Goblin Town -- Logs

The next day, the former mercenary waits quietly in the room he's been given. He's reading one of the books on Celtic mythology he picked up in Galway. When Quinn knocks on the door and enters when he's bid, Veles stands. Quinn says, "Jaeger tells me you were part of a force to invade and wipe out his trod." He's smiling as he says it. Relaxed, cheerful... companionable.

Veles nods and replies, "Yes. I was blinded by money and had no idea it was a trod. It had been many years since my father took me away fro...." He pauses, eyes widening as he realizes that he was about to happily tell Quinn some very personal things. Perhaps unsurprisingly, despite this realization Veles does eventually end up happily chatting about many things to Quinn... including the smok.

Later, after she too has been interviewed by Quinn, Spice sees Cinnamon making a restroom run. She blinks at the young dragon and speaks quietly, laughing a little, "You know... he's not fuckin' putting it this way, but Quinn's a goddamn king! Does that make Shane Prince Bloody Charming?"

Cinnamon pushes her glasses up a bit as she nods bemusedly to Spice... then says slowly, "Yeah... and it keeps changing. First I hear he's just the trod's guardian -- like Shane watches out for folks on Coblyn Street. Then, next, I hear he's the chieftain but the elders are more important than him... then he's actually the trod's decision-maker, not the elders... and now he's the king. It's... a little creepy!" She sighs as she adds, "I've been getting the same thing, but slightly less, about Shane too -- though to be fair, it's never him doing the building up."

Cinnamon twists her fingers together worriedly as she adds, "I... really don't know what to make of it, honestly. I... well, initially I thought I was doing something nice for Shane, you know? Trying to figure out who murdered his grandfather, trying to maybe get him some closure and weregild for his trod, at the same time as I was figuring out who murdered my many-greats grandsire too. Now, though... I'm starting to wonder if coming here was really a good idea -- considering how... well, how leery Quinn seems of us all. Is there someone he's maybe protecting? Or what?" She glances wryly at Spice as she adds, "It's not helping my nerves any that he's apparently saving me for last, either!"

Aisling is walking down the hallway where Cinnamon and Spice stand and chat. She raises an eyebrow at Spice, "Shane as Prince Charming?" She looks thoughtful for a moment, then says, "Well, he's good with his mouth, but I don't think it would raise the dead?"

Cinnamon blinks... then turns bright red -- and precipitously flees for her room!

Quinn is fairly efficient in his conversations with the visiting group, and with his particular knack he manages to decant quite a bit of useful knowledge in a short time. When he reaches Thorn he spends a bit of extra time -- he isn't shy about admitting that he'd be very appreciative if the healer would spend some time with one or two of the trod members. "Nothing serious, ye ken. Just small things -- but we obviously can't go to a doctor and we don't have a full-blown healer here."

Sometime later there's a knock on the door of the room Cinnamon is staying in. There's enough space in the trod for everyone (or each couple) to have their own room, after all, and there was passing mention that the population of the trod used to be larger. The rooms aren't luxuriant; what they are is absolutely comfortable and cozy. The floors are rug-covered, and the walls draped with tapestries and draperies. Cinnamon's has a single bed made of well-oiled oak that's been pegged together and has an actual featherbed on it. The blankets and quilts are thick and soft, and there's a wooden chest against the foot of the bed, along with an old-fashioned washstand against the wall.

Cinnamon has been pacing nervously -- in between bouts of firmly reassuring herself that she's fine and there's nothing wrong... and having to head off to the composting toilets! Admittedly, there's a chamberpot in her room, but it makes her feel squidgy to think Quinn might interrogate her in a stinky room -- so instead she makes the hike way off from the living quarters to where the composting toilets are. If nothing else, the hike helps her calm down a little bit!

At the knock, Cinnamon jumps startledly -- then squeaks, "C'min! Uh, I mean, I'm here! Oh, bother... you can come in, please!" She stands still, nervously twisting her fingers together and staring huge-eyed at the door. She's given a lot of thought by now as to what to tell Quinn... she just hopes he doesn't shout at her or anything. Her boss at her accounting job knows not to leave her alone with people like that (like angry clients) since they tend to make her cry... but unfortunately her boss isn't here right now. So she firmly reminds herself once more: she is a great, big, dangerous dragon! She is not going to cry!

She just... wishes she really believed that right now...

Quinn is smiling as he opens the door -- he's been warned by his son that Cinnamon can get nervous, and he's also picked it up from the others he's spoken with. The beansidhe chieftain is carrying a small tray on which sit a teapot, two cups, and obvious sugar and cream containers, "Josie told me you like tea."

