RP:Low T Macon
Part of the Larketian Fault Lines Arc
Summary: Macon and Josleen visit the witchcraft detection radar that Alvina built for the crown. Unfortunately, a couple idiot mage technicians have already broken Alvina’s remarkable machine. The mages deceive the King and Queen and through the use of illusions give the false appearance of a working machine. When their deceit is discovered, Macon... leaves without so much as growling and just tells them to fix the machine? What? Josleen, who has noticed a change in Macon’s behavior (since Muzo’s latest rage treatment), tries to provoke passion in him, but the King remains passionless. Josleen, who has not yet figured out that this change in behavior is linked to Muzo’s over correction of the King’s rage and aggression, worries that he is losing interest in her now that she is pregnant. She promptly fires the two prettiest maids on staff.
Witchcraft Detection Radar, Larket Academy of Magic
Macon and Josleen make the short trip from Fort Freedom to The Academy of Magics on foot. Roald accompanies them, trailing behind, and will only follow as far as the Witchcraft Research Department, which is the Royal Couple’s destination today. Alvina’s collaboration with the academy has produced a working, wide range detection system of witchcraft in action. The room-sized device has been operational for nearly a week and has already successfully led to the apprehension of rebel witches plotting against the crown and unregistered Witches cooking their dinners. It is possible that both Josleen and Macon have made their way out here to view the marvelous invention in action individually already, but this is their first time being out here together since it was put into service. Headmaster Percival knows they are coming, and greets the royals shortly after they enter the Academy, just to show his face, as he won't be joining them for their viewing of the device either, as he knows it is not currently functioning as intended and would rather not be around for that news being broken. When The King and Queen of Larket enter the room housing the witch radar they are greeted by the constantly turning metal of the device, the large holographic projection of the Larketian map from an overhead view, and one of the Academy technicians tasked with the radar’s operation, who comes to them having drawn the short straw, hat figuratively in hand.
Josleen is irritable. Her pregnancy’s early symptoms have at last kicked in and she spends most mornings in bed with a cool compress on her forehead, waiting for the nausea to pass. Because of these symptoms, Josleen had not come to witness Alvina’s marvelous machine in action before today. She wasn’t even sure she would accompany the king now, but, having been bedridden for the better part of the past two days, the bored Queen needed a change of scenery, and to stretch her legs and soak in a little sun, though the latter quickly proved to be yet one more irritant. It’s too damn hot. She lets Macon know this at least a billion times. Sven… aren’t you hot? I’m so hot. It’s so hot out. You’re not hot? It’s like 100 degrees out. (It’s 80). She overheats easily due to the pregnancy, and this provokes another round of nausea. She nags Macon several times to slow down, he’s walking too fast for her stomach. Slow down. Macon, too fast. Slow down! What are you in a rush for? Inside the Academy, she can barely manage a smile for Percival, though it isn’t his fault. The nausea has her head spinning, and in lieu of small talk she asks for a glass of water with ice in it (which, because there’s no such things as refrigerators, will have to be magically made). Right away, Your Majesty. The glass will be brought to her in the radar room wherein an Academy technician stalls for time as his colleague tries to fix the machine. “Your Highness,” he says to Macon as Josleen sits and holds her head in her hands, “if you could be patient just a moment as my colleague initiates the machine’s detection sequence.” “I thought it was on all the time. What if a witch is committing a crime right now?” Josleen says without lifting her forehead from her hands. Before the technician (looks like another Greg, maybe?) may answer, she asks irritably, “Where is that water?” Well…the cryomancy professor is out of town on business in the Mage’s Tower and his students are failing to produce ice cubes. One of them froze the entire glass of water and they had to start over with a fresh glass. The second decided to drip water from above the glass and turn the droplets into ice as they fell, thus isolating the droplets from the larger body of water, but instead simply made it snow on the glass. The technician scampers off to rush them and they abort the mission entirely. Josleen receives a glass of bath-warm water in a lightly frosted glass. She takes a sip then screws up her nose, still overheating as her pregnant body fails to regulate its temperature effectively. “What happened to the ice?”
