There's a man hidden in the shadows of a nearby building who snaps to attention when the horse shows up. The recon he was doing can be done later, but here-- well, a fantastic opportunity has dropped directly into his lap. When he bet Enfys that they could race bike to horse if only he could find an appropriate steed, he didn't expect it to be so easy to do the latter. But when opportunity presents itself...
...Well. Hannibal stands slowly, hands at his sides, and makes low and comforting noises as he steps towards the horse. "All right, all right. Chaaa, chaa-- com'ere, pal." This is going to be embarrassing later. "Come on."
What's this now? Anyone who knows something about equine body language can read "noncommittal" in the horse's posture and attitude. He doesn't com'ere, but he doesn't move away either. Instead he drags one hoof against the ground as he looks the man over.
(He's making a careful inspection for any signs of tack, actually. Some chances Tadhg will not take, in the Nexus or out of it, and he has no intention of winding up haltered through carelessness.)
Seeing nothing to worry him in the man's hands, the horse flicks his small ears back and forth and nickers softly, maybe enquiringly.
This is good! This is... better than getting kicked in the face, or charged, or completely ignored. It is even better than having the stallion rear, turn, and disappear as quickly and unexpectedly as he arrived. No, no tack on the man-- just a smell of warm leather, motor oil, and cigars.
Hannibal's hands, first at his sides, now spread entreatingly. Nothing in them. "Heeeere, boy. Com'ere..." His voice is low, his posture wouldn't frighten a twitchy mouse-- he takes a few more slow, easy steps. It's pretty obvious he has no idea this is anything but a horse. "I'm just going to come and say hello, okay? Good boy."
Hello indeed. The horse still doesn't approach. Instead he extends his nose toward the man, inhaling his scent before blowing out a gusty, pleasantly grass-scented exhale. His tail swishes as though flicking away a fly; he seems the very picture of horsey unconcern.
Watching his approach, Tadhg wonders how much the man knows about horses. It's a fair bet that he knows nothing about púca.
Laura is a city girl, but she's also a lot more friendly towards animals than people: animals don't make stupid comments or judgements or expect her to be a healthy person.
She stands stock-still, not knowing what you do in this situation, and holds her hand out. "Hey, horse."
Privacy to change may be hard to come by, but the company so far seems pleasant enough. This time the horse comes forward, reaching to brush the woman's hand with his nose and nickering a greeting. She's obviously no horsewoman, so he takes care to move gradually, nothing in his manner to startle or alarm. Hello there, I'm a nice horse, really.
"Ain't fussy, are you?" She keeps her hands out, and rubs the velvety-softness of his nose when he touches her. "Ain't shy, either. You musta got away from somebody. You hoping for a handout?"
A-heh. Got away from someone, yes, but not in quite the way the lady means. Let's just say there was a reason he was running all-out when he arrived.
He's safe here though, or at least safer. He knows the Nexus is far from danger-free. Eyes half-lidded in contentment, he presses his nose more firmly against the hand petting it and gives a mellow grunt.
One of the things that should not be in Agora are childrens with baseball bats. However, regardless of any 'where are your parents' responses she'll get, Mabel is nonetheless here, and she nonetheless has a baseball bat resting on her shoulder.
Not that she plans on hitting anybody with it unless they try to eat her, but it's better to be safe than sorry. She greets this display of embarrassment with a look of knowing; she can tell what you are, and she's not impressed.
The baseball bat barely rates a glance from the horse, but the girl herself is another matter. Tadhg can also tell a variety of things by looking at a person, and what he sees in the child has him tilting his head and snorting thoughtfully.
Still, he's seen stranger things in the Nexus, and perhaps she has as well. Manners being important to his kind, he bobs his head politely at the girl and offers a mellow rumble of a greeting.
"I'm not petting you," she remarks (much too loudly, that talent that all kids have). The bat stays on her shoulder. It's not so much a threat at the moment as it is a 'just in case' measure. "That would be creepy."
A very long time has passed in the mortal world since a púca could transform in front of a human without risking a vigorously negative reaction. Which fact explains why it has taken Tadhg this long to rethink his usual careful concealment of his nature. After all, if a place exists where most people wouldn't bat an eye at a horse changing into a man, the Nexus is it.
The horse rears up on its hind legs. Its body dissolves into a shimmer of white fire that gives off no heat, or a cloud of sparkling snow with no cold. Shrinking, it resolidifies into the form of a tall, dark-haired man. "By all means, cailín," Tadhg chuckles, "let us avoid being creepy."
One of that vanishingly small number is presently seated in the agora, using some of her precious free hours to pen correspondence and listen to the bustle of multiversal activity. Lonán, as ever, stands not far from her with a placid look on his face that doesn't wholly disguise the hint of amusement he's currently enjoying at Tadhg's expense.
The princess doesn't look up from her writing to greet him, her mind to his.