Cinnamon blinks startledly at the tea, completely floored -- what's Quinn doing?! He... he's not supposed to be nice... is he? She stares confusedly at the sidhe, and it's only when the silence gets rather awkward that she remembers: a response would be polite! "Uh! Oh, uh... um, right! Yes! I do!" She rushes over to the chest to clear her duffel off it so there's a place for Quinn to put down the tray, almost babbling in her slightly frenzied state, "Yes, it, uh, it's lovely! Here, let me, uh... wait," she tosses the duffel onto the bed as she adds, "put it here?" As her clothes spill out onto the bed and the floor in an untidy mess she adds frustratedly, "Ooh...! Crab cakes! I... uh, y-you know what, I, um, I'll..." she hastily shoves the clothes under the bed with one foot, "er, g-get that later, y-yeah -- sorry! Sorry!"

Quinn waits for Cinnamon to finish being flustered. He smiles as he waits, but he doesn't laugh and he doesn't tease her. What he mostly does is hold the tray until there's a spot for it to be set down. Once that's done, he looks around the room and says, "We should get you a chair for in here."

Cinnamon straightens abruptly again, almost wringing her hands as she glances around worriedly... oh, right! Right -- she was going to state things quickly and clearly, so Quinn wouldn't have to use his knack-thingie on her, and she wouldn't end up babbling stuff that'd make her feel humiliated! "What was I... ah! Right! So, uh... right!" She darts over to the unused washstand, picking up the print-outs she'd left ready there -- the ones she'd made regarding the conspiracy -- for the folk of the Trod of the Elm. Holding them out to Quinn at arm's length, she adds, "H-here! Here, these, er, they... ah, they explain it all!" The corner edges of the pages are visibly trembling as she hastily blurts out, "B-but, uhm... short version? Ahh... so K-killian, umm... hang on, please..." She pauses, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath... then another... then one more. Finally she sighs a bit and opens her eyes again. While she doesn't look quite so nervously frenetic, she's still obviously way too tightly wound!

Quinn moves so he can lean against a wall, giving Cinnamon plenty of room. He starts to reach out for the pages, but then takes his hand back when she starts to speak: "Okay. Okay. So..." She's careful to just stare at the printouts -- she understands them! They hold all the nice, solid, dependable numbers. "Right. So Killian of the Trod of the Holly had Branigan, your father, killed -- but Killian still didn't get the power he wanted. So he stumbled across Moustapha around that time -- who was a trickster spirit who was working for Councilor Jalil, though we found out later that Jalil had no idea what was going on. Moustapha was working on this for coun- er, now-former Councilor Qadan... and between the three men they decided to get Killian a council seat." She whews quietly -- that came out relatively clearly! -then gives Quinn a small and extremely tentative smile, "Does that, um... m-make sense so far?"

Quinn nods slowly, "That was essentially the story I was given by everyone else. It's not truly all that surprising. Killian is a rat bastard." He quirks a smile -- and that is where the resemblance to Shane becomes crystal clear. After that he shifts so that he's sort of on his hunkers. It puts him well below Cinnamon's height... so the tall, slender beansidhe isn't looming over the nervous little dragon.

Cinnamon blinks... then nods emphatically a few times, "R-right! OK, so... here, you should have this, okay?" She holds out the printouts again, adding, "They're okay... the binder clips are brass! I checked to be sure."

Quinn reaches to take the printouts and flips through them. He seems quite comfortable in this position -- as if he could hold it all day -- and he flips quickly through the papers, occasionally pausing to reread something. His face is quite serious as he says almost absentmindedly, "So why are you going through all this trouble to help us?"

Cinnamon quickly adds, once Quinn is holding the little folder, "So... between them, they, um... they 'persuaded' Lark, Sparrow's predecessor; Josie's father; and Hilde's grandfather to retire. Then they tried to kill Jaeger, but he survived it even though it crippled... uhh... w-what?"

Quinn looks up at her and smiles again, "I was asking why you were going through so much trouble -- because this is a bloody large amount of information -- to help us?"

"Oh!" Cinnamon sighs, glancing away and wringing her hands again, "Well, b-because my, er, many-greats grandfather Liam was assassinated too... and Josie and Shane are my f-friends and... well, I, um, I've not really had friends before? -a-and, um... well, like, Hilde and Elias and Aisling were all so... well, so nice to me, you know?" Her shoulders slump a little as she adds, "And... well, about the only thing I do really well is numbers, right? So... it was the numbers that caught my attention, and... um, that's when I realized I, uhh... l-like, maybe I c-could do something that could help everyone on the Council? -and..." she sinks slowly down onto the bed, her gaze on her clasped hands in her lap, "and... maybe they might think I w-wasn't a complete waste... instead of having someone as wonderful and popular as Liam there instead?"

Quinn listens, nodding. He's still flipping through the papers, but he's also looking up at the nervous little dragon from time to time to let her know he's listening. He knows quite well that what she's telling him is the truth... and he can also see she's finally starting to relax a little. That bit about feeling like she's a waste... that's important to know. It's sad, but it's important. Cinnamon is silent for a moment, taking slow breaths as she reviews what she's said so far... then abruptly remembers one last bit! "Oh! Oh, and also... it was the oracle. Er, I, I mean, after I was running through the numbers -- with everyone's help! -- but then Thorn and I were t-talking to the oracle and he... he said we all had to come here. That, um, that we had to find the traitor... wait." She gets a far-away look on her face as she mumbles absently, "What were his exact words..." Quinn watches in silent interest.

