"I hope you remembered the tea cakes this time," harrumphed Orpheus Farley. He preened his impressive mustache as he pushed through the gates of the WAND's castle. "It's unnatural to have tea without cakes. There was nothing for it to wash down!"
Aldrich performed the first of many eye rolls as he closed the gate behind the Guild leader. "Don't worry, Farley. We've all learned to appreciate the importance of tea cakes." As long as they're going into your mouth, nothing else can come out, Aldrich wanted to add. He chose a more diplomatic comment instead. "The others have all arrived already. They're with Archibald."
Archibald's study felt fastidiously lived-in. Shelves packed tightly with tomes covered nearly every square inch of wall. Every gap in books corresponded to one of the twenty or so texts tidily situated on the mahogany desk. A stack of wood sat squarely to the right of a hearth where the remains of a recent fire waited to kindle the next one. The very idea of dust seemed wrong, as if the room simply didn't have the time to accrue any. Sitting in a padded arm chair, his white robes tucked neatly around him, was Archibald himself, looking as in place as a bookmark in a novel. Across from him sat a petite, pug-faced young woman with silky hair pulled into pig tails, a thin, pale man sitting sideways in his chair, an equally thin and pale ginger woman, and a computer. Two seats remained open, a heavily laden tea table in between them.
"Wow, guys! The Guildie figured out how to get here! Seriously, I'm in shock. This is going to change my life forever. Who wants to throw a party? Anybody? Huh?" The voice issued from the computer in the synthesized, yet surprisingly expressive tones of a text to speech program.
"That's a bit extreme, isn't it?" asked the pug-faced woman, cocking her head quizzically.
"Come on, Fifi! This is a big freakin' deal. I mean, just the fact that his decrepit, piece of crap pocket watch got him here within 6 hours of the right time is a mother freakin' miracle."
"WHAT WAS THAT ABOUT MY POCKET WATCH?" Orpheus boomed. He made it half way to the computer when Archibald blocked his path.
"As justified as your rage is, might I point out that we are having tea? It would be tragically improper to sully the moment with violence. Don't you agree?"
"Hmph!" Orpheus plodded to the chair beside the tea table and commenced one of the more curmudgeonly displays of sipping and nibbling the society heads had seen. "And who might you be?" he inquired of the young woman, grudgingly polite.
"Oh. Well, um, I suppose I'm the new head of the Peace Warriors, Fifi," she muttered, too bashful to lift her head fully, too hopeful to keep her eyes down. Aldrich, who had taken his seat on the other side of the tea table, felt the sudden compulsion to pat the tiny woman on the head. He quickly disregarded this as a ridiculous thing to do.
"Really?" Orpheus continued to inquire, "What happened to the last head, Harry what's-his-name?"
"Uhh, unfortunately, he isn't, well..."
"Someone killed him," the thin man on the other side of Fifi finished.
"Killed him, eh? Bit too close of a shave, eh?"
"I can't believe you would make a joke about a dead guy!" the computer wailed. "And a pun? How can you be such a horrible person? I hope you can sleep at night because I can't, thinking about the sort of people living under London."
"But," Fifi interjected as Orpheus reddened, "didn't you tell me a lot of Streamers are going by Steve Jobs on forums now?"
"Man, and I thought people like you were supposed to be loyal!"
"Who's Ste-" Orpheus began to ask before Aldrich thrust a confection into his open mouth.
"Have a biscuit. They're delicious," he insisted, glancing at the computer in the futile attempt to see if the Streamer had heard the half-formed question. However, it seemed that the manic giggling of the pale man and woman had drowned Orpheus out.
"Well then, if Loki and Eris would calm down, perhaps we might get down to business?" Aldrich suggested.
"ho-Al- hee-hee-Aldrich, how-hee- how can you not laugh? It's just so-ho-hee- ridiculous how important -heh- you humans make the most insignificant things," chortled Loki.
"Oh yes! A pu-heh-ocket watch? A pun? We didn't even have to-heh-heh- to help it along! Oh, what delectable discordance. I love these meetings," Eris snickered as the waves of laughter shrank to ripples, and then an eager stillness.
"At any rate," Aldrich continued, "the dump provided by the Guild has been working adequately and at this rate will last us another half a year at least, which should provide sufficient time for the construction of its replacement. However, I would like to remind no one in particular that having sufficient time is not the same as having time to waste.
"Our Necromancers Abroad Program has been quite successful except for a small incident in Japan at a relief center. Fifi, would you please inform your Peace Warriors that if they encounter a necromancer working in a public place they should not exclaim 'Richard, you old necromancer, how's the magic going?' It is quite inconvenient."
"Yeah," Fifi blushed, "That was probably Thermostat. He, well, see he isn't the most, um, discreet person? I'll talk to him. Sorry."
Aldrich found himself again resisting the urge to scratch her head. "Moving on, Archibald?"
"I would like to request that Green Thumb pay another visit. It would seem the wizards have required more fuel than usual, and the gardens are nearly depleted of life."
"Oh, sure, yeah. That shouldn't be a problem, I mean, when he's free of course."
"And the Streamers need someone to come and give our bodies baths so we don't get real viruses. It has to be the Peace Warriors, girl."
"Uhm?"
"You are the chosen one!"
"Blast it all! Would you cease this confounded japery?!”
“You mad br-” Before the computer could finish, screeches and sparks sprayed from its casing. This was probably due to the claws embedded in it. The claws were attached to an arm, and the arm was attached to a shoulder, and the shoulder attached to a body, and the body had a head, and the head was smiling.
“As entertaining as the streamers can be, I'm starting to run short on time. Worse, I was getting bored with him. Does anyone want to argue with me about it?” Loki asked, still grinning.
Fifi raised a tentative hand. “Not arguing, but, er, well, question? How did your arm grow ten feet long and gain claws?”
Eris lay a finger casually against Loki's arm, which wrapped behind her shoulders, in front of Fifi, and planted in the computer at the other end of the room. “Please, Fifi, This? This is nothing compared to some of the things he's shown me.”
“Might I explain, Loki?” requested Archibald. Loki consented with a wave of his claw as he retracted it. As the arm returned to more typical dimensions, it may have brushed against Eris's shoulder just a bit more than necessary.
“You know of course that Loki and Eris are fey.”
“Well, yeah, but, doesn't that just mean they're, you know, immortal?”
“That is what it means to be a fey. That is not what it means to be a sprite or a nymph. A sprite, a male fey like Loki, has the ability to shift forms at will. A female fey, or nymph, can exert a certain persuasive influence over those around her.”
“And just, um, just what does that mean?”
“Don't worry about it, Fifi, sweetheart,” Eris cooed.
“Okay.”
“Well then,” Orpheus cheered, face glowing beneath his mustache, “shall we get down to business once more now that the streamer is out of the way? I believe it was my turn.”
In point of fact, the Peace Warrior usually followed the Supreme Wizard. However, no one present had a particular desire to convince Orpheus to wait. He rattled off the successes of the Guild's latest STORM, details for the upcoming Fey-Guild ball, modifications to contact information for one or two assassins, and finally a perfectly superfluous report on how far behind the Guild had fallen in product production for the Streamers. Fifi, Loki, and Eris all then made considerably succincter reports and requests. With that, Aldrich adjourned the meeting.
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