[The Keep] Walking to Skye
Re: [The Keep] Walking to Skye
“Combat results are only a concern for us in the Fourth Circle if it causes an interorganizational incident. Sure, some of Master Flynn’s recent exploits have roused groups such as the Boston Consortium, but that is their problem to get over; we simply field their complaints much as we usually do,” The Liaison waved a hand dismissively in front of her, less at Drysi than at the comment. “No, what we care about is, as you said, the good press Safeholme and the Menagerie generate. It is difficult to get druids to go out and mingle with other organizations, and similarly difficult trying to get our Liaisons seats at other tables. The Menagerie, for the most part, is good press. Sure, they come across as a tad vigilante-esque, but they demonstrate that multiple types of magic cannot just coexist but thrive. Safeholme falls into a similar category. We couldn’t ask for a better case study of mutually beneficial magical comingling. Chief Rodney has even been trying to allocate funds to create scholarships to help young druids who might be interested in studying there.”
Re: [The Keep] Walking to Skye
“Scholarships?”
In Drysi’s mind was an image of people, of even more friends that she could know and identify with in the strange realm that was Safeholme. This world wasn’t just a co-mingling of incompatible schools of magic, but of the colors of the druids weaving through. It would be easy, a forest came right up to the edge of the estate, there was power in the grounds, and she wouldn’t be the only druid anymore.
“That sounds like a great idea,” assented the triclops coming around more and more as she thought about it, “I’m the only one that wears a green sash at my school. I was supposed to be one a’two, but…”
Images of Willow washed in with the ideas of a more druid-centric Safeholme, “You know, the food isn’t… quite as good. There’s a lot of different types that might not get along with the types here. We’ve got all kinds at Safeholme, more a formula of chaos, really.”
Drysi planted her hands on her hips and thought about it, “I mean, why would anyone want to study anywhere else than Carneath, anyway? It’s got everything you need. As a druid, y’know.”
In Drysi’s mind was an image of people, of even more friends that she could know and identify with in the strange realm that was Safeholme. This world wasn’t just a co-mingling of incompatible schools of magic, but of the colors of the druids weaving through. It would be easy, a forest came right up to the edge of the estate, there was power in the grounds, and she wouldn’t be the only druid anymore.
“That sounds like a great idea,” assented the triclops coming around more and more as she thought about it, “I’m the only one that wears a green sash at my school. I was supposed to be one a’two, but…”
Images of Willow washed in with the ideas of a more druid-centric Safeholme, “You know, the food isn’t… quite as good. There’s a lot of different types that might not get along with the types here. We’ve got all kinds at Safeholme, more a formula of chaos, really.”
Drysi planted her hands on her hips and thought about it, “I mean, why would anyone want to study anywhere else than Carneath, anyway? It’s got everything you need. As a druid, y’know.”
Re: [The Keep] Walking to Skye
“There is a certain phrase about eggs and baskets that comes to mind, but, as for the food, that we can agree on. Few can match the results of Chief Rodney’s Feed the Body and Mind Initiative. Created a branch of the Fourths focused entirely on food science to…” Sofiya stopped mid-tangent as she looked back down towards her Guide; the dog huffed. To this, Sofiya elegantly swung her arm forward to reveal a slender watch wrapped around her slender wrist. After quickly checking the time, the young woman sighed. “Sadly, I must cut this interaction short. I have a meeting to get to down in Lisbon. Enjoy the rest of your stay, Miss Maelgwyn.”
As Sofiya departed, her golden retriever companion performed a smooth bow to Drysi and the gathered druids before following the Fourth.
“Sofiya Lashchenko and her guide Harper. She’s apprenticed under Maxwell Franklin; the Order’s Ambassador to the Occultus,” Brooke piped up, rising once more from where she had shrunk down against the couch. “Tends to own whichever room she enters. Pretty nice, all things considered; if a bit sharp when talking to us regular folk.”
“Even when Brooke tried asking her out and bombed,” Claudia interjected, to which Brooke turned a bright red.
“Why?!” Brooke’s voice became a high pitched whine as she tried to speak through her embarrassment. Claudia laughed lightly as she lounged against a braced palm. The other Keeper’s eyes were relaxed but twinkled with amusement before shifting back to Drysi.
