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A truly gargantuan ogre is positioned quite like a boulder in the middle of the training yard. Covered in heavy plate armor with a greatsword the size of a small bus strapped to his back, the figure radiates the sort of primal heat and implied menace of a true scion of the Summer Court. Without his helmet, the figure is mostly bald, a face comprised of craggy granite-like stone, with eyes like two charcoal pits. Black scorch frames his eye sockets, and his brow is stained dark with the heat and soot which his eyes produce. So not only is this being massive, and with a mantle that he can't seem to hide on the best of days, he's also highly Wyrd. And he seems to always be scowling, too. That certainly doesn't help his first impressions be any easier. The pretty calico fabric flower, clearly hand made, presently tucked behind his ear does, though. It has a pink bow on it, even. Very cute.
Ianthe is not especially tall. She is a warrior and a Summer, though, both of which are good reasons to spend time in the training yard, even if she weren't wanting to talk to Peter. Right now she's wearing her chainmail, with a shield slung on her back and sword hanging from her belt.
Peter, ever the astute one, points a gauntleted finger at Ianthe. "You're new, yeah?" New to him, in any case. "Wife said get out, go meet people. Says I can't just sit in my office all day drinking beer." Or, as he says it, bee-ah. "I said I could and I would and then she does this face she does and I says fine. I'll go. But I'm not gonna like it. So hi. I'm Peter Wood." He gestures around the yard indicatively. "Some wiseass made me in charge of this. Can you imagine?" The wiseass being the crown, no doubt. "Don't salute or nothing."
... and Sturm is tall, and a warrior, but not especially Summer. Which, y'know, totally tracks - and the surly Winter bruiser has to be let into the Summer hollow by [Random Relevant Summer NPC] who thankfully didn't even give her much of a hassle as she entered.
Today, the bruiser is wearing a(n only minorly) blood-stained tanktop that looks like it must be in her workout clothing rotation, black denim skinny jeans, work boots, and a leather jacket. Her hands disappear into her front pockets as she paces over to the pair of Summers...
"Ianthe." She offers him a hand. "Kinda new, yeah, I've only been in town a few months. Don't think I've met your wife, though. She one of us?" It's not clear whether she means Lost generally or the Summer Court in particular. Sturm's arrival gets the Snowskin a glance. "Hey. How've you been since...day before yesterday, I guess."
Peter's massive mitt envelops Ianthe's in a careful shake. No less because he's shaking with metal on his hands than his awareness of his size. "That's one you don't hear too often, hey? Ianthe. I like it. That Greek or something? Yeah. Doll's my wife. She's the quartermaster here, actually. Used to be Spring, then I stopped picking up my shorts from the bathroom floor and BOOM. Summer." He sniggers at this joke which may or may not be truthful. "Oh, shit. Here comes trouble. What's news, big tusker? He takes a few steps over towards Sturm and points at the blood stain on her shirt. "You got something, there."
"Ianthe. Wood," Sturm's voice is grumbly and low - though the corner's of her mouth wobble as if threatening to smile. She looks down at the reddish-brown spot, and reaches up to touch her lip - which is admittedly split, but too far along the healing process to be the responsible party. "Fuckin' A," she scowls. "Gotta stop letting people punch me while I'm wearing white shit..."
There's probably a joke about Ermine's Winter Coat in there somewhere, but oh well...
Peter immediately flicks his finger upward and boops Sturm's nose the moment she looks down, "Gotcha."
Sturm looks about like you'd fuckin expect her to after such an exchange. So. Y'know. A cross between murderous and embarrassed. The usual.
The Hollow's Ironside entrance creeks open and there stands Artie, dressed plainly in a white tee and black jeans. His backpack on his back and two long tupperwares of food in arms.
He's unnecessarily holding the door open for Petra, chatting animatedly.
"...put oranges in with the meat. Apparently people decided fruit and pork go together like... Eeeverywhere. Food history is kinda interesting."
Ianthe nods. "Yeah. Picked it up Over There and, well, going back to my old life wasn't exactly an option. Even if I'd wanted to." The new arrivals get a glance. "Arthur. Who's your friend?"
Petra half-skipped, half-hopped after Artie to keep up with him. The Spring scent of rich fresh turned earth surrounded her. "That does sound really yummy. And I do like pineapple, pepperoni pizza," she said cheerfully. "And the fruit acids help break down the meat, tenderizing it and all. That's one reason they go well together." Petra's expression lit up as she took in the Summer hollow, and gave Sturm a huge grin.
Peter guffaws at Sturm's reaction to the joke, though not unkindly. He's a prankster, but doesn't seem openly malicious about it in any sense. "You're a good sport, kid. Next beer's on me, hey."
