| Logs |
2006 September 19
| Law |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
 |
| Realms: Law Logs |
The Adventure begins.
Circle-H Ranch, outside Phoenix, AZ, Present DayThe denizens of the Circle H have always been open to visitors and at the moment, they have a houseguest. Conary, the Elohite, is a being the Shateishael knew in Heaven and so when it came time for Conary to make its first trip to the corporeal plane, it alit on the ranch. The last few weeks have gone on as life usually does on the ranch, with the addition of Conary's trips just to see what it's like to experience the different sensations of having a Vessel.
Things have been as quiet as they ever really are when a household consists of a Malakite, a Seraph and a Mercurian.
Elisheba is wandering through the ranch, in a mellow mood after a late night at work and an early shower to remove the various smells associate with late night at a bar. She has donned a clean pair of pants and a shirt, and is still barefoot, hair still damp as she makes her way to the Dojo to do her morning meditation.
Conary sits very still on the western side of the house, dew drying on his clothes and hair. He'd been watching how the sunrise made the shadows move, and how the flora and fauna reacted on this side of the house.
Rosenstern for his part, has been up and around since before dawn. When nothing needs his attention in the city that morning, he follows his usual procedure as he is today. He starts out at the house, and moves in a widening spiral for several hours as he tends the plants and gardens, with one exception: he leaves the herb garden for last, considering what to make for dinner (if anything) and what herbs will be needed for it. Dawn always finds him in the flower garden, greeting the dawn in quiet meditation and prayer as the sun rises up over the hills to the east.
Shateishael is out in the forge in the cool of the night, his hammering a steady, rhythmic clang!tink... clang!tink... clang!tink... The brilliant glow of the forge fire behind him slowly grows less dramatic as dawn approaches, and he pauses and sets down the hammer long enough to greet the rising sun, "I am the Pronoia of the pure light; I am the thought of the undefiled spirit. Arise and remember, and follow your root, which is I." Then he shuts down and puts away his blacksmithing gear, and rinses off with a bucket of water from the well, so he can work out with Elisheba if she wishes.
Slate: big human male; looks about 20 to 25 years old; bright blonde hair tied back in a long, shaggy ponytail. Slightly sardonic grin most of the time; narrowed, sharply blue eyes and heavily tanned skin. Broad shouldered, with the strong, muscular arms and torso of a blacksmith. Moves deliberately, tends to wear pragmatic, sturdy clothing: heavy leather boots, jeans, flannel shirts if he must, stuff like that.
Shateishael strides into the dojo a few moments later, bowing politely at the door and then again at mat's edge, towards the altar. He's wearing just his usual comfortable, threadbare jeans. As he kneels on the edge of the mat he murmurs to Elisheba, "You want a partner today or no?"
Elisheba doesn't reply immediately, instead bowing to the altar in the dojo three times, then turning to bow to Slate with a smile crinkling the corners of her eyes. "I think a partner would be a very good thing, today."
While the ranch is slowly waking up, another angel across town is just settling down for a morning lounge in a wide beam of sunlight where it creeps across a threadbare but well-cleaned carpet. Devorael, in its large Maine Coon host, has been watching over Elysium, a no-kill shelter housed in a rambling old adobe house on one of the further outskirts of the city. The cats there are almost like a swarm and the Kyriotate finds it easy to surf through them when it must change hosts, but this ragged old ex-alley cat of a tom is its favorite.
Shateishael nods, then takes a moment to perform his own meditations as well. Once he's done, he'll be happy to work out with Elisheba in unarmed combat.
Elisheba does her stretches, enjoying the feel of her vessel in harmony, the slide of muscle and bone and skin, everything in its place. She moves near silently through the shared space, giving Slate the physical and mental space to be with the Source.
Devorael sighs happily and stretches, each toe extending. For I will consider my cat Jeoffrey, For he is the servant of the Living God duly and daily serving Him, it thinks happily. For in his morning orisons he loves the sun and the sun loves him.
