Log:A Walk in the Park

A Walk in the Park
We've had a fair number of new faces of late. What brings you to the Tam valley?
Participants Haydn, Sorrel	24 May, 2017 A snail happens upon a flower in a park.
Location Frog Haven Pond
It's early in the morning, and the cool air of the night before remains ever present. The growing sea of grey forewarns a coming storm, and in the city most folks are staying inside whenever they can to avoid the eventual rainfall. One soul's gone against that norm, and appears all too content to enjoy a peaceful walk through the park. He's in blue jeans, a yellow t-shirt announcing his love for Sunny D, and tennis shoes that collect a fair amount of dirt on them. He'd look no different than any other person save those touched by the Fae. His hair hangs in green locks of vine, and the various flowers there betray his floral bearing. At present, the emerald Elemental is walking directly around the lake, humming an odd tune while occasionally looking towards the sky above. The other soul braving the threat of thunder and rain looks, in some ways, quite the opposite of the vine-haired spring moving the other direction around the pond. Haydn may well be wearing a tee shirt, too, but it's hidden beneath the crisp button-up shirt which, in turn, is tucked beneath a muted brown suit jacket, the matching slacks a couple shades darker. Even his pale hair has been pulled back, tamed by an elastic band behind his head. It's only how the jacket is left unbuttoned that offers any suggestion of ease, but even that is belied by the straight, tense line of his shoulders. One might guess the man has something on his mind. Or, well, did. For all their differences, there is one particular similarity he and the other early bird share: their unmistakable wyrd-touched strangeness. Whatever he had been dwelling on is set aside as he draws nearer to Sorrel--by virtue of following the same path in the opposite direction--staring all too intently, not particularly careful to play polite. Sorrel was willing to walk right by Haydn without a thought, and likely had his head in the clouds. However, he immediately turns around after just passing a few steps past the Changeling. Beyond the verdant footsteps he leaves behind the cool breeze briefly beating at his back betrays his affiliation with the Emerald Court. "Hello," he calls out with a tinge of excitement found in his voice. "Would you happen to mind company for a spell? I rarely find folks like us, and I'm kinda new here." The nearer Sorrel draws, the slower Haydn moves until he's entirely still as the spring moves past. Almost entirely still. One of the odd eyestalks protruding from his head cranes to follow the man's progress. The rest of him follows with an eerie sloth, his head turning until it's within alignment with the already pivoted eyestalk, shoulders following before his torso twists and his feet shuffle around to bring him fully about face. A few seconds of uncertain staring pass before he pulls his hands from his pockets, pushes back his cuff to check his watch and decides, "I have time." His gaze traces over the greenery of Sorrel's hair before seeking out the man's eyes and putting on an almost pleasant smile. "Haydn Miller." He emphasizes his surname, as if it has meaning or weight despite its plainness. "We've had a fair number of new faces of late. What brings you to the Tam valley?" Those eyestalks held every bit of attention Sorrel could offer. He stares unblinkingly until the other man's name is announced. Sorrel has to blink several times over to draw his gaze fully to Haydn, and in turn he offers a warm smile. that's all dimples. "I'm Sorrel Yarrow." Beat. "It's good to meet you, Haydn. As for me, a lot of things bring me out here. Mostly my friend and I exploring and just going about here and there. We usually set up shop for a few months, but things are looking like Fort Brunsett might be our new home." Before he continues talking Haydn's ear off he gestures to the path Haydn was walking, and begins walking again when it appears Hadyn's ready to move. "What about you? Are you new here too?" For just a beat, just the barest instant, the left corner of Haydn's lips ticks upward just a little farther for that bright, dimpled smile turned his way, as if such warmth might actually be infectious, but his smile sinks readily back to is typical tepidness. In a similar display, the greenery at his feet brightens and blooms as if encouraged by the spring's influence... only to wither toward dormancy soon thereafter. Once he sets to walking once more, hands again pushed into pants pockets, that play of growth and death tapers off, only the eerie stillness of his autumnal mantle carried along their path. "No," is all he provides at first, the man side-eyed just a touch for his lack of familiarity with local familiar politics. After a few steps, he elaborates. "I was born in Tamarack Falls, and so I returned to Tamarack Falls." Aware that they are not in Tamarack Falls, he adds as an afterthought, "I work at the high school. Chemistry. It's increasingly difficult to hold their attention