RP:Duck, Duck, Dead

Part of the Through A Glass, Darkly Arc

Summary: A report corners Alvina in the market, asking questions about Hudson's ties to The Red Witch and the rebellion in Larket. She rushes home to tell Hudson, who calls a meeting with Uma. If the story leaked, it would stress the already fragile peace between Cenril and Larket.

Cenril Marketplace

Following Samhain (Talyara had explained it as a thinning in the veil between this world and the afterlife) even the coastal city of Cenril was feeling the chill of winter’s approach. In preparation for harsher winds and Yule festivities, the markets are flooded with activity. Screaming and shoving as the stalls opened this morning set the precedent for today and every day to come before the grand Yule itself. Alvina does not subscribe to this frantic activity and had just wanted to get out of the house. Sure, Marge could go to store or the housekeeper or any member of their army of helpers but Alvina insisted. They needed avocados and bread or the house would spontaneous catch fire. She slips out of the market’s center, clutching her goods for dear life and nursing a low glance to her shin by a mother’s banshee like wail as she tried to grab the discounted turkeys from the vendor next to her. “For Sven’s sake-” Alvina huffs, twisting herself away from the crowding like a cork abandoning it’s contents for freedom. Later dayz, wine. The street she’s ducked into is still crowded. Foot traffic congests the Market entrance and Mrs. Landon deems herself free at last. She sighs with relief, flipping her hair back and away from her face to start the short trek home. They better be grateful for her matronly suffering.

Jules Egnasse has long wanted to interview Alvina Landon. His small distribution newspaper, the Veritas, of course sold the "truth," but only the most salacious, provocative form of the truth. The truth that would fly out of newsstands. The truth whose publication would be both provocation and shield. This is the sort of truth he wanted to elicit from Alvina Landon. Of course, Jules draws the line at accosting the woman in front of her young children or Hudson - he tells himself that to speak with her privately is the ethical thing to do, but the truth is he fears her husband. Today is his lucky day, however, for he's spotted her out at the market and she seems alone. Not himself laden with parcels, he weaves through the shopping area to follow her. He quickens his pace to catch up with her. "Excuse me, Mrs. Landon," he addresses her, sporting his best ingratiating smile. He holds out a hand to catch hers, giving it a warm shake. "Forgive me. I'm a reporter, I was hoping I could have just a moment of your time."

Alvina’s already in a sour mood. This break she’d promised herself has been anything but and Jules is the first person that actually talks to her. He’s making introductions and shaking her hand before she can refuse.Her hand is a dead fish when he shakes it. Emerald eyes focus on his face; he looks familiar but she can’t place him. His words spill out polite enough but there’s a caution to her actions of late. Caution enough to keep her from tripping over her feet to introduce herself. Especially when she’s alone. Especially after a bomb showing up in their house. “Who are you?” She asks sweetly. Her concern is masked with a smile while anxiety fills her lungs like lead. “I’m so sorry, I’m just on my way home -” Alvina tries to excuse herself politely but a overly tall, lanky gentleman nearly elbows her and she spins away to dodge it. “The crowds are a bit pesky!” She shouts unnecessarily, they are only a few steps apart. Another polite reason to excuse herself. “I wouldn’t go in there!” She points towards the market’s center and tries to navigate her way out but it’s slow going...she just can’t find a gap to duck through.

Jules finds that Alvina is trying to slip away right after their introduction. Fortunately for him, she keeps getting cut off by other foot traffic, and is captive for a moment longer. "Of course, of course," he murmurs agreeably above the din of the market. They're still moving slowly, so he decides to seize the moment by diving right into the subject: "I was hoping to get your comment about a tip I recently acquired." From Valrae's late brother. Jules smiles in a genial enough manner before going for the throat, "I have it on good authority that your husband several years ago had a romantic affair with convicted witch Valrae Ivy Baines Older. Is it possible that his criminal organization financed some of her terrorist activities against Larket?"