He then turns back to Ianthe, "Oh, I feel that, yeah. Peter wasn't my name over there. Wood, neither. Sucks losing family, though, yeah. I'm a Sox fan in Phillies country, so you can imagine how I feel. What the fuck is the Phanatic about. Thing looks like someone stuck a bike horn on a booger--" His expounding on the failings of local sports mascots ends when Arthur and Petra wander in. "Hey. So. Uh. Before I just spend the day being a dick and wagging my jaw, any of youse got official business?" He adjusts the flower behind his ear to look more regal and fails at it.
"Enh. I'll take it." Sturm just sorta... shrugs at Peter's guffaw. Probably, it would seem, she's just used to this sort of thing. Everyone likes to prank the surly folx. She nods along with the conversation - probably attempting to pretend like her family situation - or her favorite team - was worth missing. "Official business? With you?" She sucks air through her teeth, but it's just good natured ribbing. The giant hooks her thumbs into the front pockets of her jeans before inclining her head at Petra. "Yo. Long time no see. How's Guy?"
"Oh that makes sense. Acid makes stuff soft..." The tailor nods, internalizing the concept. He was a maker of things but well, he'd missed ever science class ever so learning how the world worked was a process.
Turning he looked around the room and blinked. More people than he'd expected. "Oh... Uhm..th-this is P-Petra. She's one of Spring's healers. She's really nice." He explains poorly.
"...Uhm... N-no I was just coming by to say hello and uh... Introduce her to you, Mr.Wood." he pauses and his metallic colored eyes wander for a second a little awkwardly. "S-so I... Brought Carnitas? Oh and fajita veggies. And replacement granola and jerky..."
"Don't ask me," Ianthe shrugs. "Only team sport I really follow is the WNBA, and there's no team in that closer than NYC." The question about official business gets a nod. "Yeah, actually. I was looking at becoming a Sentinel of Flame, since if we have any I've not met them yet, but I don't know what the requirements for that here are." She glances at Arthur. "Not hungry right now, but thanks anyway."
"Straight to it, huh?" Peter jokes back to Ianthe when she gets to the point. "Nah, I like it. Direct is good. So. That position comes with the ability to raise the Hue and Cry. That's a huge responsibility. It also means you gotta be good in the hedge. Know how to hedgespin your way out of trouble, know how to beat the hedge at its own games. Gotta be able to get people to follow you, which ain't the same thing as barking orders. Gotta be a leader, you know? Plus, you gotta be a good fighter, too. And you gotta be responsible and discerning enough to know what's cause for the Hue and Cry and what ain't. Those are some big shoes, and no kidding." Peter spreads his hands wide, "So all you gotta do is prove to me that's you to a tee and you're good to go. Any of that you?" Peter offers a bit of a wave to Petra as she's introduced. Hi, there. But obviously the official business is his focus for now.
"Thanks, but I'll pass." Sturm's hands never leave her pockets as she shrugs off the offer of food. Trust no one, not even delicious braised pork. A comfortable frown makes an appearance across her features as she settles in to listen to Ianthe and Peter talk. Sure, she's not a Summer - and this isn't her gig - but who's to say she can't listen and maybe learn a few things.
She quirks a brow at the Amazon archer, awaiting a response to Peter's question with interest.
"Hi," Petra said brightly. "Um, it's not official business, but I am a Healer and paramedic. So I hope if summer gets up to anything fun that you all weren't hesitate to give me a ring to help out. I've even got an RV I've converted for first aid."
Shuffling over to the table, he mutters a quiet "Oh... Okay." As no one wants the food. It's obvious that he's a little put out since his mantle as usual tells on him: it's as if a thin cloud drifted in front of the lighting for the space.
He sets the food down and looks to Peter as he explains. His eyes a bit wide. Wow... Sentinels sound amazing...
What he wouldn't give to be that cool. Helping lead the court and freehold, some kind of beacon of their combined freedom. But he knew good and damn well that he wasn't the sort people looked to or even considered in a crisis.
"Do... Do people spin the hedge a lot? I don't think I've ever done that..." A thing that isn't difficult to imagine for those who've met Arthur. He doesn't come off as the most assertive of sorts. Of course he doesn't force his will on the hedge, he barely forces words out edgewise sometimes.
Ianthe nods along to Peter's explanation. "I'm decent enough in the Hedge, and at getting people to follow me, too." She shrugs again. "As for being a good fighter, well. It's a rare Summer who isn't." Petra gets a glance and a smile. "Good to know. You got a business card or anything? Don't have my phone on me, so." Arthur's question gets a raised eyebrow. "Uh, yeah?"
