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Tweak says, "For my prince."

The Confundus Conspiracy; or, Youngblood Circle (confundere) wrote,
@ 2006-07-21 19:04:00

Current mood:	sleepy
Current music:	Who Will Buy? - from Oliver! The Original Soundtrack

The Divination Mistress: at Youngblood Circle, Magical D.C.
"Well, dayumm...", grumbled Finola Cumbow, removing first her right shoe, then her left, looking up and down at the accumulations of dirt on the soles. It was about what she'd anticipated finding: much of the residue had escaped closer to the heels, with good-sized chunks settling in near the middle, and the bulk of the dirt grading to a high concentration nearer the toes. The right shoe indicated what sort of muck would occupy one's outer life; the left one, one's inner life. And the patterns of dirt grinding into the grooves indicated that a good deal of stress was coming up in the future, in both the inner and outer worlds of Finola's life.

She sighed and gave Madame Sandansky a tired gaze across the lounge of their hotel in Youngblood Circle. "Jovana, honey, you had to talk me into this conference with the Eye-raqi contingent, now didn't you?" she groused. She pointed to the upturned soles of her shoes. "Sez here, no sooner did I git into D.C., along comes a bunch of shit about to happen in the very near future, as in, the next couple weeks or so. Like I didn't git enough shit happenin' at the frickin' Bureau--" Finola Cumbow, Divination Mistress extraordinaire, who could read patterns of the world in practically every divination tactic known to Wizardkind at the tender age of 35, was a diplomatic liaison with the Southeastern Bureau of Magic. The British had their Ministry for Magic, and the Americans had regional Bureaus. And hell if Miss Cumbow didn't have communication issues every time she arrived at the nation's capitol. She'd been born in East Tennessee, but raised in West Tennessee, and folks there spoke a slightly different tongue than folks in Youngblood Circle, by and large.

Jovana Sandansky laughed, and handed the waterpipe back to Finola. "My dear, smoke some more peppermint and chamomile; you don't want your blood pressure rising already, at your age", she advised. "Yes, we will be discussing Death-Eaters, traveling ghosts, blood-settling, and the Middle Eastern wars; but we needn't feel obligated to solve all the world's problems at once. Perhaps, after dinner with Madame Al-Halim and her party, you might do a reading for us on which dragon, figuratively speaking, we should do battle with first?"

Finola leaned her chair back further with a giggle of fatigue, her long chestnut-brown hair beginning to drape over the arms. Her violet eyes tried to do their usual dance among friends, but Finola was beginning to have trouble keeping them open. "Peppermint and chamomile?" she echoed her Macedonian friend. "Goddamn, Jovana, dontcha have an ounce of hash with a pinch o' ginseng for effect? If you're gonna go to the trouble to vape stuff, at least sneak somethin' yummy into the country in yer backpack." She sat upright again, and tried to get a little bit serious. "Where's your girls from Europe, Jovana? And all them others from the Night Ship? Muggle Secret Service shoot 'em down or something?"

Jovana looked around the lounge; so far, no sign of Marja, Lule, or any owls from the Night Ship crew. "Come to think of it, I'm not sure, Finola. They said something about going out for a walk; I'm not sure why they took their instrument cases with them when they left. Now that you mention the Night Ship, though, I think our first item of business--when Madame Ghazala arrives--might be siphoning off energy from our power-glutted Muggle government buildings. Have you been anywhere near the White House since you got here, my dear? You can feel the power activity radiating off of that structure like a nuclear reactor on the verge of a meltdown!"

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confundere
2009-01-18 09:23 pm UTC (link)

The Magical division of Washington, D.C., Youngblood Circle, was an impressive sight to any witches or wizards from around the world from the time they first arrived here. One could apparate there, arriving at one of thirteen points just outside the central plaza around which the community was built; the American floo network connected to the Circle as well, primarily from the regional Bureaus of Magic around the United States. If one was entering from Muggle D.C., however, the only point of entry was a now-unused employees' locker room in the Dupont Circle Metro station.

