Faolan nearly chuckled again as a second blast of the ship's horn rumbled out over the harbor. He shook his head, "You're having me on. Oh lad...you must be Fancy if you can't recognize an Irish accent." This particular southern dialect would have been very noticeable to any other Frenchman, Englishman, American or what-have-you. "Must be from a protestant church...Is it your first time outdoors as well?"
FreckersFrog
Member
- Last Seen: 2 yrs ago
- Joined: 7 yrs ago
- Posts: 585 (0.24 / day)
- VMs: 0
-
Username history
- FreckersFrog 7 yrs ago
Status
User has no status, yet
Bio
Hi there! I'm 29, just in case you're wondering. :)
Most Recent Posts
A deep growl escaped Geralt's lips as he tried to force the door closed and found it blocked by his would-be intruders. He had just tried to turn away and save his eyes from the light when the little tart on his doorstep inserted herself into his afternoon. She was a strong one too, and quicker than he would expect. These were more persistent than any of the other missionaries, peddlers, and snake-oil salesmen he had encountered before. Most took silence beyond the portal of his door to mean that no one was home, which was what he intended. Now, he was going to have to be more forceful than he currently had the energy or patience for.
"I said-" He peered around the fingers of the girl, opening the door slightly to loosen her grip, and made eye contact with the man at her said, "I've already covered this...with your..." His voice slowly trailed off as he stared out at the man before him. For a half-second he thought maybe he hadn't been a man at all, and looked so deeply familiar to him, familiar to his very soul.
But that couldn't be. His hair was far too short, his eyes flashed with golden light, and the most obvious difference was that he was male. Or so his voice betrayed.
Geralt's face slackened slightly as his eyes adjusted to the light and he searched the face of his caller. But he did look an awful lot like her...
He does...doesn't he? A voice echoed through his mind, and he couldn't deny the resemblance. He smells pure, like clean air...I bet he tastes like white wine...
His grip on the door slackened and he let it fall open a little more, exposing his half-dressed physique to the setting sun, "Lucien, you said your name was...?" He asked, adopting a much more friendly, although still groggy voice, and open posture. His dark brown hair relaxed to hang partially over his forehead and a slight smirk crept over his lips. His eyes never left the man as he spoke, "My apologies, that was rude. You caught me at a...well--I suppose I have a moment after all, why don't you two come in?" He asked, and opened the door more widely to invite his guest's inside. The switch from gruff to grace came so easily to him, he relaxed into the posture like he had been born to it. Even in his half-awake state, he was putting on a show.
"I said-" He peered around the fingers of the girl, opening the door slightly to loosen her grip, and made eye contact with the man at her said, "I've already covered this...with your..." His voice slowly trailed off as he stared out at the man before him. For a half-second he thought maybe he hadn't been a man at all, and looked so deeply familiar to him, familiar to his very soul.
But that couldn't be. His hair was far too short, his eyes flashed with golden light, and the most obvious difference was that he was male. Or so his voice betrayed.
Geralt's face slackened slightly as his eyes adjusted to the light and he searched the face of his caller. But he did look an awful lot like her...
He does...doesn't he? A voice echoed through his mind, and he couldn't deny the resemblance. He smells pure, like clean air...I bet he tastes like white wine...
His grip on the door slackened and he let it fall open a little more, exposing his half-dressed physique to the setting sun, "Lucien, you said your name was...?" He asked, adopting a much more friendly, although still groggy voice, and open posture. His dark brown hair relaxed to hang partially over his forehead and a slight smirk crept over his lips. His eyes never left the man as he spoke, "My apologies, that was rude. You caught me at a...well--I suppose I have a moment after all, why don't you two come in?" He asked, and opened the door more widely to invite his guest's inside. The switch from gruff to grace came so easily to him, he relaxed into the posture like he had been born to it. Even in his half-awake state, he was putting on a show.
Faolan merely grunted at the young man's thanks as he made his way back toward the edge of the deck. He was of few words, which his new would-be companion seemed determined to challenge. He had been in similar situations with people before; when he "saved" them or intervened just to make himself more comfortable, they usually started with thanks and offers of various kindnesses. Usually they backed off when the realized that Faolan was not much for company, but this one had apparently not gotten the hint.
