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The new Scrivener has claimed a cottage in the Autumn Hollow in a central location. But now, it's a matter of decorating--he has one of those decks of color cards, like you use when you're selecting paint colors, and is standing in front of the cottage, flipping through it. Because let's be real, actual paint is less risky than just hedgespinning a new color, even on a trod. And a Project will get him out of his head for a few days.
Mearc's dressed as per usual--t-shirt, cargo pants, messenger bag. His hair's growing long, but he's pinned it out of his face with a pair of bobby pins. It's a look.
With the polar vortex whipping down the coast, bathing the northeast in blistering wintery temperatures, Sigrun is back in her preferred element. Riding her ivory white mare, shield bearing the trefoil of Freyja and spear bearing the banner of the Summer Court, she cuts quite the figure cantering into the Autumn courtyard. The pages at the gates admit her entrance, but claim the reins of her beast pretty much at once. She dismounts, clad in her black briar wolf hide armor, accented with fur and steel rivets, wearing a fur cloak from the hide of on particularly massive briarwolf, the norse styled helmet on her head making her look a bit like she's come to claim Skyrim for the Nords. She consents to being disarmed, and once they've got her sword and her axe, she points down to her boot for the seax. Then to her bracers for the throwing knives. Only then does she state her business, and earn herself escort to the Scrivener's cabin. "I'm told off-whites are the color of the season," she remarks upon the present predicament. "At least that's what I see on the Property Brothers."
While another page escorted Sigrun, Rosalyn turned Sigrun's horse loose in the same paddock a brilliant white unicorn was lounging in. She stayed a few moments to make sure the pair got along well enough, then headed after Sigrun rather curiously. "She's a lovely mare," Ros called. "What's her name? And if you'd like I can remove her gear so she can relax."
"Off-white is what my home Ironside is done up in. This is going to be more of an office, so it should feel properly seasonal. Though not too bold and saturated that it's going to be distracting." He turns toward Sigrun, holding up a card with shades of a sprucey blueish green. "I'm thinking something on the darker end of this for the exterior."
Then he looks past her to Ros, offering a smile. "Hey, good to see you again. All well after...uh, the last time I saw you?"
Sigrun's eyebrow arches thoughtfully at the swatch presented. "I like it. It says 'I enjoy Pumpkin Spice, but let's keep it proportional'. If you picked some accent color flowers for out here, I bet it would really set the whole thing off, yeah." Sigrun gestures with her gloved hands, marquee style at the cabin. "Mine's real plain. I should spice it up a bit, now that you mention it." Sigrun turns towards Rosalyn, appraisingly at first, then with growing confidence. "You must be Rosalyn. Some of my Motley had very good things to say about you. Sigrun Ljosdottir. My horse is named Frygg. And I'm certain she would enjoy a bit of a brush down, thank you very much."
"Guilty as charged. I'm Rosalyn Solfrig, it's a pleasure to meet you." She offered her hand, then smiled to Mearcstapa. "I'm fine, thank you. I was barely involved. It didn't seem prudent to throw myself in the middle of their dispute." She waved over at Elio. "I don't want to interrupt your meeting, but feel free to come meet Elio when you're done."
"Probably wise." He nods at Rosalyn, before going back to looking at the cabin, tongue poking out the side of his mouth, and his red and green freckles shifting somewhat in color: the red ones dim down, the green ones intensify.
"Sunflowers and marigolds? Or is that too cheery for an Autumn? And would...would those even grow here in the Hedge, without weird things happening to them? I've never worked on a hollow like this before."
Sigrun claps her hand into Rosalyn's firmly and gives it a good solid shake. "We should talk, I think. Sometime soon, in any case. If you're half as good in the hedge as the stories I've heard, I think we'd make an excellent partnership between the courts. And there's work to be done out there to improve safety for escapees and travelers." She glances aside at Elio, offering a wave with her free hand. Then back to Rosalyn, "Thank you again for tending my horse. I won't forget the kindness."
Her attention turns back to Mearcstapa. "I would never consider sunflowers cheerful. They're so large and centered with all those seeds. Marigolds always remind me of autumn, anyway. I think the combination would imply harvest overtones which seem appropriate. But I am by no means an expert on your court's aesthetics." The question about morphology of plants in the hedge wins him a small shrug. "It's a hollow. It will do, for the most part, what its tenders will it to do. You could spin yourself flowers, come to that, which appear as marigolds and sunflowers but are of the stuff of fae. If you were so inclined."
