouth. "You heard about the other responses then, too, right?"

"Yes. They've got nothing to do with me. And your's is missing."

Lirssa grimaced. There were many reasons she hadn't written a response. One being the timing was poor. The other being she did not want to draw attention to herself. Her work was separate, and had always been, from having a title -- or even having a home or money. That Warlord Rakeesh did not know that was not his fault. That he didn't know more than half her life had been spent on the streets did not diminish the core message of what he said. His point was valid, and she saw no reason to contradict him. "Didn't seem right. Others made good points, too. And I've said many times before what I do and why."

"Radio. Newspapers. Flyers. Galas. Think you've done enough?"

No.

She did not say it, but she always felt it. It was never enough. There had to be something else she could do. But how or when? The foster homes, flights, practice, Kids of Summer, Vivant, Shanachie, dueling, and everything that came with that.

Lirssa suddenly felt very tired. Tired as she hadn't felt since tortured by Shade. Still, she finally answered the patient penetrating gaze of Franklin. "No."

"Eat up." And he left her alone with her chili, juice, com device, and the impossible task to accept how much she could do.

[Lirssa Sarengrave]

"Lirssa." Franklin used her name as a greeting. The Cardinal Inn tavern room had its usual evening collection of boarders and nearby residents. Franklin watched over them as they spun their tales and relived their days, his strong, knobby hands always tending to some task or another.

Lirssa knew that feeling. But the need to constantly keep to a task was taking a toll. She leaned against the bar. "Evening, Franklin. Sorry I'm late." It couldn't be helped. She wanted to add that. But that was her trouble, and a trouble no longer, so she left it unsaid. It would only have made her feel justified, not actually excused it.

"Good that you came at all. You're even consistent." The grey haired man set aside the tankard, his voice rarely pitched above a baritone hum. "Hey! Put that down!" Rarely showed up as he yelled at one of the customers about to use his pistol to shoot a tankard off his friend's head. "I'll make you clean it up. Think about it. You with brains on your hands."

As the man paled, putting his pistol away, Lirssa smirked. "That was convincing."

"I wasn't lying." Franklin countered, back to his rumbled whisper. "Now, you want a meal before we start?"

"No," she shook her head. There were other considerations to put first. "I'm fine. Let's start so I can be out of your way."

It wasn't a glare he gave her, and yet it communicated as much intense warning as he had given the pistol-wielding man. Most of all it let her know he was aware she was keeping distant and hiding troubles. But he did not ask. That was a familiar response, and only proved to Lirssa that her tactic was a good one.

Franklin pulled a book from beneath the bar. Its leather cover was faded brown to crackled tan at the folds and edges. Using a ribbon, similarly more grey than blue, he pulled it open to the most recent entries. One finger rested on each line as he read. "Only two rooms open tonight. The one you always keep open in case."

"In case," she whispered confirmation.

"Of the list of upgrades and updates you wanted," his finger pinched a slip of paper from beneath the page, sliding it across the bar to her, "I didn't add the room."

It was an idea, and she thought probably not a feasible one, but still... "Oh. I guess having the title holders room out back with the staff makes for some inconveniences."

"No more than having a room always being used or not used on the whim of the title holder. How come you don't stay in it?"

"Makes more sense for the inn to have it when I've got other places to stay. Next title holder is likely to make use of the inn." Lirssa gave a shrug and looked over the list some more. "I've my ship."

"Yeah, that's a mighty comfortable looking place." Franklin's sarcasm was never hidden or used lightly. He swung it like a cudgel.

Ignoring the jab, Lirssa reviewed the short list in her hand. "You sure this is it?"

"This inn pays for its upkeep most times, except when a baron takes over the whole building, but then they usually pay for its upkeep. That plumbing problem is important," with a touch to the line item for rooms three and six, "And so is this." He took out another slip of paper from his pocket. It was worn, faded, and a longer list.

Lirssa was going to take to ship and never look back if Franklin was quitting and detailing his reasons why. But no, the list was requests for aid with residents. "How can I help with this?"

Franklin set knuckles to the bar, leaning towards her like a boulder rolling down from a mountain. "Those before you put in services, resources, for the community. Somebody's got to show them how to use them. That it is for them. Someone who knows their life and worse."

Lirssa could not deny she fit the description. A baker's shop two blocks over had once been a favorite spot to sleep. The heat from the ovens seeping through the walls just when early morning was at its coldest. "I'll give it a go," she grumbled. It would only take convincing two or three of the residents, and the others would follow. "I'll go see Mrs Gretloe now."

There was a flash to Franklin's blue eyes, his grey brows lowering. It was a smile without the use of his lips. "You'll be glad you skipped a meal here then."

Turning a curious grin to the grisled keeper. "Why?

"Crumpets," and he left for the kitchen.

