Log:Wayhouse Meetings

Wayhouse Meetings
Participants Etsy, Cian, Calliope	19 July, 2017 Three misfits at a Wayhouse, talkin' bout stuff. Also an otter.
Location
The Way Folk have gone along and left the two ingrates alone. That's probably the worst idea, there's no telling how much of the silverware is just going to go missing while Cian is lose. That satchel on his side is full of .. stuff. The Darkling is currently perched on a chair by the balls of his feet, sticking close to the shadows. The matte-black gaze shifts over the bright neon blue bird who's currently stuffing her face with whatever she could find in the fridge. They're quiet. Well he is at least, mostly just watching her eat for the time being. Because that's not creepy as fuck. It's not as if she hasn't already decided he's creepy, why not go the extra mile. Calliope has planted herself cross legged on the couch. Holding her sax to her lips though perhaps out of some form of respect she's not blowing into the reed; her taloned fingers just press the keys in some form of tune that would no doubt be playing a song if she were to give it voice. Next to her is the sax case, covered in stickers, and a rucksack that's seen it's fair share of trouble. There's also a line of empty beer bottles minus their labels on the table in front of her. Humming to herself, Etsy wanders in from the front door; Spring comes with her in the form of runner vines and little white flowers sprawling across the floor. A wash of sea-fresh air chases her in, and she's followed by an... otter? Yep. An otter. The mermaid's feet, barely seeming to touch the ground, drift underneath in her her tatty silk slippers. "Helloandgoodevening," she offers sort of generally, continuing her drift right toward the kitchen. The fridge. A container of sliced turkey in the fridge. Hey. A girl's got priorities. Cian already took care of the priorities, he cleaned out all the moldy stuff and devoured it. There's still a bit of spoiled tomato on his plate. Stuffed himself silly. Clio's blowing on the imaginary sax and for a minute he can almost hear the notes. Being so soft and whisper quiet himself, the Darkling seems to appreciate the sound of silence. Then there's a mermaid, drifting through to the fridge which has him blinking and skulking a bit closer to Clio. As in behind the glowing bird. Clio pauses and checks one of the keys that seems to be sticking working her finger over the pad lightly before trying it a few more times. The shiny brass insturment gets a few more loving polishes witha rag being kept by her. She lifts her Melange gaze towards Etsy watching her pass by before looking back to the shadow and back down, "Hey, uh, fuck lady who's raidin the fuckin' firdge. Can you see if there's another fuckin' beer in there? I'm fuckin parched." She puts the Sax away and locks the case before rolling to her feet. "Hunh?" Etsy, carrying now a family-size tub of turkey, drifts back from the fridge door, blinking her wide, sea-change eyes. "I... yes." The refrigerator door had closed on its own, so she hands the tub of meat down to the otter, who regards her with a rather patient sort of expression. "Is Etsy, is a name that is mine," she informs, rooting through the fridge and coming out with a beer someone else left there. Then she drifts over toward Calliope, holding it out. "What is a name of yours?" Cian reaches into his bag and rumages around for a while until he comes up with some copper wire, duct tape and a micro fiber polishing cloth. These things are presented to Clio in exchange for her protection you see. The Wisp just stays where he is, out of sight and out of mind. Because it's easier that way. The drifting mermaid had his wide black eyes focused on her for a moment before he goes back to searching in his satchel. A pair of partial smoked cigarettes come out and he offers one to the blue bird as well. Silence! Calliope says, “Calliope fuckin' Kraus, Most fucker's just call me Clio though. Pleasure's fuckin mine, Etsy, love your fuckin accent." She twitters in her foul mouthed Maine accent. "That's Latchkey, he's a fuckin' quiet fucker. But not too fuckin' bad." She says cheerfully holding out a hand, carefully, to accept the beer. No need for those nasty lookin talons to get involved. She eyes the cigarette and waves a hand but double takes and frowns and pats herself down and then gives Cian the -eye-, but her fingers encounter the pipe at her leg and she seems to relax. Her mantle releasing only a low rumble of thunder along with the scent of sea spray and blood soaked