The phone up at the cabin doesn't ring an awful lot. Maybe a little more so of late with the frequency of family and guests, but still. Once or twice a month hardly qualifies as often. Today, it's rung a few times without anyone noticing. And still, whoever's on the other side keeps on trying in hopes of finding the right time when someone will actually be around to answer it.
It didn't help that of late, Gabe had been purposefully leaving the phone inside while he worked, craving a little more of his solace that was being chipped away at. But eventually, the timing worked out as Gabe made his way back inside from a late evening shower to see the dirt and stink of the day washed away. He eyed the block blinking green on the table alongside his other belongings and ringing a very dated tone over and over again. Begrudgingly, he picked it up to glance it over, brow furrowing at the unknown number. After a few more rings, when Louisa might think this was another missed connection, the line picks up to a gruff, "'lo? Who's this?"
Louisa may well have been on her way to hanging up when she noticed ringing turning to voice given the slight delay between Gabriel's greeting and her response, seeing as she needed to shift the phone back to her face. "Gabe?" That sweet voice, a throwback from down home, all unignorable southern charm, even over the phone. "Not sure if you remember me. Louisa Dalton? We met some months back up at that lodge by the lake?"
Gabe's ear, the one not pinned beneath the phone (though the other did twitch) swiveled back at the familiar voice. Had he given her his number? There's a delay of his own that might suggest that he did not remember, but then a moment later, "Been a spell but I remember ya. Hard to forget hearin' home outta th'blue." He paced away from the table to peer out through the front door, eyes narrowed on the woodline, and his distraction tugging at his voice when he goes on, "What can I do for ya, Miss Dalton?"
"Certainly nice to hear a little bit of home now and then." Louisa lets that thought linger a minute as if maybe that was her whole reason for calling, a little bit of homesickness helped in this strangest of ways. The quietude on her side doesn't give much away, though there are a few thuds now and then which might sound like far-off footfalls as her upstairs neighbors go about their evening routine. "I'm not quite sure how to say this over the phone, but I'll try to be as direct as I can. I got your number from some mutual acquaintances who'd told me you might be able to help me. Not a whole lot I need. Just a little bit of company to see me on my way safely. If you're willing. I can certainly compensate you for the inconvenience."
One day, maybe, that sense of paranoia that came with the out of the ordinary might fade, but for the time being, it had him moving from the front door to the back to scan the woodline there even if nothing coming across the line sounded remotely like night in the mountains. It left him preoccupied enough he didn't think to prod through Louisa's own quiet. When she started on about not being certain where to start, he turned back inside and waited, idly scratching at his jaw towards the end. The lack of details supplied spoke volumes of course, plenty enough to put him on the right path. At first there's just a grunt in answer, or acknowledgement might be the better word. It hook him a moment longer before he asked, "Where are you tryin' to get safely to? How deep?"
Louisa proves patient as she waits for acknowledgement to give way to answer, though she does seem to be moving on her side of the line, too, a squeak of springs giving away her seated position. And the likely age of her furniture. "Just to market," she answers, tone all easy. "Just need to pick up one little thing, but it's a long enough walk that I'd feel a whole lot safer if I weren't taking it alone. Whenever you'd like, if you're willing, though sooner'd be nice if you can."
Gabe grunted, "That all?" like it was literally just a quick run to a shop on some well lit street. But then, to the Magi, it probably was only slightly less minor in his mind as he made it sound. "Could use a couple days, if y'got 'em to spare." Long enough to talk to Card whenever she got home, see some projects tidied up so they weren't laying around if weather moved in, make sure his home and all that entailed was put to rights before he left it on the off chance something went awry and he was away longer than expected. "When ya lookin' t'go?"
"Couple of days'll be just fine," Louisa assures as if she had all the time in the world. To judge by the faint hint of humor in her tone, one might guess she's not offended by how trivial the task may seem. "Figure we can meet on up at the lodge again, if that's near enough to where we're heading, but I'll defer to your expertise." She's quiet a beat before she hurriedly adds, "Did your phone get my number for you?" Georgia area code still. Never changed it.
Gabe settled into thoughtful quiet again before drawing out of it with the question about the number. "Lodge'll be fine, truck out to th'border from there. I'll have a ride waitin' there." He pauses a moment then, to glance over his phone, frowning a hair at the number. No wonder it had looked familiar, from way, way back when. He frowned a little deeper and grunted, "Yea, it's there," as he lifted the phone again. "I'll call the night 'fore and meetcha at the lodge 'round sunrise. Get an early start out." Another beat before he adds, almost exasperated, "Prolly don't need t'tell th'likes of you but...wear th'right shoes."
Louisa can be heard opening her mouth, the breath taken in preparation of response heard on the line before she makes a quiet, almost confused sound. "I'm not sure I follow. I was planning on wearing my old boots, nice and worn in, good for walking. Is there something else I ought to consider?" The other details, for the moment, are set aside to address her uncertainty first.