He reached the edge of the ship with the Frenchman still in tow, and stared out across the city streets, unconsciously trying to memorize them. He was sure it was the last time he would see them, and while he wasn't especially aware of caring. Being the type of man, the sort of traveler he was, he didn't really feel sentimental as each brief 'home' was just a stepping stone. If he kept up the way he was going, no home, no attachments, his whole life would be a stepping stone.
"Mm." He felt himself nod in agreement, "About 15 days, week and a half if we're lucky...month if we're not." He cringed inwardly as memories of last night's...activities filtered into his mind. Running, sweat, the taste of blood in his mouth, the smell of death and dirt, earth and bark under his fingernails...
There was a pause again as he looked out over the city, the roar of the ship's horn barely registering in his mind. "Lucien, huh? Sounds as fancy as you look." He was considering the young man's offer without really considering it. Maybe it was being on the water instead of the earth, or maybe it was the rush of adrenaline from last night, but he was having a hard time focusing on refusing, as he normally would. Maybe it would be so bad after all, having someone to watch out for.
"Faolan." He heard himself saying as his eyes scanned the horizon.
He reached the edge of the ship with the Frenchman still in tow, and stared out across the city streets, unconsciously trying to memorize them. He was sure it was the last time he would see them, and while he wasn't especially aware of caring. Being the type of man, the sort of traveler he was, he didn't really feel sentimental as each brief 'home' was just a stepping stone. If he kept up the way he was going, no home, no attachments, his whole life would be a stepping stone.
"Mm." He felt himself nod in agreement, "About 15 days, week and a half if we're lucky...month if we're not." He cringed inwardly as memories of last night's...activities filtered into his mind. Running, sweat, the taste of blood in his mouth, the smell of death and dirt, earth and bark under his fingernails...
There was a pause again as he looked out over the city, the roar of the ship's horn barely registering in his mind. "Lucien, huh? Sounds as fancy as you look." He was considering the young man's offer without really considering it. Maybe it was being on the water instead of the earth, or maybe it was the rush of adrenaline from last night, but he was having a hard time focusing on refusing, as he normally would. Maybe it would be so bad after all, having someone to watch out for.
"Faolan." He heard himself saying as his eyes scanned the horizon.
Illyana watched Ivory and Lucien leave, their tires kicking up clouds of dust as they puttered away in the truck. Her fists were clenched at her sides and she sighed heavily, but knew everything that happened after today was inevitable. Once the truck had made its way over the curved of the horizon, she turned back to the remaining workers as they set up, and walked toward the center of the field to take over Lucien's duties while he was away.
-----------------------------------
The city was quiet as Lucien and Ivory moved through it; the men were working and the women were tending the children or the house. They moved through mostly quiet streets, better for them to avoid the gaze of passerby. The two of them were inconspicuous for the most part, but Lucien's golden eyes and Ivory's striking snow-white hair did often draw some attention in main thoroughfares. Illyana had handed over the address they needed before they left, which took them weaving through back streets for a few minutes before approaching the main facade of bowing wood.
Geralt lived on the second-floor of a walk-up tenement building. Ivory's comment on the unlikelihood of a famous magician living there was absolutely correct. It was completely out of the way, dingy, small, and dank. The alleyway that the building stood in was small and cramped, and the building itself was taller than it was wide. In order to approach the door at all, the pair had to climb a fire-escape. Overall, it did not seem the place for someone of such high esteem.
And yet, it was.
The first, second, and third series of knocks were completely ignored by the apartment's inhabitant. But once the visitors at his door made it clear that they were not going to leave on their own, Geralt decided that it was time for him to intervene in their exit. He opened his eyes lazily and half-grunted, half-sighed as he extricated himself from the tangle of blankets and limbs on his bed.
"Mmm..." A female voice moaned from within the pile and a pale hand reached out for him as he moved.
"Shh, meine schönheit, I'll be back soon." He whispered as he dodged her grasp. He sounded more annoyed than affectionate. The hand withdrew itself from whence it came as he stood and grabbed a pair of black pants from the back of a chair.
The apartment was a mess, cluttered, and nearly pitch black inside. Dusty light filtered through a window in the bedroom and cast long shadows across the wooden floor. There were books, papers, clothing, shoes, empty glass bottles, pillows, and even coins strewn about the floor and over the furniture. There was one lamp in the corner, currently switched off, with a red and purple scarf draped over it. It was balanced precariously on the edge of a stack of books on a side table next to a chair and looked capable of toppling at any moment.