earth. "Any-fuckin-way. it's nice to fuckin' meetcha.” "Esther Swift is a me," explains the mermaid, adding, "But is no ones who is calling me Esther. Is always Etsy, after Count calling me that a long times ago." Her shoulders rise and fall like the tide, and she tips her head to one side, going quiet for a moment. It's tough to tell where she's looking -- almost impossible, really -- because her eyes have no pupil or iris, only a color-change sclera, currently a brackish olive. Cautiously, she places Calliope's beer in her hand, quickly retracting her own webbed hand away from those talons. "Clio. Is a name of niceness, I do like. Nicetomeetyou." That bit is almost practiced, like someone made her practice common phrases. "Is a Clio... " and then she points one hand at Cian. "Who is a you?" She drifts back toward where the blue-grey-furred otter waits with a longsuffering expression on its face, reclaiming the turkey container. "Thankyou, Mrbl." Cian pays no heed to the 'eye', she can go right to hell and he'll tell her all about it with a whispered, "I have a condition," no explanation about what or why that comes out for Clio's benefit. Even as he shrugs a bit and moves to stuff the butt of one of those half smoked stogs into his mouth. No light, he's indoors. Also fire is scary. He looks up as Etsy makes note of him directly and he gives a crooked smile, "Mmm, Latchkey," he states with a bit of confidence. A little waggle of fingers from one hand, while the other fidgets in the satchel with something. Calliope snorts, "Keep it up and ye'll fuckin' have more than one." The cerulean Summer retorts with surprisingly little meanece behind her words. The why I oughta is implied in the tone and it's given with about as much heart as it usually is. "Yeah, he's got a things for fuckin nicknames, weird ass Winterfolk." She pops the top of her beer with her thmb talon and chugs half of it in a go before rolling in her hip first swagger back to the seat she'd been in and drops ungracefully into the couch. "So how recently are you in fuckin town?" She asks both of them. "Latchkey is a name of interest," agrees Etsy absently; she's much less interested in names now than she is in this tub of turkey. Popping open the top, the mermaid grabs a handful of slices off the top and shoves them into her face as ungraciously as the Fairest is otherwise gracious. It's not the prettiest of sights, either: Etsy has teeth like a piranha, made to rend flesh efficiently. And boy, does she. Calliope's question is met with a shrug, and once she's eaten two mouthfuls of meat, she answers, "Months... two? Am of freehold, am having a pod." Shrug. Cian gives Clio the eye now, even as he takes a fork out of his satchel and puts it back. It might be from here, who knows. Right back to what he was doing, he does eventualy go back after that rotted piece of fruit to pop it in his mouth and chew delightfully. The return to the couch means that Cian is no longer hiding in the massive ego that is Clio. Damn. As evidenced by Etsy mumbling about Latchkey and he just shakes his head, "It really isn't," he promises in a quiet whisper before glancing back at Clio with slightly widened eyes, "A month, maybe two, time is...funny." Calliope bobs her head a few times. "Fuckin' Similar. I just got into this fuckin' town myself. As fuckin' newcomers, what the hell do you think of the fuckin; place? I've heard some damned curious fuckin reviews and it was fuckin' odd that Natty asked me to fuckin' stay when I mentioned I was just passin' the fuck through." She muses and then considers the other two Lost, "Your uh... your fuckin' pod know anything that might need fuckin fightin'?" The beast is stumped by something and the question is asked almost too eagerly. She takes another drink of the beer she was given and bounces a bit on the couch as she's unable to contain all her energy for long. She stares a bit at Etsy but it's more out of curiosity and an intent to get answers than at her mouth. Of course the fact Clio's got the manners of a rabid raccoon might help her acceptance of such voracious consumption. HOMPH NOMF OMNOMNOM. Pardon Esther while she takes a bit to answer, because she is stuffing her face with sliced turkey. The otter, sitting neatly by her feet, comments in a voice as sleek as its little face, "It's no use asking her anything when she has food." It carefully smooths its human-like paws down its chest. Once about 2/3 of that family-sized tub of turkey is gone, Etsy licks her lips, pushing the otter with her foot. "Is a hush, you," she huffs, and then