the nearer we get to summer break." The way he straightens just a smidge might suggest some self-consciousness, some awareness that he's strayed off-topic. "What is it that you do, Mr. Yarrow?" Sorrel was idly watching the lake for a spell until talk of the other Lost's profession arises. His eyes briefly go wide for a moment, and he only sobers up when talk of the man's student comes. A short peal of laughter escapes, but he's quick to stifle it behind the back of his lifted hand. After clearing his throat he answers of his own work. "I do whatever I can, really, so long as it's legal. I work with my hands, mostly, but I've occasionally been paid for things I have to be a bit patient for like teaching piano. It's nothing as cool as teaching, though. Getting to shape all those young minds for the future must be amazing, huh?" Haydn's nearer eyestalk pivots to track Sorrel at the laughter, mirroring the shift of his actual eyes, turned to study the man situated in his peripheral vision. The arch of his pale eyebrow expresses more curiosity than humor, but at least there's no evidence of offense. Both his head and that snailish antenna tip downward, briefly, at the mention of hands, digits considered before his gaze twinned gaze lifts again. Once more, his smile grows, but it stays that little bit wider this time, amusement sticking around for a bit. "Sometimes," sounds a little like a concession, a measure of reluctance even in that small offering. "When you find the ones who are paying attention, who leave with a more critical or curious view of the world." It sounds, for a second, that there might be more to the thought, but his lips purse into a thin line, and he redirects. "What do you like to play?" He likely means on the piano, but he provides no qualifier. Sorrel's ebon gaze is on Haydn as he walks, nodding idly along with the man's words. He lost himself a little too much in the conversation, as he trips up one a stray rock. The bit of stone briefly earns his ire, although his anger is gone as quickly as it came. "What do I like to play?" he echoes more for himself than anything else. "Well, it really depends on the weather and present company. Like right now, I'd go with one of the Gymnopédies. Probably number one, if I had to be honest." He casts his gaze to and fro for a moment, stopping in the process. As he continues walking once more he explains himself further. "Away from the city, but not so much that it's a distant memory. Peaceful, gentle, and just a bit sad." Haydn's nearer arm begins to lift, hand just starting to pull from his pocket when Sorrel stumbles. When gravity does not get the better of the man, however, that limb relaxes and no attempt at unnecessary heroics are made. Hell, it looks like the thought never even crossed his mind by the time Sorrel looks back at him, shoulders as slack as they've managed to be all morning. In truth, he does seem a touch more relaxed than he had been while he was brooding over end-of-year lesson plans, the casual conversation and easy companionship doing the snail some good. He even flashes the spring a small smile. Though he doesn't still when the other man does, his eyestalks remain angled thattaway, just in case he might need to. "Curious," he decides of the selection. He might be familiar. "Is this morning an indulgence in something adjacent to solitude? Away from the crowds but not quite alone?" There seems some other curiosity lurking below the questions, as if he's searching for some loose thread. Sorrel nods fervantly in response, and brushes a few of those stray locks behind his ear after the act. "A little of column a, a little of column b. House shopping is a lot harder than they make it seem on television." He lets slip a short laugh, but it's clearly not one of happiness. "I always thought it was just this thing of go in, look at it, buy it, and you're done. The worst part is trying to find something specific to what you're looking for, and at something you can actually afford." He may be speaking in the third person about that, but it's quite clear he's talking about himself. "So instead of doing my usual thing I decided to take a walk in the park. I expected a person or two, but, to be honest, I wasn't expecting anyone like us out here ya know." Haydn's gaze tracks the progress of Sorrel's fingers as he tucks those strands behind his ear, lingering a few seconds longer on the side of the man's head than might be polite. The laughter draws him away, a crooked smile accompanying the dip of his attention back to the path before him. Except those eyestalks. Those keep pointed at Sorrel, a subtle creepiness that never really relents. "There are more--" Lost, the reference to their shared identity omitted. "--each season. Good to see the community thriving. And dangerous." The pause which follows that thought is heavy, burdened with subjects best left undiscussed in public. "Buying a house is quite the commitment." Strange how it sounds almost like a question, how it rises that little bit at the end. "It is, yeah. I've been on the move for as long as I can remember. Not really running