OTTERS.

[morthwyl]

[Let's backtrack a little. Maybe in the earlier timeline, a decade or two before Hadrian decided to just wander off with a smol child. See, Eiriol Maxwell was never a spirit. These days, it'd be hard to call her a demihuman or human or any kind of mortal, either. Maxwell is, in essence, a living anti-spirit weapon, impervious to most kinds of magic, able to grasp fire and lightning in her bare hands, with an even greater lung capacity than you'd expect from an average otter.

Of course, the Worldburner cell that experimented on her is very, very dead. And Eiriol, well...Eiriol vanished from where they were keeping her while they decided what to do with her.

She is currently halfway up a mountain several miles away, that seemed interesting to her. And given her body is covered with wards and she is honestly a giant beacon of magic, she's...probably standing out to anyone here, too.]

Comments

[morthwyl]

I see...

[She wants to ask a lot of things. How Crowfeathers got so injured. What could possibly do so much damage to a spirit. She has a sinking feeling she is now very, intimately familiar with something that could.]

What's her name? Your daughter, that is.

[thefightisall]

I believe she has chosen the name "Nimhe." You will find her; she is here, and eventually she will decide to make herself known to you.

[He chuckles and puts aside the newspaper.]

Where are my manners. You be starving, or, exhausted. Perhaps in want of a bath? It's been awhile, since I entertained mortals directly.

[morthwyl]

[There's a pause while she considers this.] ....Not as exhausted as I should be. But food would be nice. And a bath. The latter might be...tricky, though.

[thefightisall]

There is a tub down the hall or a natural spring on the west end of the town. I will see what I can procure for food, if you would like. Though I must ask, why would that be tricky?

[morthwyl]

I...don't really know how to control these.

[Pulling off her clothes so she can touch the wards on her hands together--there's a sizzle and a bit of a spark as they try to activate and just bounce off.]

So this might be a bit more exciting than the average bath.

[thefightisall]

Well, do be careful, Miss Maxwell. I suppose I am only a shout away.

[He seems amused, and she gets another pulse to test her wards against as he well. Vanishes again. Probably go lightning the fuck out of something edible?]

[morthwyl]

[She hisses a bit, but she seems to be handling it much better already.

The bath is a scene of chaos and hilarity and by the end of it, his bathroom and bathtub have charred handprints in them, Eiriol's hair has been cut from down to her ankles to about to her butt, and is still kind of magnificently staticky, but she is clean.

Angry at life. But clean.]

[thefightisall]

[He may have flash-fried a deer with his powers while she was busy with her bathing experiment. But surprisingly that and the root salad are well cooked; it seems that he hasn't completely forgotten how food works, from his time as a dignitary.]

Ahh. Do you feel better?

[morthwyl]

...Do I have to answer that.

[Seriously she is kind of Done with her shiny ward friends. But the smell of food does seem to cheer her up immensely.]

Smells good. You...know how to cook? [She's surprised because, well, spirits don't need to eat, she knows that much. This won't stop her from sitting down and having surprisingly impeccable table manners.]

[thefightisall]

In times of peace, we welcome guests. That means perhaps skills that my kind has no real use for, such as cooking. You may as well ask why we bother with bedrooms and bathrooms.

[He will clean up the kitchen, in lieu of watching her eat.]

I have found your kind fascinating for some time. Neither man nor spirit... a foot bestride both realms...

[morthwyl]

My...ahaha. [She has to eat this bite of salad first, and then sighs.]

Well, it's not all sunshine and roses. There's not a lot humans understand about us...there's a lot we don't know, either. Everyone knows the basics of what we are, but what that means, no one ever seems to have the same answer to.

[Poking around at the food. She's...discovering to her dismay she doesn't really need to eat much anymore, either.]

...I wonder what I am, now.

[thefightisall]

Before anything else? Likely exhausted from your ordeal. Do not concern yourself. You have time to consider implications. I have a feeling rain is coming; let that be your excuse to not continue your travels immediately.

[morthwyl]

I don't have anywhere to be in any hurry. It's nice here.

[Laughing a little, but she'll get up from the table, a little carefully.]

You take way better care of y'r fascinations than any human I've ever met, anyway.

[thefightisall]

Bring me your dishes, if you're going to be like that.

[She did get a laugh and a smile out of him.]

Well then. Do stay as long as you wish.

[morthwyl]

[She brings them over and kind of automatically starts trying to wash them. Look, some habits don't break easy.]

You know, I can't say I'm not surprised at this generosity but...I'm very glad for it. Thank you, Hadrian.

[So hey turns out she's real pretty when she smiles, if he's the sort who notices that about human-ish shaped beings.]

[thefightisall]

[Well, that does get him to smile back, and he is going for the dishes so that might be a bit close for her, but hey, it's his kitchen.]

You are welcome, Eiriol Maxwell.

[morthwyl]

[She'll move to let him get to the dishes but, well, she's pale as hell, that flush was visible.]

...Say, I didn't see one, but...there's not like, a workshop or anything up here? I know you all don't need those sorts of things, but...

[You hear those warning sirens, Hadrian?]

[thefightisall]

[He caught that!]

I am something of a blacksmith and a gunsmith in my spare time. If you feel the need to create as we do, then by all means.

[morthwyl]

A-ha.

[As opposed to her babbling over the illusion, this just seems to light a bright spark in her eyes, and a certain sort of half-grin that means she is now only barely paying attention to anything else.]

Well, I'd certainly love to see your work, but you were right. I'd only be a danger in such a place, right now.

[This surely won't end with her up to her elbows in the forge at the crack of dawn, surely not.]

[thefightisall]

Well, it is there for your usage at some point. Perhaps channeling your considerable power into forgework will allow you to calm those wards you've been endowed with?

[Putting away his now cleaned dishes.]

[morthwyl]

Won't know until I try it, anyway.

[SHRUGGING.] But until I get sleep, I'm mostly likely to fall asleep on something that'll catch fire.

[thefightisall]

Well, then. That is a bit of a predicament. My guest bedroom has been claimed, you see, while Nimhe continues to sort herself out. I suppose then I'll have to offer you mine? I can hardly have you sleeping in the living room.

[He gestures toward one of the hallways.]

[morthwyl]

I see...[She's giving him a look which is clearly her trying to decide how much bullshit that is on Hadrian's part, and then she shrugs.]

And what about you? It seems to me even if you don't need it, that you have a bedroom at all suggests you enjoy sleep.

[thefightisall]

I do, but I don't require it, unlike you. Therfore, I insist, you take the bed and make yourself comfortable. I am sure you can find me around, if you need me.

[morthwyl]

I can't argue with that. But you know, if I'm gonna be here a while...we should eventually find a solution to that?

[Her tone might imply a certain sort of solution to the bed problem, but she's heading off down the gestured hall to find what she hopes is the right room.]