“As I’m sure you’ve seen, we’re pretty eclectic ourselves. Not nearly as much as Safeholme, but we’ve got our own managed chaos here,” Claudia spoke to Drysi.
As Sofiya departed, her golden retriever companion performed a smooth bow to Drysi and the gathered druids before following the Fourth.
“Sofiya Lashchenko and her guide Harper. She’s apprenticed under Maxwell Franklin; the Order’s Ambassador to the Occultus,” Brooke piped up, rising once more from where she had shrunk down against the couch. “Tends to own whichever room she enters. Pretty nice, all things considered; if a bit sharp when talking to us regular folk.”
“Even when Brooke tried asking her out and bombed,” Claudia interjected, to which Brooke turned a bright red.
“Why?!” Brooke’s voice became a high pitched whine as she tried to speak through her embarrassment. Claudia laughed lightly as she lounged against a braced palm. The other Keeper’s eyes were relaxed but twinkled with amusement before shifting back to Drysi.
“As I’m sure you’ve seen, we’re pretty eclectic ourselves. Not nearly as much as Safeholme, but we’ve got our own managed chaos here,” Claudia spoke to Drysi.
Re: [The Keep] Walking to Skye
The triclops made a self-satisfied huff. She knew that the food had to be some sort of program. There was no way that food was just that good through tradition and grit alone. Quietly, she thanked her lucky stars that she got into the druid game in this era.
She wiped her mouth as she thought about the growing hunger in her stomach again. Drysi knew better than to add more than she needed to in the presence of a pretty woman when hungry. So instead, she nodded her head to the departing liaison, keeping what dignity as mage she had in the wake of her clambering and growling stomach.
A fist pumping deep into Drysi’s side was all the signaling she was going to give for the level of inspiration this series of interactions had given her. Shipping wasn’t much, but it was honest work. Brooke was an excellent target, multi-faceted, like a good anime protagonist. Sofiya was now another head in the line in Brooke’s projected harem behind Vincent and Claudia.
Pursed lips kept the words within. These thoughts must always be secret, as the strange Safeholme tradition of shipping real mages with other mages must always be expressed through art alone.
“After watchin’ the Keeper drills,” answered Drysi, still powerful from her entrenched position behind the couch, “it’s pretty clear it takes all kinds. I thought my papyromancy was unique, but everything I saw out there takes the cake. Especially Brooke’s style. Speaking of.”
Ruarc’s apprentice tumbled over the back of the couch, and immediately lost her balance. Flailing limbs clambered on the sofa, as if the floor were lava, her three eyes as large as saucers. Once she managed to regain her position, she looked at the American with feline, arcane glee.
“So. Sofiya? Huh?” asked Drysi, “I’m more of a tough guy-slash-girl person, myself. Is it the elegance?”
Drysi made a dramatic, unpracticed sweep of her arm, mimicking the liaison.
“The looks?”
A small spark of light highlighted the acolyte’s features, her hands folded under her chin.
“You like a lass with brains?”
She pointed at her own head, being evidently a lass with brains. Then, she began poking at Brooke’s side with her pointer fingers.
“Huh? Huh? Huh huh huh?”
She wiped her mouth as she thought about the growing hunger in her stomach again. Drysi knew better than to add more than she needed to in the presence of a pretty woman when hungry. So instead, she nodded her head to the departing liaison, keeping what dignity as mage she had in the wake of her clambering and growling stomach.
A fist pumping deep into Drysi’s side was all the signaling she was going to give for the level of inspiration this series of interactions had given her. Shipping wasn’t much, but it was honest work. Brooke was an excellent target, multi-faceted, like a good anime protagonist. Sofiya was now another head in the line in Brooke’s projected harem behind Vincent and Claudia.
Pursed lips kept the words within. These thoughts must always be secret, as the strange Safeholme tradition of shipping real mages with other mages must always be expressed through art alone.
“After watchin’ the Keeper drills,” answered Drysi, still powerful from her entrenched position behind the couch, “it’s pretty clear it takes all kinds. I thought my papyromancy was unique, but everything I saw out there takes the cake. Especially Brooke’s style. Speaking of.”