A moment later Cinnamon brightens, sitting up abruptly, "Oh! I remember now!" She's not looking at Quinn any more -- she's staring off into memory, so to speak, as her voice becomes oddly more assured sounding, intoning someone else's words: "You find what you seek. You tread the edge of war. It will require balance. It is a razor's edge. There will be pain and there will be blood, but it will be sacred blood and it will help to cleanse the cancer. You will start in the isles of the sidhe and beansidhe and you will find the traitor in the midst that slew the great chieftain. Take the scion of the chieftain. Take the repentant one and take the child of lightning. If the moon's child will go, she will be useful. Her answer is not clear... this is as far as I see. My dreams have said you bring peace in your wake." Cinnamon sighs, finally looking back at Quinn as she adds with a tiny hint of pleasure at remembering correctly, "That's it! That's what he said... but he also said to please not say who he was so please don't ask me, ok?" She firmly reminds herself internally: no blurting out names! Be careful here.

Quinn mms and smiles, "I won't, then. The child of lightning... I'm guessing that's your hacker. Daughter of the moon is obviously Josie -- who is a delight, by the way! And the scion, that's obviously me Shane. And aye..." he sighs, "me da was a great chieftain... and I always knew his death couldn't have been accident or coincidence -- not with me all the way across the sea. And if I never step foot on a plane again, it will be too bloody soon!" He chuckles wryly, and again there's that resemblance to Shane. "And why on the earth or below it would you think they wouldn't be nice to you, girlie?"

Cinnamon pauses as a sudden thought hits her... and she slowly, perplexedly adds, "Wait... if you've already heard this from everyone else... and you must know that Shane wouldn't allow anyone dangerous to his home to come along... then... why are you still interrogating everyone? Don't you trust Shane?"

Quinn smiles again and nods, "Of course I do. He's me son and he's a damned good one. But sometimes it's good to hear multiple sides of a story. You end up getting more information that way. No two stories ever match up perfectly and it's the space outside the overlap that can be important." He arches one dark brow and grins almost mischievously, "Are you feeling interrogated? Please, don't be nervous. I don't bite. Much."

Cinnamon draws in her breath sharply, her internal tension ratcheting up dramatically as she unwittingly leans away from Quinn. That... sounded unpleasantly like some of the painfully cutting sniping her father always claimed was just 'joking' -- then would sneer at her when she got upset about it! She pushes her glasses back up, takes a deep breath, and says as steadily as she can, "Then... are we done?"

Quinn smiles and holds up a hand, "Peace, Cinnamon. I didn't mean to put the wind up you. I was trying to joke... and maybe flirt a little. I really don't want to make you feel like you've been called into the headmaster's office for a bollocking."

Cinnamon stares warily at Quinn, saying without thinking, "Wa-aay too late to avoid that!" She blinks again -- then blushes hotly and covers her mouth with one hand, squeaking, "Sorry!"

Quinn laughs warmly, eyes twinkling as he says, "Well, that's good to know. I'd like to be your friend if you'll let me, lass."

Cinnamon raises a very dubious eyebrow at that, and her mouth gets ahead of her again as she says almost bitterly, "Uh... huh. Ri-iiight. Real friend or knack friend? Is this like flirting -- something you do to get what you want from the dumpy fat girl, and then run off laughing afterwards?"

Quinn's brows go even further up, "Real friend. Shane obviously thinks highly of you... as does Aisling. Saoirse liked you. That's high praise. As for the flirting? I don't flirt with anyone I don't actually want to flirt with." He pushes himself to his feet and says, "Josie's right. You've been fed a fucked-up version of yourself if you think that no one would want to flirt with you."

Cinnamon bristles with a hint of defensiveness, clenching her hands together in her lap as she says mostly steadily, "That... th-that does not answer my question about f-flirting! A-and how am I s-supposed to know if you're telling the truth or not? I d-don't have a knack to lean on!" She firmly reminds herself: she is angry, darnit! She is not going to cry in front of this man... and... did he just call her fucked up?! She's starting to get flustered, so she tries to concentrate on her anger. Got to stay angry!

Quinn's face softens, "No. I'm not flirting to get something I want out of you, lass. I'm flirting because, from everything I've heard, you're an interesting, intelligent, and extraordinary person. I like women like that. But from what I hear, you've been fed a funhouse mirror image of yourself by your family... and if you want to know if I'm telling the truth, I can bring Shane in." He seems unruffled. He's not being defensive, and he's not getting in her space.

Cinnamon inhales deeply, trying to quickly figure out what to snap cuttingly back at Quinn! ...then (confusingly) realizes: he's... not being nasty? She blinks slowly, feeling like she's trying to wade through mental quicksand. Is she... upset? Should she be? Is he using his knack? Does she trust him not to? She's... not... really sure... any more? Er... where were they in the conversation, again? What exactly were they discussing there? She finally says slowly and carefully, "What... do you want from me, please, Quinn?"