from anything, but just never settling down." Another laugh comes from the Elemental as he thinks over his own words, likely admitting something to himself in the process. "I'm old enough to know setting up roots is the normal thing to do and all o' that. It's just something that never really made sense. Not the act, really, but how you get to that point." Haydn's smile widens with genuine amusement, a sidelong look cast toward Sorrel. "Am I allowed to find it funny that you--" His gaze strays to the greenery so recently tucked behind an ear. "--might be averse to setting down roots?" Likely rhetorical given how he doesn't wait long for response and barely bothers to check for reaction. "I had it easier than most, I suspect, knowing I had a home to return to once I cleaned up what was left--" Probably best not to go too far down that path. He angles an apologetic look toward his companion. "Is normality your aim?" Both of Haydn's questions earn a snicker from Sorrel along with a slow shake of his head. "I'm not against it. I've had many a budding idea about setting my roots, but they usually leave me daisy. Joking aside, though, it kind of is and kind of isn't. I envy the people that can set down roots, stay that way, and find something for themselves. Then I had it pointed out to me that there's technically nothing to stop me from at least trying except myself." Haydn regards Sorrel with some skepticism for those puns, only the hint of a grin flickering as the conversation moves on. "I'm not certain those are the same thing, having roots and having something for yourself." From his tone, he's not certain that they aren't either, considering the comparison himself. "I have family, security, support. Identity, purpose, passion?" He shrugs. "I suppose I'm still looking for that something for myself, despite the depths of my roots." "I think I have about some of that, but not all of it. I think." His brow furrows as he tries working those gears over it all, and then simply shrugs. "I don't really have any kin, at least that I know of. I have an identity, but I do sometimes wonder what my life was like before I was taken away on that forced vacation." A nervous laugh parts his smiling lips, gaze briefly cast to the ground for a beat. "I do have my purpose and passions, but I guess you kinda figured it out for me. I want something for myself. Something I can look on as mine. Even something as simple as a life." Haydn's head cants curiously at that expressed wonder, but he pans his own careful gaze over the park grounds instead of scrutinizing Sorrel further, a quick scan for eavesdroppers revealing, well... not a whole lot, the thick clouds growing closer yet keeping most of the usual park-goers away. "It's a good place to start. Find a likely place to plant yourself. See what grows." Is he making jokes now? Doesn't sound like it. "Wait for the restlessness to settle in as another summer break gives you freedom you're not sure how to spend anymore." And by 'you,' he clearly means himself given the improbability of the spring picking a profession with a similar schedule. "The plans we used to have seem foreign now, don't they? Mm. Maybe we should think shorter. Do you have plans for the day, Mr. Yarrow?" While it wasn't an overt attempt at a jest Haydn's words get a chuckle out of the Spring before he grows too serious. "I guess I've always been kinda restless. A new place to explore, new people to meet, new horizons, and a new experience just around the corner. It's always been something of a driving force, but I still can't exactly say why. Mostly because I've never really thought about it, and when I do the best I get is a simple thought like, "Why not? It hasn't killed you.'" A shrug follows his uncertainty. "But for today? I'm just trying to enjoy the day while I can. I'll probably go look at some furniture, too, but I'm just as tempted to make it all myself if I can find a way to do so." With a little tilt toward Sorrel, Haydn murmurs, "As if there aren't things so much worse than death." And that is where he places his humor, an all too easy smile settled on his lips when he rights himself. One hand pulls from his pocket to point down a branching path which leads back up to the parking lot. "I should get on with my day. I may even try to enjoy it." He pauses in his steady steps as his hand goes back to its pocket, as he turns to face the emerald courtier. In that stillness, that play of bloom and harvest resumes near his feet, grass growing at the edge of the path only to turn brown. "I'm glad our paths crossed. You should look up Miss Ava Ardent, if you haven't already. She should help you get settled." With a smile, he adds, "I look forward to hearing how the furniture's coming together." "You should enjoy your day, though." He nods sagaciously at that one kernal of wisdom he has to offer. "They're only so long, and before you know it another one comes along." With that said, he offers a nod of thanks to Haydn. "I'll make sure to look out for her, and thanks for the talk. It really helped me out with a lot." Beat. "I owe ya one, and thanks again."