Relieved, Gabe chuckles, "Nah...that'd be just fine. You'd just be 'mazed how many folks up here think platforms 'n heels are th'shoes to tackle wilderness in." He had moved to settle down into his chair by the hearth, stark nekkid and unbothered by it, to consider his leg. It wasn't bothering him much at all anymore, but he might have to help it along if he was going to be stepping into the hedge in the near future. Better to be in tip-top. "Unless there's somethin' else...I'll be in touch, yea?"
"I'd've thought this far from a proper city, folks'd have more sense," Louisa laments, half in humor, half in genuine worry for all those sprained and broken ankles. "But no. Nothing else. I'll wait for your call." She only pauses a breath before adding, "And thank you," without any long explanation for that gratitude before she hangs up.
Those 'couple o'days' came and went and there was a brief call the night before to ensure that Louisa would be prepared and was, more importantly, still had a need to go. The following morning, Gabriel was awake well before sunrise. He didn't exactly write love notes, but he did leave sizable woodchip with a simple stylized feather inside a heart on top of Card's phone before he kissed her brow and left, Boss relegated to keeping her company and looking after her. Mud helped bring the woodsman's kit down the mountain to the truck before being sent to retrieve one of the kelpies from the bayou to meet them at the gate. Then he was on the road. The sky would still be twilight when he pulled up at the lodge and stepped out to settle on the tailgate to wait.
Louisa wasn't much of an earlier riser. Her line of work rather demanded the opposite, more mornings seen at the tail end of a long night these days than by rising with the sun. Which is precisely why she set cascading alarms the night before to assure she'd be up and out the door while the sun was still inching up over the horizon. She's not far behind Gabriel, really, her pickup pulling in alongside his after only a few minutes of waiting. She's dressed as appropriately for this sort of excursion as one can manage: comfortable old boots, worn jeans, button-down shirt in a muted shade of green over a white scoop-neck tee. There's a pendant around her neck, the one which marks her a Blackbird Bishop, and a big old sword hilt secured at her hip. Once she's got her feet beneath her, she leans back into the cab to grab a leather satchel and a travel cup with what's almost certainly coffee in it. The satchel's slung over her head, strap across her chest, as she closes the door and heads over to wear Gabe waits with a warm smile, trying to hide her tiredness. "Good to see you again."
Gabriel was nursing a travel mug of coffee himself when Louisa arrived, sipping from it as he stood up from the tailgate. He closed it up behind him - his pack and gear there in the bed - and took a couple of steps towards the passenger side door before he paused in looking towards her. He'd opted for dark colors; green on brown flannel and legit camo cargos tucked down into his boots. Those many pockets were all weighted down with smaller tools and supplies, while short knives were tucked into a band around his right thigh and longer ones in sheathes at his hips. His eye had fallen and lingered near the sword, and it may well look like he was being judgy of it. It's a strange sense of dejavu though, one that he shakes off to grunt, "We'll see if y'still reckon that at th'other end of this." He pauses a beat to open the door, then nods towards her again. "Might wanna tuck that in your shirt, Miss Dalton. Bit of flash in th'light can lure in worst kinda magpies." Once she'd climbed inside, he'd been kind enough to toss a fur over the bench seat where it was covered in dog fur beneath, he closed the door up behind her and circled around to the driver's seat. He made sure her vehicle would be alright where it was, offered to have it moved, before they'd be on the road to the gate Gabe had decided would see them there the safest rather than the quickest.
Louisa settled her hand on that odd hilt of burnished bronze and well-tended leather when Gabriel's attention lingered there, adjusting the strange weight absently. Really, the size of that thing, it ought to be on her back, had it a proper blade, but it looks like it lost its functional part long ago, leaving just that two-handed hilt, nothing but a bit of heft and memory. "Expect I'll still be glad for your company even if you aren't always this pretty." Sweetly as the words are spoken, there's little in the way of overt fliration in her expression, though that may be a product of the early hour. As she climbs in to the other truck, she draws her satchel off to set at her hip while they ride, coffee tucked between her thighs while she buckles up and all that. Though the attention to her pendant draws a pause, a faint frown. Then her hands go up to remove it that it might be tucked into a pocket instead. "Suppose there ain't much need for it today." Once Gabriel's settled in beside her and they're on their way, she murmurs, "I do appreciate this. I know it seems a small thing, but I hear the local market's pretty far in, and I haven't taken to wandering much on my own. Never really have."
Gabe snorted quietly as he put the truck in gear and assured, "I'm no Fairest, but it's not the mug that might change ya mind." It was more the tendency to be less than patient with the charges in tow if they couldn't keep up or were too noisy or tripped one too many times or just, in general, made the work actual work. He glances over as he got the truck straightened out on the road with a lift to his brow. "Better'n folks gettin' snatched back up or turnt into Sunday supper," remarked absently for the appreciation. "Besides, may need a return favor one day." That much sounded more like lip service than anything. He didn't really know what she could do, and didn't readily seek outside help, but he still had that echo of southern hospitality it seemed; assurances meant to put his company at ease. Looking sidelong after some fiddling with the radio to get a station to come in low and quiet, he adds, "Didn't think to ask - but how are ya ridin' ?"
