Intro Log: October 2020

[faileas]

Intro Log: October

I. ARRIVAL Out of nowhere, a glint of light catches your eye; your heart thunders in your ears as your body moves on its own, your mind consumed with inspecting the source. Your reflection stares back at you, just as curious from the surface - a mirror, a pool of water, your most trusted sword, something fleeting that your mind can barely remember - then ripples at your touch. A moment later, you feel a tug, and you find yourself stumbling into a dark, musty room. Behind you, a mirror stands ornately decorated with reminders of home wrought in brass and wood: the faces of people you know, and symbols important to you; all things that send a pang through your chest with the desire to return to them. Touching the mirror's surface does nothing but leave the stain of your fingerprints. When you turn to survey the room, you find there are hundreds of other mirrors. None of them are as decorated as yours - they're plain and dusty, speckled with age. Then you realize a second thing: You're not alone. Distantly, the ringing bell of a clocktower can be heard. But no matter its distance, the time is clear to make out: it chimes three times, stark, resonating like a pulse of something in this mirrored hall that you and many others have found yourselves in. For those familiar with magic, they might feel the power of the witching hour upon them, though it will feel different from what they're used to - in fact, everything does. You're certainly not the only ones here, however. On the first floor, with the doors wide open behind them in the foyer, is a small group headed by two individuals. As people begin to arrive, to come from the higher floor, they're waiting - and they're waiting for you, and your questions. Explore the rest of the mirrored halls you've now found yourselves in, or proceed to the foyer? Leaving the Looking-Glass House makes it obvious that the clock striking three was for 3 AM - the night sky is faintly cloudy, but the stars are dim in the face of two moons, even so close to the new moon as it is. The Looking-Glass House is rather nondescript two-story cottage made of grey brick, sitting at the edge of The Coven's courtyard; stones which glow as you step on them mark the path to and from the two buildings. While fairly small and plain on the outside, the inside has been enchanted to be the size of a large library, with hundreds upon hundreds of mirrors hanging, standing, and resting inside its walls. Some are broken, some are cracked, and some seem completely uninjured - but all of them are just as plain as the cottage itself, showing age in the silver beneath their glass and in the greening of their metals... Well, all except a character's personal mirror; to characters, one mirror - the one they came through - will be decorated lavishly with metal-and-wood-wrought reminders of home, and the surface will be as clear as a brand-new mirror.

II. THE WELCOME PARTY Whether you've decided to find a way out of the building you've arrived in, or decided to explore the rest of the Looking-Glass House - and perhaps finding a few familiar faces among the crowd - you feel a pull towards the foyer of the first floor. It's like a firm suggestion, as if to take you by the hand and draw you to where it begins, and the source of it becomes quite apparent upon finding one's way to the front room: a tall, comfortably-dressed older woman and her even taller wolfish companion, along with those which feel to resemble yourselves in a world-traversing sense: Mirrorbound, they're called. "My goodness. In the middle of the month! We weren't expecting you, we weren't!" The woman smiles broadly, with her Bonded glancing over the newly arrived and those who may have followed them in to volunteer explanations and assistance to the newest addition of their Mirrorbound bunch. "Let's get through the introductions, shall we? This here's Mhairi Ainsley, ambassador to the Parliament, and of course, my Bonded. And I'm Nerissa Bell, Head Witch of the Coven -- but you can just call me Miss Nessie, you can," she adds with a wink. "I know you must all be tired and confused after all that. We're here to help get you settled, dearest. Let me just..." With nothing more than a wave of her hand, rows of seats are summoned; despite their wooden nature, they're all sturdy and comfortable, filling the foyer and spreading out a ways into the lawn behind them, making room for all of the new arrivals as well as the previous batch. After all, they'll find this just as interesting. The Witches and Monsters that accompanied Nessie and Mhairi move to make room, and some disperse into the building itself to see if there's anyone who needs tending to. Mhairi steps forward as the chairs materialize. "Please, those who are able, join us for a moment. There are many questions that I'm sure you have. We will do our utmost best to answer them, and you may take any that we can't as a promise to find some sort of solution or answer." NOTE: If you wish to handwave interaction with Nessie and Mhairi, please comment here. All responses will be summarized answers rather than an IC thread. For those that'd like a more player-based interaction, Aefenglom has its own Welcome Wagon! These are players who've volunteered for the role, and those that didn't sign up may assist as well if they'd feel their character would -- have fun, and make friends. Additionally, those with notable injuries or sickness will be attended to ASAP by Coven-based witches, and should anyone be curious about what they are -- namely, if they have magic potential or not -- then this can be done during this and the general hour or so the new arrivals are within the Coven's grounds. There are ongoing classes on magic, monsters, and Bonding as well, though they take place more during the day than at night. Feel free to have your characters attend them at any time!

