Another Year, Another Dance.

Re: Another Year, Another Dance.

Postby Vanidor » Sat Jan 12, 2019 4:06 pm

No reading. Just millennia of experience and knowledge. He had read many things over the long years of his life. Had experienced much more as well. Things someone could now if they had the time and inclination, like that certain fae were susceptible to the metal. One of the unused cabins far to the rear hard rowan and ivy, said to also be a ward of sorts.

Vanidor didn't really know. He'd never had a chance to test such a thing.

But such a concern was currently neither here nor there. Not with another... thing. Creature. He snorted out a laugh and yet maintained his general stance. There was a readiness there, but no outright violence. It was rare for anyone to enter the Sanctuary without his knowledge.

So a breath, then eyes narrowing slightly. Oddly enough, the discontent he had been feeling and exhibiting at her turn was suppressed.
"I am not sure, yet. But step no further."
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Re: Another Year, Another Dance.

Postby Niabh » Mon Jan 14, 2019 12:09 pm

Boundaries did not mean much to a raven. Ravens went where they were bid. Granted, he had not, speaking strictly, been bidden to go to his lady, but it paid to keep an eye on your monarch. Particularly when said monarch had gone off armed and when she'd been so...well, "unpredictable" seemed the most polite word for it, so let's stick with that one. As far as the morals of commissions of duty were concerned, trespassing was a grey area.

At Vanidor's word, all the bird's nervous twitching and settling smoothed away into complete obedience. He might have been carved in jetwood, two grey-blue topaz set for his eyes. Its ebony beak moved in an endless muttering, while its voice did not seem to issue from its mouth at all, but came from somewhere deeper than its chest. "I am stepping no further. This is me, stayin' put."

Its head cocked ever so slightly to the left, to peer around the tall man. He called deliberately into the darkened doorway, "I am only here to make sure that everyone here is here of their own free will. And also to make sure that anyone who maybe's been asked to leave in the past little while has left, what?"

Behind Vanidor, the woman cupped a palm to her sweat-sticky brow. The layers of shirt and tunic were suddenly smothering, too heavy, as if all summer burned beyond the door. The sickening buzz receded to a mere flush and pleasant tingling to her cheeks--the usual response to a drink a touch stronger than she was used to. What remained was confusion. Was she here against her will? She'd been welcomed. She was a guest. Lugh'us Danaan, had she made an arse of herself? Had she been rude?

Shakily, she called out, "I'm alright, Benedict."

To Vanidor, she explained, a little sheepish, "He's my messenger. He knows how to find me."
"We don't have a dungeon. We have a cold cellar and a cheeseroom. No one ever orders the prisoner cast into their darkest cheeseroom."
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Re: Another Year, Another Dance.

Postby Vanidor » Mon Jan 14, 2019 1:55 pm

He continue to eye the... Well. He was not all to sure what exactly to consider the raven. The creature. Perhaps he had been out of Myrken for far too long, such a thing as this was strange to him once again. Vanidor did, however, at least release a breath he had not been aware he'd been holding. His sword was still against the wall, and had had no weapons beyond a wine bottle rolling betwixt their feet.

Gratitude then, that there was no... Well, no. He'd maintain a small sense of attention to the surroundings. It still bothered him that this creature. No, her messenger. Did she call it Benedict? Another question for, perhaps, another time. So then, a breath to maintain the outer aura of calm that he wanted to project. Vanidor would glance back again at the woman in his cabin, then straighten a bit.


"If he is your boon companion, then I can hardly keep you from his presence if that is your desire. Huah. I thought you were going to try and ram me out of my own house." A short pause, and he'd pull a smile back upon his face as he peered at the woman. Then back out to the raven. "I have a feeling such a thing would have ended poorly for me, so I thank you for not doing so... Perhaps I should be more wary in offering drink to people in the dark of night."

He did, however, say that last with a wink. His humour always was fast to return.
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Re: Another Year, Another Dance.

Postby Niabh » Mon Jan 14, 2019 6:36 pm

The raven's presence was, in its strange way, a calming. It gave her some perspective that she was not entirely forsaken--that if anything untoward did happen, it would not go unwitnessed. Whatever might happen was less terrible than the prospect of no one ever finding out what became of her. The comfort put some perspective between herself and the strange burst of fear, enough to recognize that it really was strange. Out of place. Abnormal. And the very fact that it had come out of nowhere--

But that a subject to be plumbed in private, where she could think, or to be written down so that it all looked reasonable. Meanwhile she would do what Tuatha did: conceal.

The woman managed a long, shaky exhalation that turned, in the end, to a small laugh and a nod. "Well, I would scarce call him a boon companion." She summoned some her previous cheerful haughtiness. "He's certainly not my chaperone, whatever he may think himself."

"Yeah," the raven muttered, fluffing himself against the chill, "not like you need one of those, right?" Again he eyed Vanidor, less mistrustful than simply curious. She wondered less what he was thinking than what he might say, and to whom.

To Vanidor, she offered an apologetic smile and a small dip of her head. "No fear there. I am sworn. You have been wondrous mannerly and deserve better. I. I should like to know you better, really." Now the shyness was unfeigned. "I've been looking for someone who knows the past of this place better than I do. Mayhap one of our gods has watched out for one of us this night."

The very idea that she might have been rude was quite unforgivable. Intruding upon other people's rituals, nicking their very clothes out from under them--none of that was rude; it was the risk you took being abroad in the woods at night, and she would not have truly held the same against Vanidor had he done the same to her, were their circumstances reversed. But to bring rudeness to someone's very door, under their very roof, when they had done nothing to deserve it...that was not done.

To recover herself, she glanced over her shoulder, eyes scanning the floor by the fire, and added in feigned annoyance, "And if I've broken the only decent bottle of wine I've seen in years, I'll hang myself from the nearest tree."
"We don't have a dungeon. We have a cold cellar and a cheeseroom. No one ever orders the prisoner cast into their darkest cheeseroom."
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