As Devorael stretches, soaking up the sunlight, the front door of the shelter opens and a person walks in. It's a little early for the normal volunteers and the shelter's director is out of town for the week, helping with some cross-country rescue transportation. The person that enters is a dour-faced male of indeterminate years, dressed neatly in black BDU pants and a simple black t-shirt. He wanders through the shelter, examining the cats, one at a time, paying special attention to any with a long coat.
Devorael lifts its head and sniffs, trying to determine what kind of scent the man has. Something about the timing and the look has the tail slightly puffed out, and... how did he get in? Devorael slinks to the shadows carefully.
The man smells human, all the normal scents of skin and sweat and pheromones laced with something sharp and oily. Dark hair streaked with grey is cut into a simple buzz and blue eyes are creased at the corners with squinting. After several minutes of fruitless searching, he finally stands as central to the house as he can and says, "Devorael, which of these beasts is you?" He sounds less than happy to be addressing a house full of furry creatures.
Devorael lets its voice echo through about ten of the cats. Midnight fur and tawny, blue and green and copper eyes... all turn toward the visitor and voices Siamese through Persian begin to purr at once.
Rolling his eyes, the man crouches down, addressing the nearest one of the creatures, "Devorael, I have a charge for you." Taking a deep breath, he starts talking, the tone and rhythm of his words is of someone quoting or pronouncing something ritualistically, "As you owe a boon to the angel Dominic for his allowing his Cherub to intercede in the punishment of the poacher known as William Redmond, Dominic charges you to find suitable companions and contact the temporary Seneschal at his tether outside the city of Phoenix Arizona no later than twenty-four hours after receiving this charge."
Devorael blinks, slit pupils widening and then narrowing. The Maine Coon minces back into the sunlight, soft guard hairs making the tom appear to have its own halo. Then Devorael bows, one forepaw out, the other back toward the body, head lowering. Acceptance/acquiescence. But the beautiful tail is more than halfway puffed now, and the shoulders are somewhat hunched. The Kyriotate is a bit nervous, all right.
Dominic's messenger noticed the movement and studies the Maine Coon for a moment, "You accept the charge, Servitor of Jordi?"
Well, what else is it going to do? It does owe a favor, and one doesn't argue justice with Justice. Again the bow, and then a slow, deliberate nod in case the body language is missed.
With a bow of his own, the man stands, pulling a quarter-sized medal on a thong from one of his numerous pockets. He places it carefully on the floor in front of the cat, "Bring this as token of your identity. No more than twenty-four hours or you will be considered in breach of oath." With that, he turns and walks out of the house, closing the door with a decided clap.
Devorael regards the medal for a moment, then sighs. Pad, pad, pad over, and the thong is scraped up by a careful paw. A moment later, the tom has dragged it to an unobtrusive corner and managed to get it around his neck. Devorael looks out at the sun. 24 hours. Not much time. And... "Suitable" companions? Abruptly the Kyriotate begins to wish it had made a few more friends.
Devorael knows of the ranch on the outskirts of town, though it has never visited. The occupants are quite varied and have been known to give succor to any and all angels that need it. There are even rumours that the place has played host to demons, though how that could be true with the rumour that a Malakite of Michael resides there is a mystery.
The only place the Kyriotate would know to start finding out the ranch's exact location is at Fat Charlie's bar. If one wants to know something about the local angelic population, a bar run by an angel is the best place to start.
Devorael takes a deep breath. The ranch. Yes. Dangerous for a cat to try to find... perhaps somewhat less for a girl.
As Devorael ponders this, the very person that normally serves as its human legs appears. As she shoulders her way into the shelter, the teenager mutters about the lock looking scratched. Laura is loaded down with books and extra cat supplies as she starts her normal rounds, speaking to every single cat in the shelter, giving each of them a scritch or a stroke.
Devorael looks at Laura through copper eyes and pads over, medallion around his neck. He rubs against her ankles. She has work to do first.
The girl's rounds don't take long. For so young a human, she is quite devoted to taking care of the creatures she's volunteered to help.