III. THE HAVEN After an hour or two of general chaos, questions that the natives attempt to help with, and injuries tended to for those who arrive in poor condition, it's time to make the trek to where you'll be staying. As you're leaving -- with Coven and/or Mirrobound escorts as guides -- you'll be given a peculiar-looking device. It's a very special watch, the native Witches explain, compliments of Parliament. These watches are passed around to all the new arrivals, who are given a quick rundown on their functions and encouraged to test them out when they can. They can even do it as they make their way out of the Coven's courtyard and to the Haven. Formerly part of the Aristocratic District, The Haven is just as well-kept and brightly-lit as the district it hails from. The houses err on the tall and ornamental side, large enough to fit several families (or, according to the upper class, their one family, several dozen servants, and guests), especially closest to the Aristocratic District. They become a little more modest and smaller as one gets away from the realm of high society and nearer to the Residential District proper. Newcomers are shuffled here and invited to find somewhere to live, free of cost. The Coven is currently handling expenses for the houses themselves in a program implemented by the Parliament, though if your character wishes to have anything extra -- like maids, chefs, and so on -- they'll have to pay for them with their own earned money. Much of the landscape and fixtures are the same as in the Aristocratic Districts, though it lacks formal emergency services. Much of the housing already has furnishing as well: standard items such as kitchenware, couches, beds, etc. were left behind by the relocated owners for those moving in. Though some are fairly newly-unoccupied, the dust on the floors of other houses suggests they were left long before the new arrivals even showed up -- a reminder that the Cwyld can strike just about anyone, regardless of standing. Another portion of this district has been opened up to the new arrivals: the barracks, the row of buildings pressed against the very edge of the Bright Wall. As the city's military force no longer has the same presence it previously did, the barracks have gone into disuse, and a cleanup effort has been in place since before the new arrivals came through the Looking-Glass House. For those who desire something a little less opulent, the barracks might just be the answer. The barracks can also be used for business, for a welcome center, a communal space, for anything that the residents of the Haven see fit to use them for -- so long as the legality isn't questionable, at least on the surface. To help with filling up the larger houses -- and even some of the smaller ones, or the shared rooms in the barracks -- the Coven put together a little roommate finding service, on a smaller scale from the grand opening of the Haven a while back. For those who aren't entirely sure who they want to shack up with, they have a small survey for them to fill out and post on the board they've magicked up in the center of The Haven. The board also very helpfully reads aloud each form for everyone to hear in a cheerful, monotone voice. It isn't able to be shut up, nor is it easy to ignore, being imbued with a kind of amplification magic. It simply reads the information you've offered up yourself -- or that someone might have written up for you, should that be their idea of fun.

Welcome to the intro log! While mingling on the log itself is highly encouraged, feel free to make your own logs if you prefer! The network system is free to use once characters have their watches as well; information on that can be found at the bottom of the Setting page, while any extra questions about it can be found in the FAQ index. Quests can be picked up throughout the month as well! While new characters will have to get settled in, you can go ahead and put your name on some by replying to the October's Quest Pickup thread on the Quest Board. Finally, if your character is getting into any Shenanigans or if you have any other questions, just let the mods know here!

Comments

Lahabrea / FFXIV / Dragon

[fuelingfire]

Welcome Party

The nightmares had been a warning of what was to come, and Lahabrea had heeded the warning.