Just as Muggle D.C. was designed in accord with specific Masonic symbology, so Youngblood Circle took its design inspiration from the ancient Neolithic circular cities excavated in parts of Eastern Europe. As with these ancient cities, Youngblood Circle was built in concentric circles around a central plaza that served as a park and gathering place for special events; the very center point contained a sort of mosaic of a Goddess Eye formed from a triple-double-spiral motif. Branching out from the central plaza were thirteen ray-like streets that gave further structure to the patterns of building of the circle. Three of the thirteen sections, scattered among the rest, were reserved for hotels and other tourist/traveler services. Five further scattered sections--the largest ones--were for residential building. The remaining five sections were for retail buildings and spaces. The Magical Bureau offices here were actually established in unused retail spaces built into apartment buildings in the residential sections. Jovana and Finola's hotel was ideally situated, the closest to the central plaza and the main drag for shops, clubs, bars and the like.

As Madame Sandansky and the Divination Mistress were to discover, moreover, as they ventured out of their hotel lounge in the lobby, Youngblood Circle was also very busker-friendly. Street musicians and other performers were to be found in abundance in this Magical division of the nation's capitol. And since the arrival and docking of the Night Ship that morning, the Circle's busker population had just grown by four.

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confundere
2009-01-18 09:24 pm UTC (link)

As it turned out, Marja, Lule and the two Irish Aurors were not difficult to find. They had set up a busking pitch under the marquee of a beauty salon that was closed for the evening; and were collecting a fair share from an international clientele of witches and wizards who were nonetheless a trifle puzzled at the languages of the songspells they were hearing.

As Jovana and Finola drew closer, a mixture of a grin and a worried grimace showed up on the face of the Macedonian spellsinger. "Oh, dear", she whispered to the Divination Mistress. "That--if I'm not mistaken--is the judgment warning songspell we wrote last year on behalf of our friend the shamanic researcher. You remember what I told you about the Muggle shamanic writer, and how she was ousted from a roleplayer's community?"

"Oh..." Finola struggled with her powers of recall. "You're talkin' about the girl from Maryland, and the whole controversy with the Confundus Board?"

"That's the one", Jovana grinned dryly. "I just hope not too many people here understand Finnish Saami. That set of verses might be a little dark for some people's tastes..."

It was, indeed, the Judgment Warning Songspell, based on the root song, "Any Spellsinger Worth Her Salt." And the song was clearly picking up in intensity, especially when Nuala started in playing backup rhythm on her bodhran.

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confundere
2009-01-18 09:27 pm UTC (link)

Four voices in Balkan harmonies, with Lule's shamanic drum, Marja's kantele, Roisin's bouzouki and Nuala's bodhran, were calling down a harsh rebuke on those who had harmed their friend, the American shamanic researcher, in an online roleplaying controversy a year before:

We who once sang on your behalf
Now turn our singing against you.
For it's a poor spellsinger indeed
Who cannot both hex and heal.

You who have harmed a spellsinger,
Hear the warning that tolls for you:
For any spellsinger worth her salt
Can hex as well as heal.

You have judged sadly in error,
To cross Jovana Sandansky of Skopje.
Do not presume to spit on the scrolls
Of one who has laboured hard for you.

You brought judgment upon yourselves,
To turn out a song-sister of Marja Karppinen:
For she can summon a thousand like her
To sing sorrow down on your heads.

Scores have learned, to their chilling grief,
Not to offend such as Lule Gierran.
An unfriendly joik from her kind
Will pierce your soul like ice.

Now, reap what you have sown,
As Eris Discordia rides down upon you;
For a poor spellsinger she is indeed,
Who cannot hex as well as heal.

"Merlin H. Christ", Finola breathed in Jovana's ear. "I cain't understand anything but your names, but that one sounds a bit sharp for my virgin ears, for sure..."

"Oh, don't worry yourself, my dear", Jovana laughed in reply. "It wasn't about you..."

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