Devorael slides in gently, as tenderly as it can. Then she takes the medal from the cat and carefully slides it on, tucking it under her clothes. A moment further, checking everything, before she leaves the shelter. She locks the door behind and heads for Laura's car. She drives carefully, as she likes this form of transportation much less than a good, bracing run. The bar is far enough away that time shouldn't be wasted.
Soon enough, she pulls up at the bar. There are cars outside, although only a few.
When she enters the bar, Charlie, the bar's proprietor and namesake is already at work cleaning glassware and tending to the few souls that have made their way in this early in the day.
Devorael hesitates a moment, but only a moment. The sun is climbing. She heads for Charlie and sits down a few stools down from everyone else.
The angel-cum-bartender makes his way down the bar toward Devorael's host. He is familiar with the girl as a host for the Kyriotate, and that is the only reason he's merely glowering slightly, "Not supposed to be in here, y'know." He states by way of introduction.
Devorael nods, understanding perfectly. "I didn't have another quick way, Charlie. Please forgive me. I'll be out of your fur as soon as I can... but I'm hoping you can give me a scent I... I mean, that you can start me on the right track for something."
Charlie crosses his massive arms across his chest, one eyebrow raised. Anyone that knows him recognizes this as his 'waiting for an explanation' pose.
Devorael takes a deep breath. "I was hoping you could help me find the ranch."
Charlie grunts quietly, "Need to hide?" He's often a being of few words and so the gruff, terse quality of the question is something also familiar.
Devorael shakes her head. "No. Hiding is the worst thing I could do right now. The trouble I'm in won't go away like that." She smiles, a shaky and nervous one. "But I think the farm is the place I need to go."
Another terse nod and Charlie pulls out a paper napkin. He sketches out directions to the Circle-H ranch with the added comment, "Tell 'em I vouch." Then he turns back to his other patrons, signaling to the angel in the underage vessel that it should leave.
Devorael murmurs "Thank you, Charlie. I won't forget." Then she does the thing she knows will make him happiest, which is coincidentally the right thing to do for Laura: she beats it out of there.
Devorael parses out the map once she's in the car and at the corner gas station, safely away from where she can get Charlie in trouble. She starts to follow the directions, aware of the sun mounting in the sky.
It takes some little time to get to the ranch, but the spread nearly radiates welcome. From the road, Devorael can see several large dogs of various breeds and non-breeds romping through a pasture, seeming to orbit a lovely large mare that trots and gallops by turns. There doesn't seem to be any real fences to enclose the animals aside from the fence along the perimeter of the parcel of land the Kyriotate can see.
Devorael is pleased to see the lack of fences. It's reassuring and she admires the mare, relishing the freedom in the horse's movement. The dogs look like they're playful rather than hunting, which also helps.
- Aletheia is a big mare, standing about 16 hands at the withers and with a flowing mane and tail. Her conformation is long-limbed and clean, and she carries herself with confidence and grace. Her coat is a beautiful testament to the breeding skills of the Comanche: mostly white with rich reddish-brown spots all over her body, clustering into a lovely mahogany roan across her rump. She bears a Medicine Hat pattern over her ears (one of which is slit), and her eyes are an eerie blue.
As the car starts to turn into the ranch's driveway, the horse's circuit seems to draw it close to the driveway, nostrils flaring and ears twitching at the unfamiliar vehicle and its occupant. Rosenstern, for his part, notices Thea moving from her normal daily exercise with the dogs and that lets him just barely notice the rumble of an engine pulling up the drive. Conary is nearer to the driveway itself and notices the car pulling in just a few moments after Thea starts to move toward it.
Conary stands, dusts off his slacks, and steps toward the driveway, watching the driver and how she drives.
Rosenstern blinks, as he notices Thea veering towards the driveway. He lifts himself up from the vegetable garden, now able to notice the rumble of the car, and he starts to head towards the forge and dojo, to let the two angels he's absolutely certain are in one or the other place know that they have visitors.