"You ever have need of a Bishop," Louisa answers with a little pat to the pocket where the pendant went. Not like she can hide the feathers which peek out here and there past her clothes, inexplicably, given her utter lack of avian nature. It's just part of being a Blackbird. With a smile cast over at the driver, she notes, "I'm not half bad with a sword either. Prefer to talk when I can." And given how that voice commands attention so effortlessly, even in this quiet conversation, it's not difficult to imagine she could put that, too, to some compelling use. When the radio's properly tuned to whatever makes its way all the way up here and that question about riding comes her way, she admits, "It's been a while," with a hint of reservation. "Got hooves of my own, ya know. They do me just fine most days."
There's a polite, if skeptical, nod to the explanation of being a Bishop. No, it wasn't too likely the hermit would come looking for mystical therapy anytime soon. But there was a note made at least, mentally filed away in case someone else might require it. He was busy shifting gears and heading further out of town when he returned, "Got 'em too, but my swamp kelpies are quicker," in a distracted mumble, attention forward and looking for the turn off that'd lead further into the hills and closer to the gate. "Don't gotta do much more'n keep your seat though, she'll follow Long Night," was added a few beats later. His attention turned briefly towards the satchel she carried with her once they hit a mostly-straight stretch, to ask, "If you don't mind me askin', whatcha huntin' after at th'market?"
Louisa doesn't seem to mind the skepticism none. Everybody needs help sometimes, and it's better that they know where to find it when the time comes. The mention of Gabriel's hooves catches her curiosity, a considering look turned his way rather pointlessly. Maybe she's imagining him as a minotaur, too. Whatever it's got her thinking, it leaves her a touch distracted when he asks that rather pertinent question, a little, "Mm?" preceeding any actual answer. "Oh," comes as the inquiry actually registers. "I need a contract. Hospitality's Hold. Figure if I'm sticking around long as I already have without looking to leave yet, I may as well do my part."
Gabe pulled the truck off the side of the road while he mulled her sought prize. Then he was...turning the truck around, a several point turn on the narrow road they'd been traveling, to head back the other direction. "Don't need to haul all th'way out to th'market for that," he started once they were moving again. There might even have been a little ghost of a grin at one corner of his lips. "Know this lil shortstack of snark 'n temper what fancies herself a lawyer, cept she calls it a 'barrister'. Fair chance she can help ya out with it." Glancing again towards her satchel, he goes on, "She can be picky though. Whatcha got to trade?"
Louisa's head dips in apology when Gabriel explains why they're turning around, knowing full well she could've spared them that trouble. "I should've lead with that when we met up this morning," is spoken with an apologetic tone. When attention is drawn to her satchel, she fusses absently with its buckle as if considering looking inside. Or, perhaps, doing so mentally, going over all the contents. "Few things I've picked up along the way." Softer, "Couple of trinkets from back home." She's quiet a moment, studying Gabriel, her smile tucked away now. "Anything in particular this barrister of your acquaintance might like?"
Gabe tips his head a little left and right before shrugging a shoulder. "She likes pretty things, kinda vain yea? Likes books and puzzles. But if you wanna get her real excited, she likes legal things. Made 'er up one of those gavels judge's use last time I saw her and she was all but purple she was so tickled with it. Seen her fawn over a print out of the 'legal represention' of the phone book too, just readin' off the names like they was magic words." He shakes his head a little bit with a small smirk, some kind of weary amusement lingering in the memory apparently. "You can prolly talk her into somethin' if your trinkets are pretty 'nough," he adds then as they steadily ate up ground towards a gate west of town.
Louisa smiles for that smirk, delighting in the storytelling, shallow as it is. It's enough to tell her something about the hob she'll be dealing with and the man taking her there. And to secure her confidence in the goods she has for trade. With a pat to her satchel, she assures, "I've got pretty, but sounds like I might not need it." What's meant to come next takes its time in finding words, one of those pieces of the past that's slow to draw itself into the present. "Have an old article I wrote way back when." Quieter, her voice is no less enticing; hell, it seems to tug at the senses and demand one listen a little bit harder to hear it. "Used to be a reporter, briefly, before I found myself elsewhere. Only a few pieces ever got published under my byline, mind, but I've got one with me 'bout a civil suit I covered between a local business and a man who'd fallen down their steps." With a resurgence of her smile and a quiet breath of laughter, she assures, "It was a good bit more interesting than it sounds. Mr. Keats made quite a fuss and got the whole town riled up and divided over the depth of steps."
Any other time, he'd probably imagine the story to be just as dry as it sounded, or would have sounded, if someone else were talking about it. But even he found himself lulled into interest between that quality to her voice and the familiar accent. "Sounds right up her alley," he agreed with another small grin before he settled into just listening, whether to her or the radio, for what was left of the drive.When they reached what happened to be the gate he was most familiar with, the one that spit out nearest his home, he pulled the truck off again but this time it was to cut the engine and climb out, to gather his gear from the back of the truck - a pack with an axe strapped to the side, a thigh quiver and a compound bow that he hung across his chest for the time being.