The sidhe raises a hand gently, "But if you'd like me to go, I will. Like I said, I'd like to be your friend and you're not in for a bollocking. You're doing something extraordinary for us." Quinn is still smiling, "But if you'd let me, I'd like to stay and have tea and just talk."

Cinnamon narrows her eyes suspiciously, "No knacks?"

Quinn smiles, "No knacks. Just a chat."

Cinnamon says, "Promise?" Pragmatically she adds, "You yourself warned us to be careful here, after all... right?"

Quinn laughs and does something that seems odd on a centuries-old beansidhe warrior: he makes the familiar 'cross my heart' gesture, "I promise. And I did warn you, didn't I? I can still get Shane in here if you'd like. He could even join us for tea."

Cinnamon brightens in relief at that, "Okay! Er, I m-mean... if you d-don't mind?" She blushes slightly, glancing away as she adds, "He has the prettiest hair! The f-first time I saw him I wanted -- well, the first time I saw him he was rescuing me from a pickpocket... but after that, when I saw his hair? I had the weirdest urge to just... t-to just run my fingers through it!" She's bright red, both hands on her hot cheeks as she almost squeaks, "So rude of me, right?!" She hastily adds in what she assumes will be reassurance to Shane's father, "I didn't! I d-didn't do anything rude or -- or shove into his personal space or anything! But... b-but... it was so shiny and long and soft looking!" Then she blinks in horror at herself, covering her mouth with both hands -- why did she say that?!

Quinn grins, letting the mischief through, "Is that so? I'd say it's not rude. Most of us like our hair being played with... and I doubt anyone could get in touching distance of me lad that he didn't want touching him." He heads toward the door, adding, "Let me go get him and an extra cup. I'll be right back."

Cinnamon squeezes her eyes shut in mortification -- oh dear heavens she can't go blurting random stuff like that out! The only response Quinn gets is a small, horrified -- and muffled -- squeak! A heartbeat later, though, it registers: Quinn might mention that comment of hers -- to Shane! Just like he mentioned Josie's comment about Cinnamon's birth family (and simultaneously, a small part of her wonders indignantly: why is it that everyone seems to know about her family now? Wasn't Shane not going to tell anyone?!) -- and Cinnamon just knows: it'll get out, and then everyone will be laughing at her about it! The young dragon almost leaps to her feet to dart over to where Quinn is opening the door, grabbing hastily at his arm, "W-wait! You can't -- I mean, d-don't -- you, uhh, you promise, please, th-that you won't repeat that?!"

Quinn lets himself be grabbed. He, after all, doesn't think Cinnamon is trying to harm him. He also knows she's not a warrior -- that's almost painfully obvious! -- so he doesn't try to correct her form. Instead he smiles and says almost playfully, "I thought you wanted me to go get Shane? Did you want to be alone together a bit longer?"

Cinnamon recoils instantly, dropping Quinn's arm and taking several steps back -- as swiftly as if a snake had unexpectedly struck at her, and with the same sort of shocked dismay and consternation. Quinn continues to smile -- and oh, but it's a friendly and warm smile -- but one brow goes up, "I did tell you I don't bite." He tips his head and says, "You act as if no one has ever flirted with you before."

Cinnamon blinks up at Quinn, clearly still collecting herself -- but then a sort of angry embarrassment flashes across her face, "No- ev- uhh... wait, what?! Are you for real?!" She whirls, pacing in the small room, "Do you think I'm too stupid to see through flirtation?! Why does everyone act like I'm the weird one for not liking it! I know exactly what flirtation is for, with fat girls -- I've had my entire life to learn!" She whirls again, almost panting with (fearful) anger as she waves her arms to emphasize her words, "It means they want me to do their math homework for them again! Or they think it'd be a real hoot to stand me up and stiff me with the bill! Or they want me to help them cheat on the next exam, or lie about their financials, or do their darned taxes for free, or whatever -- again!"

The young dragon whirls away again, turning her back to Quinn and wrapping her arms around herself to control the shakes. She swallows hard, frustrated that she's struggling not to cry again, darnit! Her voice is thick with suppressed tears as she mutters, "Y-you know what, I... I th-think I need a minute. If you'd j-just... go get Shane... and, uh, th-the teacup. Right. I... that'll let me calm down..."

Since he's behind her, Quinn doesn't feel he has to guard his expression -- or his sadness at seeing the scars of a lonely child who's been so abused that, in self-defense, she's chosen to refuse all admiration directed her way. He can rather grasp his son's simmering anger at Cinnamon's genetic family now, too... but he says nothing as he quietly closes the door behind himself. The poor lass is clearly too distraught to hear it right this minute... but he'll never pass on her unwitting confidences regarding his son.