A thin partition of wood and glass separated the bedroom from the sitting room at the front of the apartment and Geralt stepped through it as he fastened the button on his pants and pushed his dark hair back from his forehead. He was of average height and build, thin but well-defined, and not entirely graceless despite the mess around him. His long limbs and fingers moved with a fluid dexterity built of confidence boarding on arrogance. His face was incredibly handsome, with sharp features and keen eyes. His hair was long on the top, with a shaved back and sides, as typical of the age, and he clearly hadn't shaved in days. He stood out in the mess of the room, in and out of his element at the same time, as he reached for a white button-down that was draped over the arm of the couch.
Another knock caused his cheek to twitch in irritation, "Coming!" He shouted in an attempt to stop the onslaught. The previous night's debauchery had left him with dark circles under his eyes and a pounding headache in his temples. One more knock, and he would have different words in mind when he opened the door.
He let the shirt fall onto his shoulders and, leaving it unbuttoned, crossed the room to the door, waving his hand along the way to throw the latch back. He grasped the handle and pulled the door open on creaking hinges.
A shaft of light fell directly on his face as he peered outside, and he squinted in the face of the afternoon sun. He raised a hand to shield himself and he stared at the two blobs of person standing at his doorstep. "Yes?" He said, the irritation clear in his voice. He would have had some other words, but he wouldn't be able to tell if it was the law or not until his vision clarified.
-----------------------------------
The city was quiet as Lucien and Ivory moved through it; the men were working and the women were tending the children or the house. They moved through mostly quiet streets, better for them to avoid the gaze of passerby. The two of them were inconspicuous for the most part, but Lucien's golden eyes and Ivory's striking snow-white hair did often draw some attention in main thoroughfares. Illyana had handed over the address they needed before they left, which took them weaving through back streets for a few minutes before approaching the main facade of bowing wood.
Geralt lived on the second-floor of a walk-up tenement building. Ivory's comment on the unlikelihood of a famous magician living there was absolutely correct. It was completely out of the way, dingy, small, and dank. The alleyway that the building stood in was small and cramped, and the building itself was taller than it was wide. In order to approach the door at all, the pair had to climb a fire-escape. Overall, it did not seem the place for someone of such high esteem.
And yet, it was.
The first, second, and third series of knocks were completely ignored by the apartment's inhabitant. But once the visitors at his door made it clear that they were not going to leave on their own, Geralt decided that it was time for him to intervene in their exit. He opened his eyes lazily and half-grunted, half-sighed as he extricated himself from the tangle of blankets and limbs on his bed.
"Mmm..." A female voice moaned from within the pile and a pale hand reached out for him as he moved.
"Shh, meine schönheit, I'll be back soon." He whispered as he dodged her grasp. He sounded more annoyed than affectionate. The hand withdrew itself from whence it came as he stood and grabbed a pair of black pants from the back of a chair.
The apartment was a mess, cluttered, and nearly pitch black inside. Dusty light filtered through a window in the bedroom and cast long shadows across the wooden floor. There were books, papers, clothing, shoes, empty glass bottles, pillows, and even coins strewn about the floor and over the furniture. There was one lamp in the corner, currently switched off, with a red and purple scarf draped over it. It was balanced precariously on the edge of a stack of books on a side table next to a chair and looked capable of toppling at any moment.
A thin partition of wood and glass separated the bedroom from the sitting room at the front of the apartment and Geralt stepped through it as he fastened the button on his pants and pushed his dark hair back from his forehead. He was of average height and build, thin but well-defined, and not entirely graceless despite the mess around him. His long limbs and fingers moved with a fluid dexterity built of confidence boarding on arrogance. His face was incredibly handsome, with sharp features and keen eyes. His hair was long on the top, with a shaved back and sides, as typical of the age, and he clearly hadn't shaved in days. He stood out in the mess of the room, in and out of his element at the same time, as he reached for a white button-down that was draped over the arm of the couch.
Another knock caused his cheek to twitch in irritation, "Coming!" He shouted in an attempt to stop the onslaught. The previous night's debauchery had left him with dark circles under his eyes and a pounding headache in his temples. One more knock, and he would have different words in mind when he opened the door.