Devorael drives carefully, mindful of animals. Actually, very mindful of animals. Actually, almost ludicrously mindful of the goose in the driveway. She stops way farther down the driveway than most, parking there instead of honking the horn to get the bird to move. The look she turns to Thea is pure admiration.
The mare slows in her trot as the strange person emerges from the car, one ear flicking forward. She muses in a quite understandable voice, "You are not familiar." The tone is more just a statement than any sort of accusation. The dogs that have been orbiting her pile around Devorael's ankles, sniffing and snuffling, drinking in all the scents of strange cats. Conary is quick enough to catch the last couple of words.
Devorael offers a hand. "No... no, but looking at you, beautiful one, I'd sure like to be. You are magnificent." She leans forward and gently blows in the mare's nostrils, offering her breath, her scent, and her respect.
Conary, seeing that Aletheia had greeted the newcomer stood close enough to be part of the conversation, but not intruding if he wasn't wanted. He looks closely at the newcomer, and uses his Resonance.
Thea nickers approvingly, snuffling gently at the offered hand, "I'll go find my stallion and the rest of the herd." With that, she turns and trots off, trailing a little entourage of dogs, leaving Conary with the newcomer. The fact that the horse has left the two of you together shows something of her initial trust of Conary.
Conary thinks to himself, Since zi understands Thea, zi's not human. Zi wears nervousness like an unwelcome blanket.
Devorael sighs softly, watching the wise mare go. Then she looks up and spots Conary. The nervousness he sensed flares across her features. She's young-looking, and perhaps hasn't really learned to hide emotions yet. All she says is "Blessings..."
Conary says, "I'm Conary, I'm relatively new Here" and waits for her reaction to his introduction."
He's a slim, slightly androgynous young man, about in his middle twenties. He has unremarkable, regular, Caucasian features, short medium brown hair, no facial hair, and clear blue eyes. He wears khaki slacks, a purple T-shirt, brown leather shoes, and a simple cross on a gold chain.
Thea rounds the house and sees Rosie heading into the forge and dojo. Trotting over to him, "You're letting Bear and Elisheba know about the visitor?"
Rosenstern mms? looking up to Thea and nodding, smiling. "Yes, I thought I would get them once I saw the car pulling up. I take it she's all right?"
Thea tosses her head, "She understands me. She smells nervous... I think she needs help." With that, she leaves the angels to their business, though she doesn't stray far enough to lose sight of the front of the house.
Rosenstern blinks to Thea as she trots off. Understood Thea? Then she Listens to the Symphony. Not that that's unusual round here... He hurries his pace to the dojo, poking his head in there to see what state the two have gotten themselves into.
Devorael says, "I... I go by Deva. Some just call me Honey, though. I'm pretty new to these parts too... I sleep at the Softpaws shelter."
Conary notices he says she "goes by" Deva, and nods, asking, "What sort of place is your Softpaws Shelter?"
Devorael shows more animation. "It's a rescue organization. Really nice place, clean, smells good, good food, clean water, and sunlight. And toys."
Conary smiles, and says encouragingly, "It sounds quite nice. What do you do there, when you're not sleeping?"
Devorael laughs softly. "Mostly watch out for the cats... help some who need help wander that way. Keep them from getting hit by cars in the process."
Elisheba is, at the particular moment that Rosie sticks his head through the door, kissing floor. Arms splayed, legs bowed back, for the moment, in a remarkably uncomfortable position. She is about to do something remarkably clever to get out of this situation, just as soon as she figures out what that might be, when she sees Rosie looking full of news. She slaps the floor, and rights herself as the hold is released..
Conary says, "I would love to see this Shelter, if that would be an acceptable thing."
Shateishael is well-nigh lost in the graceful meditative ebb and flow of kata with Elisheba, his body moving reflexively in the martial dance with her. He's obviously an angel who enjoys the physicality of using his vessel, keeping it in good repair through constant, pleasant exercise. He releases Elisheba as soon as she slaps the floor, and rises easily into ready position. When he spots Rosenstern he steps back and bows politely to Elisheba, then towards the altar. After that he wipes his forehead, pushes back his mane of bright blonde hair, and raises an inquiring eyebrow at Rosenstern.
