Traffic's picking up as you head down the road, lots of kids driving back from the Littlestown football game. You pass a woman riding a bicycle as you're going through McSerrystown, and about ten minutes later you're in Littlestown, three minutes past that even at the snail's crawl of 25 MHP you turn at the only light in town.
There on the left, just as Aaroc said, is the Heartbreak Hotel. A six- story hotel with the familiar neon of beer signs in the windows of the first floor. Signs point to parking behind the edifice. The back door is open and music can be heard from inside.
The bar seems to be separated into two rooms, divided by the bar. From the back door you enter the larger of the two, this with a small stage on which four satyrs are arranging instruments. Two women, the guitarist and keyboards player, and two men, the drummer looking no more than maybe 14 and the bass player maybe 4 years his senior.
No other fae tonight, at least not yet, that Bronnie can see.
The fae see Bronwyn as a tall, imposing knight of the Seelie court, but not one of haughty mien. She has the blue skin and tiny horns that mark her as a trollmaid, but her armor and the blade at her side suggest she is not one to be trifled with. And the confidence with which she carries herself further suggest that she knows how to use that blade. Still, her smile as she looks at the satyrs is friendly.
Those who can only see Bronwyn's mortal form take a different measure of her. She is tall, yes, but heavy of the sort that inspires older women to say "she has a pretty face". And she does, and she dresses reasonably well, if casually, and warmly against the chill of the fall. But still, she's not the sort on whom young men's gazes linger long; she's not the sort that high-schoolers would see as a cheerleader or a star athlete; and she knows it. Maybe she was a grind in school.
If the youngsters have eaten at the Waelder House restaurant, or had friends who have stayed at the bed and breakfast, they may recognize her.
Bronwyn approaches the stage, towards the side where the women are unpacking their gear. "Excuse me," she says. "I'm looking for Roxanne. Might one of you be able to help me?"
Both satyr women turn, the younger behind the keyboards smiling and now recognizable as Merry, a satyr wilder you met once when she was having a weekend away with her husband, not long after their child was born.
"Dame Bronwyn, right? This is Roxy," she indicates the other woman, dressed almost as scantily in her mortal mien as that of her fae.
Bronwyn smiles back at Merry and nods in acknowledgement before turning her attention to Roxy.
Roxy smiles and offers a hand. "Always willing to help out another dame," she jokes.
"What might I do for you?" The question carries many levels to it, and judging be Roxy's expression, any might be possible.
The male satyrs, continue setting up, but are definitely watching what's happening with interest.
At least some of those levels may have gone right over Bronwyn's head, judging from her expression, which never wavers. Perhaps she's really that serious, or she isn't used to flirtation. Regardless, she takes Roxy's hand in a firm but pleasant grip and shakes it.
Roxy returns the handshake with hands calloused from guitar playing, evenly enough.
"I'm looking for a nightclub called Wonderland. I've heard it used to be in Biglerville, but that it's gone now. A friend of mine told me that you'd been there and you might be able to tell me how to find it now."
"Some friend!" Roxy laughs. "Sorry, Dame, but Wonderland just doesn't seem to be your sort of place."
"You sure that you're looking for it for the right reason? People don't just disappear down rabbitholes for the fun of it," she says. "At least not Trolls. Ogres maybe..." There's no malice behind the comparison to the Trolls disfigured and evil cousins, but she does seem aware that she might be pushing buttons.
Bronwyn shrugs, not particularly bothered by the reference to the Ogres. "My reasons are sound," she says confidently. "I appreciate your concern, Roxy, but I really do need to find Wonderland. There may well be trouble down whatever rabbithole Wonderland vanished into. I'm hoping that there isn't, but if there's trouble there, I need to find out for myself."
She leans in and says quietly, "I'm hoping that finding Wonderland will help me prevent some trouble before it starts, actually."
Roxy smiles half-heartedly. "What fun is there in that?" she asks rhetorically.
Bronwyn smiles.
"OK, if I can get you there, I really don't think Chas is going to take kindly to one of the Baron's flunkies showing up," she comments. "You need to be escorted, I think, but I've got a gig, hmm."
"Merry, you're expendable, and Chas prolly would think you're still OK. You want the job of babysitting the troll?" she asks.
Merry looks surprised at the suggestion, but after a moments consideration nods her head. "Yeah, I know where they're slumming currently, but I haven't been there since I left Cannon's." She seems uncertain or hesitant, but doesn't change her decision on going.
Roxy turns back to Bronwyn. "That suit you?"
"If it suits Merry. If you're not planning on playing too late, I could stay and watch your show, and you, or someone else, could babysit me afterwards." Bronwyn looks at Merry, ready to allow her a graceful exit if she doesn't want to go to Wonderland.
Either way of getting to Wonderland had its advantages. Accompanying Merry right now would be faster, but seeing the band play had attractions of its own, and it would give her a better insight into whichever of the band members ended up as her companion.
Merry smiled thanks for the unspoken offer. Since the baby was born she didn't get as many chances to play with the tragos as she once did. "I don't mind taking her at all, but... yeah, how about after the first set?"
Roxy nods to Merry, and with a few choice words suggests that the guys should get their minds on the music and not the audience, specifically Bronnie.
As Bronnie turns to find herself a seat, there's a redhead standing there with a cider in hand. She hands it to Bronnie and continues on to talk animatedly with Roxy.
"Thanks," says Bronwyn, as the other woman heads off to speak with Roxy.
Not "argument animatedly" but animated none the less. Perhaps it's the kiss when she heads back behind the bar that sets the male members of the audience off. It's a rather deep kiss, not something that says "thanks, we'll talk later" but more something that says, "you're welcome, we'll ahem later".
[Well, they're satyrs. Bronwyn's not surprised, and not bothered, not condemnatory, and not interested.]
The set runs rather uneventful. The tragos seems to take the first two numbers to find their stride, but once they do, they're in their element. The whole mood of the room seems to ebb and flow with George's drums and Phil's bass guitar. Soaring high above are Roxy's vocals while Merry weaves between the men and her mentor, keeping the music from splintering into pieces.
Bronwyn enjoys the music, but remains in her seat. She nurses her cider through the set. It wouldn't do to be drunk on duty at Wonderland.
Afterward, Merry gets a cranberry juice from the redhead behind the bar, offers her a small kiss on the cheek, much more chaste than that offered by Roxy earlier. She's obviously brushed off several men in various states of intoxication in making her way to Bronnie.
"So, ready to go?" she asks.
"Sure," says Bronwyn, leaving a tip on the bar for the redhead that covers the cost of the cider. If there's a hat for Roxy's band, she graces that, too.
There is and Roxy accords Bronnie a smile as she notices the big blue hand toss the offering toward the guitar case.
As they step out into the cold night air, Bronwyn says to Merry, "I can drive, unless they need to recognize your car to be sure you're OK." She's mostly joking about that last bit.
"Actually, my hubby ran off with the jeep after the game, so I was going to need a ride home anyway," Merry says sliding into the passenger's seat. "Wonderland's not too far from home currently, so this kinda works out for me."
"I'll take you home afterwards," says Bronwyn, not interested in leaving a new mother out on the streets next to some Unseelie haunt.
She directs Bronnie back into Hanover, past The Blackrose and toward the center of town. Once there, she hangs a right, headed toward York, and a few blocks later has her pull into a parking lot across from an old hotel. She points to a side door that must be a service entrance. "There's your rabbit hole."
"Ready?"
As Bronwyn gets out of the car, she straightens herself a little, surveys her unfashionable mortal form and her armor-clad fey demeanor, and says, "Sure."
She strides over to the door and (assuming Merry follows) opens it for the lady.
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