Not that it had helped much, as he'd suddenly found himself detoured on his way to somewhere much more important, and finding himself in a hall of mirrors with a pineapple still tucked under one arm really wasn't how he'd planned on spending his evening; but he'd done nothing at all about it beyond follow the rest to the foyer, mouth set in a thin line of displeasure.

The city outside looks far more lively than he'd last seen it. And there's far more people; was this the waking version, and not merely another dream?

But the hooded, masked man remains utterly silent through the introduction, silent as he takes a seat with the rest, and silent still as questions are asked and answered. Listening can provide as many revelations as asking questions! ... For a while anyway. As the introduction continues by the far too cheerful-seeming witch and her partner, and others volunter to aid, Lahabrea tolerates the endless birdlike chatter around him for as long as he can (which frankly isn't as long as anyone with an inch of patience could manage) before standing abrubtly again in a screech of chair leg on flooring, scowling. "If this isn't explicitly necessary--"

Actually no, it seems he's not waiting for a response from anyone at all, he simply heads for the lawn and the promise of the greater city beyond, bristling with practically visible indignation. He's certainly stoppable, and he might well shoulder out of his way anyone who happens to be directly in his path. So much for politeness.

Havens!

Leaving hasn't helped his mood any.

But now he has a bizarre watch to go with everyhing else, and it's somewhere up a sleeve for later inspection. So far it's the only thing that hasn't on some level annoyed him, and is indeed going to be fiddled with later with much interest ... where nobody can watch him doing so. Curiosity is a thing to be indulged in private, not in public! What if someone saw him break it??

Prowling through the area they're expected to stay mostly on his own has brought him to the conclusion that this world is certainly run by mortals, and is somewhat better than most refugee camps. The barracks certainly had a similar taste to it, and something in his thoughts recoiled at the idea of something as utterly generic and dull as a shared apartment. He required something much finer. With more space.

To put things in. Things like his pineapple and new watch, and much more..

The thought is shaken off as he comes across the board that's literally broadcasting invitations and information to anyone who passes by, and all his annoyance bubbles back up.

"Do they intend to force everyone to cohabit with complete strangers? My, this surely will work marvelously." Why yes that is utter dripping scorn.

[OOC: Wildcard: he's going to be lurking around all over the place for a while, got a different spot you'd like?? Or anything else for that matter?!]

haven

[worldcleansing]

"I recognize your voice from class."

Light isn't focused on the board in the same way. He already has a plan in place thanks to the dreams that happened before his arrival, but he hears the same voice that exploded in class. The man sounds as angry as Light feels.

"If you're worried about your privacy, a lot of the houses sounded large enough that even with a roommate, you'd have your own space."

[fuelingfire]

"And yet it is a shared space, and I have no desire to share anything at all with strangers." Although clipped, as soon as Lahabrea apparently has company he works on managing at least some measure of politeness. He's not sharing with mortals! Not if he has any say about it! What if they touch his things?!

He doesn't have any things yet to worry about, but it's a nagging thought all the same, and not something that would generally be a consideration. "One's dwelling should be one's refuge, with no chance of others simply .. stumbling in and doing what they will."

[worldcleansing]

Light moves closer to the board.

"Are any of the rooms small enough to justify fitting only one person? If not, if you can find one that can only hold two, it will cut your exposure until you're able to earn the money to move into your own space."

His eyes scan the listings.

"Living with strangers isn't ideal, but it seems safer than not having a place to stay."

Havens

[whiteofcrime]

Kaito had glanced over when the irate, ominously-masked man had stormed out earlier with - of all things - a pineapple under his arm. That kind of visual image sticks in your mind for a while. So when he spots them outside later by the board cheerfully broadcasting messages to all those within hearing, he makes a beeline towards them, sidles up behind the man and--

--attempts to shove the fruit out of their grasp by smacking his hand against its base. Oh, don't worry, Masked Man: he'll duck down and catch the pineapple if that works. Letting it splatter would be a terrible waste of food after all.

[fuelingfire]

HIS PINEAPPLE.