Alvina turns to excuse herself again but his words still her steps. The pleasantries on her face are shadowed but still she tries to smile. Little Miss is hackled and churning in Alvina’s stomach, warning her. Valrae’s name is a dulled blade that stings but no longer slices. She doesn’t have a violent reaction, though she wants to. “What did you say your name was?” She repeats, in lieu of answering his question, and decides that he isn’t going to give it to her. A reporter. What would Hudson say if the script was flipped on her about sordid affairs? He -did- fund the witch movement through Valrae, or tried to. Apparently she didn’t take the money at one time or another. The time spins and jams like tangled thread. She swallows and keeps a level tone. The stone in her stomach tells her that her words will be spun any way this man wants to. She laughs, with forceful impatience. “That’s ridiculous,” is all she can summon with tact against this strangers sonorous accusations. Then she turns, with higher purpose and energy, to shoulder her way through the crowd at a creeping pace. Away, away, away!

Jules can see that his question has buried itself in Alvina's chest like an arrow whose aim was true. The twist in her expression confirms enough for him. He responds to her request for his name with an oily smile and waits for the answer he knows she'll give. She turns away from him. "Thank you for your comment," he calls out after her, not pursuing, but rather falling back. His mask of greasy pleasantness falls away into one of calculating purpose. He knows he has the truth, like a cat with a bird caught in its maw. He knows that releasing the truth would further press on the fault line between the Landons of Cenril and King Macon and Queen Josleen of Larket. The thought of destabilizing both regions, and the innocent people who live there, does not concern him but rather sends a thrill through his person. The notoriety he'd achieve! He'd have to publish soon, before the woman's husband could find a way to intimidate him into silence.

The Landon Estate

Much as she wanted to, Alvina did not break out into a sprint. Heart thumping, she kept a pace consistent with a respectable woman with much to do until her boots tick against the cobblewood walkway. It’s the weekend, so Marge is off with her family and the Landons are full time parents. A blessing in the best times. A curse in moments like these. The nurse is still here with Bryce though, who is toddling around the house like a little prince who knows the world is there for the taking. The master of the house is out, ankle deep, in the swimming pool. Alvina takes a second in the kitchen, gathering her ‘mom’ face before bringing out the bread he’d requested. Harper cheers dramatically, throwing up her arms while Luna shushes her. “You’ll scare them!” Luna chides her older sister, scuffs, and then goes back to drawing convincing duck shapes on the patio in chalk. Alvina breaks off two chunks of bread, hands them to the girls and then offers the rest of the loaf to Hudson. He looks jovial and ignorant. She resents him for a split second before giving him a thin lipped smile that means something is amiss. Their girls were smart. Young Bryce was just as perceptive, even if he didn’t know it. No one needed doubt the stability of the world - it was up to Alvina and Hudson to make it a reality. Part of that involved communicating bad things with facial expressions and not rushing off to discuss in hushed tones. “ Sorry it took so long,” She offers, trying to speak in code. “The market was -crowded-.”

Some ducks have been hanging out in the pool, even though it’s getting colder. Hudson’d surprised even himself with how much he had been into it. He’d had the pool heated by a magic enchantment and thereby delayed closing several weeks over it. Even the Easts thought it was extra, though Kanze had privately confided in Hudson that the ducks were “chill” when they’d had beers on the patio a week ago. Alvina has mostly tolerated this because the girls like the ducks. It’s a Landon hobby now. Hudson is in a bathrobe wading about, holding court with both real and avian families when Alvina surfaces, bearing bread for the latter. The ducks circle closer, having grown trusting in their quasi-captivity, especially of people holding bread. Hudson does a double take at his wife after he reaches for his portion. There’s that tone. He keeps a poker face, going about shredding his ration for the ducks. The girls obliviously are doing the same. “Oh yeah?” he asks conversationally. “Here, I’m gonna let you guys.” He hands off his bread to Harper and gets out of the pool, tracking footprints on his way over to Alvina, whom he drapes an arm around. Luna has huddled close to her sister, who seems unwilling to share her spoils, and an argument looks imminent. “Harper, you have to share with your sister,” he calls out, much to one child’s smug satisfaction and the other’s disappointment. Heads together, they commence negotiating a fair split. Hudson lowers his voice to address his wife privately, “Something happen?”

