oo3 ∞ i'm on your side when nobody is, 'cause nobody is [ location: the forest ]
Near where Solomon dozed off a few hours earlier, dappled with light coming through the thin gaps that still exist in the frame of what will be his home here, Ambrose stirs.
It would be more accurate to say that he tries not to stir, finding himself in something like peace and clinging determinedly to the dissipating sleep as a balm over his ( Read more... )
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Leila comes to see Sol when she decides it's worth braving the swirling rumors of 'trouble' all over, in a red dress buttoned up the front, surprisingly low boots (only three inches of heel), tying her hair back into a braid as she makes her way into the half-done house. She comes through the doorway absent-mindedly, so used to the presence here that she barely pays any mind to the difference in it, saying, "Sol, I thought you were going to be by an hour ago, did you get distracted by trees again--"
That sentence continues until she glances up and sees him, hands still at her hair for a frozen instant, eyes wide, and then she drops them down to her sides. Leila goes stock-still in the doorway, head tilted to one side. Your move, stranger, because she would love to hear who the hell you are.
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It must be said that Ambrose doesn't provide the best of first impressions. Accumulated grime, sweat and dried or drying blood lends him a certain unpleasant stench - he might be used to it by this point, but Leila presumably isn't - and Sol's clothing (trousers, a shirt that was probably clean this morning, shoes by the doorway) hangs loose on his wasted frame. It takes him longer than he likes to register her and react, but his reaction is shockingly minimal.
"Hang me, I've gone mad," he says to no one in particular, the voice right and the accent all wrong, and then he turns his attention steadfastly away from her.
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It's not great, but it's not worse than being around certain chemists of her acquaintance back in Baltimore, and she's rather distracted, at the moment. Leila hears him speak, and though the accent is wrong, yes, she knows his voice by this point. She presses a hand to her mouth, quietly processing the sight of Solomon like this, clearly wrecked, clearly having undergone pretty thorough torture, because that's more staggering than anything else. But she can't stay like this for long, so she moves forward, one hand balanced against the wall.
"You haven't, actually, this--it happens to people, sometimes, they turn up here in this city unexpectedly. Sort of like magic," she says, quietly, that last part half-to herself, and then takes another step forward.
"I don't know what's happened to you, and I'm not going to ask questions, but you need medical treatment."
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"It'd have to be, now, wouldn't it." 'Magic', that is; Ambrose's tone is bitter and despite himself he flinches when she moves toward him, his attention unwillingly drawn back to her, flat and unfriendly. He can't quite bring himself to trust this, his wariness pronounced even as he can't really do much to prevent her if she keeps moving.
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So there she is, standing among confused trees with a sack waiting for whatever this is going to be today. Because if the chatter is anything to go by something is wrong.
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The man who emerges - shirtless, his hair damp from the shower that he's had about three of so far just for the sheer joy of being clean - from the greenhouse's attached living space isn't expecting to see River. She probably isn't expecting to see him, either, his lean frame emaciated and a host of scars that couldn't have come overnight; over his heart, a crucifix that must have been burned in with steel. At least he'll be thoroughly unpalatable to the vampires bothered by Christ.
He cocks his head at River; she looks like she's supposed to be here, and he can feel how the fussy foliage reacts, even if he doesn't entirely understand it.
"Do you know me, girl?"
He is what's wrong.
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Leila follows him out of the greenhouse, in ballet flats and what approximates casual for her (red sweater, skirt), pausing when she sees River. Not for the first time recently, she feels thoroughly out of the loop, but Ambrose seems equally confused, and so she assumes this has something to do with Solomon.
She feels comfortable blaming him, harmlessly, for all sorts of things, at least while he's not there to argue with her. (Sort of, anyway.)
So. She'll wait and see how this plays out, saying nothing for now.
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"Yes," is her only answer to him as she turns back. "You're early."
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So far, Ambrose has managed to resist the temptation that is the lake by his forming house; he has not managed to resist the impulse to go fishing with a small spear and a lot of patience. (The hatch is unnerving, all right?)
...he is, therefore, not thrilled by Hermes's appearance - sir, you are startling the fish. It's with a resigned expression that the thin, scarred man looks up at Hermes, his shirt hanging loose on his emaciated body and his lighter, longer hair and beard not entirely obscuring the uncanny resemblance to Solomon Koenig.
"Well met," he says, dryly.
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Leila is perfectly aware that Ambrose is presently evading her, and that's fine--but she eventually starts to worry, an hour or two in, and comes looking for him. She pauses a little ways away from the man himself and Hermes, too, when she spots him, her hands tucked into her jacket pockets, since it's cool enough to warrant wearing one.
"I didn't realize the forest was so popular," she says, dryly.
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