He let the shirt fall onto his shoulders and, leaving it unbuttoned, crossed the room to the door, waving his hand along the way to throw the latch back. He grasped the handle and pulled the door open on creaking hinges.
A shaft of light fell directly on his face as he peered outside, and he squinted in the face of the afternoon sun. He raised a hand to shield himself and he stared at the two blobs of person standing at his doorstep. "Yes?" He said, the irritation clear in his voice. He would have had some other words, but he wouldn't be able to tell if it was the law or not until his vision clarified.
+Name = Faolan Lynch
+Race = Werewolf
+Age = 56 years (Appears mid-late 20s)
+Brithday = November 8th, 1879
+Height/Weight = 6'5/231 lbs
+Nationality = Irish
+Languages Known = Irish (speak only)// English // French (rough, speak only)
+Appearance = Shoulder-length red hair // Dark Green Eyes // Tall & Muscular // Rough, somewhat dirty // Old travelling clothes
Additional Appearance Reference
+Position = L'homme Fort
+Abilities = Incredible strength // Fast reflexes // Inhuman Speed & Jump Distance // Fantastic senses of smell and hearing // Night-vision // Fast Healing // Unnaturally Hardy (pain/weather) // High-Body Temperature // Unnaturally Long Life // Wolf Form
Distinguishing Features/Marks = Large half-moon shaped bite scar on his neck/shoulder // Multiple smaller scars all over his body
+Background = Read Last Post
+Race = Werewolf
+Age = 56 years (Appears mid-late 20s)
+Brithday = November 8th, 1879
+Height/Weight = 6'5/231 lbs
+Nationality = Irish
+Languages Known = Irish (speak only)// English // French (rough, speak only)
+Appearance = Shoulder-length red hair // Dark Green Eyes // Tall & Muscular // Rough, somewhat dirty // Old travelling clothes
Additional Appearance Reference
+Position = L'homme Fort
+Abilities = Incredible strength // Fast reflexes // Inhuman Speed & Jump Distance // Fantastic senses of smell and hearing // Night-vision // Fast Healing // Unnaturally Hardy (pain/weather) // High-Body Temperature // Unnaturally Long Life // Wolf Form
Distinguishing Features/Marks = Large half-moon shaped bite scar on his neck/shoulder // Multiple smaller scars all over his body
+Background = Read Last Post
Faolan couldn't help but smirk and let out a gruff, quiet chuckle as the young Frenchman responded to his assessment. "Hm. Thought you might have swept the steps or helped people read their prayers." The Frenchman hadn't been wrong at all, Faolan's sense of smell was his strongest, seconded only by his hearing. It could be overwhelming at times, but it was helpful in a hunt, but most of the time these things just came to him. Not like anyone would have to try to smell that incense, it was overpowering.
He waved a hand at the boy and turned to leave, "It comes with the territory. Take my advice or leave it, just know this won't be your last scuffle if you don't watch yourself."
A small part of him, just the smallest tiniest part, felt a little bad for the boy. He was out of his element, but at least he had been honest about it. While that transparency got him far with the Irishman, it wouldn't with others on the boat. He stuck out on the deck of this ship just as much as Faolan did on a city street. A wolf in the forest was an apex predator, a wolf in the city was the prey. This kid was no wolf, but he was a small fish who's stream had just opened to sea. There was a lot ahead for him, if he made it as far as America.
But that was none of Faolan's business. He was on his own journey, didn't have time for whelps that didn't know their place.
He waved a hand at the boy and turned to leave, "It comes with the territory. Take my advice or leave it, just know this won't be your last scuffle if you don't watch yourself."
A small part of him, just the smallest tiniest part, felt a little bad for the boy. He was out of his element, but at least he had been honest about it. While that transparency got him far with the Irishman, it wouldn't with others on the boat. He stuck out on the deck of this ship just as much as Faolan did on a city street. A wolf in the forest was an apex predator, a wolf in the city was the prey. This kid was no wolf, but he was a small fish who's stream had just opened to sea. There was a lot ahead for him, if he made it as far as America.
But that was none of Faolan's business. He was on his own journey, didn't have time for whelps that didn't know their place.