Louisa isn't inclined to talk much more in the wake of sharing some sliver of her past, though she might comment on whatever's playing on the radio or sing along so terribly sweet. By the time they get where they're going, her coffee's long gone, the travel cup closed up and tucked into her satchel so she doesn't forget it when they head back to get her truck. And, really, the satchel and the sword hilt are all she has, not a whole lot for her to secure into place once she's got her boots on the ground. She doesn't question Gabe, though, trusting the Magi to know what's best; that's why she called him, after all. Hands pressed into jean pockets, the minotaur simply waits for instruction, this little trip his to lead.
Gabriel made one last stop before leaving the truck, to lean against the side and tug his boots and socks from his feet and tossing both into the cab before he locked it up to head towards a path twisting off the road towards an arch of tree branches hanging over to meet a stone. Whatever the little trick to step across, it wouldn't be too many more steps before Gabe was leading her into the hedge. No, it's not a minotaur on the other side, just a woody faun of sorts fussing with his pack and hitching it higher on his shoulders to free his tail beneath it while wooden cloven hooves took over where bare feet had been moments ago, quite happy to be clear of the cumbersome boots. On the other side, he crouched down, and knocked a particular pattern on the earth. With that done, he straightens up and rolls back one shoulder absently, glancing back towards Louisa when he shared, "Won't be too long - they were waitin' at th'other gate."
Oh, what a fine idea! Louisa, upon seeing Gabriel take off his boots and socks, follows suit with some visible relief. One gets used to playing normal and perhaps forgets from time to time that it's not always needed. Her hooves are thick and solid and might seem a little odd peeking out past her jeans if he weren't already used to that particular peculiarity. She smiles his way, grateful for the unintentional reminder, before they head on toward the gate. Wheresoever he leads, she follows... which gives her a good view of that tail when it's freed, though she surely doesn't stare. Not at his tail, anyway. She's definitely watching when he does that strange thing, some secret knock she'd never have known. Understanding dawns with the explanation, another smile offered to her guide. Though now, seeing this face of his, how he truly is, there's something more than gratitude in that expression, some hint of uncertainty, a keenness in her attention which suggests study. A hand lifts to scratch around the base of one horn, as if that might soothe the itch in her brain. Subtly, the local hedge responds to her curiosity by seeming to stare at Gabriel, too, as if something were scrutinizing him from behind leaves and steeped in shadow. "Still find myself a little unsettled every time I step into the Hedge. Know I gotta learn to calm that," but she's mostly just trying to explain away her unease.
When Gabriel straightened up and turned back to face her, he got that first real look at her. His ears swivel back some, without much notice from their owner. He chocked up the urge to run, to tear off into the switchbacks and canyons and valleys that lay ahead, to the way the hedge seemed to stare with her, but he could do less about the heavier return of the dejavu. From then on, if it seemed like he always had one ear turned her direction - well, it's because he did. She's from back home, some little voice reminded him every few moments. Externally, he cleared his throat some and scratched around the base of his neck. "If it ain't unsettlin' just settin' yourself up to be caught up 'gain by somethin'. But gettin' that fear in hand - " He glances around them, the moss across his shoulders standing up a little bristlier, he grunts, "Well I wouldn't complain for -" He trailed off to the thundering of yet more hooves. Gabe wasn't entirely sure what ways and means Long Night used to slip through the Hedge so quickly, but there he was with one of his small herd in tow behind him, a smaller but just as dark and just as wet and sharp-toothed as the big bruiser that lead the way, somehow not tripping on its own mane and tail. Glancing once more towards Louisa, he nods towards the kelpies as they slowed to walk up to them, starting towards the larger himself then pausing when he asks, "Need a leg up?"
Louisa knows that look. She's seen it play across dozens of indistinct faces in her dreams. That look which identifies her as monster, pursuer, captor. Enemy. Her stomach sinks, suddenly heavy with the weight of dawning realization, and the greenery seems now to be looking at her instead, responding to her desire to not be seen by providing an unsettling sense of being stared at. Luckily, the sound of hoofbeats isn't only in her head, not merely an echo of her own stomping charge half-remembered from her dreams, but a real and genuine distraction which pulls Gabriel's attention away and gives the minotaur a second to collect herself. To get that fear--and all the other emotions now welling up with it--well in hand before they set any deeper into the thorns. And, really, she does a fairly good job of it, smoothing all that worry down and tucking it away to address another time. For the moment, she's better of paying attention to the here and now. She's cautious in her approach of the smaller kelpie tasked with carrying her substantial form, slow to touch, fingers running over its sopping mane. "I think I'll be alright." And, really, in the end, she is. Might not know a lot about riding, but she knows her own body well enough to manage alright. "Does it have a name?"
While the kelpie was smaller than Long Night, she wasn't necessarily a small creature, and looks sturdy enough to carry what's asked of it without too much trouble. In truth Long Night could carry the both of them but this just seemed more comfortable for all involved. "I'm sure she does," Gabe returned once they were both settled bareback, neither animal sporting gear or tack in any sense for this particular trip - though Gabe had ropes in his pack if something needed to be rigged up. "Not told me yet though. Just call 'er th'Nice One." He pauses a beat before adding, "There's also th'Mean One and th'Other One." Practical names those. He nodded down the path and with a little nudge of his heel to one side, Long Night turned to head down the path towards the mountains and canyons ahead. The Nice One did as most herd animals did - and followed the more dominant animal.
