Difference between revisions of "Log:Oberon joins the Waykeepers"

Revision as of 20:28, 22 March 2017

The Wayhouse. The picture of hospitality and welcome. Warm and comforting, the place has been made to welcome guests. With an open door policy to Freehold-Sworn lost, one does not necessarily need to knock. The Waylady is seated in the living area by a roaring fire.

The leggy, pale blonde woman is all stars and night skies, alienly beautiful and wearing a lovely dress that looks to be made of some inky ocean, Hedgespun and otherworldly pretty. Calm, collected, and waiting.

There are two knockings on the door before it is opened. A man with bright green hair wanders in cautiously and closes the door behind."Hello?" He calls for no one in particular as he glances around trying to decide on what route to take."Anybody here? I'm looking for the Waylady. I heard she is here."

"In here," Ava calls out -- her voice carrying from the easily found livingroom. She keeps her hands folded in her lap, her eyes latching onto the entrance to the sitting room she's within. She slips her hand into her pocket, her hand curling around her letter opener.

"Oh. Hi. I'm Oberon. A newcomer in someways." He offers and gives the other Lost a quick smile as he gets into the Living Room further enough to be seen and heard."I heard the Waykeepers are recruiting. I'd like to offer myself to help."

"Ah! Oberon. I see, welcome. As you are a member of the Freehold and have sworn to uphold its Laws, I'd be happy to have you as a Waykeeper. Tell me where your strengths lie." She quietly watches him, her depthless skylit eyes curious -- watching him with a serene neutrality.

Standing still in the edge of the room, he grins. He takes a few seconds to think before opening his mouth."I'm a good Illusionist. I have signed the Illusion Contracts. But regarging social interactions, I'm good at understanding people's emotions and convincing them to do things. And I'm good at playing my violin." He offers humbly."Also I can repair house stuff and take care of the croops. I'm a Desrochers." He adds a secong later.

"Have a seat, please, Oberon." She motions to the loveseat near the crackling fire. The dawnskinned woman doesn't take her eyes off of Oberon. It is as if she is measuring him, her eyebrow furrowed as she does. She is thoughtful, pulling her hand from her pocket and standing to slip to the poker for the fire. "The Waykeepers are always looking for new talent. I could use someone to take care of the Wayhouse and someone who is well-versed in Hospitality. You're welcome if you need purpose."

Oberon does as he's said to do. Calmly, he crosses the Living Room and takes a seat at the offered loveseat."I'd like to help taking care of the Wayhouse if there is room to it among the Waykeepers. At least until I learn all the duties and the tricks of the trade." He says after glancing a the cracking fire."I didn't sign the contract of Hospitality."

As far as he can tell, this is a public location within the Wayhouse. And so, confident in his knowledge, the Ogre comes marching on into the east wing at a steady pace that slows once he hears voices and sees a pair of Lost in conversation. There are certainly larger and more frightening-looking ogres out there, even in this freehold, but none look quite so dangerous as this one. It's not any one thing, but a combination - the sharpness of certain features, the scars visible and those that must be hiding, the dried blood that he can never seem to completely get rid of, the way in which he carries himself with deadly confidence. It's a feeling, even if he's being polite and friendly, of imminent danger. The man comes to stop a few yards from the Waylady and her guest, clasping his hands behind his back and keeping quiet. He's interrupting without doing it verbally, waiting patiently to be invited or ignored.

Indeed, it is public. The Waylady watches Oberon with an aloof curiosity, her expression still politely neutral. Trained. Those dawnlight eyes are inscrutable, her hand then turning to stoke the fire with a poke or two of that wrought iron poker -- the wood turns and flares, cherry embers glowing hotly and warming the room. It smells like freshly baking pie in here, too -- something cinnamony. The Wayhouse is cozy, even if its mistress seems less than warm.

Upon seeing the dangerous Ogre's entrance, Ava's eyes dart toward him and her head inclines. It's respectful and nearly deferant, looking back up at the sharp featured Ogres' face. "Well hello."

Following the Waylady, Oberon does the same and looks at the huge Ogre that just arrived, though, he doesn't say anything. Instead, he lifts his right hand and wiggles his fingers in an attempt to be sympathic and polite without breaking the moment between the Waylady and the Ogre.