Macon is significantly less irritable since the latest Rage Aura treatment from Muzo, but he is no less determined in his everyday activities. Thus the Fury Knight doesn't notice the heat, even in his full armor and carrying the literal weight of the marble crown on his head, until Josleen mentions it. He waits patiently, looking away while the nausea is dealt with, and starts off again when she is ready. Almost immediately he is told he is going too fast, and slows down for the Queen to catch up. He places a hand on her back and might get yelled at for that, as it is much too hot for physical contact. Shockingly, she doesn't even get the classic, sideways glare from the king in response to any of this complaining. Once inside and informed that the machine is not on right now, Macon’s concern is the same as Josleen’s. They could be missing something during this downtime. He raises a brow, “Why isn’ it on righ’ now?” he asks calmly. A cascade of excuses is provided while the ice water fiasco happens around them. ‘This part of the machine overheated.’ ‘The detector started tracking every cat in Larket for some reason, instead of active witches.’ Macon nods and tells them to “Ge’ it workin’ as soon as possible.” Heads are somehow not rolling when the Queen doesn't get the coldest water possible without the addition of electrolytes. He takes the glass from Josleen and is fooled somewhat by the glass itself being somewhat cold. He hands it back to whoever brought it out and tells them to take it to the headmaster, who is more than skilled enough to make a few ice cubes. He is certainly different, but still not above making a power play like that on Percival, just to remind everyone who the king is, and also to get Josleen some ice, sure.
“I’ve never seen a single cat in Larket,” Josleen snaps after that particularly pathetic excuse. However, of course there are cats in Larket, and more to the point, Josleen has definitely seen them (and so has Gigi, who eats their poop). It would seem irritable Josleen takes a page from the Augusta Jauzon school of antagonism. Facts don’t matter, only that she’s upset. She looks to Macon to say something, expecting him to at the very least growl, but he seems patient – impossibly so, compared to Josleen who any minute now may have a meltdown. She growls irritably as the glass is taken away again. “I think Alvina told me once that Hudson can make ice. Hudson!” She repeats the name incredulously, like ‘if that guy can do it, why not these mage scrubs?’ One of the technicians kicks the machine and Josleen glares at him. “How much did we pay Alvina for this?” she asks Macon, which then triggers something she’s been nagging him about for the past few days. “I still don’t think we gifted them enough gold for the wedding.” They gifted 1,000 gold. She presses her fingertips to her lips and swallows hard, but does not puke. Meanwhile, the technicians have no idea what is wrong with the machine and one, an illusionist, decides to just fake it. “There we go!” his colleague says as the illusionist makes some colorful sparks fly on the radar. “The color of the spark tells us the nature of the magic. This green one means a witch is likely tending to her garden. This purple one is, uh,” the technician forgot. “Cosmetic.” When the machine was last explained to Macon, purple was animal-related magic, usually with an animal component, living or dead, in the spell. The illusionist hides his hands behind his back, fingers snapping in and out of arcane shapes to produce the illusory effect over the radar.
Macon blinks at the strange statement that there are no cats in Larket, though he does not say ‘that's ridiculous’ in a Veratoakan accent like he normally might had Augusta made a similarly preposterous claim. Josleen has earned his silence in the face of her pregnancy absurdity. Maybe Alvina didn't mean water ice when she told the queen that drug dealer Hudson could make it, but that is a discussion for another time. Rather than argue about what Hudsvina should have gotten for their wedding gift, the Rage Knight concedes before this discussion can even get off the ground; they can send a physical gift to supplement the cash, and blame slow shipping for the tardiness of the present, if that is what Josleen thinks is best. Meanwhile, the water guy returns with Percival's answer to the ice question. In retaliation to the request he has provided drink cooling in the form of ice chips, a lot of them. So much so that drinking from the glass either means taking in bits of ice with the water in each sip or risking spilling all over yourself while trying to keep ice out of your mouth. The headmaster is the true terrorist here, no doubt, unless Josleen likes chewing on ice, like a maniac. The usual Rage Knight paranoia isn't cranked up today, so when the technician ‘mistakes’ purple for cosmetic magic, the King doesn't bat an eye and says flatly, “I thought purple was animal magic…” He points out a particular set of sparks out towards the Larket graveyard to The Queen while launching into a series of questions about what is done when each type of magic is detected.