Rosalyn laughed a little. "If they do go weird you can just study them, Scrivener" she said lightly, then gave the pair a casual salute and went to properly meet and spoil Frygg. She did better with animals than people most of the time in any case. Ros took her time introducing herself and making sure the mare was comfortable before she started removing the tack and combing her down. Elio nosed in close, plainly feeling a bit jealous at the lack attention- from Ros and his pretty visitor.
"Both valid points. I'm just not particularly experienced with hedgespinning, and want to be sure I avoid going Little Shop of Horrors on the cottage." He pauses, turning to Sigrun and giving her a quick up-and-down look, his freckles remaining distinctly green as he does so. "I doubt you came here to offer decorating advice, Ms. Ljosdottir. Erm, is that the proper 'I'm stepping into business-mode' form of address for you? I'm still sort of settling into this and figuring out the associated social mores."
"Huntress Ljosdottir is my court title. Sigrun suits me fine, informally. I'm no stickler for etiquette." Given she's a fairest with callouses, war braids, and battle scars that pretty much scans. "I'm happy to give you a lesson in Hedgespinning if you are feeling yourself uncertain of the skill. It's a useful one for all of us, and a particularly useful one for an Autumn to learn should he have some fear of it." The offer extended, she answers the question implied. "But I did not come to help you remodel, no. We're pushing into the hedge. Off the trods. We found our way to the hedge version of the sports complex. And there were hedge ghosts. A young girl, maybe thirteen or fourteen. Somehow she wound up in the hedge and died there. Another group further to the north in the pale between Old Iron and Shackamaxon. We're losing souls out there because of too few local trods, and too little awareness of what's happening around us. And I have some ideas I'd like Autumn's help with, if you can provide it."
Frygg is a sweet girl, very clearly. Well tempered, well mannered, curious and bright. She's patient with being rid of tack and affectionate when soothed thereafter. Just a treat of a horse, really. (Though it must be said poor Elio is not half so interesting as Rosalyn proves, of only because she's far more likely to have sugar cubes and apples on her than Elio is.)
And she does! Ros slipped Frygg and Elio sugar and tart little apples, and smothered them both with admiration and affection. Elio preened, showing off his horn in the sunlight, pawing at the ground, and pranced around the paddock in circles in an invitation to play.
He crosses his arms over his chest, a brief spark of red playing across his freckles before dying down again. "The Ghul and the Rangers of Thorns are more well-positioned to assist you with the matter, but I can think of a few ways to poke at this with what I have. We could try to get information on the area from the Goblin Markets, for example. Though I'm still relatively new to that. Honestly, in the Markets, I'd defer to Charlie Miller, of the Winter Court. Hobs seem to respect her a lot, I noticed last time I was there at the same time as her."
"Those are all excellent suggestions. Thank you. But it is your particular talents that brought me here. Persons such as Charlie Miller and myself may treat better with the hobgoblins than most, but that does not mean we are aware of where to find them. Shackamaxon is surrounded by hobs and hob villages. I've run into them on patrol, on their way to market and so on. I just don't know where they are out there. Or what historical relations this freehold has had with them, if any. If there are old oaths we hold with these creatures, those oaths still apply. To them most of all. Any leverage, any information, any inroads your court can offer would make the job of diplomacy be it from Winter or from us that much more effective. I hope to create a ring of hob informants around us, oathed to such service. Perhaps we can save some lives out there if we work together."
Frygg for her part loves the apples, and goes nuzzling at whatever pouch or pocket she learns they're kept in. But once she's inevitably rebuffed from being a piggy, she does accept Elio's offers of play, high stepping her way towards him to jostle his side and go cantering off around the paddock herself, dipping her head and flashing her mane.
"Aah." That brings the red back to his freckles again, and it seems to last now, though the green is more intense still, and a smile flashes broadly across his face, white teeth contrasting blue-black skin. "That sounds like a research project I can certainly dig into. I'll need to poke around and see what I can come up with, but I'm game."
"I'm terrible with books," Sigrun admits in a manner that implies admitting her deficiencies is not a thing she does often or easily. "With research, I mean. I can read novels and fiction just fine. But when I have to study for a project, it's... it's very hard for me. Any help you could offer on this score will not be forgotten, and your work will be put to fair and effective use. Than I promise you. If we can be of any assistance on this matter-- a book that needs recovering, or a hunch you need confirmed with boots in the thorns, please let me know."