[Lirssa Sarengrave]

“You’re still here.” The way Franklin said it wasn’t accusatory or belligerent. It was fact. He could have said other things with the matter of fact tone. Your hair is ginger. Your eyes are green. He simply chose to acknowledge she was still alive and still held the dueling title. As basic a Hello as it got without actually using the word.

“Yeah. Imagine that, eh?” Lirssa settled on the barstool at the Cardinal Inn.

Franklin set out a glass of juice. A grunt of disdain came with it. Lirssa was glad to hear that sound. It was familiar now, and almost friendly. “Thank you.”

“That fellow stays in the room. He was gone a few days.”

That fellow. Lirssa made her best guess he was talking about Aric. “Yeah, he wanted to see space. So I took him.”

The word space had the same effect on Franklin as pouring her a glass of juice: it was like he smelled a dead rat in the walls. Lirssa just smiled at him and shrugged. “Way to make a living.”

He snorted. “You love it. Flying up there.” With a curve of shoulders, he set both elbows on the bar and pointed a finger at her. “Don’t forget, I remember you when you were nothing but a slip of a thing walking rooftops and performing for a scrap. You near killed yourself, and you haven’t stopped yet.”

“As I told someone I know recently, not everyone is meant to live to a ripe old age.”

Franklin had scowls. It was an entire array of scowls that communicated a great deal. The slight twist left or right, the narrowing or widening of eyes, well he could be scowling out of general enjoyment or scowling out a diatribe on the unwholesomeness of drinking juice over beer. This scowl, though, was a new one to Lirssa. And it made her draw back from the bar a little. “Stop it,” he grunted out through tight teeth. “This game you play with yourself to not feel. Stop it. I don’t know who planted that thought in your head, this idea that you are easily replaced, but I won’t play along.”

She was snared, caught by his words, and grasping for what he meant by them.

The keeper did not let her twist and tumble around in the implications. “You have things to get done today. Drink up your juice. Mrs Gretloe wants you to stop by.” And Franklin turned to get back to his business.

[Lirssa Sarengrave]

“Well now.”

In the early morning hours in the Cardinal Inn, those words stopped Lirssa short coming down the stairs. That Franklin said them was surprising. He started conversations with her name, a grunt, or a scowl.

Lirssa stepped down the rest of the stairs, put on her smile, and went over to where Franklin stood behind the bar, near the kitchen door, with a steaming mug of coffee. “Morning, Franklin. Didn’t know you got up this early.”

“Baking day. Mrs is feeling poorly.” A succinct explanation. That was more like Franklin.

“Oh, I am sorry to hear that. I will check on her later,” she promised.

Turning for the door, she was drawn short again by a, “Well, I didn’t expect to see you here. At this hour.”

A drop of her shoulders, she looked back at Franklin narrowing eyes and setting hands to hips. “That’s right. I stayed the night. I slept. And I’m sorry if that disappoints you that I was here with him. But I am tired of setting aside my feelings to make sure others don’t get hurt or disappointed. I am happy. I am happy!” She flung her arms out as if ready for someone to strike her down for feeling so. “And I’m going to let myself be happy for however long it lasts and stop putting my feelings second, third, dead last to everyone else’s.”

Franklin sipped his coffee. “What I was going to say was since you got an early start to your day, you should have time to run some errands this afternoon.”

“Oh.”

“Have a good day, Lirssa.” Franklin turned for the kitchen where the enticing aroma of fresh baking bread was just starting to slip free.

“Uh, you, too."

Nice one, Lir.

[Lirssa Sarengrave]

“You are in my kitchen. Again.” Franklin scowled from the doorway between the kitchen and the common room.

Lirssa read over the recipe, moving on to the next step. “Your powers of observation never cease to amaze me, Franklin.” Lirssa was not a cook by nature, or really by exposure or experience, but a bet had been made. She owed Aric a week’s worth of dinners. Wednesday had to be skipped due to scheduling, but it was Thursday. She had successfully managed two previous dinners. There were five more to go. Including the one she was fussing with in the heat of Cardinal Inn’s kitchen.

So, she was a little snippy due to nervousness and general stress. The week had worn on with performances, dueling events, Summerlane children, and the Kids of Summer Foundation project reports. She had been busy all her life, but this busy seemed weightier.

“Maybe it’s a lesson not to wager something you can’t fulfill.” Franklin remained at the door, splitting his attention between the inn patrons and Lirssa. Or maybe he was more concerned about his dishes and stove.

Puffing a tendril of hair from her face, she glared at Franklin. “I’m fulfilling it. It just takes me longer.”

“Give him an apple and call it good.”

Lirssa had to snicker. It was just what Aric would have said. But that felt like cheating. She had said dinners in the wager. At least that should contain an actual dish of some such. Thank goodness for cookbooks in the library that focused on vegetarian meals. “I said dinners.”