Devorael says, "I'd love to show you..." Her face clouds briefly. "Today might not be the day, though."
Conary says, "Whenever you have the time and inclination will be fine, thank you."
Rosenstern waits until the two angels are done, smiling faintly, hands tucked behind his back, "Sorry to interrupt," he says, "but we have a visitor. Thea already vetted her; in fact, she can understand Thea."
Elisheba bounces to her feet, then stretches comfortably, her mind, body and soul brimming with contentment after a good 'dance' with Slate. She bows in near-syncopation to him, then the altar. She makes no comment at the moment, simply listening as she wipes her brow with a handkerchief, then runs it through her short afro before returning it to her pocket.
Shateishael raises his eyebrows again... then nods, "Must be a new angel." He grins at Elisheba, "Enough for the day? Want to go say hi?"
Elisheba nods. "Good session, Slate. I was about to pull something brilliant, you know. Let's go meet the new kid.. "
Shateishael laughs, and pads out of the dojo, pausing only to bow properly at mat's edge and doorway. A moment later he's staring curiously down at the little girl, fists on his hips, his tangled blonde mane half falling into his eyes. With his usual tact and delicacy he rumbles, "Hey. Who're you?"
Devorael looks up...and up... at the big man. "I'm called Deva..." He must be the stallion. He has to be. "I know I've found the Circle H. Does the mare look to you?"
Shateishael says, "Who, Aletheia? Yah, she's my lead mare." He narrows blue eyes thoughtfully, "She said you smell nervous and might need help. You need a place to hide?"
Rosenstern has padded up quietly, and even if he's been here for about as long as the ranch has been around, he still remains respectfully to the side a little. This is pretty much Slate's show, and tact or not, Slate is the one who can Ask a question and get the Truth.
Devorael hesitates, for just the briefest moment. Then she answers. "Hiding is what my instinct says, but that would do no good and be wrong besides. No. I've been told to find suitable companions and then go see Dominic's Seneschal shortly after dawn tomorrow. And... I don't know where to turn. So here I am... for companions, or for advice, or even for sympathy, I suppose."
What the girl says has no brassy note of lie to it, and even Slate and Elisheba can feel that the nervousness is running high.
Shateishael frowns and raises an eyebrow, folding his arms. "Hmf. You one of Justice's? What'll you be dragging companions into?"
Rosenstern scowls softly a little. "Scheisse. Domini canes."
Devorael shakes her head. "One of Jordi's." Which explains a lot, really. "But... One of Dominic's helped me a while back. And so, Justly, I must repay."
Conary raises an eyebrow at his fellows' distaste for Dominic's servitors, but doesn't comment.
Devorael leaves the "or else" off.
Conary says, "I would be happy to assist you, if I can be of use.""
Shateishael sighs, "Ah, poor kid. Yeah, you got my sympathy at least." He's silent a moment, absently watching two of the ranch dogs tumble back and forth in play... then he looks back at the girl, "Any idea what kinda help you need? Fighters, strategists, face-men, what?"
Rosenstern silences himself; he needs to keep his opinions of Dominic's to himself. They have their place and he shouldn't be so harsh, but... well. He needs to keep his opinions to himself. He looks up at the mention of Deva needing help, and listens carefully.
Devorael shakes her head. "The messenger didn't see fit to tell me. And... I was too surprised, really, to ask."
Shateishael tilts his head curiously, "Why surprised?"
Shateishael rumbles with a mix of amusement and distaste, "They always call due their debts."
Elisheba clears her throat at Rosie's comment, her mouth compressed a little at the corners, though whether that is in disapproval or entertainment is hard to tell. She makes no comment, thus far, being content to let it play out.
Shateishael remembers the Tether, although he's never been himself -- a small museum in a ghost town, dedicated to methods of Old West execution. They even have a real gallows from Tombstone erected in one of the rooms, as he recalls. Kinda... morbid, he thinks.