Cinnamon is deeply exasperated with herself as she angrily wipes her eyes, [Good gosh, girl... way to totally offend your host!] She sighs gustily after hearing the door shut, glancing around with unhappy twitchiness... then remembers Quinn's comment regarding a chair for her room. Chairs for everyone to sit on -- right, she can do that! She makes sure the tea cozy is tucked in around the pot (to give Quinn time to head off), then darts out of the room and trots down the hallway to the next doorway. Knocking on the door, she peeks her head in... then looks relieved -- no one's living in here, clearly! Hm... no chair either, though... she bustles down the hallway checking rooms in search of chairs, unwittingly working off some of her nervous frenetic energy.

It takes a little bit, but eventually the young dragon finds a nice, well-upholstered armchair in an unoccupied room. Success! Cinnamon is quite pleased -- though she wishes the rather bulky chair were a little smaller as she shoves and tugs it to and through the doorway. Once in the hallway she realizes she can carefully half-wrestle the awkwardly large and heavily cushioned chair towards her room if she just picks it up by the arms, rests it against her thighs, leans back enough to carry it, and sort of awkwardly shuffles along. Admittedly, she can't see in front of herself due to the chair's bulk... but if she keeps glancing sideways she should be able to spot her doorway, right?

The first Cinnamon knows of the return of the two men is when the chair bumps into something and stops moving. Just as she's giving a careful, experimental shove forward again she hears an, "Oof!" in Shane's familiar voice, followed by Quinn laughing softly and asking, "What're ye up to, lass? Usually we try to do the heavy-lifting for guests."

Cinnamon gasps in shock, almost dropping the chair, "Oh! I'm s-sorry! Uh, a-are you okay?!" A moment later, after grappling with the heavy, wobbling chair enough that she can set it carefully down, she pushes up her glasses and blinks worriedly, "H-hello? Er, did I hit someone? I'm so very sorry! I c-couldn't see -- are you all right?"

Shane grins at her over the chair, "We wondered who it might be!" Quinn's eyes are twinkling as he adds, "Because last I knew, we burned all the haunted furniture." Holding open the door to Cinnamon's room, he adds, "Bring it in then, lad, would ye?" For a heartbeat Cinnamon's eyes widen in shock -- then she blinks and laughs uncertainly. He's, er... joking, right? He must be!

Shane is happy to help, just as he helped Cinnamon get her new furniture into her little cottage when she first arrived on Coblyn. There's some chair wrangling and more embarrassedly stuttered apologies from Cinnamon as she tries to help Shane and unwittingly manages mostly to just get in the way... but soon thereafter everyone is safely ensconced in the little room. Quinn has taken the chair, turning it so he's facing the big chest at the foot of the bed, and can pour tea for everyone. He smiles quietly to himself as he surreptitiously watches Cinnamon shyly stammer through an invitation to Shane to sit on the bed, then hustle herself around to the other side of the bed... there to end up sitting closer to him than to the chieftain -- and to sigh and visibly relax a bit once she's settled. Shane himself shifts so that Cinnamon can reach out and touch him if she needs to. He's a protector after all, even if he knows Cinnamon has nothing to fear from Quinn.

Tea is served with a relieving absence of gaffes, and the little trio spend a few minutes simply savoring their drinks. It's Cinnamon who finally breaks the silence, curiously asking, "So how are you going to find the traitor, guys? Will you just listen to everyone in the trod until you find the person who's lying?" She pauses, considering for a moment, then adds, "Oh! Also, um... d-do you have someone who can... like, sense for the poisonous nettle to see if there's any at Branigan's grave site?" She tilts her head thoughtfully, then adds more softly, "Actually... also, Quinn? If... if you knew there was something fishy about your dad's death... why... why didn't you... well, look into it at all? If, um... if it's not rude to ask?"

Quinn's smiling expression goes solemn, "Because first I was too busy being iron-sick, then I was too busy grieving -- both me da' and leaving my Janet -- and then I had work to do here. And I did look into it, in my way. I never thought to look inside the trod, though. This is my family. My people. Me da' was well-loved here, so I couldn't conceive of any of Rowan harming him. As for sensing for the nettle... I honestly don't know, lass. I don't remember finding any strange plants when I was looking the place over. Perhaps one of the herbalists can have a look... but it's been many years now. Plenty of time to clear it out if it was there."

Cinnamon looks a bit perplexed as she pushes up her glasses, "Huh... weird! Jaeger seemed sure there'd be some left...?" She blinks at another sudden thought, adding, "Oh, the money! I forgot to tell you about the money!" She tilts her head at Shane, adding, "Did you tell him already, or should I?" Shane smiles and shakes his head, so Cinnamon straightens a bit, pushing her glasses into place with a faintly pleased expression -- this should hopefully assuage any irritation the chieftain might be currently harboring towards her for all her yelling and whacking people with chairs and stuff!