It seemed this little Frenchman was more insistent than Faolan had anticipated. He sighed as the handkerchief was forced on him, and took it begrudgingly. He'd rather wipe his forehead with the fancy cloth than endure more "advice". Taking the white lace in his huge paw-like hand, he spit on it and rubbed it against his forehead to extricate the blood and filth that had lain there. It came away a dingy brown-gray, and he continued to wipe his hands and face with it as he spoke.
He grunted at the question and smirked knowingly, "You're small, you're alone, and not so...tough lookin'." He said, letting his eyes slide out toward the city once more and nodded towards the smog-filled sky. "It's obvious your rich, or fancy, or some combination of both, from the city." His eyes then fell to Lucien's feet, "You don't know your way about a ship, judging by your boots," and his eyes moved back up to the young man's chest and arms, "and you're scrawny. No scars, no callous on the hands, you smell clean, and your hair is freshly washed." Faolan sniffed the air instinctively, "And that incense and candle wax wafting off your clothes...You're a church-boy, and they won't like that either." He finished wiping himself and thrust the handkerchief back toward the boy. Contact with his skin had left a large dingy brownish-gray stain in the center of the cloth, and Faolan hardly looked any cleaner for it.
He grunted at the question and smirked knowingly, "You're small, you're alone, and not so...tough lookin'." He said, letting his eyes slide out toward the city once more and nodded towards the smog-filled sky. "It's obvious your rich, or fancy, or some combination of both, from the city." His eyes then fell to Lucien's feet, "You don't know your way about a ship, judging by your boots," and his eyes moved back up to the young man's chest and arms, "and you're scrawny. No scars, no callous on the hands, you smell clean, and your hair is freshly washed." Faolan sniffed the air instinctively, "And that incense and candle wax wafting off your clothes...You're a church-boy, and they won't like that either." He finished wiping himself and thrust the handkerchief back toward the boy. Contact with his skin had left a large dingy brownish-gray stain in the center of the cloth, and Faolan hardly looked any cleaner for it.
Illyana's trot came to a stop as she approached the Ringmaster. She nodded, "Yes, everything is fine. I just...wanted to thank you, for being understanding." She had meant to stop and let him respond, but it all came pouring out of her before she knew it:
"I know that these feelings of mine are hard to explain, and that I can be difficult when it comes to decisions like this. Even though I don't like it, I'm fine with the decision to recruit Geralt, if only because everyone agreed to it. As long as we all know what we're getting into...we can protect them, right?"
Her eye contact had wavered a bit as she spoke, as the emotions rose in her, but once she had it all out she calmed a bit. She met Lucien's eyes and kept her resolute expression set as she waited for a response.
"I know that these feelings of mine are hard to explain, and that I can be difficult when it comes to decisions like this. Even though I don't like it, I'm fine with the decision to recruit Geralt, if only because everyone agreed to it. As long as we all know what we're getting into...we can protect them, right?"
Her eye contact had wavered a bit as she spoke, as the emotions rose in her, but once she had it all out she calmed a bit. She met Lucien's eyes and kept her resolute expression set as she waited for a response.
Faolan glanced down at the Frenchman before him. The English has been right, he was scrawny and pale, and quite effeminate. If one looked at him from a certain angle, they may even think him a woman at first. Although, that wasn't exactly unusual for the French. There was something about him though...the longer he looked the more he felt it. Some light shimmered in the air around him, and his eyes were certainly an unusual color. Faolan took a breath and smelled cool, clean air around him; no salt, no wood, no decay, just fresh air.
Faolan's brow furrowed even more. He couldn't quite place it, but there was something special about this kid.
At the Frenchman's thanks, he simply grunted. Deserved it. He thought. He had wanted to stop the Englishman simply because they were foul and vulgar, and a pack of bullies. Faolan didn't like bullies, he didn't think he deserved much thanks, since the attack had given him a small amount of gratification, but he could see why the Frenchman was grateful.
He was about to turn away when he was offered the handkerchief. "Hm?" He tilted his head, and touched the tips of his fingers to his forehead. There was blood, alright, and a small cut that he hand't even notice, but it was healed by now. Cuts didn't last long on him. He hesitated before reaching for the handkerchief, it was nice material, white with not a drop of filth on it. He raised a hand and wiped the blood with the back of his already dirtied sleeve, leaving a smudge of black behind in the process. "No, thanks, wouldn't want to stain your lace."