Gabriel would be happy to make small talk in the hours to come, but he's noticably distracted, his attention always split between listening and replying, and the more vital task of watching their surroundings and listening for whatever trouble might beset them, cautious even if they weren't deviating far from the well traveled trods just yet. They'd eventually come to a side trail, thickly overgrown, which Gabe rumbles to Long Night to stop at as he peered down the trail. It'd be a tight fit even single file, growth closing in overhead to make it more like a tunnel than wooded thorny land. "Down there's where we wanna get," he grunts over his shoulder towards her, glancing back to try to gauge her comfort with it. "Can go on foot if y'want- "
Whatever small talk there'd been when they first set off, some idle banter about the beasts' names and behaviors to break the tension, dies away after a few minutes, and Louisa doesn't bother to pick it back up. Oh, there might be the occasional comment or question about this plant or that path, but the Bishop is fairly comfortable in silence, particularly when the alternative might be voicing any of the noise in her head, expressing any of her worry about the nature of their reflexive responses to one another. Really, it's just easier to let it all settle and enjoy the ride. The Hedge itself is quieter when she just lets it all settle and enjoys the ride.
When they get to that stopping point, she seems more at ease, nearer to steady contentment she'd greeted him with outside. She draws the Nice One up beside Long Night to get a look down the path, though she seems just as concerned with what she can see at head height, where her horns are liable to get caught, as she does with the rest of it. Turning her attention to the Magi, she tells him, "I'll trust you. If it's better to ride, we ride. The Nice One's been kind to me this far."
Gabriel worked his jaw left and right while his ears turned out separate directions while he considered the options. There was just one glance Louisa's way, when he reached the point in his mental decision making process to account for her. He wasn't sure whether she could move unhindered as he could through the undergrowth. In the end he settles on, "We'll ride then, just mind your head." He'd certainly be doing the same as he nudged the animal forward. Long Night plodded along, eternally bored with the world. The Nice One was more interested in what was going on, turning her head to every sound and gnashing her twisted carnivorous teeth at flutterby's to cross the path. It wasn't until the opening of the trail was lost to shadow that Gabe found words again. He was naturally curious, even if he didn't typically voice those curiosities, but the everpresent awareness of her at his back, and the strange scratching baby-paranoia whining in the back of his mind about it eventually nudged him to ask, "Feel free t'tell me t'fuck off but...did you get took back down South?" with a glance over his shoulder.
Louisa delights in the Nice One's not entirely nice answers to the flora and fauna in the overgrown corridor they traverse, her smile easy for that awful gnashing. She runs a hand along the kelpie's damp neck every now and then, though who's to know if it's meant to be soothing or encouraging. It seems fond either way, like she understood the beast. Nevermind her own calm demeanor. She ducks down a few times, pushing vines away others, mindful not to get her horns stuck, though it does happen once or twice, a quiet gasp marking the pull of the greenery before she pulls back and breaks free. Almost certainly losing some hair in the process.
The glance back over his shoulder will find her staring, cautious and uncertain. The minotaur takes a moment to consider before answering, accepting that if the Magi knew it was best to ride through this part of the Hedge, then he probably knows, too, if it's alright to talk tense topics too. "I was," she admits eventually. "Nothing left behind in my wake. Reported as a missing person, which meant there was a whole lot of hullaballoo when I stumbled back out to the astonishment, relief and tremendous confusion of my family. Big news, few years back around Macon. 2011. Gone for eight years."
Gabriel's brow furrowed some at the year quoted year, nodding a little while he processed it through. "Got out 'round th'same time," he notes, sparse on details when he looks ahead again. "Three hours or so southa Macon. Fifteen...sixteen years. Somethin' like that," was as far as he shared in return. It didn't quell the curiosity though, or cure the anxiousness. One ear stayed turned back her direction while the other swiveled the Hedge, taking turns at the duty. Beyond a few surprise bursts of feral creatures running across the trail - or being chased across the trail, and the odd threatening avian guarding its nest, or curious curling vine snagging clips stray strands of hair or bits of marsh grash from the kelpies' tails, there was very little trouble to be found on this particular trail. Where Gabriel calls Long Night up to stop again, it doesn't look like there's much of anything in either direction. The trail continues on ahead of them, as endless forward as it now looked to be behind them, but Gabe was swinging down just the same. "Easier on foot from 'ere," he grunted in explanation, stepping up to curl a hand around Long Night's muzzle to tip his head towards the fawn. "You two stay close by," rumbled quietly while he scritches beneath Long Night's lower lip to be answered by a wet snort. Grunting again, Gabe wiped his hand and stepped away towards undergrowth to the side of the trail, reaching back to pull the axe from the side of his pack, using it to clear the way ahead of him, pushing brush aside as he picks his way carefully along through the tangle.
"I'm not here for you," Louisa answers back eventually, filling some possible details in for herself in the silence which follows Gabriel's reply. "I didn't come to cause anyone any trouble. None of us are whoever we might've been wherever we used to be." A little quieter, she admits, "Can't say I much remember it. Only the dreams." But he's drawing up to a stop again, which means maybe it's best that she fall quiet so he can listen. This time, when she rubs at the Nice One's mane, it seems to be meant to comfort her rather than the mare. As he suggests traveling on foot--hoof, really, for both of them--she swings down like she's done this a time or two before, giving the kelpie a little more affection in quiet thanks before falling in close behind her guide, hand lazily set on that sword hilt of hers. Just in case.