Well technically it's Halmarut's pineapple, but Halmarut isn't here, and so it defaults to Lahabrea's, and over the course of the past hour he's been rather more possessive of things than he had been previously. As a stranger slides up behind him, the Ascian is far too busy being annoyed at the mere implication that he share quarters with SOME MORTAL to notice Kaito doing anything at all.

Right up until someone smacks his pineapple out of his rather loose grip. Lahabrea's reflexes are pretty good, and he manages to get two claws into the leafy top of the thing before it gets too far with a breathy snarl of irritation, but that's not exactly the toughest part of a pineapple and it would be rather easily to simply give it a tug and escape with the Forbidden Fruit.

[whiteofcrime]

Though his hand smarts from its unceremonious introduction to the pineapple's tough skin, Kaito nimbly snatches it away and dances a few steps out of immediate reach. Just far enough that there'll be forewarning of any imminent attempts to throttle him.

"On your way to a party?" he asks cheekily, holding the fruit before him like a taunt. "Costume party maybe?"

haven

[fordola]

Fordola rem Lupis had a sharp eye, that was for sure. She was focused, and thus she had noticed the newcomers. She couldn't help but notice this one, though - something felt familiar, in that prickling way that things did when it was from memories not her own.

But she was perched, watching the board, and couldn't help but speak up. Her wings folded around her, she had a slight chirp to her voice. "This place is all about gettin' to know strangers."

Why, yes, she didn't like it.

[fuelingfire]

That!

That's not a person. Congratulations, Fordola, you're his second monster. The werewolf had looked enough like a lupin to pass muster, but she looks nothing like any sapient species he could put a name to, and the Ascian studies her in silence for a long, long moment.

He's reminded a bit of griffins, though the lack of a beak ruined that certainty. There's one benefit to his puzzlement - Lahabrea tends to mind his manners slightly more when dealing with something completely new than he otherwise might if he knew he was dealing with yet another broken shard of a person.

"I have no interest in doing so." There's a moment's pause, and he inclines his head slightly. "Present company excepted, for the moment. I find myself terribly curious, and must needs risk rudeness to satisfy it: what are you?"

[fordola]

She couldn't help but swoop down next to him, standing to her full height - before wrapping her wings back around herself, for she always felt awkward having them poking out.

But her gaze focused on him. "A beastman. They call me a chimera - th'sort who's automatically feared."

...Even now, she still used the term beastman instead of monster. Some things never changed, even after over a year being here. At least she didn't try and deny what she was.

havens

[unsundered]

When strangers had started appearing into the city, Emet-Selch had wondered. Had wondered on the likelihood of Lahabrea being among them, deciding ultimately that it was probably the better for them both to hope for not seeing him. He doubted the man would find much to enjoy about the city, and much instead to despise, and depending on how badly his temper flared, it was all likely to end up a dreadful hassle. So when Emet-Selch spots the familiar black-robed figure, Lahabrea's disapproval towards everything writ large, no matter the cowl and mask, the Ascian can only sigh. But as before, he approaches.

A lot had happened in a short period of time. His future, written, his perspective forever altered. And for all that Emet-Selch's loyalties may have become somewhat more questionable, his love for Amaurot had never faltered, his gratitude to Zodiark remained strong, even if he was no longer bound to Him in the same way. And Lahabrea, for all his difficulty, remained a part of those things. He would just have to avoid mentioning a few details to him... like assisting the Warrior of Light in their defeat of Elidibus. Small details. Things that would just confuse him, and better to spare his already fractured mind.

"So you found your way here after all," Emet-Selch calls out in an idle tone, steps still slow as ever, though there is, perhaps, a slight ease to his bearing. It's as though several burdens had been lifted from him at long last... or maybe he'd just slept well. "My condolences. I wished very hard that you might have escaped, I'll have you know."

But now he was there, and they would both have to adapt. Hopefully with a limited amount of destruction. His gaze flickers between Lahabrea and the talkative board; it's more present now than it was in the distortion of the dream, but this host of Emet-Selch's is half-blinded, his right eye clouded and failing to focus, with notable scarring around it. "Already settling in, I see. Though the thought of you moving in with an assortment of mortals... I'm not sure who to feel sorrier for."