Ruarc’s apprentice tumbled over the back of the couch, and immediately lost her balance. Flailing limbs clambered on the sofa, as if the floor were lava, her three eyes as large as saucers. Once she managed to regain her position, she looked at the American with feline, arcane glee.
“So. Sofiya? Huh?” asked Drysi, “I’m more of a tough guy-slash-girl person, myself. Is it the elegance?”
Drysi made a dramatic, unpracticed sweep of her arm, mimicking the liaison.
“The looks?”
A small spark of light highlighted the acolyte’s features, her hands folded under her chin.
“You like a lass with brains?”
She pointed at her own head, being evidently a lass with brains. Then, she began poking at Brooke’s side with her pointer fingers.
“Huh? Huh? Huh huh huh?”
Re: [The Keep] Walking to Skye
One of Brooke’s hands clamped down on top of Drysi’s head and pressed downward; not forcefully, of course, but enough to push the other girl down into her seat. Brooke was practically growling as she was hiding her face with her other hand to try and hide a blush.
“She’s… just so dang pretty,” Brooke grumbled. “I’m just an alley kid.”
“I think its more the fact that you fumbled her new phone into the Wellspring,” Claudia once again added nonchalantly. A couple of the other druids gave quizzical and amused looks to urge the Keeper to continue, but it was Brooke that spoke.
“I was trying to smoothly ask for her number. Had seen a neat crystal formation spring up, casually invited Sofiya to see it when I just so happened to pass her in the Galley. Get to the Well, shoot the shit f’r a bit, then bam, asked if I could give her my number,” the American spoke indignantly.
“She’s leaving out that half of the conversation was stuttering,” once again came Claudia, who then leaned towards Drysi to whisper. “I was watching from the door… along with the two guards.”
Brooke had leveled a miffed glare at her friend.
“Eeeeeeyup… ahem, then while trying to type in my number, it slipped out of my hand, and bounced into the Well.”
Sighing, Brooke released her grip on Drysi’s head, but punctuated it by lightly flicking the girl’s dome with a curled finger.
“She’s… just so dang pretty,” Brooke grumbled. “I’m just an alley kid.”
“I think its more the fact that you fumbled her new phone into the Wellspring,” Claudia once again added nonchalantly. A couple of the other druids gave quizzical and amused looks to urge the Keeper to continue, but it was Brooke that spoke.
“I was trying to smoothly ask for her number. Had seen a neat crystal formation spring up, casually invited Sofiya to see it when I just so happened to pass her in the Galley. Get to the Well, shoot the shit f’r a bit, then bam, asked if I could give her my number,” the American spoke indignantly.
“She’s leaving out that half of the conversation was stuttering,” once again came Claudia, who then leaned towards Drysi to whisper. “I was watching from the door… along with the two guards.”
Brooke had leveled a miffed glare at her friend.
“Eeeeeeyup… ahem, then while trying to type in my number, it slipped out of my hand, and bounced into the Well.”
Sighing, Brooke released her grip on Drysi’s head, but punctuated it by lightly flicking the girl’s dome with a curled finger.
Re: [The Keep] Walking to Skye
The stars in Drysi’s eyes only sparkled more and more brightly as she was pressed more deeply into the cushions of the sofa. This sort of thing was like the second coming of shipping, and rife for artistic portrayal. Each scene was already constructed and drafted in her mind, and by the time she had sunk between the cushions, she was ready to commit the first chapter. More heroes and heroines could come later, there was already a ready cast.
“This is too perfect,” said Drysi as she was released, “OW!”
She whimpered at the flick, and whimpered further when she realized she was stuck. With a little wiggling, she popped out with enough rationalization in her brain not to demand more details.
“Perfectly set up!” the acolyte corrected herself, hiding her inner-most passion, “She’s such a serious lass, and she went down for a walk in tha’ Wellspring? She even handed you tha’ phone! If ya hadn’t fumbled it; it would have worked out. No doubt.”
Drysi shaped her hands into a rectangle and set Brooke on the scene, “An awkward interaction, leadin’ t’textin’ and who knows what.”
She shifted the finger-viewer off elsewhere, “It was a perfect set-up, tha’ Wellspring a’all places, plenty of quaint, crystalline figures to show off to a smart, pretty lass.”
Then, Claudia was in view, “Onlookers? Filled with curiosity? Ooooh, or! Maybe… jealousy?”