Cinnamon quickly and earnestly explains how the money confiscated from the various conspiracy members is being sorted out, adding shyly that she's aware simple money cannot possibly replace living, beloved people... but perhaps the cash might be useful to the trod anyway? Once she's done she blinks at another intriguing thought -- then sort of hesitantly blurts out, "S-so... so, uh, once the, um, the traitor here and the Trod of the Holly are all taken care of, ummm... m-might it be, like... safer for folks to visit here? O-or nearby, maybe... like, maybe Wales or something? Uh, a-and..." She's twisting her fingers together nervously, staring down at them as she mumbles, "I, er, I m-mean... we, uhhmm, right now we have the money for a plane ticket, right? Though j-just if you wanted, of course, but... I dunno, I just wondered, um, I-if you might like, er, y-you know, might like t-to, uhh..." She takes a deep breath, glancing nervously sideways at Quinn and Shane before determinedly blurting it all out at once as fast as she can, "M-mightliketoseeyourwifeandShane'smomagainm-m-maybe?!" She winces slightly once she's done, hoping she was intelligible... and didn't squeak out the entire sentence!

Quinn looks... stunned -- as if this option had never occurred to him. "Janet... over here?" He blinks slowly, "Not to the trod, though, I think. Maybe to Galway and we can stay at the inn there. There are humans that do, you know. I'm told they get good reviews on all those sites for travelers. Rustic and cozy, they say. 'Built so that all the old ones don't feel like they're in a soulless box when they have to stop through,' I say."

Cinnamon beams hopefully, "Uh, we -- yeah, we could do Galway instead if you wanted? I j-just mentioned Wales b-because I, um..." she twists her fingers together again as she grins shyly, "I... wanted to visit, you know? To... to, like, see w-where my folks originally came from?" She hastily adds, "B-but, uh, Galway's good too! We can just ask Spice to set it up... if you want?" There's pride in the young dragon's voice as she adds, "Spice is really good at stuff like that! She organized the ship ride over here too!"

Shane nudges his friend gently and says, "Acushla, you can still go to Wales, you know. And I know you won't go alone. Most any of us would be happy to go with you. Just try and stop Josie going."

Cinnamon laughs softly, shaking her head, "I wouldn't try to stop Josie! She might... sit on me or something!" She giggles... then smiles a bit wistfully and decides better not to give her real reason for wanting to be there when Quinn and Janet get to finally see each other again for the first time in nearly 30 years. It's probably intrusive of her anyway to hope to get to see real joy and affection on the faces of the couple at first sight of each other. Besides, hopefully she'll see lots of other families where there's real love between the members, over the next however long she lives, right? No need to be pushy now... especially since now she knows there really are folks who love like that.

Quinn, who is older than he looks, smiles at the wistfulness, "Of course, I'd want you to come meet her when she comes. I'd love to introduce her to the person that makes it so we can see one another's faces again."

Cinnamon unwittingly perks right up at that, "Oh, wow, that'd be awesome -- could I?! Or, er, wait... w-would that be okay? I, um, I mean, I wouldn't want to be... well, nosy or pushy o-or in the way or anything?"

Shane leans close and mock-whispers, "Don't worry. The way they talk about one another, we'll all be nearly invisible."

That makes Cinnamon turn pink and giggle... but she looks both pleased and a little calmer as she has another sip of tea. Maybe someday... maybe she'll find someone like that? She tsks and scolds herself mentally -- don't be so greedy! She doesn't like even the idea of sex, after all, so... expecting someone to put up with that is likely unrealistic. Better to change the subject! "Um! So... is it okay to visit Branigan's burial place, then, to check for any remainder of the nettle? Um, and... er, if it's, uh, n-not rude to ask... how are you guys going to catch the traitor?"

Quinn smiles, "Oh, we can visit where me da' died, but he's not buried. He wanted to be burned." He sips his tea and sighs, "We're going to have to ask different questions. With what Shane can do and what I can do... the issue will be working around some of the folk here who are really good at giving you non-answers that aren't lies."

Cinnamon sighs softly at that, "Well... fudge! Okay, that avenue of discovery isn't going to work then. Hm... well, then I guess it's completely up to you two to find the guy." She looks wry, "Sorry. I was kinda hoping maybe we could go check that out while you two talked to folks, but... guess not!" She wonders if it's morbid to be curious about where poor Branigan died. Hmm... might be most polite to ask someone besides Shane or Quinn to take her, actually!

Cinnamon takes a slow sip of her tea and muses silently to herself, letting her thoughts drift. She's not really surprised, upon reflection, that Quinn scares her as much as he does -- as Spice noted, the sidhe is effectively a king, and Cinnamon knows that kings and other C-level entities scare her spitless! Her carefully wary gaze flicks for a second to Quinn... then slides sideways to Shane. He's far more relaxing to look at, after all... though she's a little worried at the assertion that he's a prince. Doesn't that mean he's going to be a king someday too? Then Cinnamon frowns thoughtfully -- no, wait. There's something else going on here that she's missing still. Jaeger, after all, doesn't scare her, even if Caradog does. Neither does Athala. Also, from things Iason has said to her so far, Cinnamon suspects the Greek 'god-emperor' isn't going to scare her any more than, say, Killa or Aoi do -- or rather, don't -- and they're supposed to be gods too. Surprisingly petty for gods, though, if so...