Rosalyn left the pair to play, rather pleased with herself that they were getting along so well, and meandered back to Mearcstapa's office. "Frygg's wonderful," she complimented. "Is there anything else you two need since I'm on duty?"
"Appreciated. I, uh, might take you up on the spinning lesson. I've done some very basic work. Unlocked a tree trunk to find something small within, things like that, but it's not something I feel confident in. As for books that need recovering, well. Anything you run into out there is of interest." He pauses, glancing at Ros. "Please pass along my fondness to Elio. I would try to get to know him better, but he's made his disinterest pretty clear."
"If you would permit me to wield Sigsverd, I can offer training and a demonstration presently." Sigrun ticks her head back towards where the gate guards stripped her of her steel. "I do my best work with the sword, I'm afraid. Summer, you know." Sigrun turns to include Rosalyn once more, her smile returning. "She is. A delight to ride for battle or leisure. She's rather taken to Elio, it seems." A tick of the head indicates the frolicking pair. "How are you at hedgespinning, Rosalyn? I mentioned a trod that needs building, at that seems rather up your alley. And mine."
"I'm quite comfortable with it, and excel at navigation and handling myself in the Hedge," she confirmed. "And it's not really up to me," she glanced sideways at Mearcstapa as the ranking Autumn present. "but it seems ridiculous to disarm visiting defenders of our freehold."
"It would be fun to ride them in battle together- a proper cavalry charge?"
Mearc blinks at being asked if Sigrun can go get her sword, and the realization that he might actually be authority in some ways seems to startle him. But he nods. "Go fetch your blade, Huntress. I trust you to use it in an appropriate manner."
"Thank you." Sigrun for her part doesn't seem the least bit ruffled about surrendering her weapons. If anything, she gets it fully well. "I do enjoy group formations. If it's not a shield wall or a flying wedge, a good cavalry charge works just as well." She's grinning at that, "Still. Haven't fought anything more troublesome than hedge ghosts and briarwolves since I landed here. And they don't respond well to traditional tactics, sadly." She excuses herself with a polite smile and heads off to speak to the pages about reclaiming her weapon belt. She unloops the axe to leave it with them, then belts on her sword at the very least, walking back to the cabin and unsheathing the weapon along the way. It's a wicked looking thing with a built out crossguard with quillions, pattern welded worrels throughout the blade itself, long and supple. Far more delicate than any blade that length has a right to be. "Where are you most gifted, Mearcstapa? Would you say? Me, it's weaponry such as this."
"We fought a huge house size briarwolf, and that was pretty impressive. Elio wore a section of its spine like a crown for days after." Ros made a 'yuck' face. "I prefer a bow to the sword, personally. Elio and I function best as skirmishers when possible."
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small zippered case, opening it to reveal a tidy set of lockpicks--rakes, combs, hooks, tensioners--all neatly organized. They're not all flashy or expensive tools; some of his tension wrenches were literally made from wiper blades, and he has a hooked upholstery tool in beside some of them. "I'm a security expert. Specifically, a penetration tester. I break into places for a living."
"I function best as the tip of the spear, myself. A bright, obvious, garish, noisy target. That's another area where we're well matched, then, Rosalyn. Withering bow fire and a strong front line? Ruin for the enemy. And I heard about the briarhaus. Teagan was very... evocative. In their description." They swore a lot. She means they swore a lot. "That's where your name first came up, actually." Sigrun then nods aside to Mearcstapa. "Okay. You may want to keep some practice locks on you when you're in the hedge, then. Hedgespinning is easiest when you do it with what you're best at. For now, I imagine you can use the lock on your cabin door. The trick is to put into your mind what you're trying to bring forth as you work your craft, and once you feel the wyrd responding to your wishes-- agreeing to make it so --you simply clear your mind and will the whole matter into being."
Sigrun demonstrates by falling into a defensive crouch with her weapon and swinging it about herself in a defensive flurry that ends with a thrust of the blade into the ground at the front of the cabin. The ground promptly obliges by sprouting a host of garish, clashing, entirely inappropriate spring flowers. Forget me nots, Johnny jump ups, tulips and the like. She recovers her thrust and sheathes her blade again, turning to Mearcstapa with a nod, "You should have no trouble thinking how much you hate my flower choices and what you'd prefer instead, now. Give it a try."
