"This place has been added onto for Years, really. That's the problem with having a home ... they get boring and need updates. Then the updates need updates, and before you know it, you end up with something far too big. And that, of course, means you have to get more stuff to fill it," Thomas complains as he walks along the porch that extends all the way around the home.
"He's just complaining because he looks terrible in a maid's outfit. He hates cleaning," Lyne comments to Redmane as he pads along beside her. Each step he takes does have a tendency to make the floorboards shake a little. Small he is not.
"I'll take your word for it," Redmane comments, looking into the windows that they pass. "I've not been in many fey homes, so don't have much to compare things to."
"True, you probably do belong in a barn..." Thomas notes and looks over his shoulder.
"Now barns.. I'm an expert on barns," Redmane notes, nodding along.
"And the ways farmer's sons can be sneaky," she adds quietly.
"Really now? Did a few come visit you and try to get a little roll in the hay? A trip to Redmane's red ... mane?" Thomas has to ask in an infuriatingly impish tone.
"Yes," the knight remarks, giving Tom a knowing look. "They foolishly always store the pitchforks in the barn too though, so none of them ever managed more than a peek. But at least they didn't do it by hiding in my rug trunk."
"I wasn't trying to sneak a peak at a woman, I was looking into concerns of safety of he court," Thomas points out. He turns around and starts walking backward, then adds, "And, I might point out who tried to grab who in the old bath?"
"I still don't know why you ran," Redmane notes, and looks to Lyne, asking the cat, "Has he always been afraid of women?"
"Only those he respects," Lyne comments with an amused huff. "And those who may be dangerous to him."
"That's ridiculous," Thomas grumbles and turns back around.
"That doesn't leave many," Redmane notes. "I want to see your bedroom, Thomas. I've only seen the wolves' dens and the Princess' room so far."
"/You always run from those you know can get past your guards, father," Lyne says rather pointedly.
Thomas looking about to argue further, is glad for the subject change. "Why my bedroom? There is nothing interesting there," he comments. Ahead appears to be the main entrance, given the grand double-doors they're approaching.
"I want to see that for myself," Redmane notes. "I found the Princess' room.. startling! And that was before she introduced the stuffed animals."
"I'm telling you it's dull," Thomas insists as he approaches the main doors, as he's reaching out, a large hawk swoops down and alights on the nearby railing. It squawks at him loudly.
"Friend or relative?" Redmane asks Lyne out of the side of her mouth.
"What" Thomas snaps at the hawk. The bird just gives him a pointed look, then goes about preening its feathers.
"Scout," Lyne answers.
Thomas taps his foot as he glares at the bird. The bird seems to be taking longer than necessary to preen, just to annoy him. Eventually it looks back up and makes a series of strange noises at the fey.
Thomas rubs his face and grumbles, "Oh, of course! I come back and in less than an hour I'm expected to go look into something on the edge of my valley."
"Is this one of the neighbors then?" Redmane asks Tom.
"More or less," Thomas admits, "I have to go look into something. I'll be gone an hour. Will you be okay with Lyne?"
"I promise not to steal your woman, father. Even if I am far better looking than you," the feline claims.
"He can give me the tour then?" the woman asks, sounding suspicious. The hawk could have said anything, after all..
"Ha ha," Thomas comments to Lyne. He picks up a piece of broken branch and flicks it at the large cat.
"I'm not his woman, either," Redmane corrects Lyne. "He's my man."
Lyne deftly bats the twig right back by flicking his ear. "Of course I can," the cat notes, "And he does speak the truth. The hawk complains that several hatchlings have gone missing in the past few days. The other birds are upset. And when they get upset ... no one gets any sleep."
"It was probably squirrels," Redmane suggests, crossing her arms. "They are dangerous."
"Anyway way, I have to go. Its not like I'm trying to escape or anything," Thomas claims as he goes over and hops up onto the railing.
"Do you intend to brand him," Lyne actually asks Redmane. "I have heard about your kind and their peculiar claim practices."
"My kind?" Redmane asks the cat with a raised eyebrow. "I would not do that. Nor would I rub my scent onto him, cat. Is the door booby-trapped?"
"Your kind. I smell the fire and the sea on you. I smell your blood," Lyne points out as he rises up onto two legs and opens the front door.
"And no, it is not trapped. That would be silly," Lyne adds.
"That is why I suspected Thomas of doing it," Redmane notes, and tries the door. "Your people.. or you.. must be well traveled to recognize my scent."
"Your kind is not unknown to mine. They would hunt us should we venture too close to the Undying lands," Lyne notes as he walks through and beacons for Redmane to follow.
"I'm not like that anymore," Redmane notes, as she enters the house.
Thomas salutes Redmane, saying, "Until later! No going in the east wing!" And then the crazy man leaps off the railing and grabs onto a branch. It creaks as it bends down, lowering him to the ground below.
"What's in the east wing?" Redmane predictably asks Lyne.