[fuelingfire]

The white stag that had been unexpectedly helpful in those unwanted nightmares had made it clear that those who turned up in these shared dreams would, sooner or later, likely turn up in the city. He couldn't say he was even remotely surprised to be snatched out of Ishgard and ditched here instead, though the chill in the air told him the climate might be about the same. He'd make do. The small bomb tucked up one sleeve, a constant source of pleasant warmth, was meant for the cold of the snowy nation, but it seems it will serve well here too. He'd simply have to leave matters in the hands of Igeyorhm and Elidibus. They'd manage fine even without him present, for as long as this venture into foreign lands lasts. It wouldn't hold him for eons.

Maybe he'd get the delight of returning to his place to find a few more Rejoinings having progressed! What a prize that would be.

The thought isn't quite enough to soothe the sheer irritation of the setup this waking place required. Nor does the sound of a familiar voice - Lahabrea's utter lack of surprise at hearing it suggests fairly strongly he recalls the nightmare and its many events, though the damage it had done is seemingly erased. "I can be spared for a time," is the response to condolences and hypothetical wishes for his freedom. "Better to not leave you here to wallow in misery on your own."

Things might go unexpectedly awry, though Emet-Selch had always done precisely what he pleased when he pleased. What could possibly happen in the span of a mere mortal lifetime that could shake eternity to its foundations? "I have no intention of doing so, spare your pity." He'll just. Not sleep. For as long as it takes. "I will not have my places intruded upon by strangers, be they mortal or otherwise."

Only then does he finally turn away from the noisy board, still frowning, to actually look at Emet-Selch.

The eye had been different, in the nightmare. "...Is that by choice?" He sounds a touch aghast. "It looks hideous."

Hello to you too, Lahabrea.

[unsundered]

"Oh, I can wallow just as well in your company, I assure you," he says with a certain lightness. "But your consideration for my welfare is noted."

And returned, but he doesn't say that much, only humming in a questioning sort of way at Lahabrea's (completely expected) abject refusal towards the idea of rooming with strangers. Emet-Selch... technically can't criticise, as he'd felt much the same on his arrival here, moving from place to place for a time, feeling intense distaste and unease at the thought of sharing a residence with an unknown, while bereft of the capacity to defend himself. But he keeps his sympathy to himself for the time being, especially since...

It doesn't take more than a moment for Emet-Selch to understand what Lahabrea was referring to when he rudely critiques his appearance (at least most of the bruising and biting around his neck is covered up, due to the colder weather encouraging clothing with higher collars and more coverage), and he rolls his eyes at the comment.

"Of course it's not by choice," he waves it off with a sharp flick of one hand, frowning down at him, "why in the world would I deliberately blind myself in a body I'm incapable of departing?"

Not that a little thing like one working eye would've been enough for him to change hosts; he'd survived with worse disabilities, when required. "There was some trouble towards the beginning of the year, with this the result. Take it as a warning as to the totality of our new fragility here."

Drastically limited powers and a single body; how could anyone manage with these sorts of limitations at hand?

Welcome Party

[adventageous]

In contrast, Alice is very engaged during the introductions, questions, and the like. During her time in the dreamscape, she was able to glean that Aefenglom--and Geargadas as a whole, really--is a world in need of help. If this is to be her new home, she needs to understand its mechanisms and how best she can be useful.

As such, the screech of a chair and the unceremonious dismissal of the situation by another newly-arrived Mirrorbound takes her a bit by surprise. Alice finds herself between him and the door, and she can't help but stand up, block his retreat, and attempt to answer the question he clearly isn't waiting around for a response for.

"Why wouldn't all of this be necessary? Don't you care about what happens here?"

quick get the gasoline

[fuelingfire]

His path is blocked, for the moment, by an insignificant speck of a mortal. Behind the fanged mask, Lahabrea's eyes narrow, and it's very obvious for a time that she is carefully scrutinized, weighed against some unknowable measure, and by the low disgusted noise he makes, found wanting.

