A little (huge?) birdy told me...

Posted on Wed Dec 25th, 2024 @ 11:44 by Alastair Temple & Claire Cavendish

Chapter: Besieged
Location: Various, Avalon Institute
1426 words - 2.9 OF Standard Post Measure

Claire held the envelope in her hand, taking care not to crease the paper. Ever since the barricade she had not been able to communicate freely with people outside of it, she was certain that their communications were being intercepted. So she'd resorted to other methods of communication. More traditional and robust methods. The advantage was that they had people within the walls that could help with that sort of thing. And she was dividing the work to make sure she didn't put too much strain on any of them. This particular message, though, required a specific type of person.

A hopeless romantic.

As she approached the doorframe to the music class she knew that this was the only right person for the job. She waited for him to finish the song he was playing before rapping her knuckles against the doorframe. "Mister Temple, can I have a moment of your time?"

Truth be told Claire had actually been the first person other than Alastair himself to experience one of the new songs he'd been writing. It was just him playing through the guitar line along to a recording of a simple drum track, finding things he liked and didn't like, transitions that worked and didn't work, and the beginnings of the basic melodies of a solo where the sheet music just said .

At the sound of Claire entering though he turned to the door, offering a sheepish smile. "Oh hey boss. Sure thing Waddya need?" as he set his guitar aside, before turning off the tape with the drum track and his amp.

Claire held the letter in her hand, in front of her, looking down at it before looking at Alastair again. "That sounded pretty good, though I didn't recognize it." She stalled for time as she made her way across the room, running her hand across the wood of the small upright piano as she passed it.

"Ah, no, you wouldn't," Al rubbed the back of his neck. "It's a new piece I've written and am just working through the melodies of. I think the main riffs are in a good place, just - well, a lot more work to do," he offered.

A smile, "That's amazing, and you make it sound like you're making a shopping list." Claire always did recognise the people that were the best at their jobs. There was a passion that you couldn't teach or learn through experience. That ember had to be there, without it you'd be lost. Music to Alastair was like breathing. He couldn't imagine a day without it. She felt lucky to have found him. It reminded her of watching Gabby bake. Her focused returned to the envelope in her hands, "I was hoping I could ask you a favour." A moments hesitation, "Not as the Head Mistress or your employer, but as Claire. Your friend." She's never been one for professional distances and stiff upper lips. If it were up to her the generational wealth held in the outmoded feudal class system still upheld by the aristocracy would be taken and redistributed. If that school of thought made her a Marxist she could actually live with that.

Now noticing the envelope as well as the change in Claire's demeanor from her regular controlled, proud and regal self to a - ... well, less so, Al quickly put two and two together. "An envelope, huh. Likely with a letter inside, or some other important piece of mail, though judging by your tone and the informal look of the envelope I'm guessing it's a letter, of personal nature," A warm smile. "And you need it delivered. Via air mail."

"Not just an ear for music." Claire smiled stepping closer and offering the envelope. The name of the local baker written in the Head Teacher's elegant cursive. "I've not been able to talk freely to Gabriella since the blockade." She didn't quite know how much to tell Alastair about the contents of the letter, or her intentions for later that day. "Just so that you know a bit about what to expect when she reads this, I plan on turning myself in later today."

That admission and the situation in general required gravitas, something that Al was - despite common rumor - indeed capable of. "I see," he nodded. It didn't surprise him, but to hear her say it so simply and plainly drove home the seriousness of the situation. "We'll hold down the fort until your inevitable return, even if we have to break you out," he added with a slight sly smile. "In the mean time, I'll deliver your letter for you. Just - I can't guarantee there won't be creases in the envelope, since I have to carry it in my claws," he offered, reaching respectfully for the letter.

Claire nodded at that, it was always a bit of a wonder how and what a shapeshifter could carry along into the new form and what had to remain outside of their new shape. Some shifted out of their clothes, or in the case of Liana made them incinerate. Others would fully morph, clothes and all. It was like that for her invisibility when it first manifested too. Just herself, not her clothes. That wasn't so bad, the teleportation was much worse. "Thank you, I know this is not something to be asked lightly. I owe you one."

"I'll think of something funny, and / or appropriately and narratively dramatic," Alastair smiled, taking the letter. "I don't think she knows me or my ability, let's hope she's not going to chase me out of the bakery with a broom. Been there, not looking to repeat the experience," A nod. "You take care of you, ok? We'll be fine."

"I'll be fine, it's all of you I'm worried about." Claire was a little worried for herself. She had connections in the mutant community but none of the really good lawyers that they had were willing to either take on this unprecedented case, or outing themselves as mutant, or at the very least pro-mutant, themselves. Several large firms had declined to take her calls as well. So right now she was going to be turning herself in without representation available. "Please look after Liana, will you?"

"Yeah. She's - " he trailed off. Now it was his turn to be a bit sheepish. Shy. "The two of you have been friends for some time, right?" he asked, fidgeting a bit with the letter in his hands, his gaze not quite meeting Claire's.

"We've worked closely together before Avalon was founded and she was instrumental in getting it up and running in '89." Claire's expression softened a bit as she saw the music teacher getting a bit less confident at the mention of her. "I'd like to think we've become close friends during those years."

"Yeah, she's -" Al trailed off. What was he going to say? What could he say that would do her justice? Smart, caring, creative, gorgeous, a great friend? She was all of those. And more. It was then he realized he had a crush on Liana, but what would someone as proper and ladylike like that need with someone like him? A washed up musician without formal education, who survived years by picking out leftovers from trashcans in alleyways. "... In good hands," were the words he settled on, instead. "Now, off with you. Go do what you need to do. We'll be fine, kids 'n faculty 'n caretakers, we'll be fine."

It was obvious Alastair left a lot unspoken, and Claire only hoped he'd be able to find the words to express everything in his mind to those who needed to hear it. She too struggled sometimes to string the right words together, especially in the presence of Gabriella. The letter he was to deliver hadn't been the first draft, and had she not run out of time it probably wouldn't have been the last either. "Thank you, Mister Temple." She stepped towards him and put a hand on his shoulder, a gentle squeeze, "Godspeed."

"Yeah yeah, you're welcome," This was that awkward moment, Al felt, where he didn't quite know what to say. So he offered Claire a smile and a nod and set about decluttering his desk a bit. When she had gone he sighed, leaning against his desk, contemplating the whole situation. It wasn't a small thing, what they were going to do. What Claire was going to do. This was going to have repercussions.