her attention latches on to something. "You are a knowings of Nattyboo? Doll friend? Is friend of Etsy, many years. From Maine." Another slice of meat. "Um, is a place of some stranges. Lots of talk about stuffs. My pod has some Summers, probably is a knowings of things to fight. Leo and Maddox are fightings good." A blue flush climbs her pale cheeks in that last sentence, growing brighter briefly when she adds, "Maddox is building a things for fights. Is so goods." Cian shrugs slightly, "I've not noticed, or met many," he explains and goes back to being quiet, even as he starts looping around the room slowly like an orbit, just tracing his fingers over things, it's likely a nervous tick. The otter speaks and the Thief just looks at it with a mild disinterest before looking back at Etsy. The discussion rounds back to things to fight and he eyes Clio for a long while, "Maybe," he whispers before picking at a thread on his shirt until it comes off. All the better for him to start untwisting and braiding back into a something with multiple strands, weaving it back together. "Everyone's from Maine," he states. Calliope bobs her head, "Fuckyeah! I fuckin know Nathania, Count, November and I even fuckin heard Glitch is fuckin' around here some fuckin' where." She says as she swirls the last of her beer before slamming it down with a burp and flops back into the sofa. "Not everyone, just a few of us. There was uh, good fuckin reason not to -be- the fuck there anymore. LIke.. really it's fuckin' bad business." She sniffs, "Any fuckin way you mighta come about after I fuckin' left Maine to go fuckin' train with the Legion." She tells Etsy. "But fuck yeah if your summer friends wanna go out and get rowdy I'm totally down. Been itchin' for a good fight since I got here but I keep missin' anyone who's a worthy sparring partner." Ego indeed. "I do fuckin' appreciate it." -> >> Etsy to Here << <-============================================== Rolled 5 Successes for an exceptional success. < 1 1 1 3 4 4 4 5 7 7 8 8 9 9 10 > ===-> >> Manipulation + Subterfuge.Is_That_a_Bear? + 2 + 2 [9-Again] << <- Somewhere during that list of names, Esther perks up and flits back to the fridge. "Is more beers?" she asks, and indeed, there are more beers! Not a bear, but beers! The otter shakes its little head and wanders over to find a bit of carpet and curl up. Whether the otter is Etsy's keeper or vice versa is really open to debate, honestly. "More beers. And a meads!" She fishes out a mead for herself and another beer for Calliope, and flutters over to the bird to offer same. "Is not from a Maine, is lived in a Maine. Natty is a friends, is love a Rainbows. And is knows a Glitch who is loves of a Nattyboo." Flutter. "Will do an introduce of Maddox and a Leos if you wants, come to the place of World's A Part. Also if needs a weapons, go to see the Billy Ray, he is makes me a bow that can has a shoot underwaters." Beat. "I leaved a Maines because it was a badness, yes. And went to be a Couriers." She taps the white sash hidden in the layers of her clothing and the only bit without any blue bloodstains anywhere on them. "But many peoples here from a Maines." Cian is listening learning, it's what Wisps are supposed to do after all. Names and places and things that have happened giving way to more knowledge. He builds a story around the two in front of him. Something makes his eye twitch, but he keeps watching, now fiddling with a kerchief. "More beer," he whispers with a smile and ends up pulling out a hash grinder, "Oh hey!" that's the loudest he's been the whole time here, before digging around in another coat pocket to pull out papers, a brow lifts at Etsy and then Clio. Participations? Yes no maybe? "Main is bad," he nods as if affirming this and simply going with that assumption on their word. Calliope nods at Etsy, "Yeah, awesome. Glad to fuckin' hear folks are fuckin' doin' well here." She does seem pleased and the distraction is enough for her. She takes the beer offered and lifts it in thanks. She glances after Etsy and then pops the top off her beer with her talon again and taps her nails against the glass in a staccato of taps. "All in all, good fuckin' night. I should probably head back out to my fuckin' spot on the Mountain. Ya'll've been fuckin great." She pops up and holds up the beer, seems she's taking it on the road. Cian's papers are given a stare and she shakes her head, "Naw, I gotta get up fuckin' early tomorrow. Got a goddamned raven who fuckin wants to make up for lost fuckin time and he fuckin loves sunrise flights."