“Specifically home made?”

Lirssa stopped her work, frowning as she tried to recall. But she couldn’t. “I don’t remember. I do think the word ‘make’ was used in the sentence.” That frown was turned to Franklin. “Are you trying to get me to break the spirit of the wager?”

The whisker framed mouth turned down. “Oh, no, no. You just need to be careful of the details; the specific wording.”

Returning to stirring the vegetables in the skillet, Lirssa smirked. A spat of oil jumped from the skillet to sting her hand. She jerked a little, but it was not so bad. “You’ve been dealing with too many of the Fae, Franklin.”

“So have you.” He let the door close behind him, leaving her with that thought.

And vegetable curry.

[Lirssa Sarengrave]

"Lirssa."

"Franklin."

He actually snickered. It was a mild, ghost of a chance thing that made just enough noise to be noticed. Just enough movement to be sighted. Then gone.

Franklin poured Lirssa a glass of juice and set out a bowl of chili. Because chili on a warm day was just the thing. It was if you are Franklin. Besides, it was raining. It worked.

"Thanks." Lirssa took up the spoon just after he slid it across the bartop. It was an extremely clean bartop, but it wouldn't have bothered Lirssa if it wasn't. There had been worse things in her gastronomic life.

Franklin leaned against the opposite side of the bar, vulture hunch of shoulders and sharp eyed. Such focused attention added an unexpected sour flavor to the chili. Lirssa swallowed the bite, sipped the drink, then asked, "Yes?"

"This is an inn."

Franklin's turn of phrase was suspect. He meant more than he said. It was perpetually speaking in code, and Lirssa wondered --not for the first time-- if he had been a spy in his youth. Words tucked in simple phrases, the discreet in the obvious.

"Yes," she agreed. Not because it was the fact of its structure. She knew what he meant. During her time there it had returned to its original purpose, a gathering place for just those of the community. The ones that worked there, lived and died there.

"It's going to change again."

"The only constant."

"It will be missed."

Franklin stepped away to get to his work, leaving behind his list of things the inn or residents of the community needed. Lirssa took another bite of food to demolish the sad smile that was puppeting her lips. Lifting the paper, she looked over the exceedingly long list. A visit to the farrier first. Then a look over the cistern; maybe she could get one of her smithing acquaintances to do some work for cheap. A check on the clinics and their residents....

[Lirssa Sarengrave]

"You look horrible." Franklin was not smiling when he said it. It wasn't meant to be cute. It wasn't meant to be teasing. The old inn keeper was stating a fact.

The contusions were just barely making their presence known along her jaw and cheekbones as well as her knuckles. In a few days, Lirssa's face would be a Jackson Pollock of yellow and purple. If she let it get that far. Doubt that would go over well for her character in Rent. Tempting, but no.

Taking out a piece of paper from behind the counter, Lirssa wrote, "I'll visit a friend in the morning and get it seen to." Canaan would take care of it. And not ask questions. That had come in handy more than a few times.

Franklin looked closer at her. "Dislocated jaw, too." More facts.

The numbness had faded, pain a constant thrum. The headache was growing, and Lirssa just wanted to lay down. She could not smile to Franklin, so gave a flop of her hand as she headed for the stairs and sleep.

"Not sure you should sleep yet. What if you don't wake up?"

Just what she needed to hear. Turning, she narrowed eyes at Franklin trying to communicate the entirety of her feeling on that bit of information. His smile came and went like the mists outside. "I'll check on you."

Lirssa walked up the stairs thinking about how that would manifest. Probably checking on her to see if he has to dispose of a corpse. Good ole Franklin.

[Lirssa Sarengrave]

“No, just no,” Margo slammed the edge of her dainty fist down on the desk, not caring if she rattled the Empress Overlady’s pen cup -- or her nerves. “What kind of message does that send to the staff? What kind of message does it send to everyone?”


Margo was clinging to hope. There was none for Theo. She had been there, seen him...he was gone. But Lirssa? She would still hope. That hope was burning a little bonfire of rage and spunk inside. She felt powerful from it -- and bold. She did not wait for Jewell to actually answer. “You can wallow in despair all you want, but we are accepting this challenge for Lirssa. We are going to give her the time to come back. We are going to believe.” Turning on heel, not quite so impressive a heel as Jewell’s, and went down the hallway calling, “Gillian!”

[Lirssa Sarengrave]

"You're back." Franklin stopped wiping down the bar, leaning there as Lirssa approached.

The inn was quiet at that hour. Lirssa had sent word the day after her return to the city along with all her other letters of apology to foundation board and other friends she had not actually found in her wanderings. Still, she had to make at least one last visit to the inn in person. "Just in time, eh?"