With another, softer snort, the horse lifts its head to catch the familiar scent of she who sent the thought. Once he determines which direction to turn, he treats those in the Agora to the spectacle of a horse bowing deeply to a lady of the Tuatha Dé Danann. The centaur has bodyguard written all over him, and so gets a polite nod of acknowledgment as well.
- Good day to you, lady Nuala. My apologies for the abrupt entrance. I don't normally come here by accident, you see. -
- Your presence needs no apology. - Nuala looks up, then, with a smile for his equine bow. Evidently she sees nothing out of place in carrying on a conversation with a púca in this form, setting her pen down and resting her chin in her hand as she takes the opportunity to acquaint herself with the side of Tadhg she's never seen for herself before. - No, indeed, I'm pleased to see you. Are you well, besides? -
It might be a bit early days to assume that the centaur won't have any objections to the púca approaching his charge, but Tadhg takes the risk and does so anyway. Besides, he doubts the bhean uasail would have a bodyguard who didn't know his business.
- The pleasure is mine - Along with a bit of discomfiture, but that's his own fault. - I'm quite well, hasty retreat from the Borderlands notwithstanding. I don't think I've ever landed in this part of the Nexus before. -
It seems that most people new to Xanadu make their way to the agora eventually. Jeff is no different. He doesn't understand much of Xanadu but he's heard that this is the place to find answers. Not that he has any specific questions in mind of course.
He drums his hands against his chest as he walks, kicking the ground at random intervals. When he enters the amphitheater Jeff stops in his tracks and drops his hands to his sides. His eyes immediately focus on the horse. At times being a werewolf has its advantages and he uses them to sniff the air in investigation of his hunch. He squints through an eye while surveying the stallion and hopes that it can understand him.
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...Well. Hannibal stands slowly, hands at his sides, and makes low and comforting noises as he steps towards the horse. "All right, all right. Chaaa, chaa-- com'ere, pal." This is going to be embarrassing later. "Come on."
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(He's making a careful inspection for any signs of tack, actually. Some chances Tadhg will not take, in the Nexus or out of it, and he has no intention of winding up haltered through carelessness.)
Seeing nothing to worry him in the man's hands, the horse flicks his small ears back and forth and nickers softly, maybe enquiringly.
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Hannibal's hands, first at his sides, now spread entreatingly. Nothing in them. "Heeeere, boy. Com'ere..." His voice is low, his posture wouldn't frighten a twitchy mouse-- he takes a few more slow, easy steps. It's pretty obvious he has no idea this is anything but a horse. "I'm just going to come and say hello, okay? Good boy."
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Watching his approach, Tadhg wonders how much the man knows about horses. It's a fair bet that he knows nothing about púca.
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She stands stock-still, not knowing what you do in this situation, and holds her hand out. "Hey, horse."
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He's safe here though, or at least safer. He knows the Nexus is far from danger-free. Eyes half-lidded in contentment, he presses his nose more firmly against the hand petting it and gives a mellow grunt.
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Not that she plans on hitting anybody with it unless they try to eat her, but it's better to be safe than sorry. She greets this display of embarrassment with a look of knowing; she can tell what you are, and she's not impressed.
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Still, he's seen stranger things in the Nexus, and perhaps she has as well. Manners being important to his kind, he bobs his head politely at the girl and offers a mellow rumble of a greeting.
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The horse rears up on its hind legs. Its body dissolves into a shimmer of white fire that gives off no heat, or a cloud of sparkling snow with no cold. Shrinking, it resolidifies into the form of a tall, dark-haired man. "By all means, cailín," Tadhg chuckles, "let us avoid being creepy."
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One of that vanishingly small number is presently seated in the agora, using some of her precious free hours to pen correspondence and listen to the bustle of multiversal activity. Lonán, as ever, stands not far from her with a placid look on his face that doesn't wholly disguise the hint of amusement he's currently enjoying at Tadhg's expense.
The princess doesn't look up from her writing to greet him, her mind to his.
- Hello, Tadhg. -
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- Good day to you, lady Nuala. My apologies for the abrupt entrance. I don't normally come here by accident, you see. -
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- Your presence needs no apology. - Nuala looks up, then, with a smile for his equine bow. Evidently she sees nothing out of place in carrying on a conversation with a púca in this form, setting her pen down and resting her chin in her hand as she takes the opportunity to acquaint herself with the side of Tadhg she's never seen for herself before. - No, indeed, I'm pleased to see you. Are you well, besides? -
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- The pleasure is mine - Along with a bit of discomfiture, but that's his own fault. - I'm quite well, hasty retreat from the Borderlands notwithstanding. I don't think I've ever landed in this part of the Nexus before. -
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He drums his hands against his chest as he walks, kicking the ground at random intervals. When he enters the amphitheater Jeff stops in his tracks and drops his hands to his sides. His eyes immediately focus on the horse. At times being a werewolf has its advantages and he uses them to sniff the air in investigation of his hunch. He squints through an eye while surveying the stallion and hopes that it can understand him.
"So how do you change back?"
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