Felix
`'Meet me at the library', Francis had said, 'tomorrow. Let's talk this over.' And Marianne had agreed, because whatever Francis asked her to do, she'd always done it in a heartbeat, and that wasn't about to change. He'd come to her the very afternoon the news broke of Mayor Cooper's murder, while her mind had been still reeling over it, and his mere presence had somehow been enough to calm her. He was there, and when Francis was there, Marianne was safe. So of course, when he began to talk of the future, she'd settled, and listened.

Francis, as always, believed in her. Said she could do anything she put her mind to, and said she'd be good for Briar Ridge. He'd said it with such earnest she'd started to believe it herself. 

She breezed into the library only a few minutes later than promised, almost catching the hem of her dress in the door as the wind blew it shut behind her. Her hair was pinned up at the back of her head, and Dimitra's red bandana was tied neatly over the top, matching the shade she'd painted her nails the night before. Spotting Francis immediately, she made her way over to the corner table he was sitting at, and chose to sit right beside him, breathless as she leaned her head on his shoulder in fond greeting. "Hello again." `

||
John
`Francis gave his company an appraising look over as she walked to their table. There was a smile on his face.`

"Hello again," `he hummed, giving a kind of shrug into her affectionate lean. His cheek met the top of her head for a moment. Brought in so close, she would smell the cologne he'd worn a touch of, just for her, the scent somewhere on the wide spectrum between citrus and hickory smoke.` "I love the red scarf. I don't think there's a color in this world that wouldn't suit you, Miss Marianne."
Felix
`Her cheeks flushed at the simple compliment, though if questioned she'd have done her best to pass it off as simply the change in temperature, coming in from the cold to the warm room and his touch.` "I'll admit, it isn't mine," `she replied, tilting her head back to look up at him.` "Merely borrowed from a friend. But thank you. It almost matches yours." 

`Though she was reluctant to move from his side, she knew there were pressing matters to attend to, and so she sat upright, though she turned her chair a little to angle herself toward him.` "Tell me more about this... Idea of yours, then. You really think we can do it? Together?"
John
"Well then, you've got good taste in friends," `his smile was easy. Being with Mari was easy. He lamented their separation as she receded.`

"Yes. The big idea." `he straightened up a little as well,` "I do. I think *You* Kin do it. I'll help if you'll have me." `he told her. The statement was adjacent to the truth. He thought THEY could win the mayor's office, but he wanted Marianne to retain as much a feeling of agency as possible. She was an excellent figurehead, and he himself knew how to pull strings— both to get her the seat, and which to tug at once she was in it.`

"You know this place, Mari. You know what folks here need. They see a face like yours in the town square, they'll feel like all is right. I'll be there when you need me, sure, but you're a natural. You got a green thumb... But for people, too, not just plants." `he laughed,` "Whatever you wanna call it." `He studied her face, looking to find any traces of hesitation or doubt.`

"Long as this is what you *Want,* We kin do it. We *Will* Do it."
Felix
`He spoke with such passion, the kind of determination she wasn't familiar with from anyone else. The way he fixed her with a gaze that was neither pitying nor disapproving... How could she not feel at least a little fired up too?`

"Of course I'll have you, don't be ridiculous. Heaven knows I couldn't think of doing it *Without* You." `She rolled her eyes fondly. This was all his idea in the first place. She didn't do things like this - putting herself out there, standing up, speaking. Though Briar Ridge was closer to her heart than anywhere, she hadn't the first idea how to begin fixing what lay before them.` "I still don't understand why *You* Don't do all the talking. You're much better than me with that... But if you really think this is the way forward, then I just need you beside me to get us where we need to go. Where do we start?"
John
"Ah," `Francis shrugged and looked away, adopting a bashful expression,` "I don't know about all that. I do git to talkin' too much sometimes, about the wrong stuff. My mama always used to say how much I musta liked the sound of my own voice, 'cause I never could seem to stop talkin'." `He left out his real reasoning for not running, of course, which was that plenty of folks in this town had seen the worst parts of him. The angry, manipulative parts. Plenty of folks also knew him for his money, and all the good he did for them with that money, but he was afraid the former group outnumbered the latter. The point was, not enough people in Briar Ridge knew Francis for his good nature. They didn't see him and think` *Trust* `like they would Marianne.`

"We start with a campaign!" `he told her, his eyes shining. Francis could really get a look about him when he was excited, and he wore it now. Boyish and vibrant, you could almost see the schemes play out in his mind, projected there on his features.`
"We gotta figure out what you stand for. 'N how you tell folks what kinda mayor you'll be. How you address your people." `The last bit was teasing, but only slightly.` "What do you think about when you think of a mayor?"