"Memories," Lyne answers. The main doors lead into a beautiful, if spartanly decorated, foyer. Everything is carved wood and stained to a deep mahogany-red color. Instead of tapestries to tell tales, the wood itself does. Amazing scenes of the history of Mirari adorn every panel. Better yet, the posts that hold the large ceiling joists are entwined with carvings of great winged serpents coiling upwards. At the top they arch out, their backs acting as the support.
"What are those!" Redmane asks, pointing to the serpent carvings. "And who carves these? Do they carve themselves?" she asks, and tries to see if the events depicted are all from Thomas' life (or at least, tries to find ones she's heard of).
"Depictions of the legendary serpent that entwines the base of the world tree," Lyne answers, "A myth Thomas head while on a trip. When he returned he commissioned the work. The valley used to have a few artists that lived here and did work for the family." The pictures aren't really of Thomas' life; they're of the history of Mirari itself. Many show the arrival of the Fey and the formation of the houses ... and the slow growth of their civilization.
"Is there anyone else in his family who is long-lived?" Redmane asks, as she brushes her fingers across the carvings. "Or is he the only one?"
"They all were," Lyne answers as he watches the strange woman. "I met his parents once. They were ... polite. Always a sense of sadness from them, but they did their best for the valley while they lived."
"Perhaps I should have asked if he is the only one left," the woman remarks. "Does anyone else come here?"
"He is. Only child and the died long ago defending the valley," Lyne remarks and rolls his shoulders, "When they passed on, the others of the valley slowly dispersed. Eventually, this place was forgotten. No one comes here anymore."
"Nobody even erected a memorial?" Redmane asks, sounding angry for some reason.
"I didn't say that. There is one in the heart of the valley," Lyne comments.
"Oh, good," Redmane says, nodding. "I'd like to see that sometime. And the kitchen. And the bedrooms. I want to see what sorts of toys Thomas has."
"Toys? You make him sound like a child," Lyne points out, "And which do you wish to see first?"
"Which is closer?" Redmane asks, looking confused about the child remark. "Don't all fey have toys?"
"I do suppose he has you," Lyne comments with a toothy grin. "We are not far from the dining hall and kitchen."
"You get your humor from him I see," the woman notes. "I imagine you are also a bachelor. Please, show me the dining hall and kitchen."
Lyne actually pats Remane's head with a rather large paw. "This way," he says and heads off to the west.
"I'm older than I look, kitten," Redmane grumbles as she follows.
"And yet still smaller than me," Lyne quips and flashes Redmane a playful grin. They pass through a large archway and into a two-story dining hall. A table that could easily seat forty people spans the length of the room. At the far end is a three-chambered fireplace. Like the entryway, the walls do not bear tapestries, but instead carved wood panels. Above the fireplace mantle is a series of decorative weaponry. Well, at least it looks decorative.
The weapons immediately draw the knight's interest, so she goes to them. "Big family," she comments about the table.
"Not really. It was more for guests than family. The family often ate in the kitchen when it was just the three of them," Lyne notes, "Thomas has eaten in here perhaps twice in his life that I know of." Up close, Redmane can tell there are two distinct sets of weaponry. One bears the hallmarks of a wintery house; all ice blues in tone and etched with the patterns of barren trees. The other is of an early spring house, pale greens and etchings of trees that are just beginning to bud.
"Which parent was from a Spring house?" Redmane asks.
"His father, if I remember correctly," Lyne notes, "But I could be wrong on that. Why?"
"The weapon styles," Redmane points out. "They suggested a mixed House. What did they like to eat?"
"That is an unusual question," Lyne comments, "Often they ate what they would catch on a hunt and what they would barter for with those who traveled through. Simple breads, stews, and vegetables. Nothing elaborate or ... sugary."
"Hmmm, so cooking was not one of their hobbies," Redmane concludes. "They must have a library too then?"
"Of course," Lyne answers, "All of the recent additions to it are books Thomas acquired in travels. The ones he doesn't keep in his room, anyway."
"Oh, so he does do something in his room besides sleep?" Redmane asks, turning away from the weapons. "It'd like to see what he was last reading then."
"/Of course he does. He also draws and writes," Lyne notes as he heads out of the dining room and probably towards the kitchen. "/We can take the back stairs/"
"Any hidden passages?" Redmane asks, and keeps her eyes out for.. she doesn't know what.
"Of course there are and they will remain such," Lyne chuffs with laughter. The kitchen isn't spectacular, but it is large. Its big enough to handle serving a crowd if necessary but the tarnish on the copper pans that hang from the ceiling indicate that was rare indeed. Everything here is cut from polished stone instead of wood. Lyne leads her through and up a smaller staircase in the back of the kitchen. "He claimed the highest room in the home."
"Why? For the view?" Redmane asks as she follows up the stairs.