"Are you decent enough? Or are you good? This ain't a time to sell yourself short, kid. Tell me what you can do, and if you got the moxy for it, show me what you can do. If you can't take a team off a trod and lead 'em back to safety as a unit, this role ain't for you. If you can't walk a trod and discern where the right spot for a given fruit is, this might not be the role for you. If you're certain-- if you know, the way I know both cheeks of my ass --that you can do this thing, then tell me you can do this thing. Cos then I'm gonna say show me, and whatever happens when you do is gonna be on your head. That's how this works. You want to wear the hat, you gonna muss your hair." Peter levels his coal fire eyes on Ianthe, the embers tumbling around in his sockets as smoke and heat ripple up his brow. Then he asides to Arthur, "Eh, yo, kid. What you got in them tupperwares for a growing boy like me."
Petra's eyes lit in admiration as she looked up and up at Peter as he spoke. She was tiny compared to most, but it was a particularly stark difference next to the ogre. Then she blinked, shook her head, and dug into her purse for a green pen and scrap of paper to scrawl her number on for Ianthe.
A bit like this, in plate armor, giant sword, and about 8' tall.
Artie blinks at Peter in mild awe. "You get bigger?" He asks a little gullibly. Honestly it's kinda cute how readily he believes in stuff.
"Oh but uh..." He says, realizing again. With deft blackened hands, he unlids the two containers and a waft of steam billows out, the acent of slow braised pork and oranges and a bit of cilantro fills the air. It's tempered by fire roasted red peppers and onions, a hint of cumin and spice from the other. "This one's pork carnitas with a few oranges for a hint of sweetness and this ones red peppers and onions I roasted over a fire then sauteed in a bit of garlic oil with some spices cuz I don't like green peppers and I didn't know if anyone was a vegetarian." And then he unzips his backpack and hauls out more.
"And flour tortillas, some cojita cheese, limes, cilantro and more granola clusters and deer jerky."
Absently he also sets out a a few different styles of fixed blade knives in sheathes.
"Do the thing, get the shiny hat? Makes sense." Ianthe nods. "I need to study more on tactics, but the rest of it I can definitely do." She looks the Extremely Tall Ogre up and down. "If you want a demonstration of my fighting skills, we can step into the ring after, but I'm better with a bow than I am with a blade, and much better at either than with my fists." Not that she's a slouch unarmed. Just not up to the standards of someone who prefers that style of combat. Taking the scrap of paper from Petra, she nods at the diminutive Spring. "Thanks. I'll send you a text next time I'm Ironside, so you know when it's me calling."
"Then you're not ready," Peter says bluntly, but with the same not-unkind manner that seems his default. Candor, but not cruelty. "So here's what you're gonna do. Your job now is to learn how to lead a small group in combat. If you need help learning, I'll teach. If you want to learn from someone else? Fine. But you're gonna learn. And when you do learn, you're gonna come back to me with a hand picked six person team including yourself. They're gonna be a cross section of courts and talents, they're all gonna be volunteers that agreed to follow you and only you, and then you're gonna take a big fuckin' bucket of water from my giant ass cauldron of bullshit and you're gonna carry that water for me to one of a dozen fires, and you're gonna put that sumbitch out. Then you're gonna bring 'em all back alive. If you're puffing yourself up on any account, you better get right with your words real fucking quick. Cos once you're off the trod, it's just you and the hedge. And it don't give a shit about braggin' rights." Peter wags a finger at Ianthe as he speaks, driving his point home hard. But again, not unkindly. This isn't a role for the faint of heart.
And then he turns to Petra, "Healer, huh? You an after-mission healer, or does you gets them feathers ruffled?" While he's speaking, he reaches sloooowly over to Arthur and nabs himself one of the tupperware containers, pops it open, and fails utterly to grasp what's inside with his stupid clumsy giant fingers. So he just upends the thing into his palm and shoves it into his mouth whole. It is best not to describe what him eating looks like.
Petra blushed with pleasure. "Call me anytime." She slid over to peek at what Artie had on offer and accepted some venison jerky to nibble on. She grinned up at Peter. "Nothing Summer gets up to on mission is as appalling as some of the stuff I regularly see as a paramedic. It's clean in comparison, and blood doesn't bother me one bit."
"Oh um... I guess I do have a business,Mr.Wood. uhm... I... Er... I mean, d-do you have any stuff I need to do or anything? I'm um... A page and stuff so I think i-i'm supposed to ask..."
"No bragging here. That's for after the mission, not when you're figuring who has what talents." Ianthe grins at Petra. "So we should bring you along on patrols, is that what you're saying?" Arthur gets a glance. "What kind of business?"