"No."

Well that's straightforward! And with all the blunt chill of someone not interested in discussing any of it. "I have another star to save, I have no interest in bothering with this one." And quite frankly, Lahabrea's world is far more important than some OTHER mortal-ridden infestation!

I got the gasoline do you have a match??

[adventageous]

Well, at least he's honest?

That said, Alice doesn't appreciate how dismissive this man is of both Aefenglom and of her. She chooses to stand her ground, crossing her arms.

"It's laudable that you're looking to save your homeworld, but this world has its challenges as well. Why not offer your assistance while you're here?" From what the witches say, it could even help him get home that much sooner.

Havens (wildcard)

[silentsavant]

Lahabrea meets Soren at one of those awkward junctures where one person is trying to file out of a building while the other is trying to enter. The small, youthful-looking Dragon with black scales and red accents is trying to head out of the barracks as the newcomer to this world goes in. Brushing past is not so seamless a maneuver when one of them has extra limbs to mind, such as batlike wings protruding from his shoulder blades and a long, dark tail snaking behind him. Poking someone with the horns jutting back from his skull is another issue.

Not that he'd dive past him even if he were still soft, squishy and human unless he were being chased down or in a mad rush for some vital objective. Avoiding a collision and waiting until one party steps aside first is one reason to stall. Another is to stare at the eccentric hooded figure, catlike pupils constricting. He clutches his leathery, well-used book close to his chest, claws furling over the spine and pages.

The urge to go back to his old dwelling and defend what lies beneath rears up within him for some reason inexplicable to him. In Soren's mind, it amounts to mere suspicion. Anyone has a right to be wary of a stranger who obscures his features. His tails slides across the cold floor, wiggles a bit.

"...Excuse me."

[fuelingfire]

Lahabrea doesn't think 'dragon' when he sees the unfamiliar boy. He thinks 'xaela, but with wings, how strange'. Certainly there were similarities, from scales to tail to talons, but those wild people did not possess wings and this one absolutely does.

It is perhaps only Soren's compulsion towards some measure of politeness by way of passing each other that keeps the Ascian's already sour temper from getting worse. Succeeding or not, there's been an effort to prevent a collision, and he draws to a stop to weigh who had precisely gotten there first and thus who had the right-of-way. It's only the polite thing to do, a deeply buried impulse that had once guided his life but of late had gone somewhat astray.

After a long moment, he gestures with silvered talons for Soren to progress. Good behavior should be rewarded. "Pray continue." It's hard to keep lingering annoyance out of his voice but he manages! Mostly! ..Up until Soren's grip tightens on his book and sudden concern that the boy might try to steal his bomb or pineapple boils up. Clearly there's a good reason, they're rare and his and who wouldn't want--

..The same hand rises. "A moment, actually. Do you have any interest at all in this item?" His free hand holds up the aforementioned pineapple. It's a struggle to not hide the thing. It had no value at all to him half a bell ago, and now..

[silentsavant]

Soren's eyes turn into pinpricks as they follow those talons into their polite gesture, pumping even more pesky adrenaline into him especially as those sharp points rise. His body tenses in preparation to retaliate. Then the situation takes a turn for perplexing.

...What?

"A... houseplant?" What an outlandish receptacle for one. Where is the dirt? A pungently sweet odor hits his nostrils, which he wrinkles a little in response. "Or is that... a fruit?"

Soren, you look like the genius you truly are right about now. He eyes it with skeptical curiosity, still unsure what it is he's looking at or why his interest is being called into question. "I've never seen one before, but that's about where my interest ends. Why are you asking me this?"

welcome party

[glitzandglamour]

It's significantly sooner than he'd like to be at the Looking-Glass House, given that he'd visited it unprompted not even mere days prior. But hey, when word gets around that new arrivals have shown their faces... What else to do but check it out?

It's like this that Mettaton swings by, his heels clicking as he marches down the mirrored halls, where he's sure Nerissa and Mhairi are doing their introductions and answering their questions. But he notices a peculiar figure marching away from the gathering. One masked and hooded, black and red, and the robotic hare's made to comprehend immediately who this is. Lahabrea.