"And privacy," Lyne explains. The climb is four flights, so the house does go taller than it looked outside. Eventually its obvious they're in some sort of tower and soon enough they're at a sturdy oak door. Lyne turns the latch and swings it open. Amazingly ... the hinges don't squeak at all. Beyond it ... is an absolute mess. Books are piled everywhere and there are few paths that lead through it. One leads to a desk covered in a pile of papers; probably notes and drawings. Another leads to ... hah, a spyglass! The east wall is primarily glass and Thomas must have an amazing view of the entire valley using that spyglass. The last path leads to a huge, round, bed. Its covered in blankets and frankly looks more like a nest than anything else.
"Aha!" Redmane crows, pointing at the bed. "He does have a bed!" She then goes to the spyglass to see if she can spot Thomas out in the valley.
"What did you think he had?" Lyne has to ask. The spyglass turns out to be a pain to use; the focus is incredibly tricky. After several minutes she manages to get it reasonably adjusted and is looking out over the valley. No obvious signs of Thomas, though.
"A rope hammock, or a pile of leaves or something, actually," Redmane admits. "I'm surprised he has a room." She looks at the hopeless mess and shakes her head. "The mess.. that I wasn't expecting though."
"Why?" Lyne asks as he pads to the huge mass of a bed and settles himself into it. "He doesn't spend much time here and he has lived a long time. Things ... collect."
"Well.." Redmane explains, bunching up her brow. "It just seems odd. He usually carries so little. I expected him to be more organized about things like books," she says, picking a book at random from the top of a pile.
"An Interviewe Withe a Dying Dragone," the title claims. Underneath that is the author's name ... Thomas of AutumnShade Valley.
"Wait.. did he write these books?" Redmane asks accusingly.
"Some of them, yes," Lyne notes as he rests his head on the backs of his paws. Cats sure can smile smugly.
Setting the book down, Redmane immediately goes to the bed and checks to see if the mattress is stuffed with used writing quills.
The bed is stuffed with what looks like goose down, actually.
Putting things back in order, Redmane sits on the bed to see how soft it is.
Its ... very soft, actually. The kind of bed that is perfect for curling up in a ball in on a rainy day.
"This is really weird," the woman admits. Looking to Lyne, she asks, "He's never brought anyone up here, has he?"
"Why is this weird?" Lyne asks, "And no, he hasn't."
"It is too scholarly and not.. like a man who lives in the wild," Muirenn notes. Then she picks up the edge of some bedding and sniffs it to see how moldy it is.
It smells fairly dusty, but certainly not moldy. "Does learning that he has more than one aspect of himself displease you?" Lyne actually asks the woman. "Are you disappointed?"
"No, just surprised," Redmane notes. "He isn't very forthcoming about himself. I'm going to take these bedclothes outside and beat the dust from them."
"You expect them to see use?" Lyne inquires.
"What, he doesn't sleep up here anymore?" the woman asks.
"He hasn't been here in a long time," Lyne points out, "I cannot say if he will, or won't, sleep here."
"I can," Redmane insists. "I like this bed. And he promised that I wouldn't have to sleep alone. So unless he suckers you into it, I'm sleeping with him in this bed tonight."
Lyne considers this news for a moment. "Are you two loud?" the cat asks bluntly.
"The wolves didn't start howling, so I'd say no," Redmane notes.
"Good, then I can sleep in the house tonight," Lyne notes and chuffs. The feline watches her with those inscrutable eyes for a bit before asking, "You have the look of one who has chosen. The question is, then ... can you reach him?"
"Reach him?" Redmane asks. "Has he run off!?"
Another chuff from the great cat. "No. Can you get him to choose you?" Lyne rephrases.
"Choose me?" the woman ask. "He has other choices you mean?"
"He avoids relationships," Lyne notes with a sigh, "He chooses to not choose."
"I trust in fate," Redmane says, crossing her arms. "If it's to be, it will be. Even if he doesn't realize it. We are a good match. I am not fragile."
"Mmm. I am inclined to agree with you. I would like father to find someone to share his life with," goes Lyne as he closes his eyes. "I think you should go to the east wing."
"He won't spank you for showing me?" the woman asks, with a grin.
"I won't be going," Lyne notes, "I feel like a nap."
"Well, how do I get to it then?" Redmane asks.
"Do you remember how to get back to the entrance? If so, go there then head through the east arch. You will come to a pair of doors. They will be locked, but the key is also at hand. Look into the eyes of the beast and all will be revealed," Lyne says rather cryptically.
"Alright," Redmane says, getting up from the bed. "Thomas practically invited me to go looking around in there, after all."
"Challenged you. There is a difference," Lyne notes. One of his eyes lazily opens as the feline focuses back on the red-haired woman sitting near him. "For what it is worth ... I would not mind if your scent became part of this place. It ... needs a family," he says.
"I have duties, but.. maybe someday," Redmane notes, and heads for the stairs. There she pauses and looks back to the giant feline. "Either way, I expect him to write a book about me, at the very least!"