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At the appointed time, Devon sits outside the Summer Crown's cabin in the Freehold Hollow. There's a stone big enough for one person to sit on, which he probably Hedgespun into place for himself, and he's just... sitting still. Waiting. Paused, perhaps. He's wearing a well-worn and stained set of fitted coveralls, short-sleeved and with the sleeves rolled up. One sharp blue eye watches the Freehold grounds, the only hint that the Helldiver is anything other than in a state of paused animation.
... and, understanding the importance of punctuality in a first impression, Rieko returns to the Freehold Hollow just in time for the appointed meeting. The oni is dressed in (for her, anyway) something nice, for a change. She's cleaned all the mud and blood from her hiking boots, and she's wearing a pair of un-faded skinny jeans with a muscle tank featuring the silhouette of a certain Red Headed Stranger, and the words: "Have A Willie Nice Day." Atop her head - with holes in the top for her horns - sits a battered brown cowboy hat, and she's wearing that impeccably crafted odachi in a decorated scabbard on her back - along with a hunting knife strapped to her belt.
She approaches quietly, bowing her head in greeting - waiting to be addressed before speaking.(edited)
He rolls to his feet with the sort of inhuman grace that makes it quickly evident why Johnnie sets this guy up as her One To Beat. The expression on his face is a sort of affable nothing -- a mild smile while his singular gaze sweeps over Rieko.
"So you're the new girl with the secret so big she needed to talk to me alone first," Devon begins. "Well. Here I am."
"I don't if I'd call it a secret," Rieko rolls her shoulders - though the affable-ish look and mild smile do seem to set her somewhat at ease. There's a deep breath and she continues. "... but. Initially, I was just going to pass through Philadelphia on my way up to Vermont, but I got... distracted while resting and refueling, and since I'm running up against my "Oath or Get Out" deadline, I figured I should do that - but I feel obligated to inform you that offering me sanctuary in your city will almost assuredly bring trouble upon it."
The slightest raise of his eyebrows, and Devon lets all of the words sort of roll past. He's listening, surely, and he's not disregarding what she says, but it doesn't seem to really pull out much of a reaction from him. "Oh yeah?" His posture doesn't change; his muscular arms hang loose and lazy at his sides.
Rieko unslings the massive blade from her back -- a beautifully crafted odachi with an intricate guard made of softly glowing gold, and bound to a decorative sheath by thick, braided red ropes -- clutching both the scabbard, and the makeshift holster she's managed to sling together out of an acoustic guitar's leather shoulder strap in a clawed hand.
"When I escaped Arcadia, I betrayed my former master in a grievous fashion. I slew his guards, cast his household into chaos, and - perhaps the worst insult of all - stole this blade. A blade I was given for my long years of loyal service." She presents the immaculate weapon to the Summer king - showing off her prized possession so he understands exactly why she's done this.
"... and he wants it - and me - badly enough to regularly send his forces to find us."
His expression doesn't change at all for the whole time that she's talking; his singular gaze flickers to the Odachi, then back up to her face, staying fixed there for the rest of the explanation that she gives. While she's talking, mahogany branches and emerald leaves slowly fade into being in a braided crown resting on his close-cropped, light brown hair, wrapping down into a magnificent carved breastplate that shimmers as though the wood is regularly oiled. The Summer Crown doesn't glitter or shimmer: it merely exists, so very real and present.
A truly legendary sword is the sort of sword which just looks like it's killed a lot of motherfuckers, after all.
"So you're telling me that you might be bringing a whole bunch of motherfuckers to my doorstep right at the start of Summer?" He stares at her for five seconds, ten, fifteen, with his expression totally static.
And then his affable smile spreads just a little bit further, and he continues, "Well, that's great."
Rieko just barrels on through her prepared speech -- as if the idea Devon might be pleased to have a wandering Lost drag her keeper's whole realm through Philadelphia behind her is so far from the reality she expected -- like she barely heard what he said.
" ... but I bring you more than bad news, I promise. I've already begun to familiarize myself with the local trod, Shackamaxon's holdings, and the Freehold itself - and on top of that, I don't come unarmed. Metaphorically speaking. I have a plan to deal with it if things grow truly out of ha-- " The oni pauses with her mouth wide open - a puzzled look beginning to bloom as her brows furrow.
" Wait, did you say 'great?' " Beat. " Did I... miss something? "
"Well, sure," Devon answers. "You couldn't have survived this long if you didn't already have a plan or two." He doesn't move, as if this is as normal as someone saying 'hey, you want pizza for dinner?' And when she grinds to a confused halt, he blinks at her once, twice.
"Look, what I'm hearing is that a brand new Summer just walked in to Philly and said 'hey, I'm here, and following me are a whole bunch of motherfuckers who need to die, and I've got a plan for making them die.' To me, that sounds like a big win. Congratulations, you are in charge of making them die when they show up." That personable smile never wavers, never falters. "Make sure you make them throw a punch so they can't run away from you, and keep Peter and Alice tuned in on what resources you need and who's going to be on your team when they show up."
Rieko just sorta... sits there with her mouth half-open - and a clearly short circuiting brain. After a few more moments of confusion, she manages to close her mouth -- a calculating gaze appraising Devan's combat ability, the strength of his mantle, the manifestation of the crown. "I'm not sure if I should be relieved," she begins - slinging the blade back over her shoulder. "Or worried about the fact that this was so... easy." Beat. "Who are Peter and Alice? I assume one, or both are quartermasters based on context, but who are they beyond that -- and what's the best way to get into contact with either?"(edited)
The smile on Devon's face never falters. "Sounds like you've known some real shitty Summer Crowns, if you expected me to be anything but thrilled about the possibility of putting a boot up the ass of Huntsmen and Loyalists." He never really moves, either -- he's just sort of -- standing still. Lying in wait?
"No, though with Peter, you're almost right, he's sort of a package deal with the Quartermaster. Peter and Alice are my seconds -- we don't have Wroth General here, we have two Crimson Victors. Had one once, didn't work out. He tried to kill me, but I killed him first." And all throughout, his expression never changes. This is nothing regrettable, or anything to worry about, this death of the former Wroth General. It's just a thing that happened. Thursday is also a thing that happens. "Peter and Doll have a cabin in the Summer Hollow, so does Alice. You leave a message for them there, they'll get in touch with you pretty fast."
"Well, I mean." The samurai reaches up, scratching the back of her head with a sheepish look. "I never really had a reason to bring this to the Summer Crown before now - there was never really a reason to do anything but run once I figured out why everything was always so shitty in Houston." She tugs at the leather holster, ensuring that her sword is securely fastened, and then her hand falls to her belt to check that the hunting knife is, too. For a moment she wobbles - as muscle memory takes over - fighting the urge to kneel before the Crown.
"Well. Since that's not a problem... I guess I'm ready to take the Freehold's oath."
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