Josleen struggles with the over-iced drink only a little and discovers that she suddenly enjoys chewing on ice. It’s refreshing, and gnashing her teeth relieves stress and distracts her from her discomfort. Wonderful! A naturally curious woman, she would typically be engaged in the purple sparks that Macon shows her, but today she cannot focus on anything but her bloating, nausea, dizziness, and that damn heat. “That’s nice,” she says in a dismissive tone she has never (ever) used with Macon before today. Would she even have dared it, if he were his usual quick-to-anger self? She leans back in her seat and sighs happily, finally relaxing a little. The technician begins to answer Macon’s question. They alert the guards for purple, red, black, and orange, but not for green, white, yellow, or blue, though they do write down all colors in the–-- Josleen, who hadn’t been paying attention because she was too focused on that blissful ice, interrupts the technician mid-sentence. “This ice is great, love.” She sounds perkier already and even smiles. “I should hire a mage full time to make ice for me for the rest of the summer. Perhaps one who can also summon cool gusts of air.” Josleen has already acquired a personal fanner this week, but that person cannot magically cool the air. The technician grimaces, wondering if he should pick up where he left off or not. Why bother? These two Royal Knuckleheads don’t even care. The technicians exchange rueful looks at Macon and Josleen’s expense. A blue spark erupts like a firework over the zoo. “Oh, that means a witch put lipstick on a pig,” the technician says in a flat tone, convinced no one is listening to him anyway. But Josleen heard him this time, and she blinks at him. “Is that a joke?” Flustered, the technician bows deeply, “Yes, Your Majesty, a joke. I was having a little fun. Blue represents animation, which could be used for harm in theory, but is typically harmless, like a self-stirring spoon in a pot of rabbit stew.” The illusionist’s silence draws Josleen’s suspicion and she squints at him. Behind him there is a table and on that table is a crystal ball used for scrying on suspected witches. The ball, currently not in use, it so brilliantly polished that Josleen can see the illusionist’s hands wiggling in the ball’s reflection. “Are you spellcasting right now?” Josleen asks incredulously. The illusionist panics and brings his hands forward quickly as if he was accused of stealing. Immediately all the brilliant sparks on the radar disappear.
Macon isn't oblivious to that disinterested ‘that's nice’ from Josleen, and looks her way questioningly, though not threateningly, as would be expected from a pre-Muzo procedure Rage Knight. His would-be glare is cut short by the explanation of the sparks, which in turn is cut short by the Queen’s opining on ice and air conditioning mages. She snaps at the technician and catches the illusionist deceiving them and Macon immediately notices that the sparks stop showing up when the mage stops his spellcasting, which is enough for the king to understand what is going on. “It is still not workin’ yet?” He asks with a noticeable lack of fumes coming from his ears, while knowing full well what the answer is. Somehow this guy is not out cold on the floor following a marble crown enhanced headbutt from The Fury Knight. An excuse starts to come out and the technician looks to be quick to back up whatever story is chosen to explain this to the royals. Macon stops them however, with a firm order of “Get out,” which they are all too happy to follow, quickly fleeing the scene of this most egregious crime: deceiving the crown.
Josleen’s lips are set firm as she watches the technicians trip over their words. She waits for Macon’s figurative axe to fall on their necks (even at peak rage the King isn’t needlessly homicidal), but he surprises her by letting them go like they’re no more naughty than a couple of schoolboys caught with their hands in the cookie jar. “…Macon?” She asks questioningly around an ice chip, the ice clinking against her teeth. “How are you not more upset? They lied to Us!” She uses his royal ‘we’ with the same tone he has used in the past. “What are you going to do now?”
Macon turns and moves to stand close to Josleen. Normally, this would be for the purpose of telling her privately how this slight would be dealt with so that the other academy students and staff present would not be able to hear, allowing the punishment itself to have the full impact on its own without having it dampened by someone hearing about it before it is doled out. That does not appear to be the case this time as he speaks to her quietly, instead making excuses for the culprits, “I am.” He lies, “They were afraid t’tell us the truth.” He is most certainly not matching her ‘royal we’ here, and normally hearing her talk like that would have done something for him. At the very least, her questioning would have spurred him on if she were having any doubts about retribution for those two incompetent academy workers. Instead he sidesteps her last question and states, “We need t’ave them get this thing workin’ again as soon as possible.”
Josleen frowns slightly as Macon explains his view and approach to this. It’s reasonable, and while she doesn’t have a problem with a softer approach from time to time, she just didn’t believe him capable of it. Although Josleen does not lust for the technicians to be lashed, it worries her to see Macon so changed. Come to think of it, he’s been like this for some time now. “Darling,” she coos as she gently lifts a hand to his face and takes his temperature. “Are you sleeping enough? Feeling well?” Her frown deepens as she considers the possibilities then her mind races to something funny and she suddenly grins at the private joke. “I read in one of my baby books that sometimes fathers have sympathy symptoms.” She bites her lower lip, looks left and right surreptitiously, and with the coast clear, honks his pecs over the armor, which she wishes weren’t there for this. “Some men even lactate,” she teases, fully expecting a growl. She bites her lip again to keep herself from giggling and attracting the attention of the mages. “Any tenderness and swelling?”