"Sure, your people! They're already yours. When you win, even more so. This is your home. Your community." `he caught notice of her tongue, how it thoughtfully traced her mouth. He didn't know her well enough in their adulthoods to know what it meant, but he logged it away.` 

"Right, right." `He nodded.` "You've got morality in spades." `He laughed, a crisp sound. Francis' laugh was counter to his voice, which was low and honeyed with just a touch of grit (he'd curated it just so over the years). His laugh was something he hadn't been able to wrangle: it was a thing that often surprised him with its honesty.`

"But truly. That's a damn good foundation. This town needs a decision maker. It needs a protector. It needs someone who has seen it grow." `he looked fondly at her, getting caught up in his visions of the future as he had in her cottage. A view of the ocean. Sun and sand. There was still sun in this vision, but it was shining through her auburn hair as she stood smiling before the town.` 

"There'll be a speech, ya know. Before the votin'. I brought this notebook if you want I should take down what you'd wanna say. I think somethin' like that would be a winnin' start, Marianne. Somethin' about how you've seen the seasons here. Let folks know you care. That the choices you make will be the right ones for 'em." 

`He wanted to test an approach, but he was wary. He didn't take Marianne for someone to speak ill of the dead, but his hatred for the late Mayor was burning somewhat of a hole in his tongue. Perhaps they could bond over it to some degree.`

"There's another way about it, too. You could think of... Well. Of leaders you've known in the past. You kin think of what they done right, 'n what they done wrong. Pick out your platform from there." `While it wasn't too vitriolic, it certainly pointed a finger in Cooper's direction. He was curious if she'd take the bait.` 
_ _
Felix
He was right, as he so often was. She'd grown, over the years, to think of Briar Ridge as home, thoughts of leaving it behind now no more than a distant memory. How could she go, when there was so much to lose, and when the world outside the holler promised her so little beyond immature fantasies? She belonged here, among her friends, the people she loved the most. *Her people*. The idea still sounded strange, but she could feel herself growing accustomed to it. It wasn't as though stranger things hadn't happened. 

"I don't know that I'd be the one they trusted to make the decisions, Fran. But you... You're good at them. You'll help me." Her smile had returned - there was no question as to whether Francis would help. He clearly wanted this even more than she did and was going to get it no matter what it took. 

"I always find the talking easier than the writing. So you write down all you like and make me sound like a real mayor," She giggled, crossing her legs at the knee and leaning forward to watch his neat script spread across his page. 

But when he brought up leaders past, she pressed her lips together in a thin line. "Mayor Cooper was a good man to me... When I was young. Before I knew how to keep a good head on my shoulders, when I first got back after... You know. Everything. I wouldn't know where to start critiquin' him."
John
"It's settled. I'll be the... Official secretary." Francis smiled. The smile quickly faded, hard as he tried to maintain it. He'd known Marianne was too good to criticize William. 

"Of course," He soothed, jaw slightly clenched. Oh, how it pained him to sympathize with that coward. Francis gathered himself. The next words out of his mouth nearly hurt him physically, as he was sure Marianne's answer would as well. 

"You don't gotta critique him. Let's go with... With how he was good to ya. What you'd..." He didn't know the word *Emulate*, ironically enough, "What you'd borrow from him."
Felix
It didn't seem that Francis liked her answer. Perhaps someone who didn't know him like she did wouldn't have noticed it, but she'd had years of childish curiosity to learn his little quirks, the way the corners of his lips twitched in displeasure, the slight crinkle at the very bridge of his nose. She wanted to reach out, to smooth the anger from his brow. 

"I didn't know a soul when I got back in '22. All I had was the house and my name. He came to see me. Told me if I needed anything to go to him. He was kind when I needed someone to be kind to me."

Marianne sighed softly. 

"I always thought he was the type to be around forever. Taking care of the town 'til he was all old and grey. Everyone deserves to grow old, you know? It's not his fault... What happened to him."
John
Francis' pulse accelerated. God*Damnit* Why bring up the man at all? He cursed himself. Things had been going so well. He just needed to steer the conversation back around. His jaw relaxed slightly. The wrinkle ironed out of his brow. 

"Well, if it's kindness we're talking about, you'll win on that ticket alone." He told her, the subject of Cooper growing smaller in the distance as he ran from it. Still, her comments felt unaddressed. The thing was, Francis wasn't so sure that what came to Cooper in the end hadn't been of his making, but that was hardly a thing to suggest here and now. 

