wildmage_daine | Movin' On Up

Entry tags:

biffy

Movin' On Up

Dated: March 15th, 2017

Despite the fact that this unquestionably better for Kitten, and despite Biffy's myriad reassurances, Daine had still taken some convincing to actually move out to the farmhouse. It's one thing to accept the indifferent hospitality of the city that brought her here -- that seems fair enough. Since she got a job, especially, it felt akin to living in the rider barracks. She worked for the city, and it housed her in turn.

Biffy owes her nothing. He's just being kind. Though the first time she visited the farmhouse, she couldn't help but agree that it did seem rather a lot of space for just one or two people. It probably would feel fair empty much of the time.

It's ultimately Kitten's welfare that decides things. The dragonet loves the farmhouse, and she can romp around the yard without attracting attention. It might not be as fascinating as the city proper, but at least she doesn't have to observe it all from the confines of a backpack.

Daine hasn't been in Darrow long enough to collect much. Her clothes and things only fill her bag a few times over. The most complicated thing to move is Poppy and Thistle's cage. It's a large structure, and she'll especially need it at the farmhouse. She intends to make it very clear to Pawvus that these rats aren't for catching, but she doesn't expect Poppy and Thistle to trust him, and she wants them to have a safe place to hide that isn't cramped or boring.

"You're sure you don't mind the rats?" Daine asks Biffy for what definitely isn't the first time. She's explained that they're clean, quiet, and friendly, but she doesn't expect most two-leggers to see the appeal. Mithros knows she hadn't been overfond of the creatures before she came here. She sets the cage carefully down in the entryway, not wanting to scuff the floor. The rats themselves are hiding behind her hair, noses quivering as they take in the smell of cat.

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"He ate them?" Daine repeats with a startled blink. "What sort of experiments were they?" The wolves of the Long Lake Pack would eat berries when they could find them, but they can manage to do so without wrecking the plants. It's hard to imagine a wolf not only being interested in the contents of a potting shed, but going at said contents with so much gusto that there was nothing left of them afterwards.

It's nice to think of this as a pack house, though. The last thing she would have expected from Darrow was to meet folk who knew the meaning of the word like she did. It's comforting, and hearing him use it makes her feel more welcome, and banishes some of the lingering worry that she's imposing, or that she shouldn't get too comfortable.

"Could be useful to have an outbuilding besides the barn," she says with a nod. She wouldn't presume that it was just for her; Amalthea might find some use for it, too. But the barn will be off-limits once a month, and a potting shed wouldn't be.

She looks briefly appalled when Biffy talks of whistling locks open. "I've already talked to her about that," she's quick to assure him. Kitten might not like that particular aspect of their new living situation any more than Daine does, but she knows there's nothing she can do about it. Daine's not entirely convinced that her wild magic wouldn't make a difference, but it'd be delicate work, and she doesn't want to push the idea until she actually knows what Biffy's like on the full moon. "She knows not to meddle."

"About the breeding habits of sheep," Biffy said, a little worried that Daine would find it distasteful. "He samples preserved in formaldehyde, which–as it turns out–is one of the few substances that can intoxicate a werewolf. I wasn't part of the pack at the time but I heard it was rather spectacular a bender." He decided not to include the secondhand detail he'd heard, which was that Lord Maccon had called them a tasty pickled snack.

Biffy gave both Daine and Kitten a look of playful skepticism. With her name and size, it was hard not to think of the dragonet as an especially intelligent sort of cat. And cats, in his experience, were creatures that loved to meddle. "I only repeat myself for the sake of everyone's safety," he confessed, a bit more seriously than his expression allowed.

"But I think it might be a good idea and, truthfully, I'm not a handy builder. Even if someone else puts it together, I'd be able to learn a bit, wouldn't I?"

Daine wrinkles her nose. She's not sure what he means by 'samples,' but she doesn't want to ask. She can guess by Biffy's expression that it isn't very pleasant. Nor does she know what 'formaldehyde' is, but that seems less important than the knowledge that it was enough to get a werewolf drunk. "I s'pose it would've been," she says, trying to imagine what mischief a drunk wolf might get up to. "Was he in wolf shape and everything?"