Alvina nods at his question before stepping back a few paces. Patiently, she waits for Hudson to pull his wet robe out of the pool and join her on the patio in a framed scene of the familial experience. Pool ducks. It gives Luna and Harper a reason to BOND. Even though they’re twins, they are developing very differently. Hopefully not apart. He leans in to conspire and she rushes to fill him in. “I got cornered by some reporter, he wouldn’t give me his name, but he asked if you were funding the witch rebellion in Larket because of your ties.” Hearing Valrae’s name and saying it were different ball games. AL v NL. “I told him it was ridiculous but he slunk off after thanking me like the cat who got the cream. Hudson, I don’t know who that guy was but he could be trouble.” Alvina was no stranger to the Larket / Cenril tension. The alleged ‘murder’ of Valrae to rebuild ties. She also knows that any information about their family in the papers could put them, or Uma, in danger. Or even Valrae. Alvina recalls Val’s expression when they’d met in the warehouse before watching Hudson snuff the life out of Val’s rat brother. “I’m concerned -” She pauses, waving at the girls. “Break them up into pieces ladies!” She calls out, hoping her uncertain tone isn’t picked up by tiny child radar. The glass door into the house is open, she can hear Bryce laughing and the nurse fussing in a low voice. Hopefully he isn’t chewing on the table legs.

Hudson keeps his expression steady as Alvina whispers into his ear, but he feels his blood slowly begin to simmer and then boil. His wife had managed just fine — she’d even tried to get the man’s name — but the idea that someone had felt emboldened to approach her and say those words to begin with .. they’d known that Valrae’s brother had sold his story, but after enough time and no leads they’d dared hope it had withered on the vine. Not so, apparently. Hudson is grateful that Alvina shouts to their daughters for normalcy’s sake, but for his part he feels like tearing flesh with his teeth. He keeps his voice low, “I’ll find out who it is and send a message.” It wouldn’t just be the story that died, if he has his way. Hudson considers the feat of self control that her newly turned self would have had to make and glances at her, briefly meeting her eye. “You did great,” he tells her, running a hand along her back. “I’ll take care of it, baby,” he promises her, but as he tries to console her he is growing angrier. It’s not just a threat to destabilize things politically, it feels to him a personal disrespect: how dare someone approach HIS wife and threaten to embarrass THEIR family. His jaw is tight, and it’s a struggle to remain the picture of parental calm, watching their children feed the ducks. He’d like to break things, people’s faces. Can’t things stay over, ever? “I’m very angry about this,” he says quietly, for Alvina, who doesn’t need the words to confirm what she already likely reads in his body language and possibly even feels through the bond they both share. “What did he look like?”

Alvina can feel Hudson’s temperature rising. Of course she knew it would. It’s comforting and encourages her (faultily) to remain calm(er). She would’ve liked to mauled this man but it was too crowded and Hudson would know better what to do than she would. After biting that mystery woman, Alvina was hesitant to shift near anyone, except Hudson. This reporter had threatened her with an old, personal scar. ‘You did great’. It was easier now to get angry instead of backing down in meek compliance. As much wolf is in her, she still pauses when he threatens this dude’s life. He’d come at her. What if he came after their children at school? Or with Marge? Or even worse, at home? Alvina tells Hudson all she can remember about how this man looked before separating from their huddle to pull the girls apart. They’d started to wrestle over the remain bread bits and might fall in the pool. “Inside,” She gestures to the open door with a huff. “She started it!” Luna called dramatically while Harper stuck her tongue out behind Luna’s back. Alvina leans her head into the house. “Matilda? Can you watch the girls for just a minute!” The nanny’s cheery voice calls back to confirm and once Luna and Harper bicker their way inside, Alvina shuts the glass door and drags Hudson into the yard by the elbow. She shoots a glance over her shoulder at the girls, who are watching them walk away. Harper is pressing her lips against the glass, no doubt making ‘kissy’ noises. Eww, so gross. Their parents like each other. Alvina walks casually, keeping a firm hold on his arm until they reach the other side of the house where no one but the Easts might see them. “I know you’re angry.” She says, not trying to quell it. “Maybe we should tell Uma…” She didn’t know what she was going to say until she says it. Already she can hear Hudson’s pride ignite. “Just in case - to head off things on the witch front. It’s not that I think you can’t handle it, I just think it’s better to cover the bases…”