"It certainly wasn't his fault," He lied, and though the practice of lying was familiar, this particular employment was strained. He turned his attention to the pad of paper. 

`Kindness.` he wrote at the top, he penmanship heavily slanting to the right. The letters were tall and slender. The i was dotted with a short upwards dash. 

`A mayor for the people.` he wrote on the next line. 
`Seen this town through the seasons.` was another note. 

"I'm guessin' we should talk about the elephant in the room," He ventured onto his second least favorite topic of conversation besides the late mayor: the attacks. 

"Folks wanna know that they'll be safe for the full moons." *Something Mayor Cooper never promised. Never tried to make happen. Now we know why.* There were so many words unsaid. "What would you do to make that happen? Know anyone from the city who could help? Any ways to make houses stronger? Reinforce the jailhouse as a shelter?" He spitballed ideas, volunteering the solutions he'd been envisioning since the summer.
Felix
Kindness, as written in Francis' sloped script, was something Marianne could do. Something that came as naturally to her as breathing - why not be kind, in a time filled with such atrocities as those they faced? There wasn't a soul in Briar Ridge that didn't deserve a little more tenderness than they'd be dealt by nature's hand. 

She liked the way he talked and wrote about her, filling her with the kind of confidence she often couldn't find on her own. And if even half the town viewed her with such high regard as her friend did, then perhaps she truly had a chance here. Perhaps, for the first time in her life, she could do some real good. She watched the pen slide across his page, and when the next questions came, she took her time before answering him.

"I- I fear this is where my knowledge runs out. I haven't seen the creatures yet." Her voice had dropped to a whisper. She'd been lucky. Safe in her bed as the werewolves tore the town apart, destroyed homes and families, struck fear into the hearts of the citizens. "I'm not sure what I could do that isn't already being done. We could... Oh, Fran, I don't *Know*. And it scares me that I don't know what's coming." Her hand had found its way to the table, outstretched fingers resting on his forearm, looking for something solid to hold onto. "If you think we could do those things, write them down. All of them. You know."

Francis had seen them. And he bore the scars to prove it. It was his expertise that could carry them through, as he lent her his mind and his words. 

"I think we should reinforce the existing safehouses. Keep them the same each moon. Board the windows... Make sure each has silver bullets and someone who can be trusted to shoot them. And *Make* People stay together. It's not safe to be alone, no matter who you are."
John
He pulled the notebook back from himself, and studied his notes for a moment before ad-libbing the intro to a speech of sorts. 

"I, Marianne Wilburn, am the candidate whose... Heart reaches for yours. We are a family in this town, and your safety is my top priority. Showing kindness, above all else, to my neighbors, my kin, is my top priority. Together, we leave no one alone to the moons. We leave no one without the... Without the silver to defend themselves."

"I have seen this town change through its seasons, and I know that one thing stays the same, through the... Bounty of autumn, through the... Scorch of summer: we are a community. Our love for each other will keep us alive. Our pooled resources and... And skills will keep our walls strong against the beasts."

Through it all, he scrawled feverish notes, half the words barely legible to anyone other than himself. He looked over at Marianne. The smile was back in his eyes. 

"What'dya think so far?"
_ _
Felix
Marianne's thumb stroked lightly over Francis' wrist. She watched his face, and again saw that telltale crease work its way into his expression. How she hated to see him like this, and how she hoped that somehow, she could provide some sort of soothing balm for his anger, for his frustration with the past and present, a hope for the future.

Well, perhaps, if she listened well, she could. They were in this for the long haul, it seemed. She'd do her best for him, for all he'd done for her before. 

She thought back to the house, when he asked of silver. Of course she had silver - what kind of a lady didn't? Her mama's jewellery box was no doubt overflowing with the stuff, and she had more than enough pieces of her own. They'd need an expert pair of hands to take out the precious stones, and of course there were some, like the locket around her neck, that she'd never say goodbye to. But most of it simply lay in storage, gathering dust... It would do better in the hands of someone who could turn its beauty into a weapon. Then there were her candlesticks - she could replace them with something, and not miss the silver at all. "I can gather some silver for certain. Give me some time to look through it, and tell me who to take it to. The town has more use for it than I ever will." It was the right thing to do. Mama would have given up her earrings in a heartbeat if it meant protecting Briar Ridge. 

"We live in serious times, Fran. It's alright. These things must be talked about rather than swept beneath the rugs," She assured him. "We won't ever reach those brighter days if we don't get the problems under control. But we can do it. I know we can." She found a smile, and leaned in to see what he was writing, only for him to begin speaking. And heavens, he spoke better than any preacher she'd ever heard, drew her in with his words. Again she wondered why he wasn't to be the one to stand up on the dais. 