His skeptical look might be playful, but she knows it's a real concern. "D'you hear that, Kitten?" she calls ahead to the dragonet, who pauses mid-galumph to look back at them. Pawvus immediately pounces on her tail, but she ignores him long enough to give them both a vigorous nod before turning to swat at the cat with her forepaws. Pawvus takes off, ears back and tail lashing, narrowly avoiding a collision with the wall. "She does understand," Daine says more soberly. "If you're really worried, we could find someplace else for her to stay during the full moon... but I think that might upset her more than having to leave you alone would." Kitten's no fool, and she'd know she was being sent away because he didn't trust her.

It's not a surprise that Biffy isn't the building sort. "I'm not much of a one, either," she says. She learned enough from her grandda back in Snowsdale that she could build a rough little building if she had to, but it wouldn't be good for much besides storing firewood, and it would definitely be too messy-looking for Biffy's sensibilities. "Though I'd be happy to help," she adds. She wouldn't just sit back and watch other folk put together a shed that's for her use.

The expression on Daine's face was confirmation that Biffy had been right to say anything. "Truthfully, I don't know, but I suspect not." Lord Maccon was a mountain of a man, capable of eating the contents of a sample jar in or out of wolf form. "I was kidnapped at the time." It was actually a wretched memory but Biffy put on the appropriate gentleman's sort of smile to cover it, turn it into a funny anecdote.

Daine spoke to Kitten and she stopped roughhousing like a puppy and nodded back at them. Biffy was given the impression, all over again, of a mind that was already so much sharper than her clumsy juvenile body might imply. Then the illusion fell back into place as she gave Pawvus a playful swat that sent him running with a reproachful...well, calling it a meow would be more diplomatic but to Biffy's ear it sounded like distressed yodeling or, perhaps, Lady Maccon singing whilst in the bath.

"Well, we've brains enough between us," he said, dredging up confidence that he lacked for himself. "Even if we're inexperienced I'm certain we can read instructions well enough, now can't we?"

And if they couldn't, they would simply swear Amalthea to secrecy and he'd dig a hole big enough to bury their shame.

"'Kidnapped'?" Daine repeats, looking up at him in dismay. It's only one of several unpleasant details he's shared with her, but it's the easiest one to seize upon. He smiles as if it wasn't much of a bother, but she's been kidnapped, and she can't imagine such a thing being humorous, even in retrospect.

It occurs to her that he might not want to talk about it. Then again, if that were the case, he needn't have mentioned it at all.

Further talk about the shed, she figures, can wait. They could probably get by between the two of them, especially with Biffy's strength -- he could do jobs that would take two or three men under normal circumstances. But compared to a kidnapping, it seems small and silly.

"It's..." Biffy's stiff upper lip failed a little then when Daine refused to play by the rules of polite distance. "Well it's a rather complicated story. And not the happiest one to be truthful." But he had spoken of it and shouldn't have done so if he did not wish to have to explain himself. Breathing out an unnecessary breath, Biffy leaned against the frame of the door.

"Vampires care much for politics in my London. They often see mortals as pawns on a chessboard in such games. That is what happened to me."

It was a far shorter version of the truth but there were no lies in it.

Daine frowns. Maybe she shouldn't have asked, though she's still not convinced she did anything wrong, exactly. He can't bring up being kidnapped and expect folk to just shrug it off, no matter how lightly he treats it. Granted, it's not as if she likes to talk about Carthak, but that's exactly why she doesn't bring it up.

"I don't mean to pry," she says first. If he really wants to just drop it, that's his choice. But he does offer some explanation, even if it's sort of over her head.

"We don't have vampires back home," she says, though she's heard a little about them since she arrived. Apparently Darrow has more than a few. "Most immortals have been shut out of the mortal realm for so long that it's hard to say what they really think of two-leggers." It's not always complimentary, but few immortals have the intelligence to truly meddle in human affairs, anyway. Stormwings might, but she can't think of what they'd try to do except make more wars, and humans don't need help on that front.