The young dragon carefully analyzes her thoughts as she sips her tea: why do the Councilors and the elders of the Trod of the Elm not scare her? Hmm... because... is it because she feels useful and sometimes... maybe even a bit appreciated by them? She did, after all, help save all their lives to some degree. She's seen both Aoi and Killa fall down, too... and helped Jaeger stand up again, even if it was just due to an idea on her part. She's also seen how Athala has charmed Thorn, and... while Thorn seems quite happy with adoring a woman who doesn't reciprocate that feeling, Cinnamon knows she herself would not care for such an emotionally imbalanced relationship. Weirdly, that helps the young dragon in not feeling alarmed at being around Athala -- though she's not certain precisely why. Maybe... maybe because she herself doesn't feel the need for that sort of relationship with someone weaker than her? Though, Cinnamon wryly notes to herself, Athala may be surprised if she ever upsets Thorn enough! The young dragon shivers slightly at that -- she's still uncomfortable with the abrupt level of power Thorn is showing!

So wait, though: is Cinnamon really thinking that she needs to see the powerful laid low before she's comfortable with them? Isn't that kind of... well... potentially malicious? Also, didn't she kind of help save Caradog's life too? If that's the case, then why is she still twitchy about him? Cinnamon's gaze gets abstracted as she thinks, ideas and concepts flashing through her head far faster than she's drinking -- she's still taking that first slow sip of her tea, in fact.

Hmm... actually, if Cinnamon is honest with herself, she didn't do much to save Caradog's life -- his guards were already twitchy and hyper-alert. OK, that makes sense... but what about the others? Well... actually, she doesn't get the feeling that either Jaeger or Athala are royalty. They truly act like elders rather than royalty, to her (admittedly somewhat young and uninformed) perspective -- and that helps a great deal in her levels of relaxation around them. Even when the little group effectively butted in and demanded answers... Athala and Jaeger both were surprisingly courteous and kind -- and, in Athala's case, startlingly straightforward!

Cinnamon smiles faintly to herself as it registers: maybe the two aren't royalty, but Marcus sure acts like he thinks he is! Hmm... that, Cinnamon thinks, may be part of why she has trouble taking Marcus too seriously -- and why neither Aoi nor Killa bother her unduly. They all appear to arrogate or demand a level of respect for themselves that Cinnamon doesn't entirely feel they've earned... and their sometimes-sneering disdain of her leaves her more wryly, amusedly unsurprised than not.

The young dragon swallows the sweet mouthful of gently steaming tea as she continues pondering. Okay, so she knows -- or at least suspects strongly -- why certain folks don't scare her, and why Caradog does. So... why does Quinn scare her so? Cinnamon absently licks her lips as she savors the tea and continues considering. Actually... that one's easy: he scares her spitless because he has the ability to force her to act in ways she wouldn't if she were in her right mind... and he doesn't have to ask her permission to do so! Hmm... that explains the C-level folks too, now that she thinks about it: they could get her fired in a red-hot second, and not give a flip about it... and they certainly don't have to ask her permission to do so. Cinnamon shudders slightly, taking a deep breath before she decides to have another slow sip of the sweet tea. She just... has to make sure she's not left alone with Quinn again -- that's it. She'll be fine... as long as she can make sure there are other folks around as well. No problem! Really. None... at all.

Quinn, being the old-fashioned fellow he is, sips his tea and lets his guest sip hers. It's obvious to him that she's deep in thought, but it's also obvious to him that he makes her nervous when he asks questions. Shane, on the other hand, is Cinnamon's friend -- he knows she can go down rabbit-holes sometimes with her worries and mental meanderings. Not wanting her to embarrassedly realize in ten minutes that she's been quiet the whole time, he leans in close enough that Quinn might still hear the question but can deny that he did -- giving Cinnamon an out if she's at all abashed -- and murmurs, "Penny for 'em, acushla?" Being who he is, it doesn't occur to Shane that almost-whispering into a friend's ear might seem odd. In a trod, you learn discretion, and the rules of privacy are a bit different. Still, it means that the little dragon gets warm breath against and just behind her ear when the half-beansidhe speaks.

Fortunately for Cinnamon, she'd just swallowed her mouthful of tea... because at the unexpected whisper and tickle at her ear, she squeaks and jumps startledly! Unfortunately, her tea sloshes over the edge of the teacup, and while the saucer catches some of it, hot tea still lands on her blue jeans and the lovely handmade bedspread. For a moment there's a flurry of horrified reaction from her, "Oh, crabcakes!" She hastily sets down her teacup, fumbles for a napkin and tries to blot up the spilled tea, nearly babbling apologies to the two men, "I'm so sorry -- sorry! I, um, if y-you all n-need to have this specially cleaned, I'm happy to p-pay for it!" She desperately hopes that ridiculous squeak was all in her head... but her flaming cheeks are due to her suspicion that everyone heard her make that silly noise!

Quinn waves off the assertion about special cleaning with a warm smile quite like his son's, "These rooms are meant to be lived in. Things get spilled. It'll be fine. My worry is if you scalded yourself when me lad whispered at you."