Nice One nickers some wet squelchy version of a lazy quiet neigh when she bumps her wet head to Louisa's shoulder in return to the affection, before she turns away to pester Long Night, bumping him in much the same fashion and gnawing against his flank. Gabriel was still lingering on the assurance Louisa was attempting, and that skepticism might easily be misread. He didn't doubt really that she wasn't here for him; there would have been far easier ways to get him than follow him into the Hedge, to a destination that wasn't the originally planned one. It laid in the idea that they weren't who they were before. "I'm not sure that's th'truth," he rumbled quietly, looking ahead again. He'd wait a several more yards in to start clearing the path by wyrd, guiding the brush aside, where it wouldn't be spotted from the main trail. "What I see in m'dreams...it's not that far from m'truth, save for details of intent an'..." He waffled for a moment, trying to find the right word, settling on, "Desire, I reckon."
"Isn't that what matters?" Louisa asks. Her posture seems a bit easier now that he's moved from hacking at the greenery with his axe to just willing it away, a feat she would need to make considerably more effort to even begin to manage. Every now and then, she turns a look behind them, watching what might follow just in case, but her head's always facing forward when she speaks. "What we reclaimed on this side is our will. I've still got some of the same drives. I just point them where they're productive, keep them in check when there's no right outlet. Whatever monster I may have been on someone else's leash, I'm my own monster now, Gabe. And I reckon that matters quite a bit."
He pauses for a moment while he considers that, really turns it around in his head while he looks ahead. It didn't really look like there was much of a trail there, but there were minute signs that were like blazing billboards to Gabe's eye. They were still on the right track. "Suppose you're right 'bout that," he eventually remarks, leaning in to tread forward again. He didn't dwell on it much further from there, noting instead, "We'll be there soon."
And they were. The clearing came out of no where really, a small little place the two kelpies would have filled up almost entirely around a small little cottage. They could fit inside - but it'd be a tight squeeze through that door, and surely would mean ducking inside given that -if they had toes to stand up on - that's all it'd take to peer over the roof. It's a very tidy kind of chaos, everything made from repurposed found things, the stones of the walls mismatched and from all over, windows made of fused together bottle bottoms, garden pots that were any number of thing in past lives from pitchers to pencil holders. Shrugging off his pack, Gabe sank his axe into the earth next to the pack and then headed closer to the house, leaning down to peer in through the not very transparent window before he knocked against the small door.
Louisa takes Gabriel's cue again. Much as she might want to press more, she is, in this endeavor, follower rather than leader. It does have her a bit distracted, though, eyes settled on his back as they make their way down the last of the train to the little, well-hidden clearing with its odd little cottage. The minotaur keeps her distance, though she swaps occupied hands, the one upon her sword hilt tucking instead into a pocket while the other settles on her satchel, what she expects will be most helpful in this bargain. While the Magi knocks, she looks about the clearing, trying to get a sense of any other movement, ready for potential ambush.
A rather high, borderline squeaky voice answers, "Go away!" from the other side of the door. "I'm not taking any new clients!" barked out a moment later. Gabriel sighed beneath his breath and knocked again, more insistent in the slowed, harder delivery, then straightened up with a bend and twist to his back. There's some scuffling from inside before the door swings open to a little pointy eared goblin looking creature dressed quite elaborately in layered this and that with black hair and a pale yellowish skin that turns quickly red. Upon pulling the door open, small fist on her curvy hip, she announces, "I said I'm not tak- You!" The little woman came rushing out, no more than hip high to the fawn, to shove at his person. "Oh no. No. No. And again I say no!"
Gabriel let himself be corraled back a couple of steps before setting his hooves to hold his own. "It ain't like that," he grumps down at the hob, waving a hand back towards Louisa. "I brought someone...she's lookin' to make a trade." The tiny red-angry creature was stilled at least to squint at Louisa, arms folding over her chest while she sizes up the much larger creature. "This is Louisa," Gabe went on. "Louisa, this is Madame Bitty Jamahop the Third...."
"Esquire," Bitty added with a self-important huff."
"....Esquire..." Gabe added wearily. Bitty glared up at Gabriel as she stalked past him, approaching Louisa to stare up at her.
"He's trouble that one. You know this, yes? No, no you don't. Or you would not be here. With..." She glances sidelong with a snide curl of her lip. "Him." Looking back to Louisa she sighs, dropping her hands and waving them in that 'get on with it' sort of way. "Nevermind. You require some good or service. What is it?"
Louisa watches. There's really not much else to do. Oh, she could laugh or attempt to interject, but the minotaur is instead impassive, deeming the situation well enough within Gabriel's control that she needn't intervene. When attention is drawn her way, she offers a warm and lazy smile toward the angry hob, her horned head dipping respectfully. She doesn't answer Bitty when she speaks to what trouble Gabe might be, but she really doesn't have to. She's got no poker face, and her expression rather plainly reads that she's completely clueless on that front, having found him to be no trouble whatsoever. She follows the look toward the fawn, more direct than the hob's, her curiosity clear. But that's a question for later. For now, there is business. "Hospitality's Hold," she says in that sweet as honey voice of hers, right to the point.