With a squee, she turned left and right on the couch before popping up in the most vehement excitement aimed at Brooke, “You’re gunna try again, right?”
“This is too perfect,” said Drysi as she was released, “OW!”
She whimpered at the flick, and whimpered further when she realized she was stuck. With a little wiggling, she popped out with enough rationalization in her brain not to demand more details.
“Perfectly set up!” the acolyte corrected herself, hiding her inner-most passion, “She’s such a serious lass, and she went down for a walk in tha’ Wellspring? She even handed you tha’ phone! If ya hadn’t fumbled it; it would have worked out. No doubt.”
Drysi shaped her hands into a rectangle and set Brooke on the scene, “An awkward interaction, leadin’ t’textin’ and who knows what.”
She shifted the finger-viewer off elsewhere, “It was a perfect set-up, tha’ Wellspring a’all places, plenty of quaint, crystalline figures to show off to a smart, pretty lass.”
Then, Claudia was in view, “Onlookers? Filled with curiosity? Ooooh, or! Maybe… jealousy?”
With a squee, she turned left and right on the couch before popping up in the most vehement excitement aimed at Brooke, “You’re gunna try again, right?”
Re: [The Keep] Walking to Skye
Another flick, this time connecting with Drysi’s hip, the attacker was Claudia off to the side. The Keeper held up her left hand and wiggled her fingers to show off a slender silver ring.
“Happily engaged, but I can admire your imagination,” Claudia spoke with a chuckle as she lowered her hand.
“And to answer your question… probably not…” Brooke added in, her voice grumbling. “I cannot physically move past the sheer embarrassment I feel when I remember that moment. I have little choice but to live out my days a stoic druid in the wilds.”
The American’s tone had shifted to a jest, but she still hid part of her face. Shortly following, she flopped back against the couch and stretched.
“Anyway! How about some grub?” Brooke inquired to divert the subject. “We can smash some dinner before the fire.”
“Happily engaged, but I can admire your imagination,” Claudia spoke with a chuckle as she lowered her hand.
“And to answer your question… probably not…” Brooke added in, her voice grumbling. “I cannot physically move past the sheer embarrassment I feel when I remember that moment. I have little choice but to live out my days a stoic druid in the wilds.”
The American’s tone had shifted to a jest, but she still hid part of her face. Shortly following, she flopped back against the couch and stretched.
“Anyway! How about some grub?” Brooke inquired to divert the subject. “We can smash some dinner before the fire.”
Re: [The Keep] Walking to Skye
“OW!” Drysi yelped, grabbing her hip, pouting at Claudia’s just retribution, “I’m delicate, y’know!”
This didn’t discourage her, however, as a mere engagement was nothing in the face of one’s imagination. However, being a child of a happy marriage, she felt the need to congratulate the girl on getting married. “Good on ya, though. Don’t mind me.”
Brooke’s humiliation was nothing in the face of the energy and will that surged through the triclops. The sheer emotion that pendulated Drysi into giddiness, could easily swing in any other direction. So, she leaned harder into her adoration, only mildly tempering as she began to gather her things.
“I could eat a horse, not that I’d eat a horse provided anyone’s gotta familiar here that’s a horse,” caveated Drysi as she wormed her way into her hood, emerging with just as much energy as she had entered with, “But have you tried changing your tactics? Perhaps you’d consider the Flynn style of approach to women.”
Again, as she always did, Drysi took upon herself an air of pride when talking about her master. “It’s pretty simple really. Ya just make a space that no one is allowed in. Then, you wait, make yourself the target. Problematic lasses of beauty can’t resist spaces they’re not allowed in. It’s how my Master has met:
This didn’t discourage her, however, as a mere engagement was nothing in the face of one’s imagination. However, being a child of a happy marriage, she felt the need to congratulate the girl on getting married. “Good on ya, though. Don’t mind me.”
Brooke’s humiliation was nothing in the face of the energy and will that surged through the triclops. The sheer emotion that pendulated Drysi into giddiness, could easily swing in any other direction. So, she leaned harder into her adoration, only mildly tempering as she began to gather her things.
“I could eat a horse, not that I’d eat a horse provided anyone’s gotta familiar here that’s a horse,” caveated Drysi as she wormed her way into her hood, emerging with just as much energy as she had entered with, “But have you tried changing your tactics? Perhaps you’d consider the Flynn style of approach to women.”