It takes Hudson a second to realize that Alvina is shooing their children inside. He’s grateful for it, as it’s unclear how long he might have maintained the outwardly calm daddy demeanor. Alvina leads them away around the house, and in his irritation he misses the trolling of their eldest daughter. “Of course I have to tell her,” he’s practically barks at his wife, realizing the moment the words exit his mouth that he’s running too hot at present. He takes a breath and paces, crunching the unraked leaves underfoot. “Sorry,” he growls. “You’re right. She has to know. Whoever is doing this clearly wants a problem with Larket, which to me means witches. This mother—“ he releases a torrent of expletives, “disrespecting MY gods damned family is going to pay.“ He jabs a finger at the air. “I could crush this guy and anybody he cares about,” he says with menace. “I could crush him TWICE. How dare—“ a look from his wife silences him. He must be shouting. It’s not a good time for shouting in his bathrobe in the yard. The kids. The neighbors. He braces himself against the siding of their home. “I know,” he grunts at Alvina, who is looking at him like she wants to tell him he has to calm down. He exhales his frustration, “Right. What do we have to do after this? Dinner at my mom’s? Sven, I wanna cancel so bad but.” Canceling on his mother is more trouble than it’s worth. He pushes himself off the wall and stands upright. “Can you get everybody ready while I go take care of this garbage some? Just getting the guys looking.”

Alvina doesn’t recoil when he barks at her. Gone are the days when she didn’t know what to do. So she stays in place while he pulls away to pace. Her arms cross while she watches him with tense understanding. Even if he wasn’t a werewolf, he’d be like this about his family. She knows and feels safer for it most of the time. What she doesn’t feel safe about is how he leaps on the chance to rage, seemingly directionless, on their lawn. Staying silent, she waits, pleading with her eyes to keep from adding her voice to the flurry of noise. If it wasn’t dire, she might laugh at how silly he looked throwing threats around from a bathrobe which she imagines isn’t the most comfortable as the bottom half is wet. Crush him twice, even. Eventually, he runs into the roadblock of awareness and leans into the house. “I’m going to get everyone ready but I think you should miss dinner tonight.” She approaches him, hands extended, like he’s a spooked horse. Her palms rest on his shoulder and in the crook of his elbow. “Show up a little later if you feel like it but I can handle your mom for a little bit. I’ll take a nice wine,” Not that his mom wasn’t capable of buying herself the BEST of everything. It was the gesture. “We’ll drink and gossip about that news article I read this morning. Johnny Snure and his mistress. Huge shock.” She fills the space with useless information but can still see the murderous gears turning behind his eyes. “Hudson,” She says his name softly, repeating it a second time when he doesn’t look after the first. “Wife to hubby, come in hubby…?” She waits. “Maybe put pants on?” She suggests, leaning up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “I’ll be okay -” She doesn’t know if it will be. “Uma doesn’t live too far from your Mom either, maybe you can stop by on the way back? Or I can?” Alvina doesn’t like to involved in Hudson’s...occupation but she felt like he might not be seeing straight. Surprisingly, she feels more level headed now that she’s passed the torch of outrage to Hudson. He could actually do something with it. Once she’s sure he’s composed enough to not scream at the gods, she pats his forearm and rounds the corner of the house to herd the girls into clean clothes. Luna demands to help Alvina with her makeup, even though she hadn’t planned on wearing any. Harper pelts Matilda with questions while Bryce tries to wiggle out of his little sailor suit that E.L. bought him. Alvina sneezes in the middle of Luna sponging ungodly amounts of foundation on her mother’s LIPS and then has a meltdown because Alvina moved. With a sigh, Alvina scoops her up and sets her on the bathtub’s edge so she can wipe her face back to baseline. #Aholeparents. Bargaining cools Luna down and they rejoin Harper, Matilda, and Bryce the wiggle worm in the living room to gather purses, backpacks, and diaper bags.

