An entrance of miniscule proportions

[loyal_littleman]

To say that Rossamünd is in the midst of one of the most horrible days a body could be put through would be, unfortunately, something of an understatement. He still feels numb, as if his body is but a puppet which his occasionally-clumsy fingers cannot seem to grip properly and the soul deep ache of the day's spiritual wounds show no sign of

Comments

[ilikeyourcake]

"Oh my gawd," Molly says her face somewhere between blank and looking the picture of concerned. "Are you like, lost or something, little boy?"

One of the awesome parts about being an angel is being able to tell who's a Wanderer and who's actually a lost little boy. But she just can't ignore this chance to steal a little childwanderer. Where to keep it, though is a bigger problem.

It's not like she has anywhere to keep a kid. She could tell her sisters that-- well, maybe Kaden'll be good to her.

[loyal_littleman]

The boy, who... well, he would say he is no child, billeted and employed as he is (was, more precisely, at least in speaking of his position as a Lamplighter), not to mention his status as a veteran of several monster attacks, blinks at her curiously.

Her appearance is certainly strange and more than a little troubling. Day clothes? They had been at an inn; perhaps not along the Way proper but certainly not civilization. With all the recent attacks, to wear dayclothes out!

But he steps past this as he continues to take in the, er...

"No, miss."

After all, he hadn't moved. The world, however, seemed to have shifted as was all too common of late.

[ilikeyourcake]

Molly tilts her head, looking a the child in front of her. It's a bit odd that he would deny being lost; he obviously just fell through a rift. This means that she needs to reformulate how she's going to go about this.

"Really?" she asks, looking around. "Let's like yanno find your parents, alright? Seriously, I bet they're totally worried."

Gawdddd Wanderers are weeeeird.

[loyal_littleman]

He looks about for a moment and shakes his head.

"I'm a foundling, miss," he informs her, "but my employer, Miss Europe" who held other titles and many of them "was to be in the main hall enjoying a meal."

[findaconstant]

Dan very nearly bumps into Rossamünd. To be fair, one does not usually expect random children to appear right in front of them, so Dan's flailing is totally warranted.

"Whoa! Hey, sorry. I didn't... see you there."

Did he just see someone fall through a rift?

Dan blinks at the thought, taking a step back to give Rossamünd a quick once-over.

He thinks the answer is probably yes.

[loyal_littleman]

The lad wears his thricehigh and his proofing with pride, the Boschenberg brown and black bold besides the blue of the material. He has no fodicar, as that had been stripped from him, but his salimanticum resides as it ever has and his pack sits smartly on his shoulders.

"My apologies, sir," he says, peering up with dark young eyes at the gentleman. Dayclothes. Perhaps he worked in this place, though he wonders at where he is and how he came to be here from the humble waystation. The towers are pure madness! Wonderful, miraculous madness! What habilistics might have wrought them, he wonders, and then decides that miracle is a far more lovely explanation as he has had so terribly little loveliness of late.

[findaconstant]

This is a situation Dan is entirely unfamiliar with. He is not good with children, really. He makes little girls cry. He's not sure he can help this boy, but...

"Um. Are you... lost, maybe?" For all he knows, Rossamünd could just be a native with some weird, rifty power. That would be convenient. That would spare him from the whole 'so yeah you're not in Kansas anymore' speech.

But Dan is not that lucky.