Again, as she always did, Drysi took upon herself an air of pride when talking about her master. “It’s pretty simple really. Ya just make a space that no one is allowed in. Then, you wait, make yourself the target. Problematic lasses of beauty can’t resist spaces they’re not allowed in. It’s how my Master has met:
- a scary, fookin’ fae princess;
- a pretty druid lass I can’t talk about;
- a rugged gunslinger;
- a triclops lass that wronged him;
- a witch from tha’ Boston Consortium;
- some quaint faculty ladies who couldn’t figure out the coffee maker;
- and even a few lads if that’s your fancy!”
Re: [The Keep] Walking to Skye
“I… refuse to believe that actually works,” murmured Claudia.
“Yeah, that just sounds like people keep invading Master Flynn’s personal space,” chimed Hodge.
“Borderline Stockholm Syndrome, perhaps?” added a Second.
“Safeholme Syndrome!” a Sixth practically proclaimed. Amid all of this, Brooke stood and heavily draped an arm across Drysi’s shoulders.
“Then let’s go grab some food rather than trying to play matchmaker for Big Sister Brooke, sound peachy?” Brooke said, her voice a growl but amusement was plain to hear. Guiding the younger teen, the American lead the way out of the Lounge with a number of other druids migrating in the same direction. Shortly thereafter Brooke dropped the disgruntled act and seemed to bounce back to her usual self.
“So peeps really just invite themselves into Flynn’s place?” Brooke seemed almost mystified. “No wonder Master Roan likes to joke about Master Flynn’s love life.”
“Yeah, that just sounds like people keep invading Master Flynn’s personal space,” chimed Hodge.
“Borderline Stockholm Syndrome, perhaps?” added a Second.
“Safeholme Syndrome!” a Sixth practically proclaimed. Amid all of this, Brooke stood and heavily draped an arm across Drysi’s shoulders.
“Then let’s go grab some food rather than trying to play matchmaker for Big Sister Brooke, sound peachy?” Brooke said, her voice a growl but amusement was plain to hear. Guiding the younger teen, the American lead the way out of the Lounge with a number of other druids migrating in the same direction. Shortly thereafter Brooke dropped the disgruntled act and seemed to bounce back to her usual self.
“So peeps really just invite themselves into Flynn’s place?” Brooke seemed almost mystified. “No wonder Master Roan likes to joke about Master Flynn’s love life.”
Re: [The Keep] Walking to Skye
“Master Flynn’s mum keeps an inn in Ireland,” explained Drysi, mentally sending a note to Gideon that she was off to the dining hall, “So, he keeps a warm, welcomin’ space. Does it to himself, really. Desperately wants a private place, but can’t be anythin’ but hospitable to anyone that knocks. I, of course, can drop in whenever. Durin’ daytime hours.”
A thin hand rubbed her ear and her side, still smarting a little bit. Keepers were strong, even when they were messing around. This didn’t hamper her spirits, though.
“But, it’s true! I’ve got pics,” Drysi pulled out her phone and opened up the photo library and began scrolling back. There were many of outside and inside the cottage, many of which were selfies.
The first picture was of a woman with unnatural, ethereal beauty standing over Drysi near a stove. Willow had wormed between the two. The girls were smiling big, but the woman was bombing the picture with a horrific looking visage twisting her face.
“That’s Miss Caoranach. Oh, that's my girlfriend tween the two a'us.”
The next was of Drysi and Laoise, the two were posing in front of one of the cottage's bookshelves. In the picture, Drysi seemed distracted, as if trying to fully imitate Laoise’s perfect poise and elegance for the photograph.
“Ms. Laoise.”
Chief Brennan was seen in the next picture from a high vantage. She was personally harassing Mr. Flynn at one corner of the cottage. Drysi’s top eye was at the bottom of the picture with an apparent look of incredulity as she hid.
“Chief Brennan. Can’t remember what they’re arguin' about.”
The Gunslinger of Osaka was the next subject, sitting at the other end of a table, drinking coffee at the cottage’s tea table. She looked a little uncomfortable at being photographed, but she had a gentle smile at Drysi, who was still in the photo at the other end of the table. Ruarc, also present, had his face in his hand.