"Good heavens," Ros murmured. "Why not make a scent garden? Start with lavender beds and add complementary plants that bloom as the seasons progress?"
He glances between the Fairest for a moment, shaking his head. "I want it to be at least vaguely thematic." And he steps up to the cabin door. But before he begins, there's a moment of...not hesitation. He seems to be muttering at the door itself, the tone of his voice not entirely dissimilar to a cat owner trying to reassure their spitting ball of rage that the vet visit they're about to embark on won't be that bad. Only once he's done speaking does he set his tension wrench for top of the keyway tension and start in with a slim hook.
Ros grinned, but kept her mouth shut. Whatever her in opinions about the state of a garden, she wasn't going to make her case for a traditional layout here.
"Oops. Did I make the flowers awful? You must have a very clear mental picture of what you actually wanted, if that's the case. When you feel the Wyrd start to agree with you, just... let it all go. Don't worry if it takes you time, especially in perfectly safe circumstances like these. It's good practice for when you need to get it done on the double-quick." Sigrun steps back to give Mearcstapa room, and so that he doesn't have to contend with a six foot battlemaiden looming over him while he works. She draws up beside Rosalyn, folds her arms, and observes the progress with a grin of her own. Not an unkind one, either. "You can do it, Mearcstapa."
"Nothing on one, two is binding, click on two. Nothing on three, four. Five is binding, small click--serrated or spool pin?" He's speaking softly to himself as he works, with only the slightest glance up toward Sigrun. "Someday I will probably be glad for this lock being so high-quality in another context, I'm sure."
Ros left the pair to it and slipped back of towards the paddock and jumped the fence to chase the horses around in circles until the started chasing her, and she rewarded the pair with more apples.
Sigrun does her best not to be a cause of anxiety for Mearcstapa. Performing for an audience impromptu like this can be a stressful thing. She just hangs back, watches, waits, and appears entirely content to continue doing so until Mearcstapa figures the matter out for himself. Her arms remain folded and her smile in place, though she does glance over to watch Rosalyn playing with the horses. That makes her smile widen a little.
Mearc keeps at his work--if he's feeling particular pressure, it doesn't show on his face, but there's a ripple of red among his freckles which might indicate something, before the lock clicks and Sigrun's flowers are replaced with orange and yellow sunflowers, marigolds, yellow-flowered yarrow with fine feathery leaves and the outside of the cabin turns a dark shade of teal that's as much deep ocean as it is spruce tree.
"Got it."
Sigrun had been watching Rosalyn, so she very nearly misses the transformation. But when the colors start changing in her peripheral vision, she darts her head back with an approving smile and a round of applause for Maercstapa's work. "Well done! Bravo! It looks fantastic, Mearcstapa. That wasn't so bad, now, was it? Just stick with what you're best at." She takes a step or two forward and might have clapped him on the shoulder, there, if she knew him better. The desire is obvious in her bearing.
He tilts his head to one side, and then nods permission for the shoulder-clap. "I'm better on touch when a lot of people aren't around, but something like a pat on the shoulder or an arm-touch is generally fine, for me, in all circumstances short of 'I'm actively having a panic attack and you're someone I don't know'."
"I try to never presume, especially with our kind," Sigrun explains before gingerly offering Mearcstapa a supportive and encuraging clap to the upper arm. Comradely and firm. "It's hard, sometimes, as I am an avowed hugger." She looks back to the handiwork Mearcstapa has achieved, then back at Mearcstapa himself. "If there's ever anything I can do for you or your court-- crafting equipment, escorting your expeditions, searching for objects in the hedge, let me know. It seems you are most competent in areas where I most assuredly am not. And perhaps vice versa. That's an excellent partnership."
"Indeed. I know I'd rather have you than another of myself in any situation where physical peril is likely to come up." He nods. "What sort of equipment do you craft?"
"Weapons and armor, mostly." Sigrun gestures to her outfit generally and briefly tugs her blade a couple inches from its sheathe to display it once again before pushing it back into place to allay any nerves on the part of the pages. "I have a full metal forge, leather working tools, and industrial sewing machines for cloth, leather, kevlar, and the like. Most of my motley wears my creations, if you've seen them about. I leave the bowyer work to Ianthe, and lack a turnpole to craft shafts for polearms, but otherwise I can equip a small army, given time." She knocks on her leather armor twice with her knuckles. That it sounds metallic and hollow may be a surprise. "Autumn has plenty of hedgenauts, too. And even noncombatants need protection from knives in the dark."