Rosenstern blinks, and then frowns as he thinks about what the Justice tether is, then shivers. And he was grousing about Slate not having tact? The Justice tether defines 'lack of tact.' And taste. Sending someone -- anyone, angel or human -- there is tantamount to a sin in his book.
Devorael says, "I know. But I didn't expect so soon, or so..." She lifts her hands and lets them fall helplessly. "I keep quiet, I work with the furred and clawed ones in need, here in this hot place. Who am I to understand them? I might be the worst one to even try. Animal justice is not the same."
Shateishael waves a hand, "Ah, doesn't matter, and you're right -- animals make more sense. Either you're young, or Justice is makin' an example of you. Okay. D'you hafta wait until tomorrow dawn, or can we head out now and get this over with?" He considers, then adds, "Not promisin' nothin', but I'll at least listen to whatever they want." He turns towards the house, adding, "Any of y'all wanna come too?"
Rosenstern nods a little. "I'm pretty sure Mutter would want someone of hers to help," he says gently. "I'll go, as well. You won't be going alone at all."
Shateishael nods to Rosie, "Suit up, then, for th'bike. Kid, whasyername, Deva, that's it -- can you give Conary a ride?"
Elisheba nods. "Sounds like a plan."
Conary says, "Do you need to make arrangements before going to the Tether? Can I help with that?""
Devorael says, "I'm not asking for promises. I got myself into it... and I've been around too many cats not to understand solitude. But... I also have been bees, and I feel better for the companionship. Thank you. I need to take this Vessel back to town... she has school and work to do. If... if you'd come with me, I'd like that. A lot."
Shateishael pauses and nods, "''Kay. You wanna have us all meet there at dawn tomorrow, then?"
Devorael says, "Please, yes. Thank you. I appreciate it."
Shateishael nods, "You got it. I'll arrange with Thea to take care of things while we're gone, in case it takes a while."
Shateishael heads off to talk quietly with the big mare.
Devorael smiles, a real smile. "She's special. I'm honored to have met her." She takes a deep breath and turns to Conary. "Do you need to get anything?"
Conary says, "No, I just have what's with me. I'm ready now"
Devorael nods and opens the car door, unlocking the passenger side. She settles in and starts the engine. No, she's not the most comfortable driver in Phoenix... or even within a hundred yards. But she does appear to be at least competent.
The Kyriotate and the Elohite head out to take care of the girl's life, leaving the ranch's normal denizens to their own devices and to talk amongst themselves about helping the strange celestial.
Shateishael comes back after the car leaves, Thea pacing quietly by his side. He leans against her, one arm across her shoulders, "Huh. Wonder what Justice is yankin' her chain for."
Elisheba says, "Well, it doesn't bode well. For Dominic to pull out the geas right off without trying to get something for, well, not nothing but perhaps a little less than a full on geas seems to me to be a bad sign, indeed. Even Dominic pretends he has a velvet glove to go with the iron hand. "
Shateishael nods a touch glumly, still speculatively watching the empty cattle guard. "Yeah. Wonder what we're gettin' ourselves into." He sighs, then adds quietly, "Rosie, you remember that kaiken I made for you, for self-defense? 'M thinkin' you might wanna bring it along with you on this... 'n we might wanna be sure Conary has a sword too."
Rosenstern makes a quiet sound. "It's abrupt, yes, but I don't think it's a test of her. And I don't think that Justice has that much of an in with Destiny that they could predict she would go to us and drag us into it. Which tells me that Justice is serious about this but she, and none of us, are any sort of target of their gerichtliche Untersuchung. Which isn't necessarily comforting, but at least we don't have a tribunal hanging over us." He nods solemnly to Shateishael. "I'll... bring it, sure. Even if it isn't a Dominican trap it's still not going to be fun, I doubt." He sighs and rubs his head. "I was going to try to convince them to change the tether into something other than a gallows museum...."
