Well this is... new. (Introduction)

[priorphilip]

Philip woke up in the middle of the woods, head aching from the blow it had received. He found himself, however, able to get to his feet. Nothing looked familiar... they must have been taking himself somewhere when he fell off the horse or cart they had tied him to. Odd, certainly, but in such chaotic times

Comments

[eyrienprince]

Here, devout 12th century monk, have a man who looks like the incarnation of the devil! Even has his name.

Lucivar comes stalking across the grounds and notices Philip fairly quickly. He fans out his batlike wings and frowns, watching him draw nearer with intent wariness.

[priorphilip]

Philip stops. He's a practical man, first and foremost, and so he tries to make sense of what he sees. Perhaps he has been hit on the head harder than he thought at first.

Perhaps the man is an actor. In any case, it can never hurt to error on the side of charity.

"Good morrow," he offers.

[eyrienprince]

Lucivar looks him over with narrowed golden eyes. "Good morning." Carefully, but somewhat less wary. He doesn't seem dangerous.

[priorphilip]

"Might you tell me what town I am near? I fear that I cannot say with certainty where I've come from most lately."

[thetelltaleeyes]

Bast is walking in the woods this morning, and humming to himself under his breath, feeling oddly pleased. Noticing the man in front of him, he hesitates, but then strides to catch up with him. The dappled shadows make it harder to notice, but if Philip looks at his soft leather boots in the right light, there's definitely something odd about his shadow.

"You look a bit lost," he says, mildly, but still wary. After all, he could be carrying iron. Fae have to be careful.

[priorphilip]

He's not, in fact, carrying anything at present, so Bast need not worry. "I'm afraid I am, my son. I'm Prior Philip of Kingsbridge. What is this place?"

[thetelltaleeyes]

He's amused by the priest addressing him as a son. But it doesn't show, much. "It's called the Mansion. As to where, I don't know that anyone really knows."

[priorphilip]

"No one? That does seem odd. What town is near it?"

[ofthewildwolves]

He has a howl to warn him before Firekeeper comes bounding out of the woods and grabs a rabbit right in front of him, breaking its neck with a clean snap. There is a wolf in your path. Quite literally.

[priorphilip]

Philip freezes. He knows he can't outrun the creature, and that one should be so bold in broad daylight is a rather bad sign. It could be ill, or starving, and either way, it's best to back away very slowly.

[ofthewildwolves]

She picks it up, tail wagging, pleased with herself, and then notices Philip. She sits down and drops the rabbit, offers him a wolfish grin, and thumps her tail on the ground. Humans know what that means, right?

[priorphilip]

He does indeed recognize the wolf's mood, but is puzzled by it. Cautiously, he offers a hand for her to sniff, if she wishes.

[crimson_sugar]

Well, here you go, Father. A Victorian socially climbing prostitute, just for you.

A young woman might be wandering alone, around the mansion, smiling to herself for not apparently good reason.

Her dress is not suggestive - a typical Edwardian dress, that of a governess, or a young lady of lesser rank. She's a red-head, with bad skin - chapped lips and very, very dry hands, but the way she walks is suggestive.

[priorphilip]

"Good day, my child," he says. Her style of dress is certainly strange to him, but she seems friendly enough.

[crimson_sugar]

Sugar isn't big on religion - but she's taken the habit of keeping up appearances, ever since she became Sophie's guardian.

"Good day, Father," she says, replying by reflex. Oh. She pauses. He's not quite adequate to her period.

Being still new to the Mansion, she hasn't quite the hang of the whole mixed universes thing.

[priorphilip]

They must be near a town of some sort; she's well dressed, apparently unarmed, and walking alone. "Might you point me in the direction of the nearest village?"

[myrddin_wyllt]

It's not inconceivable that in his walking, Father Philip would come across an older man with long hair, a long beard, smoking a sweet-smelling pipe.

The old git is busy picking plants, muttering things to himself.

Father, meet Merlin. This should be interesting.

[priorphilip]

"Good morrow," Philip greets him respectfully, for his age if nothing else.

[myrddin_wyllt]

The wizard looks up. "Good morrow," he says, smiling friendlily. "Taking a walk, are we?" He tugs on his pipe.

[priorphilip]

"I'm afraid I'm a bit lost, in truth. I thought I had been taken captive, but it seems I find myself instead at liberty in a strange place."