She reaches out a bit uncertainly to lay a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, though. I was kidnapped, once, and it was fair miserable." She knows she's opening herself up for follow-up questions, but she sort of feels like she ought to. And she can talk about being shut away without having to talk about everything that followed.

"No, I oughtn't have brought it up if I didn't want to talk about it," Biffy said. He canted his head to the side with a thin smile. "I still play by my London's rules sometimes, which doesn't mean much here, now does it? Let's have tea then? I can hear the kettle."

Sometimes, a man had to be brave and sometimes that required more than a little fortification. The kettle was whistling shrilly and merrily as he got to the kitchen, turning off the stove. Biffy scooped a lighter green tea into the pot and let it steep and set down mugs instead of cups. It was that sort of day.

"It really is, isn't it? Especially when it's someone else's scheme and you were just minding your own business." Biffy shook his head. This far removed from the situation now, he could be annoyed with the Potentate rather than just terrified.

He only says what she'd been thinking, but she still has the persistent feeling that she made a misstep by asking about it. Maybe it would've been the wrong thing to do in his London, and she figures she can't really be blamed for not knowing that. But it still means Biffy didn't really want to talk about it, which is an awkward thing to try and deal with after the fact.

She nods, though her expression is still uncertain as she trails him into the kitchen. Kitten, noting the change in their moods, stops her galloping and adopts a more subdued air, glancing between them before clambering up onto a chair.

Daine doesn't really expect Biffy to launch back into it -- the talk of tea had seemed like a decisive change in subject -- and she blinks, then scowls. "That's usually the way of it." Maybe she hadn't been minding her own business entirely, but she'd at least been trying to keep her nose clean while she was in Carthak.

Maybe it's because she feels guilty for poking into his business, but she feels compelled to add, "I had an emperor and a goddess trying to make a pawn out of me. At least the Graveyard Hag had the decency to not kidnap me." Kitten lets out a dubious trill, and Daine frowns over at her for a moment before remembering, "Well, unless you count the time she brought me to the Hall of Bones, but that was more like sleepwalking. I wasn't being kept there."

Biffy paused, both to listen to Daine and to offer Kitten a cube of sugar. He supposed that if it was bad for the dragon, Daine would stop her from eating it.

Tea, even for a werewolf, was a fortifying beverage. A good number of difficult conversations could be made a little more civil with the addition of a warm pot. It gave excuses for a pause and warmth around the fingertips that soothed.

That Daine understood what it was to be spirited away helped some, though he couldn't offer any comparable experience with the divinities.

"My master was an ally of Lady Maccon, my now-Alpha's wife," Biffy said. "Her touch turned him mortal enough to conceive a child." For once, he didn't bother to be delicate about such things. Daine was clever enough and this modern world seemed not to approve of shrouding the makings of children in secrecy.

"The vampires feared that child, except for my master, who offered her sanctuary. To scare him into fleeing, well..." Biffy gestured at himself. "I was kept in a tank beneath the River Thames for two weeks. I was a mess, covered in beard, starving. And the worst part is that it worked. She had to go to Italy."

Kitten accepts the sugar cube, examining it curiously for a moment or two -- Daine had always bought it loose -- before crunching it down inelegantly. It's hardly the worst thing the dragonet has eaten over the years, and while Daine wouldn't want her scoffing down a whole box of sugar cubes, one won't hurt her.

Daine spoons some honey into her own mug and stirs it in, trying not to let the spoon clatter as Biffy explains things. She's a little surprised at how blunt he is, at first. But then again, she's hardly sheltered from such matters, herself. Animals aren't often shy about such things, and Ma was a midwife; Daine's known how babies were made since she was a child. Better to be blunt than so careful it never really gets spoken of at all, she figures.

"That's fair awful," she says, and Kitten lets out a low, sympathetic whistle. "I wasn't trapped for that long, though it was the same sort of reason. Emperor Ozorne wanted to end the peace talks -- I was part of a delegation from Tortall, 'cause his pet birds were ill and they thought it'd sweeten him if I fixed them -- so he had me locked up and then lied about it. Pretended I'd run off to try and lead a revolt, or somesuch." She hitches her shoulders in a tired shrug. The excuse hadn't mattered, much, and she'd done worse when she got out than try and incite a paltry two-legger riot.