Shateishael grins down at Rosenstern, "Translate, man!"
Rosenstern says, "Mmm? Oh. Sorry. Gerichtliche Untersuchung. Inquisition."
Shateishael makes a face, looking back towards where the car left, "Yeah. Ain't that the way of it." He shifts with Thea's grazing, then glances at Elisheba, "You wanna come, Elli?"
Elisheba says, "I wouldn't miss it. The fine hand of Dominic? It's sure to prove interesting, come what may, and sounds apt to involve me anyway so I may as well have a front row seat while I am at it. "
Shateishael snorts amusedly, "Yeah, fine." He grins at the Malakite, adding, "Well, maybe we'll all be lucky and it's something simple, right?" His tone shows he doesn't believe it either.
Elisheba nods, "And I am totally holding my breath on that one. Dominic is allergic to simple, and I am packing the bat."
Shateishael nods a touch grimly at that. He's silent a moment, then mutters, "Wonder if the Seneschal's willin' to talk to folks on th' phone about this..."
Elisheba shrugs. "Think it'd hurt to ask?"
Rosenstern considers. "They said they want her to go there in person. I suspect they'd be polite but pretty firm about it. Still, can't hurt to ring them up."
Elisheba says, "I am betting that if anything at all would work, it's going to be something called a subtle approach. As I don't have one of those, I think I'll bow out of the phone work. "
Shateishael grins at Rosie, knowing he's the most likely to be most 'humanly' dressed, "Got your cell on you, flower child?"
Rosenstern smiles wryly, and nods, taking out the phone. "I'll see what I can get from them, sure."
Shateishael says, "Thanks, guy. If nothin' else, it'd be nice to know if we should be packin' for bear or not."
Shateishael considers a moment longer while Rosie dials, then slaps one hand companionably on Thea's shoulder, "Hey, pretty lady... if we're gonna be a while, you want a set of hands to help out?"
Rosenstern nods, as he dials the number to the museum/Tether.
Thea nuzzles at Slate's shoulder, a tone of worry in her voice, as she sometimes gets when thinking her herd may off to do something overly dangerous, "I may need hands to assist with feeding the smaller animals."
Shateishael smiles, his face warming as he rubs gently under her cheek bones, "You got it, sweetheart. I'll see if Ian and Bella are free, once Rosie's done."
When Rosie calls the museum/tether, the phone is answered by a gruff male voice, the sort that sounds as if the person using it has been smoking big black cigars every day for several millennia. "Dry Gulch museum. He'p ya?"
Rosenstern resists the urge to cough spontaneously. "Hi. I'm Rosie, from the Circle-H. Someone came by to tell us they'd been sent around there tomorrow morning, and we thought we'd go with her there. We were wondering what we-all should be expecting? So we can pack appropriately, that is."
The voice on the other end of the line grunts, "Ya'll are what the Kyriotate chose for suitable companions, huh? Well, I'd say y'won't need to pack too heavy for the mornin'. That's all I can say about it, though." And with that, the phone is hung up in Rosie's ear.
Rosenstern blinks. "Was zum Truffel? Arrgh." Shaking his head, he puts away the phone. "He said we don't need to pack too heavy and wouldn't say a word more." He adds, muttering, "Der Wichtigtuer."
Elisheba laughs. "Seems he was positively chatty."
Shateishael rolls his eyes, "Trust Justice to make everyone feel at ease. Not."
Shateishael scowls a moment, considering... then brightens and adds, "Hey, Rosebud, loan me your cell a moment?"
Rosenstern says, "I feel sorry for the Friends of Man in service to Justice," as he stands. "Still, they'd never lie. So we probably shouldn't need to be loaded for bear." This pleases him. He prefers situations which don't descend into Calabite-induced violence.
Shateishael accepts the cell from Rosie, then leans his back against Thea's sturdy warmth and considers. Bella, he thinks -- there shouldn't be any danger in this, so he won't worry about her and Thea while he's gone. He dials the number, his expression unwittingly lightening.
