wildmage_daine | 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 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."