She really doesn't want to get into that, though. Especially when she's only just moved in. "What's Italy?" she asks instead, a bit hesitantly. He says it as if it must be awful.

It was a surprisingly charming sight, not all that different from when Pawvus was given one of his little bagged treats. No wonder the two had quickly gotten along so well, finding more in common than they had apart.

He listened to Daine's description and nodded. The duration of what someone had to endure didn't matter. Biffy had long had the instinct to compare misery rapped out of him at the knuckles by Lady Maccon, who was a tough and very stern sort of presence, even with those she loved. He even found it in him to smile at the way Daine brushed aside the suggestion of a revolt, as if there was so much more for her to worry about.

Likely, there was also far more that she could do as well.

"It's a country," he said, mouth twisting as he tried to be humorous about it. "Where they drink coffee and that's only the beginning. It's also the stronghold of the Knights Templar and they hate all things supernatural. Soulless, like Lady Maccon, are often trained to kill vampires and werewolves and for her to be among them with a highly unusual child...Not good."

Daine looks appropriately disgusted at 'coffee.' She's tried it, mostly just out of curiosity. It's everywhere; the locals seem downright obsessed. She can't imagine why, though. Even with cream and sugar added, it still tasted vile, more akin to a tisane you'd choke down at a healer's insistence than something you'd choose to drink for pleasure.

The rest of what he says is more beyond her. She doesn't know about 'Templar,' but she has friends who are knights, and most folk who get their shield are honorable enough. They might not be fond of the nastier immortals, but neither is she, and it's not as if they go after any immortal they see just for the sake of it. That'd be foolish, and a waste of time.

But she knows how it feels to be in a country where you're surrounded by your enemies. "Did it... did it sort itself out?" she asks.

Biffy was grateful for the appropriately horrified reaction and took a sip of his tea as emphasis of his preferred beverage.

"In a manner of speaking, yes. There was quite a lot of kerfuffle to put it mildly–" and he did so often put things very mildly "–but her husband came round to his senses and got her out of Italy. I was...mostly rescued." Here he tried to look amused or chagrinned but mostly, Biffy just looked a bit worn out at the memory. Metamorphosis was a nasty, nasty business.

"And I was a werewolf."

"Oh, that's when..." Daine trails off and lifts a hand to her shoulder, mirroring the spot where Biffy's off-color wild magic seems to stem from. She knows he must've been bitten by another werewolf -- an Alpha -- to become one, himself. Though he hadn't seemed to relish sharing the details, it had been needful. She's to live here, now, and so is Kitten, and that means knowing how to stay safe during the full moon (and what might happen if they aren't careful).

"That's when," Biffy agreed. "The bloody irony is that they'd rescued me from that tank and I was safe and on the shore." His face screwed up with an indignation he'd stoked to overpower the grief and horror at what had happened to him.

"And then one of them shot me. The wretched–" Biffy closed his mouth suddenly then, clearly feeling as if 'bloody' had already gone beyond what was polite to say in front of a lady.

Daine looks aghast, though not because of his language. When she starts to realize that might be what's stayed him, she can't help but say, "I've heard worse. Curses, I mean, not stories." At that, she grimaces. "Adding injury to insult, I s'pose. That's fair terrible. And what was the point, if they'd already got you out?" Maybe there was no point in holding him hostage anymore, but trying to kill him is... well, it's not honorable, and she gets the sense that folk in Biffy's realm put a lot of stock in such things.

"Still," Biffy said, as if there was some principle he dearly needed to uphold. He knew perfectly well that modern times had relaxed standards and that Daine, herself, was a rough and tumble sort who needed no coddling. It just seemed important, especially when discussing such savagery.

"So, altogether, it makes for a pretty sad story. Saved my life only to have to save my life all over again, I suppose."

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Movin' On Up

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