Peter does something like squinting at Petra. It's hard for rock to be expressive, but his face crumbles and reforms itself like shifting tectonic plates as the pits of his eyes slightly narrow. "That's good, but. I mean, I'm not expert or nothing, but usually when you're cleaning up after a car accident, the trees don't reach down and try to eat you, and the grass don't invade your psyche and make you claw your skin off your face." He paints pretty pictures. "I never figured you was squeemish. Just wondering if you're good in the hedge, is all." Peter then turns a similar expression on Arthur. He stares at the smaller fellow in silence for a good span of seconds before finally releasing a quiet, sulfurous grunt. Sort of like a burp, really. "What are you good at, kid."
"I'd rather watch you guys be badass than attempt it myself," she admitted. "But if you think you need a Healer mid-mission, I could come. I'm not fond of the hedge or the best in it but I am a Pathfinder and have a few useful shapes and contracts beyond healing if it hits the fan."
"Uhm...." The young man starts off looking a wee baffled and put on the spot. Nobody really asked him what he was good at just what he liked to do and the two weren't always the same.
"Well uh..." What was he good at? Definitely not speaking... "Hmm well I can fight and make things? Uhm... Dancing... Comic books... Video games." He lists off picking up one of the knives off the table absently, indicating that he'd forged it.
"Wait sorry. I'm saying this wrong. I can do physical close range fighting with weapons. I am a smith and a tailor but I'll try to make literally anything. I can track stuff and get around the hedge. I can protect people and find ways to pass the time..." He straightens up a bit.
Sturm reaches into her back pocket and pulls out a smart phone. She taps it a few times before thrusting it back. "Well. Wood. Ianthe. Petra..." She hooks her thumbs into her pockets, looking embarrassed for a moment. "Uhh. Sorry, I can never remember your name, kid - but, I gotta take care of some shit." Beat. "Good luck with the gig, though, Ianthe - and I'll see y'all around."
"Thanks, Sturm. Good luck with your mysterious Winter stuff." She glances at Arthur. "How are you at woodworking?"
Peter just keeps staring at Arthur, waiting for him to spit it out. His craggy eyebrows shift and lift and finally open wide when he strings together a cogent, informative sentence. Whereas he teased the hell out of Sturm and Ianthe both, he withholds fire from Artie. Just waits him out with the patience of a mountain. "Good, then. Report to Quartermaster Doll Wood for page duties in the quartermastery division. Then I want you to find a Hunter or Huntress or Huntrix of the Longest Day and report to them for additional combat and field training. But only do it when you've practiced saying it like you said it to me just now. Keep your shoulders back," Peter models this. By straightening up.
He'd been slouching this whole time.
"Keep your chin level." This, too, he models. "Walk with purpose like you know what your limbs are doing. And once I get a report on my desk that says you done a good job, we'll talk again." He glances about the small gathering of Lost, "Alright. Sounds like alla youse got your orders and things to talk about. I gotta go talk to the shiny hat about some stupid bullshit. You alls be good. Or at least good at it." Peter finally turns to lumber towards the crown's office.
"He's so awe-some," Petra whispered as he left.
Artie looks wide eyed as the craggy giant lumbers off. He practices adjusting his shoulders and straightening his back a little. Up... Down... Up... Down as he internalizes the instructions, mouthing some of them quietly.
Then he turns to Ianthe and blinks a little. "Um... I mean," he straightens and stiffly picks up one of his knives and passes it to her to inspect. "I am pretty ok at it. With most weapons I have to do a little woodcraft for the handles and whatnot. I prefer polearms so I've done several shafts. My personal arms are made of metal though. You... Are an archer... So I've never made a wooden bow but I'd like to try?"
Ianthe nods to Peter, then glances at Arthur. "Well, I'm not in need of a bow right now, but if mine breaks I might come to you for a new one. Be well, you lot. I have studying to do." She hands his knife back, then turns to head towards one of the cottages to change back into her Ironside clothes.
"It was nice meeting you!" Petra chirped after Ianthe. "I'll talk to you later." She smiled to Arthur and gave him an impromptu hug. "Thanks for bringing me!"
"You're welcome! I'm glad you got to uhm.... Network?" He grins.
"I'm only disappointed that there wasn't any fighting involved," she teased.
"Oh yeah... Sorry. We aren't as violent as our rep makes us seem. At least I don't think we are. Maybe compared to Spring though..." He considers. "Not that you folks can't scrap. Oh I know. I'll message you when I find one of the Longest Day Hunteressixes so you can watch us do the practice he said I should do? That would be cool right?"
Petra nodded excitedly. "That would be excellent, thanks! I do need to get going though. I've got plans tonight since I was dorking around all day."
He gives her a grin and a thumbs up. "Ok. I'm gonna polish some weapons and armor around here I think myself. Practice that shoulder thing a bit..."
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