Normally, Faolan would have made himself scarce already. He wasn't looking for charity, and he hadn't really done anything for the sake of the Frenchman so much as to satisfy his itch and get rid of an annoyance. But, there was something strange about this boy, and Faolan could tell he was green. So, instead of leaving, he spoke again, "Might want to avoid anyone bigger'n you on this trip. Lots of sailors don't take kindly to, well..." he looked him up and down, "people like you...on their deck." Faolan had never considered himself a wordsmith, and that was clear, but he didn't want to outright offend anyone either. He had been raised with some manners, despite his appearance and the deep and gravelly sound of his voice. His accent alone would have been enough to tilt some ears in this part of town, but his size and tough demeanor kept people from causing trouble with him. Good for them, he was his usual thought. The smart ones left him well enough alone, it was the gobdaws like this pack that usually brought trouble their own way. He was always quick to end these scuffles, but he never wanted to draw much attention to himself. This conversation was out of the ordinary already for him, but something told him his advice would be harder to abide by this Frenchy than he might've thought.
Faolan's brow furrowed even more. He couldn't quite place it, but there was something special about this kid.
At the Frenchman's thanks, he simply grunted. Deserved it. He thought. He had wanted to stop the Englishman simply because they were foul and vulgar, and a pack of bullies. Faolan didn't like bullies, he didn't think he deserved much thanks, since the attack had given him a small amount of gratification, but he could see why the Frenchman was grateful.
He was about to turn away when he was offered the handkerchief. "Hm?" He tilted his head, and touched the tips of his fingers to his forehead. There was blood, alright, and a small cut that he hand't even notice, but it was healed by now. Cuts didn't last long on him. He hesitated before reaching for the handkerchief, it was nice material, white with not a drop of filth on it. He raised a hand and wiped the blood with the back of his already dirtied sleeve, leaving a smudge of black behind in the process. "No, thanks, wouldn't want to stain your lace."
Normally, Faolan would have made himself scarce already. He wasn't looking for charity, and he hadn't really done anything for the sake of the Frenchman so much as to satisfy his itch and get rid of an annoyance. But, there was something strange about this boy, and Faolan could tell he was green. So, instead of leaving, he spoke again, "Might want to avoid anyone bigger'n you on this trip. Lots of sailors don't take kindly to, well..." he looked him up and down, "people like you...on their deck." Faolan had never considered himself a wordsmith, and that was clear, but he didn't want to outright offend anyone either. He had been raised with some manners, despite his appearance and the deep and gravelly sound of his voice. His accent alone would have been enough to tilt some ears in this part of town, but his size and tough demeanor kept people from causing trouble with him. Good for them, he was his usual thought. The smart ones left him well enough alone, it was the gobdaws like this pack that usually brought trouble their own way. He was always quick to end these scuffles, but he never wanted to draw much attention to himself. This conversation was out of the ordinary already for him, but something told him his advice would be harder to abide by this Frenchy than he might've thought.
Illyana couldn't help but smile at the small bit of affection Ivory had shown her. She didn't like to admit it, but Illy often got lonely even surrounded by such close friends and confidants. She missed the presence and affection of her twin sister, Izzabella, and usually found any other contact lacking; unable to cheer her the way her sister used to. She had found over the years that there was no substitute for an identical twin. She and her sister had shared the same womb, the same heart, and now shared the same soul, no matter how far away she was or how much time had passed, her sister meant everything to her. However, she was just beginning to realize that these new affections didn't need to match her sisters as replacements, she simply had to look at them as their own kind of love. Once she mastered that, she would be grateful for the relationships and bonds she had forged, but it was slow-going, for now.
Ivory's pat on her head filled her with a bit more vigor as they made their way to Cora's trailer to tidy up. The thing was an absolute mess, she so she was grateful for the extra energy. With the four of them helping the mess would be organized in no time. Illy saw why Cora was so intent on a refill, after all, it had been a while since they had gotten water for her tank. The road with open windows would certainly help with the smell, but she couldn't say she wasn't a little glad when Lucien knocked to let them know it was time to head out.