"Goodmorning, Waylady." comes the deep and rumbling response from the dark-skinned ogre. He burns with the oppressive heat of summer, the homey smells of the room mixing with the smell of a hot summer's day. His mantle is powerful, his connection to Summer strong. Still, there is an almost placid way in which he interacts. A nod is offered to Oberon, "Hello." brief and succinct. "We haven't been introduced. I am Warmaster Omar Thorn of the Legion of the Iron Wall. I am a courtier of the Crimson Court and recently a lieutenant of the Harvestmen. I am newly arrived in town." the introduction works for both of them, but he's addressing himself primarily to Ava, "I wanted to stop by and introduce myself." which he has done. So he falls silent again, still standing at ease with hands clasped at the small of his back, gaze shifting between the two of them now and again.

The blonde furrows her eyebrow thoughtfully, pulling the fireplace poker from the hearth -- eying the glowing tip of the curved poker. She bites her lip thoughtfully, and then sets the thing in the rack carefully.She glances back over to Omar, musing. She accepts his introduction, and her head inclines to him graciously. That shield of polite neutrality envelopes her, and the Waylady clasps her hands against her front -- still standing. "Well met, Mister Thorn. I am Ava Ardent, Waylady of this house, at your service." She draws a breath, and then settles back down to sit. They're all three within the livingroom of the Wayhouse by the large fireplace. "Have a seat, make yourself at home."

Unsure on introducing himself of not, Oberon glances from Ava to Thorn for a moment."I'm Oberon of the Spring Court. Local, but spend the last few years away. Just came back home." He says to the Ogre and then turns to look at Ava in an attempt to get back to their subject.

Nathania walks into the wayhouse hesitantly. She looks around, and relaxes once she sees Ava. Yay, familiar faces. "Hello, all," she says. Her voice, ever soft and hesitant, is thoughtful. She nods to the group and says, "For those... who do not... know me, I am... Nathania Winter, of.... the Winter court. It is... a pleasure... to meet... all of you. Ava, well... met." She smiles to the Waylady, nodding again. And then, she takes a seat comfortably, sets down her messenger bag, and pulls out some knitting, falling silent as she works.

"Thorn is fine." after a moment considering whether he will stay, the ogre does take a seat. While his movements are not stiff, they are measured and controlled. Lowering himself into a seat in the vicinity of the Waylady, his posture remains upright, hands resting flat on the tops of his thighs. "It's good to meet you, Ava." he's a first name basis sort of guy. "And Oberon." he stares at the man for a moment but is soon distracted by Nathania's arrival. Turning his head with almost comic slowness, he watches her approach. "Are you all right?" is the first question, likely a response to her soft hesitancy and pauses. A brow arches just briefly but he doesn't press the issue.

"In any case, Oberon, the Waykeepers would be delighted to have you. You have a season of training ahead of you, but you are welcome to stay here as well and take care of the house. Be vigilant; watch for strangers, and report the ones you meet back to me." Apparently, Ava has a serious interest when it comes to newcomers or strangers -- keeping them in her mental roles. She muses for a moment, hands smoothing over her black cashmere sweater, paired with inky leggings and ankle booty wedge heels. Sleek, simple, monochrome. Her galaxies really do clash with colors. She glances to Nathania at Thorn's question. Damion comes in through the front door. Damion has arrived.

Oberon nods to the Wayland before turning his head to look at Nathania."I'll do my best to take care of the Wayhouse and keep track of all the strangers that approach me." He pauses for a second."Actually, there is one that did it last night. Her's name is Margo, of the Spring Court. But she goes by the alias of Ting. She's some sort of Siren." And when he's done with his short report, he turns to look at the Winter courtier."Hello, Nathania. I'm Oberon." He says to her and offers the doll a warm smile.

Nathania shakes her head with a smile. "Part... of what happened... to me... caused... the speech... impediment. But thank... you for... asking, Thorn." She gives another smile, all button teeth and stitched lips. She nods to Oberon, and then to Ava, still smiling warmly. The four are in the living room, Nathania seated and knitting. "It's... a pleasure to meet... you both."

There comes a knock on the door. A heavy rap repeted several times in a forceful sort of way.

"All right." he didn't press the issue, he's not going to pursue the topic much either. Thorn keeps quiet for a while afterwards, simply listening to the conversation. When he wants to jump back in and try to dominate the topic at hand, he will. Summers. The knock draws his attention. Sounds like a big hand pounding on the door. He doesn't go to answer it.

Ava's eyes narrow, and she glances at Oberon with a raised eyebrow. "Can you get the door, please?" She inquires politely, and glances back over at the door -- waiting patiently.

Oberon nods and stands up. He heads to the front door relativelly quickly, but also gracefully, and opens it wide."Hi. Can I help you?" He asks and upon seeing the man is a Lost, he just steps aside."Sorry." He grins."Please, come inside. I'm Oberon, one of the Waykeepers recruits."

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