There's a purse to the little hob's lips while she narrowed her eye at the less than concurring look Louisa had, but then she was delightfully succinct and to the point, and that deepening red started to fade towards a more peachy pink. "Is that all?" she asks, head tipping off to one side. She turns back to narrow her eyes suspiciously, nearly accusatory, at Gabriel while Gabriel paid her absolutely no mind. He was moving back towards his pack to dig out a water bottle to sit down with while Louisa dealt with Hot Head Esquire over there.
Speaking of which, her skin started to darken again for Gabe's general indifference towards her at the moment. "Well, Miss Louisa, I am not certain what Gabriel told you, but I am a barrister, not a common pawn broker," she started first, clearly very insulted by the whole idea. But then the next moment, after sizing the minotaur up, or more accurately, her bag, she goes on in the tone of a great and tremendous favor, "But you're here, even if you don't require my legal services. What do you have?" She still played cool and above it all, but it's less convincing now that she's started to wonder, leaning forward without budging her feet to sniff at the air like it might give away what she has. "You did bring something to trade, yes?"
Louisa keeps her attetion on the barrister, even as Bitty's attention returns to Gabriel, which means she gets a very fine show of that shift in color, down to pink and bakc up towards red. She tries to hide her amusement at the reaction her guide's mere presence inspires in the hob, but she can't quite contain the humor in her eyes, the smile which rises all too easily. As they move on toward business all right and proper, she does try to keep focused, her horned head bowing in apologetic ackowledgement of the lack of consideration for her proper skill. As she starts to fuss with the buckles of her satchel--from whence a keen nose might catch scents of plastic, cookies, coffee, brass, mustiness and newsprint--she assures, "Should I find myself in need of legal expertise, I will know who to call upon. However, today, my needs are yet simple, and I have in exchange a simple piece of my history which I hope might prove engaging and enlightening for a woman of your keen sensibilities and particular interests." Flap drawn up, she pulls out an old newspaper. Dated maybe a decade ago? A little local thing of no particular acclaim. It's a middle section, though there are a few pages. Currently, it's folded to highlight that article she'd written on the trouble that little court case stirred up and how the case had gone, from beginning to end, with both courtroom observations and commentary on the broader social impact of the suit. She hands this over, whatever else is in her pack left there for now.
Bitty makes a valiant go of curbing her interst, of not letting it show, but it's hard to do when she starts blushing purple in her round cheeks and pointy ears, her shifting mood-tone complexion giving away her keen interest. She wears a skeptical face though as she pulls a pair of spectacles from somewhere down between her generous decolletage, lenses mis-matched and differente colors. She perches them on her nose just the same and takes the paper, reading over the lenses as she paces away, mumbling along with the words. She's a few lines in before she peers back and up, up, up towards Louisa, poking a bony finger at the page. "You wrote this, Miss Louisa?"
Louisa makes no show of noticing the blushing, taking it only as evidence that her guide has instructed her well. Though she lets the flap on her satchel fall back into place, she doesn't yet do up the buckles, just in case that one little bit of ephemera is deemed insufficient. She waits, she watches, and when Bitty looks up her way again... well, her smile's just a touch sad as she admits, "I did. I was something of a different person then, before the Wyrd ever touched me, but I sat in on the whole trial from jury selection to verdict and interviewed an awful lot of townsfolk to get their thoughts on the whole matter. One of my few published pieces of any investigative merit."
Bitty took a couple of sideways steps towards Louisa before turning fully back to ask in hushed whisper, "You observed the entire process?" a touch excitedly. Her little pudgy fingers had curled into the paper, clutching it closer to her chest like it were some prized piece of history. "Do you have other stories like this? Unpublished?" she asks as she steps even closer, her head nearly tipped fully back by then to keep looking up at the much taller woman.
Louisa's head, likewide, needs to angle down pretty starkly to keep Bitty in view, but she hardly seems bothered by it. Really, it makes her look awfully imposing whether she means to be or not. She can't help it. Her size, her horns, the utter calm in her disposition. It's an odd balance of comforting and unsettling, depending on perspective. And the hob's perspective is, quite physically, edging toward the intimidating side of things. Still, her smile's a warm thing as she considers the questions, patient in her processing of the questions, taking her time before answering. "Much of the minutiae is lost to editing," she admits. "Not everyone cares to read about the reading of the docket, the handling of pleas, the deliberation of all the cases in between. I spent quite a bit of time in that courtroom. Arraignments, probation violations, scheduling of hearings."
The little hob probably should be more wary, that hoof could crush her afterall, but she's too enthralled with the possibility of more legalese. But then she slumps a little, color fading towards a bluish tint as she looks back towards the paper. "Well, that is simply a travesty," she laments, starting to step back towards her little house as she looks over the words. "I will be just a moment finding your contract for you," she mumbled more distractedly as she edged her way inside. To follow there was the noise of many things being moved around shuffled, drawers pulled, boxes opened and closed, papers rustled. Gabe looked up from where he was sitting and notes through a dry grin, "She likes you a helluva lot more than she likes me."