The phone rings several times before it's answered and even then, it sounds like Bella drops it before finally answering, "Rosie?"
Shateishael grins, rumbling, "Hey, beautiful. It's me, Slate. You busy?"
The Bright laughs and there's shifting as she apparently tries to settle the phone somehow, "I've got my hands covered in slip from getting some things ready for the kiln, but it's not too time critical. How are you doing, honey?" In the decades since her Redemption, Bella has become a skilled and dedicated potter.
Shateishael absently scritches Thea's withers, leaning on her back as he talks, "Doin' okay, thanks. Listen, was wonderin'... you free for maybe a coupla days, startin' tomorrow at dawn? Th' lot of us are gonna be helpin' out a little Kyrio who's new to the area an' got geased by Justice. Might be a bit, dunno. Thea was wonderin' if you could hang out here for a bit, help her take care of feedin' th' smaller animals?"
Shateishael adds hopefully, "And if you want, after, I'd be happy to, uh, take you out to dinner an' somethin' if you want?"
Shateishael mentally crosses his fingers he got that right. Dinner and... and... what was it? Theatre? Movie? Museum? Did Bella say she liked all of those?
On the other end of the call, Bella sounds slightly amused, "Dinner and something, hm? And a chance to spend time with my favorite four-legged person? I suppose I could let you twist my arm... and you won't even owe me one." The last is an old familiar joke, dating back to almost the moment she met the big Seraph.
Rosenstern is trying desperately, desperately to not say a word through this exchange, let alone let any sort of amusement show. He's going to totally behave around the Seraph. Absolutely. He will be the soul of solemnity.
Elisheba purses her lips, clearly some tongue biting going on behind them.
Shateishael grins, "Aw, not one? Hm... does that mean I owe you two?"
Shateishael adds cheerfully, "If you come over tonight, Rosie's makin'... um... hang on a moment..." He turns to ask the Mercurian, "Hey, what's for dinner?"
The sound of the phone shifting goes on for a moment, "Depends on if you're owing me favors or orgasms, sweetheart." The impish grin is clearly audible. Sometimes the Bright delights in seeing what sort of reaction she can wring out of the sweet but often clueless Slate.
Rosenstern provides as if he's expecting the answer, "Rosemary cordon bleu--" He considers that there's a Jordite on the ranch at the moment. "Uhm, rosemary eggplant parmigiana and vegetarian seven-herb pasta."
Bella continues on as if she never made the first lewd comment, "And I'm always up for Rosie's cooking. The man could boil shoe leather and it would come out delicious. It'll take me a couple of hours to get these pitchers fired and I'll head down."
Shateishael blinks a bit startledly at what he's hearing over the phone, then grins and replies on the phone. "Okay, pretty lady, whichever gets you to come over tonight -- I accept. Rosie says rosemary eggplant parmigiana and uhm, vegetarian seven-herb pasta, I think?" He chuckles, adding, "You oughta know by now Rosie blushes better'n me."
Shateishael chuckles again, and repeats Bella's compliment for Rosenstern.
Rosenstern mimes an elaborate, and genuine, bow in response to the compliment
Shateishael grins and lets Bella know Rosenstern appreciates the compliment, then asks, "You wanna drive yourself, or for me to come get you?"
Elisheba rubs her tummy. "Mmmmm, mmm, mmm... a good dinner AND a little entertainment, who can beat it?" She throws a grin over her shoulder to Slate and Rosie as she heads off to her quarters
There's another laugh, "I can either drive myself down in my little rickety Toyota or you can come get me on the bike... do you really even have to ask?"
Shateishael snorts amusedly at Elli, then grins again, delighted at the prospect of getting some time alone with the Bright, "Uhm, well, yeah, Rosie says it's polite to ask. 'kay, I'll see you soon!"
Bella chuckles, it seems she's laughing half the time, "I'll see you in a couple of hours then. I'll have my helmet and my overnight bag ready." With that, she drops the phone back into the cradle and goes to finish up glazing the pottery to be put in the kiln.
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