If he didn't have to meet him again, it wouldn't have been a great misfortune. But he'd been ensnared by dreams after all, and brought... here. Mettaton goes through a whole life cycle of emotion, all exhibited by his expressive features and ears: surprise; annoyance; ire; resignation; regret. Then, finally, impish curiosity, especially once he finds displeasure accompanies the Ascian. He nearly smiles at the beautiful sight of it, until Mettaton glances down at his arms.

And there, he gawks.

"I- where did you get that?" he says suddenly, gold eye wide as he gazes upon Lahabrea's... pineapple. "Did you... Bring a pineapple with you, through your mirror?? Why?"

Greetings don't matter.

[fuelingfire]

It's him.

Now, Lahabrea is perfectly aware of the possibility of encountering Mettaton again, after all it had been a peculiar nightmare and other things had lined up so far. He'd been aware that he could possibly wind up in Aefenglom's waking world in short order as well! This didn't mean he had to like it, or had some great burning need to encounter everything he'd found in the dream again. Mettaton is one of these things he could have frankly done without.

The Ascian actually stops in his tracks when the robo-bunny is noticed, something in his body language displaying brief surprise and then a slow creeping annoyed resignation before he resumes. He can deal with this. He's dealt with so much already in the ... scant handful of time he's been here. And he'd be quite content to simply continue on his way without so much as a nod of acknowledgment!!

... Except he's been spoken to and it's rather thoroughly not what he's expecting. Again a moment's hesitation, a scowl crossing what can be seen of his features. "...The Dravanian Hinterlands." Not that that information's going to do much good unless Emet-Selch's indulged in geography lessons at some point. "It is a curiosity for one of my compatriots to study. Nothing more."

A present for Halmarut! Because any new and strange plants got funneled in his direction, it was just a courtesy.

welcome party.

[gynvael]

His reasons for lingering outside the gates of the Coven have less to do with the new influx of Mirrorbound and more with the fact that his Bonded is here. Studying, apparently.

But since he's in the area, he decides to look in, lurking outside against the fence in the yard. Like many Mirrorbound who've been here a spell, distinct changes have overtaken him: sharply tipped claws in place of his nails, though the gold eyes have always been there.

No familiar new faces, of course. Not that he expects one. His hand's on the front gate when someone barrels right into him. The force doesn't so much budge him as it seems to catch his attention like a tap on the shoulder.

He turns around. His eyebrow arches. A spiky fruit and a mask. Mm. Unique. "Entertainment District's further east."

[fuelingfire]

The collision doesn't seem to slow Lahabrea down much; he's surprisingly quite a bit tougher than he looks, and already annoyed at the situation at large, he's disinclined to do more than give a gravelly growl under his breath in passing. Places to go, people to murder--

Entertainment district.

That earns the briefest of pauses, and half a glance back. Geralt's coloration isn't unusual for the Source, but the claws are a bit odd. Not unheard of, but ... odd.

There's a long, silent moment of regard.

"Later, mayhap."

havens, I'm late hello

[omnicrafter]

"Ah, so the antisocial Ascian meets his match: cohabitation," Irhya remarks smugly from a distance away, having been busy helping people get their bearings. "You'll live, I'm sure."

She looks like the cat that's already eaten the canary by the time she walks over to him, fully prepared for some rough words on his part. Mostly because she's got a bomb to drop on him and she knows it. "So, what do you think you'll do? I actually figured you might try and take up with Emet-Selch, though he's constantly between two places, and neither is exclusive..."

Early morning phonetag

[fuelingfire]

"But not with others." Nobody can force him to. And nobody's going to try. The thought of it is indeed insulting, but not something he actually intends to contend with.

Why should he? He had his own plans, and it was not dangling on the coattails of the Architect. "I think not. He has companions I have no desire to deal with, and as it is not required..."

That he either like them OR tolerate them. "I may however wait and see what entertainment might arrive with unfortunates choosing to house prey alongside predators. Or ignorant young mages discovering what a spell is for the first time."