"That's beautiful. I'd vote for me."
John
"Exactly what the speech is for," He encouraged, "And besides, I think you've got more supporters in this town than you know." It was true, especially if her competition included the likes of Valerian Barca. In this town, that may as well be a race between Satan and the Holy Spirit. 

"Of course, I'd love to hear." He smiled patiently, slightly nervous about the pressure to respond to a work of art. He wasn't the most well read man in town, but he certainly pretended to be. It occurred to him then that he might simply enjoy what poem she chose— that Marianne would be just as happy to introduce him to something new as she would be to have an intellectual discussion about writing. 

He watched her go to the shelves, admiring again that bright headscarf of hers. 
*German?* Needless to say, he was impressed and more than a little intimidated by her knowledge. He tried not to let it show as he listened, desperately squinting at the page she held open. 

It was beautiful. 

"That's beautiful Marianne. Like a prayer." He nodded, sober in his reception, "You should read it to the town." He paused, thinking, "Don't— don't tell 'em it's German, though. You know. Folks get jumpy 'bout the Germans." Francis gave a huff of nervous laughter. 

"Where'd you learn to speak German from, anyway?" He couldn't help but ask, suddenly fascinated by the layers of mystery surrounding the woman beside him, completely and unabashedly distracted from the task at hand.
Felix
She had half been expecting him to reject her idea of poetry outright, perhaps thinking it too fanciful for something so important, or simply not the sort of words they were looking for when it came to winning over the town. So her relief was almost tangible when he called it *Beautiful*, and she reached to take his pen from him, wanting to write down her translation so she could simply memorise it rather than think to remember it again. Her script didn't match his, much smaller and with the tails of her letters curling into and over one another, but she was sure he could read it just fine. 

"Papa met a German man in 1918," She explained softly, as she wrote. "He visited the house a handful of times - he was a writer, he escaped to New York a stowaway on a hospital ship amidst the war. When he found that I loved to read, he would send me all the books he could find, and in the letters, he'd write poems. Like this one. German and English, side by side. And when he came to see Papa, we talked for hours about the stories, and he would teach me. Little by little. Dottie knows all about him." She laughed a little. "She used to tease so, saying he would ask for my hand any day. Perhaps he would have, if Julius had never arrived... I stopped replying to his letters, after the accident, and by the time I was... *Me* Again, it seemed too late to reach out."
John
Francis fell into the steady song of Marianne's words, the tempo kept by the scratch of her writing. A flare of jealousy surprised him at the mention of man after her hand. Of course he knew about Julius, and of course he recognized how misplaced he was in envy of the dead. But still, the foolish part of him (most of him) couldn't help but pretend that he'd make her a better partner than either of the men she mentioned. 

Too busy digesting the part of her story that related back to himself, he failed to absorb her subtle mention of a time away from her own mind. Even if he had caught it, chances were low he'd have had the courage to follow up the thread. A serious conversation like that would demand more strength in a performance than he could muster at the moment. 

"Well, I'll have to compare notes with Dotty, then." He smiled, missing the plot a bit in his self-absorption. 
"I cain't teach you German or anything like that. But I kin help you run a campaign. Graft an apple tree. Shoot whiskey." He conceded. The last offer was a bit of venture. He hadn't seen Mari at the Speakeasy, but he was fairly confident she was above this Prohibition nonsense.
Felix
"I'm sure she'd love to tell you all about my adventures before I get a chance to myself," Marianne laughed. *Adventures* Was a grand exaggeration - there wasn't much that had happened that she hadn't thought to tell Francis, save for the darker details of the first few years after the deaths of her parents. There wasn't a soul in town that knew the ins and outs of those and she intended to keep it that way until her own dying day. "But I'll trade knowledge with you any time, Fran. You're already teaching me so much."

She returned his pencil to his hand, and briefly, her head to his shoulder. He was warm through the fabric of his shirt, and she chased that warmth like moth to flame, dangerous as it may be yet far too enticing to tear herself away from. He smelled like woodsmoke and something sharp and sweet - she'd never noticed it before, but now she had, the fancy of breathing in just that every day... She closed her eyes, allowing herself one small moment to picture another world, another life, where she and Francis could find peace like this more often than not. 

"Thank you. For all of this... I feel as though with you by my side I could run for President, let alone mayor. When the last frost passes, I'd love to see what you do with the orchard. And-" She paused, turning her face up to look at him. "-I'll take you up on that whiskey sometime, to hell with it."