"I'll make a note of it, and possibly talk to you about my own needs at some point. Protection sounds likely to be something I should be considering, for myself." He looks at her armor a little more closely. "Can I pet your cloak?"
"It doesn't mind. I killed it with a spear." Sigrun turns her shoulder towards Mearcstapa to make an offer of the furry item. It's lined with satin, too! Very fancy. "This is one thought charging ahead of his pack was going to win it points. In the end, it was just the one point. But. I'm grateful for the fur, just the same." She's grinning despite herself. "At the risk of sounding boastful, I made most everything on my person at present."
His touch is light, and he seems to be feeling the texture and quality of the fur. "I helped Alexis tend to some briar-wolf bones and skulls a few weeks back. Were those from your hunting expedition?"
"Possibly," Sigrun admits with a shrug of the shoulders, "I am far from the only hedge hunter in the Freehold, and I know there were some sorties in which I wasn't involved. So it's possible it came from one of those, too. Do your court have much use for such things? Offal and bones and the like from kills? I use the bone in my crafting. The hides, too, clearly. Teeth and claws, and such. But I've now got more than I can find a use for at the moment."
"I know Alexis was preparing and polishing them with some kind of ointment. The talons and bones, especially the skulls. So the offer, at least, would likely be appreciated. I could present it on your behalf, if you'd like?" He gestures the length of one of the claws he worked on with a hooked finger, smiling. "I'll be seeing her anyway, to see if I can get into the Regent's library for some of that research you asked about."
"If it would make her more inclined to let you use the library, please do offer it with my blessing. We generate enough in our patrols that replacing whatever you need shouldn't take us terribly long." Sigrun then claps her hands together and points at Mearcstapa, "Ah! Lux! I'm designing armor for Lux. You should ask them to see my specs that I sent out for an idea of the breadth of what I'm willing to create. It doesn't all have to be walking off the set of Last Kingdom."
Mearc's freckles glitter red. "Of course, that means I'll likely have the honor of peeling the armor off of them at some point or another."
"You have absolutely chosen the correct verb. They are not shy. You can count their blemishes by touch in that outfit." Sigrun's shoulders lift and fall. Given the functional nature of her attire, and the fact that her full figure is diminished by the contour of her armor makes it clear she differs with Lux on this small point.
"That's Lux for you." He lets out a laugh. "They're...yeah. I wouldn't be looking for the same thing, but...where I think your personal suit of armor would suit me least is that I prefer to be very mobile and fairly quiet. Like...for a D&D campaign I'm going to be playing in at some point, I'm building a rogue, because that's What I Know. That's what I am, pretty much."
"The quiet part I can certainly improve upon where my armor is concerned. My role as a combatant is to draw attention. Being like Lux where Kith is concerned, that comes fairly naturally to me. So while I am quite mobile and quick in this armor, I am not quiet. That's so. But I can certainly modify the design to work similarly. Much depends on how much weight you can easily carry, and the like. But I can adjust for that, too. A bespoke set of custom armor tends to be very expensive, I'll admit. But I don't price it for profit when I'm making them for freeholders. Just the parts and my time." To demonstrate the point, Sigrun just does a lazy cartwheel in place. Over and back upright again with no real evidence of impediment to motion.
He lets out a low whistle. "Good mobility indeed. It's something I'll probably circle back around with you on later, but thank you for the offer. I will be keeping it in mind."
"Happy to be of service," Sigrun responds with a dip of her head. "Thank you for taking the time to meet with me, Mearcstapa. I appreciate the audience. I won't keep you any longer, however." She glances aside at the Cabin and adds a final, "It looks good. Good work."
"Thank you for the lesson, Sigrun." He nods at her. "I'll catch you around sometime."
"Freyja's blessings to you and to those close to you." Sigrun dips her head again, then returns her helmet atop her head and turns to reclaim her weapons and receive her horse from the pages. She mounts up with their assistance in holding the reins, received her shield and spear when they pass them up to her, and then turns her horse with her knees, giving a bit of a jolt with her heels to bolt back out onto the trod at a gallop.
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