Illy opened the door, with Cora's trailer all organized, the books stowed and the clothes packed away and secured, it was easy to move around in their now. She echoed Lucien's call to the others inside as she stepped out, "Alright, everyone to their trailers. Make sure everything is secure, we'll be shaking dust in five minutes."
Cora was more than grateful for everyone's help cleaning up, but she wasn't about to let them clean without helping. She directed people on where things should go, handed off clothes and other items, folded in her lap, and helped lift and secure things as the rest cleaned and organized her trailer. It was a long time since she had had this many people over, it was so much fun that the time flew by.
When Lucien came and Illy filed out, she saw everyone else following suit so she thanked them profusely, each one as they passed by her. "Thank you everyone, see you when we get to Graston!"
Once everyone had filed out of her trailer, she undressed, hooked her chair into place (Ivory had carved a notch into the floor so the chair wouldn't roll about while they were on the move), and hoisted herself into her tank.
She couldn't help but sigh with relief as the water touched her delicate skin. As she sank, her human body transformed into her true self; her legs knitted together in an instant, scales shimmering over her pale skin as it turned a shade of aqua-green. Her feet sprouted into a huge translucent tail that floated through the water like lace, her fingers became webbed and grew sharp claws, her eyes glowed with a yellow light, and patches of green scales shimmered all over her fish-like body. This was how she felt most comfortable, most at home. She let herself sink to the bottom of her tank and closed her eyes, smiling in the warmth of the water. Dirty or not, this was where she belonged. She laid her back against the ground, happy that they would soon be moving. The rocking of her trailer in motion reminded her of the tides and the waves and the sea's natural rhythm. When she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine that she was back home, and that filled her heart with joy. Travelling wasn't so bad after all, especially when she was surrounded by friends.
Illy started to make her way across the grounds to her trailer, she broke off from the group and trotted to catch up with Lucien. "Hey, Lucien!" She called, and waved to him to get his attention as she approached.
Ivory's pat on her head filled her with a bit more vigor as they made their way to Cora's trailer to tidy up. The thing was an absolute mess, she so she was grateful for the extra energy. With the four of them helping the mess would be organized in no time. Illy saw why Cora was so intent on a refill, after all, it had been a while since they had gotten water for her tank. The road with open windows would certainly help with the smell, but she couldn't say she wasn't a little glad when Lucien knocked to let them know it was time to head out.
Illy opened the door, with Cora's trailer all organized, the books stowed and the clothes packed away and secured, it was easy to move around in their now. She echoed Lucien's call to the others inside as she stepped out, "Alright, everyone to their trailers. Make sure everything is secure, we'll be shaking dust in five minutes."
Cora was more than grateful for everyone's help cleaning up, but she wasn't about to let them clean without helping. She directed people on where things should go, handed off clothes and other items, folded in her lap, and helped lift and secure things as the rest cleaned and organized her trailer. It was a long time since she had had this many people over, it was so much fun that the time flew by.
When Lucien came and Illy filed out, she saw everyone else following suit so she thanked them profusely, each one as they passed by her. "Thank you everyone, see you when we get to Graston!"
Once everyone had filed out of her trailer, she undressed, hooked her chair into place (Ivory had carved a notch into the floor so the chair wouldn't roll about while they were on the move), and hoisted herself into her tank.
She couldn't help but sigh with relief as the water touched her delicate skin. As she sank, her human body transformed into her true self; her legs knitted together in an instant, scales shimmering over her pale skin as it turned a shade of aqua-green. Her feet sprouted into a huge translucent tail that floated through the water like lace, her fingers became webbed and grew sharp claws, her eyes glowed with a yellow light, and patches of green scales shimmered all over her fish-like body. This was how she felt most comfortable, most at home. She let herself sink to the bottom of her tank and closed her eyes, smiling in the warmth of the water. Dirty or not, this was where she belonged. She laid her back against the ground, happy that they would soon be moving. The rocking of her trailer in motion reminded her of the tides and the waves and the sea's natural rhythm. When she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine that she was back home, and that filled her heart with joy. Travelling wasn't so bad after all, especially when she was surrounded by friends.
Illy started to make her way across the grounds to her trailer, she broke off from the group and trotted to catch up with Lucien. "Hey, Lucien!" She called, and waved to him to get his attention as she approached.
© 2007-2026