Hudson knows that he is being fired from dinner with his mother, even though his wife is putting it kindly. He doesn't have it together. The wolf's spoiled it for both of them. He lets Alvina coax him into looking at her, and suffers through a mild smile for her efforts. "Thanks," he exhales, adding, "I'll figure it out." If his rage seems already muted, it's because he's already plotting next steps. They separate, and he trudges through the yard barefoot to find his stationed carriage driver, to whom he gives a full download before climbing inside. They travel to the Office, the exotic dancing club where his associates are known to congregate, and the Hudson calls a meeting, presiding over it in his bathrobe. He passes on his wife's description of the man and delegates out the task of collecting information about each of the known publications in the city, and their editorial staff. He pulls an unnecessary power move and summons Mayor Uma Abelin herself to the club, rather than going to her. She arrives wearing sunglasses and a baseball hat, which she whips off immediately upon being shown in.

"You can't summon me to a strip club! You're a known racketeer, we can't keep doing this! Do you know how this looks!?"

"I don't care, Uma."

"What th- Are you in a bathrobe?!" She gapes at him, her posture sagging with frustration.

Hudson lifts a copy of a newspaper, jabbing at the front page. "Yeah because I left my pleasant afternoon with my family after my wife comes home to tell me a journalist bothered her in the city, that he's going to write an exposé all about how I had an affair with Valrae and funneled money to the Larket resistance to topple the monarchy."

Uma blanches, puts a hand on her throat. "Did you fund .." she begins, but then waves a hand in front of her. "I don't want to know, please."

"What do you think," hisses Hudson, as the door to the interior office within The Office opens, and his assistant Joanie enters.

"Hi," Joanie breathes warmly at the mayor, in the dulcet tone of a woman accustomed to maintaining calm during a crisis. Uma instinctively returns the smile, but crosses her arms. Joanie is undeterred by her interruption. "So, I sent a note to Alvina that you would be missing dinner," she informs Hudson, handing him a glass of a thick green liquid with a straw. "You're lucky it's romaine and not kale," she titters before departing, lifting her eyebrows at Uma in an unspoken message before she shuts the door behind her.

Uma's attention flicks back to Hudson. "Obviously this article can't be published."

"Obviously," agrees Hudson, drinking from his smoothie. He grunts and then gestures at her with the draw. "Pass a law that requires all newspapers to register with the Mayor's office - publication of unregistered news results in jail."

Uma shakes her head. "That's fascist, the opposite of what Cenril and my administration stands for."

"Well, ideally, I find this journalist and kill them," says Hudson, speaking around the straw. "Please!" cries Uma, holding up a palm in the gesture for 'stop.' "What if this breaks? Then I have to denounce you?"

"No," says Hudson, in a certain condescending tone, "You say you're concerned and are going to conduct an investigation into it. The investigation goes on for months, during which time I kill the journalist--"

"You can't just--"

"Make it look like an accident?" Uma tightens her jaw. "I hope you find him."

"Same," agrees Hudson genially. "Wouldn't be surprised if there were a link with other unsavories around here." He gestures at the door. "Anyway, that's all, Uma. Sorry to bother you, sorry to make you come here and consort with criminals, I'm only trying to keep the city at peace and fight back against fascism myself, etcetera. We're on the same team."

Uma opens her mouth but thinks better of it and nods. She replaces her cap and sunglasses at the door, turning to reiterate one last time to Hudson before leaving: "I hope you find him."

Alvina’s juggling plates in the kitchen at E.L.’s, trying to persuade Harper to sit down to eat instead of pretending to be a bird while standing in her chair to ‘peck’ down at the food with her nose. It’s slow going - she’s already on edge. The knock at the door is an excuse to catch her breath, the hope that it was Hudson is fleeting. He wouldn’t knock. A well dressed man silently hands Alvina a note and starts back down the drive, back to the street where a carriage is waiting. Mrs. Landon stays in the door frame, watching the back of his black suit wrinkle as he walked. She waits another moment, feeling her frown deepen anxiously before she steps back in the house and shuts the front door behind her.