“Ms. Smith.”
The next swipe showed a picture of Drysi looking down at the phone, with a window over her shoulder. In the window was a distressed, black-haired triclops squinting through the panes. Another swipe showed her gone, then another showed her back, even more distressed.
“A triclops lady who really wanted to talk to m’Master.”
Drysi got visible chills at the next one, as the photo had her sitting in a chair in what looked like a timed photo by the stairs. Standing over her was a dark-skinned woman with black hair and golden eyes, flashing a wild, cheshire smile. The nervous apprentice was holding a sign that read:
“Ms.-- M- T-Tabitha Grimley.”
Another photo from above showed a one armed man through a set of balusters, perusing a cabinet in the cottage’s kitchen. This was the only one where Drysi herself wasn’t in the shot. She looked to be hiding, but the man seemed to spot her out of the corner of his eye, right as she took the picture.
“Mr. Caxton.”
Finally, this last picture was of an otherworldly looking woman who had the features of an owl seemingly baked into her body. She sat at the tea table, speaking to Gideon, who was listening attentively. Drysi appeared wowed at the corner of the shot, while the two central figures seemed to ignore her.
“Ms. Maeve.”
Deciding that this exposé was enough, Drysi shifted the subject, “What’s your Master say, anyway?”
A thin hand rubbed her ear and her side, still smarting a little bit. Keepers were strong, even when they were messing around. This didn’t hamper her spirits, though.
“But, it’s true! I’ve got pics,” Drysi pulled out her phone and opened up the photo library and began scrolling back. There were many of outside and inside the cottage, many of which were selfies.
The first picture was of a woman with unnatural, ethereal beauty standing over Drysi near a stove. Willow had wormed between the two. The girls were smiling big, but the woman was bombing the picture with a horrific looking visage twisting her face.
“That’s Miss Caoranach. Oh, that's my girlfriend tween the two a'us.”
The next was of Drysi and Laoise, the two were posing in front of one of the cottage's bookshelves. In the picture, Drysi seemed distracted, as if trying to fully imitate Laoise’s perfect poise and elegance for the photograph.
“Ms. Laoise.”
Chief Brennan was seen in the next picture from a high vantage. She was personally harassing Mr. Flynn at one corner of the cottage. Drysi’s top eye was at the bottom of the picture with an apparent look of incredulity as she hid.
“Chief Brennan. Can’t remember what they’re arguin' about.”
The Gunslinger of Osaka was the next subject, sitting at the other end of a table, drinking coffee at the cottage’s tea table. She looked a little uncomfortable at being photographed, but she had a gentle smile at Drysi, who was still in the photo at the other end of the table. Ruarc, also present, had his face in his hand.
“Ms. Smith.”
The next swipe showed a picture of Drysi looking down at the phone, with a window over her shoulder. In the window was a distressed, black-haired triclops squinting through the panes. Another swipe showed her gone, then another showed her back, even more distressed.
“A triclops lady who really wanted to talk to m’Master.”
Drysi got visible chills at the next one, as the photo had her sitting in a chair in what looked like a timed photo by the stairs. Standing over her was a dark-skinned woman with black hair and golden eyes, flashing a wild, cheshire smile. The nervous apprentice was holding a sign that read:
I HAVE YOUR
APPRENTICE
IF YOU WANT TO
SEE HER AGAIN
STOP BEING A
DICK
APPRENTICE
IF YOU WANT TO
SEE HER AGAIN
STOP BEING A
DICK
“Ms.-- M- T-Tabitha Grimley.”
Another photo from above showed a one armed man through a set of balusters, perusing a cabinet in the cottage’s kitchen. This was the only one where Drysi herself wasn’t in the shot. She looked to be hiding, but the man seemed to spot her out of the corner of his eye, right as she took the picture.
“Mr. Caxton.”
Finally, this last picture was of an otherworldly looking woman who had the features of an owl seemingly baked into her body. She sat at the tea table, speaking to Gideon, who was listening attentively. Drysi appeared wowed at the corner of the shot, while the two central figures seemed to ignore her.
“Ms. Maeve.”
Deciding that this exposé was enough, Drysi shifted the subject, “What’s your Master say, anyway?”