"What'll you do?" Franklin apparently shared the same conclusion of her evening that she did.

"What I have always done. Don't suppose I can get one last bowl of chili free, could I? I've," a bittersweet chuckle, "got to find a new way to make money."

"None of those other jobs pay well?"

"One other job, and that money goes to the foundation. Where it belongs." Clearing her throat, she added hastily, "Ship's gone." Words tumbling into the next. "Until I'm back to my old self, can't perform in the parks and market squares. And the season is turning, too. I'll get something for the turn of the year, no doubt. Just...cobblebedding again, I guess until something turns up."

"Always does," Franklin grunted as he looked around the inn and then turned to enter the kitchen.

"Yeah," Lirssa whispered. She, too, looked over the inn. The smile warmed by the unexpected revival of memories the place triggered. "Something will turn up."

[Lirssa Sarengrave]

"So..."

"Yeah, right?"

Franklin pushed the piece of paper across the bar to her with the list of people to visit, the reasons why, and what needs the Inn had.

"Right."

[Lirssa Sarengrave]

"Are you sure about this?" Lirssa asked as she handed Franklin the cup of tea he was trying to grasp from his sick bed.

After his sip and phlegm riddled sigh, he nodded. "The staff and my wife can handle the tasks." Each series of words grew weaker. Franklin took another rattling breath. "Just need to check in. Manage. Direct."

"And you need to rest. This cold really hit your hard. You went to the clinic, right?" Lirssa gave him a sharp look, daring him to lie to her about it.

"I did. Set a good example. Few days." He assured her.

"Well, okay. This is just the wrong time of year for the community to be without your chili. I'll even tend bar here a few nights until you are on your feet." She hoped that would be encouragement for him to get well and not push himself before he was able.

Franklin closed his eyes with a feeble nod and another congested sigh. "I'll be about the business then. Rest well."

The cold was severe and unusually fast to take hold of its victim. Adding to her list of things to do, Lirssa stuck in a stop by the clinic to see what they had to say.

Between the sweeping illness and the rise of pro-human events, Lirssa was increasingly vigilant. And increasingly attempting to find light to share with others: a smile, a laugh, a song. Don't think about the stars. Don't think about the weight of being planetside. Days of yore renewed.

[Lirssa Sarengrave]

"Lirssa."

She smiled. Franklin was back to himself. The greeting was sent her way from where he stood on a ladder taking down greenery from the season. "Already? Can't leave it up a few more days?"

"No."

"Glad to see that virus didn't replace your usually cheerful demeanor with something unbearable." She sat on a barstool. Two minutes later a bowl of chili with a spoon in front of her. "Thank you."

"Need to make sure you don't starve, Baroness. All that you're getting up to." He set out a glass of juice. "Cold gets particularly biting at night."

She should have known Franklin would find out. Man held enough secrets around this part of town to start his own 'business', so to speak. "Old habits. I'd like to think I'm helping others from having to find my path. Though, not so bad a path as that.Besides, got to make myself useful."

He grunted. Not going to play along with the game. "Be useful by helping me take down all the greenery. New year so they say."

"Yes, New Year. Comes around every time this place finishes its circuit around the sun.You've been here long enough to know how this goes, Franklin, come on. "

"So have you. Finish up the chili, not too fast. But it's time for you to get moving. Happy new year," he said with all the jolliness of a fish laid on the butcher's block. When he walked away, back to the ladder, he did not share a look with her.

So, how did she get moving? Forward. Backward. Sideways. Did it matter? Apparently from Franklin's sparse words, it did.

[Lirssa Sarengrave]

"Could stop coming, you know." Franklin groused as greeting.

Lirssa dropped a small canvas bag of tuapa fruit. "Feeling the love, Franklin. And here I brought you fruit from my last trip out. I hear it makes mighty fine preserves."

A grunt. Bag of fruit claimed. "Bribing me?"

"For what?"

Franklin did not provide an answer, but there was an entire essay playing out in the look he gave her. Instead, he said, "You're flying a lot more again. Your attitude is back."

"Freedom is a thing, Franklin. You and the Mrs's should try it out. Take a vacation."

It was the closest thing to a laugh he had. It was a gruff blast that sounded like it came straight from his lungs, bypassing any need of his throat or nose. "And just how would I do that?"

Lirssa looked to the fruit, then to Franklin, "Fancy a trip to the mountains? Bet I could swing it. The staff here can cover. Delia and Duncan are who you rely on when things get wild around here. Happens often enough. Give 'em the keys for a bit."

The temptation was there. Whatever essay he had in his look before was no replaced with curious wonder. Per usual, there was no direct answer. "What kind of fruit is this?" The grumble tossed over his shoulder as he took the bag towards the kitchen.

"Tuapa!" She called to the door as it swung shut.