Introduction

[smokedglasseyes]

Enter a man. A bookish man without doubt, if we are to judge such things on appearance. The very perceptive might notice something in his black, smoked glass eyes that doesn't quite fit your average academic, but they would put it down to perhaps the reflection of the light in his pince-nez

Comments

[illgotten]

Mordred cocks an eyebrow at him. "Skinny kid with a pet goose?"

[smokedglasseyes]

Quillam fixes his gaze on him. "Mosca has always been small, that is true. But I know nothing of a goose."

[illgotten]

"Fair enough," meeting his eyes; if he's a little taken aback, he's not about to let on. "Hi, by the way. Welcome to wherever."

[smokedglasseyes]

"Thank you." He studies him for a moment. "I am intrigued, however, by your phrasing. I would initially imply that your intention is that you offer a welcome regardless of current location, as that is the more logical possibility. However, I cannot quite disregard the other."

[illgotten]

Mordred pauses, running that one through again. "Mm. That too."

[smokedglasseyes]

Quillam appears startled for a moment by the brief reply before smiling ruefully. "You must forgive me. I am not used to the company of strangers lately. I seem to speak mostly to Mosca, but even so, Cl...my village is small, so those I do speak to are used to me, even if we rarely share extended conversations."

[illgotten]

Mordred grins. "Don't worry about it. Plenty of us have stranger habits."

[smokedglasseyes]

"I don't doubt it. Although those in my village often think mine are strange enough. May I infer, however, that you have met Mosca?" His tone is slightly concerned. He'd been so sure he had been near death, and if Mosca was also here... Oh, Housefly. What have you gotten yourself into now?

[illgotten]

"Assuming it's the same kid, and it's not exactly a name you hear everywhere, is it?" And, a little less offhandedly, after a look at his expression: "As far as I know, she's fine."

[smokedglasseyes]

This time his sigh is outward, and he smiles wearily. "Thank you. I... was never quite sure how to be a father, but she became so dear to me. She is here, then?"

[illgotten]

"Somewhere, yeah. I expect she'll stop by before long. People generally do."

[smokedglasseyes]

"Perhaps you can tell me, then, what place this is. Your accent is one I've never heard before."

[illgotten]

A rueful, amused grin. "Neither has anyone else. But no, I'm not from around here -- any more than you are. It's more of a place you end up than a place you start. Although God knows they're working on that." Collecting himself, "It's a place. There's a house, there's a lake, there's a forest. It's not heaven, it's not hell, and I'm pretty sure it has better parties than limbo. That's all I know."

[smokedglasseyes]

In a light tone, having decided this man is no threat to him or Mosca. "An accent that is spoken by just one man is not strictly an accent in the sense in which it is generally used, Mr... I'm terribly sorry. I neglected to ask your name."

[illgotten]

"I suppose it's better described as an unfortunate accident. --Sorry," proffering a hand. "Mordred."

[smokedglasseyes]

"Quillam Mye." He smiles as he shakes the hand at hand. "And if I didn't already know you were from a different place than I, that would have given it away. It's a name I've never heard before. What does it represent?"