Macon shakes his head against her hand, “I feel fine,” he answers unable to tell whether he is telling the truth or lying. He doesn't appear amused by the suggestion that he is having sympathetic pregnancy symptoms, especially the lactating suggestion (he isn't. Ok?), but he does not growl as expected. “None.” No tenderness. “Shall we go?” He asks her before addressing the mages present without waiting for her answer. (At least that part of the Rage Knight is still present.) He tells them that they are leaving and that The Fort should be informed as soon as the device is up and running again, which should be treated as an utmost priority. Disappointing that they will not get to see the radar actually working together today.
Josleen frowns again as Macon doesn’t join her game, and instead simply says ‘No.’ She was fully expecting some hyper-masculine response about something else swelling, would Dr. Jos like to take a look, hurr hurr hurr, etc. Nothing. Come to think of it (again), he hasn’t made a move on her in a few days. She’s been ill, but that’s never stopped him before. Her heart sinks a little as suddenly she starts to fear what many pregnant women fear: he’s losing interest. She rises when it’s time to go. Her brow creases as he speaks with the mages without much ire in his tone. On the walk back, she whispers so that Roald cannot overhear her, “Is everything else alright, my love? I’m feeling much better.” That’s true, but only just. “Are you busy now? Come up to the room with me,” she purrs.
Macon is definitely not quite feeling himself, but he doesn't let the Queen in on this fact, instead he denies again that anything is wrong, “I'm alrigh’.” He grins to Josleen, happy to hear the lie that she is feeling better and also for that purred out invitation. However, that grin quickly fades away when he remembers that he is in fact busy, and he tells her that he is scheduled to meet with this guy and that guy after that. Normally he would have been happy to keep them waiting, in fact such a power play would have been preferable even without the added incentive of being all over the Queen, but today he simply cannot be so rude as to leave these inconsequential meetings waiting…
Josleen’s heart sinks but she keeps a smile up for Macon’s sake. “Ok, handsome. I’ll see you later then, work on the golf fundraiser in the meantime.” At the bottom of the stairs that lead up to the private residence, she dismisses Roald with a glance. Once he’s gone, she kisses Macon passionately, her mouth cool from the ice chips. Grinning impishly as she pulls away, she whispers, “I’ll be waiting for you.” Back in the Royal bedchambers, she summons the head maid and promptly fires the two prettiest maids on staff, maids who rarely interact with the Royals anyway, and mostly buff statues and dust shelves. The Queen fabricates an excuse that their work was lacking, and their firing is effective immediately. The head maid begs the Queen for some explanation as to what upset her so that the problem may be corrected, but Josleen insists it is as she says. After dismissing the head maid, Josleen opens her charity fundraiser planner, but struggles to focus on the (minimal) work. Her mind keeps fussing over Macon’s recent change in behavior. This happened back in Xalious to her friend/frenemy Delilah. Delilah’s first husband lost interest in her after she got pregnant. Oh and poor Anabelle! Not only did her husband leave her while she was pregnant, but he left her no money, no home, nothing. And look at what happened to Alvina the first time around. Stressful thoughts seem incapable of acknowledging the Sally’s and Juliette’s and Tina P’s and Tina K’s whose husbands only loved them more with the news of the baby and remained true. After half an hour of obsessing on the handful of discarded women, she summons her trusted handmaiden. “Floria, I need the King to look over this guest list for me.” She doesn’t, they already discussed the list and finalized it. “But I’m so nauseous again I worry I’ll fall down the downstairs. Could you run this down to his office and ask him to take a look, and bring it right back to me? If he’s meeting with someone, don’t interrupt. It isn’t urgent, just bring it back.”
Hot maids are a status symbol, Josleen. Don't you know that? Macon, if he ever returns to normal, may have to remedy these baseless firings done by the Queen today. How can anyone live in a home housing an unpolished statue of Parsithius? This cannot stand. That is, of course, if he ever actually learns that they happened. Floria, when sent on her reconnaissance mission, will find that the king is indeed in one of the aforementioned meetings, and will not interrupt, as instructed, instead returning to the queen without The Rage Knight’s (unneeded) input. Once his schedule for the day is exhausted and the Rage Armor is shed, he returns to their room where Josleen said she would be waiting. He is happy to give up the loving she has been angling for since before they parted ways, but it would not be a stretch to say that he underperforms in this instance. The usual strength and fire the queen should be used to from the king seems to have gone the way of the growl and headbutt, which were oddly absent from the interactions at the witch radar today. This perhaps does not help to ease the worries the bard has been cultivating…