Louisa nods, best she can with her head already dipped as it is, in agreement with Bitty's lamentation. No love for the details out in the mortal world! She draws herself up a bit as the hob heads off to slip into her office as it were, attention drifting toward Gabriel now that they're almost sort of a little alone for a moment. Oh, the curiosity which brightens her eyes at his remark! "I've noticed that," she says easily, only a thread of her amusement winding about those words. "I can't help but wonder what it is you've done to earn the ire of such a reasonable and educated woman." Yes, she's counting on the hob still being able to hear her.
Gabe sighs some as his ears turn hither and yon and his head shakes at the memory. "It's...a story," he grunts eventually, facing pulling a half-grimace as he scratches at his beard. "One best told over beer I reckon. Short version, crashed her place un'nounced a while back and had t'stay a spell."
"A spell?! You were here for three weeks! You bled on everything! I had to replace THREE windows!" Bitty was back, stepping out with a rolled up scroll nearly as tall as she was hugged into one arm. She glared at Gabriel a moment before sticking her nose up to stride up to the much more reasonable and educated Louisa, more hushed in telling her, "He's bad company. I would advise parting ways at your earliest opportunity, Miss Louisa," as she offered up the scroll. Unrolled, it's written in painstaking gold-ink calligraphy with detailed illustrations around the border in themes of home and hearth. As Louisa read it, as she started to commit the elaborate phrasing and first parties and second articles and third clauses to memory, the ink would start to fade from the scroll.
Louisa's about to make a comment on that invitation Gabe's extended her way--that is what it was, isn't it?--but Bitty's rather quick to pipe up on the tail-end of his words, leaving her flashing an apologetic smile toward the magus before shifting the full weight of her substantial attention back toward the barrister. "With respect, Madame Bitty, poor company though he may be, he had the good sense to lead me into your kind and keen company. Perhaps he is not entirely irredeemable." With that, she turns her focus to the scroll, drawing the parchment straight in parts and paragraphs as she reads through the various articles, allowing it to curl back on itself as she goes down. It takes her a good long moment to get through it all. Magical though the understanding may be, she's awfully thorough in reading through the contract all the same, making certain that she understands it down to its very depths. When she's done, when the last flake of gold has blinked into nothingness, she considers for a moment before offering the page back, all circled back on itself as it is, and murmuring a genuine, "Thank you," to the legal hob.
Bitty huffs and folds her arms over her profoundly buxom bussom and looks mildly torn. "Perhaps not," she relents after a moment, though she's just as quick to add, "But I still haven't gotten Lost blood off my copy of Precarious Post Scripts and Larcenous Loopholes." There's a mixed bloom of pink and red as she looks quite well and away from Gabriel, apparently prefering to pretend he's just not there for the moment. She's patient while Louisa is digesting the contract, appreciative for the woman's own appreciation of the work that went into the scroll, and the time taken to read it over. "You are indubitably welcome, Miss Louisa," returned with great pomp as she takes the oversized (to her) scroll back into her arm. "Now if there is nothing else...I have so much work to see to." Off to his own side of the clearing, Gabe was starting to find his way back to his feet, tucking his water bottle back into his bag as he lifted it to his shoulder.
Louisa's curiosity piques at, rather specifically, 'larcenous loopholes,' brows arching inquisitively. She does not, however, press. One should never act too rashly upon temptations presented by even the loveliest of hobgoblins. With their business concluded, the minotaur bows as deeply and gracefully as she can manage without getting herself into any trouble. "There is nothing else," she confirms. Straightening, she looks back to Gabriel even as her hands begin working at the buckles of her satchel, getting it securely closed once more. There's a nod for the magus. No thanks, not yet. Not while the conflicted Bitty is still within earshot. She just waits for her guide to lead her back out to safety.
Bitty Esq. dipped her head self-importantly to Louisa in return, then turned around with a snap on her heel. "And you..." she starts. Gabe stopped mid-shouldering his pack to peer down at the itty bitty, but she just flushes up and huffs and turns to make an abrupt turn into her little house.
*SLAM*
Gabriel shakes his head as he steps towards Louisa, gesturing ahead to the trail they'd taken in. "Prolly best t'get on outta here 'fore she starts really gettin' workt up."
As the pair start their walk back down the trail to retrieve their steeds and make their way out of the Hedge, once there's a bit of distance between themselves and the little house in the clearing, Louisa murmurs a warm, genuine, "Thank you for this," to Gabriel. "Can't imagine it was particularly easy visiting someone who likes you so poorly as she seems--" Though there's a question in that. "--but she was most certainly best-suited to my needs. Rather charming, in her way." Looking to the faun directly, she notes, "I'll take you up on that beer and a story sometime." From there, though, it's a quiet journey back home. How comfortable the silence is between the two of them may be intermittently questionable, the issue of their earlier awkwardness as yet unresolved, but it does seem somewhat diminished for having shared that encounter without incident.
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