Cinnamon shakes her head, still frantically blotting the bedspread. A few minutes later she sighs and relaxes a bit -- she's cleaned up everything she can as best she can. She gives Shane a wry smile, still a bit flushed, "Um... I'm sorry this is a stupid question from me but... could you, um... could you p-please repeat whatever it was you said before?" She leans back against the wall at the head of the bed, sighing and picking up her cup and saucer again, "I'm sorry I was such a ditz there... I get too far into my own head sometimes, I think!"

Shane helps Cinnamon clean up, chuckling warmly, "I said 'Penny for 'em, acushla?' You looked like you were a million miles away." The term of endearment comes easily to Shane's lips and Quinn doesn't remark on it. He knows that his son is affectionate and holds his friends close. He, does, however tease Shane a little, "He was bein' nosy."

Cinnamon blinks, glancing between the two men -- and hastily wracking her brains: what was she thinking about? As she remembers, she blushes hotly -- good heavens, she can't admit to the things she was thinking -- it was really kind of rude of her! Though... hmm. Maybe... maybe it'd be okay if she... asked a few questions? She thinks for a moment, staring at her tea as she does so... then says carefully, "I... um, I was actually thinking a lot of things, but... well, I was wondering...?" She glances cautiously at Quinn, then back at her teacup as she takes a deep breath... then nervously blurts out all at once, "Wondering w-why... whyyouscaremebutJaegerdoesn'thowareyounotakingp-please?!" By the time she's done, her cheeks are flaming red again!

Quinn lets Cinnamon get her blurted question out and smiles; he really does find her rather adorable. Shane has stayed right next to her and he's smiling as well, eyes twinkling. He can see why Quinn would be frightening if you didn't know him. The chieftain eventually says, "I'm sorry, lass, but can you repeat that just a wee tad slower?"

Cinnamon is, by now, practically incandescent with embarrassment! She's staring fixedly at her tea as she mutters, "It, um, I -- I... was j-just being rude I'm sorry never m-mind!"

Quinn shakes his head, "Not a bit, lass. I just didn't catch the last bit." He leans back and sips his tea, "As for why I scare you? You don't know me. Ye've just met me an' ye were pre-warned about what me knack is. For most people, blurtin' out embarrassin' things is a nightmare. Thinkin' you may not be able to help it? I'd say that's pretty far up there on the 'holy-fuck-o-meter.'" In Quinn's brogue, that last comes out sounding almost comical. "But i' truth? Jaeger's much scarier than I am. He's centuries older, wiser, and can be deadly. But you know him. You've come to trust him. You know he wouldn't turn on ye without reason. Also? Ye've probably grown up on stories of how tricksy us sidhe can be. And ye'd have no reason to know that anything truly personal you say to me -- whether it's me charm that gets it out of you or just your own trust -- goes no further than me unless it's going to put me people and the trod in danger."

Cinnamon frowns at her tea -- she's still horribly embarrassed, but she's also feeling almost... stubborn? She knows why Quinn scares her; she was more puzzled as to why Jaeger didn't -- even when she didn't know him. She's not sure how to express this coherently, though, so it takes her a bit to put her words together... and her mental efforts are unwittingly clear on her face as she starts, then stops, several times. Finally she says very slowly, still picking her words carefully, "That... m-may be true, Quinn? -but... then why not tell folks that? Ahead of time, so they're not terrified, you know? A-and... um, and... w-what about things like, um, like consent, you know? Like... well, if you'd just asked me, I'd have told you the truth... and as long as it was just us-" she cuts off, frowning, as she realizes that's not actually true -- she doesn't want to be alone with Quinn! Though... hmm. Actually... if he'd asked her, maybe then she wouldn't have been so terrified?

The young dragon takes a breath and tries again, "M-maybe if... it had been just us two and you actually... like, respected consent, y'know? I... I wouldn't be so scared? B-but now..." She pauses, struggling again for concepts -- then switches tacks to see if she can explain it better that way: "Jaeger's not a king -- he's an elder, like Athala. No one says he's a king, either. So if you're not a king then... then why do I keep hearing you are? And, umm... like, w-why do you act all... all kingly, you know? Like, er, like a C-level executive, you know?" She pauses... then gives Shane a slightly desperate glance as she whispers to him, "Is this making any sense at all, Shane? -or... or am I babbling like a loon here?!" Cinnamon is really struggling -- trying hard to express herself in a not-rude manner -- she's never had to be so self-introspective before, for the simple reason that no one's ever cared about her thoughts!

Quinn's brows shoot all the way up as the word 'king' comes up, "Waitwaitwait! King? Who's called me a king, lass? My technical title is Chieftain of the Trod of the Rowan, but I'm basically..." he looks for a word and Shane says with a slight smile, "A sheriff." Quinn nods, "Aye. A sheriff. My job is to keep the place safe. It comes with a very few small perks and a lot of rules. If you want the real leader around here, you talk to Saoirse." Cinnamon tilts her head somewhat dubiously; while she's aware Saoirse is an elder, she's not yet sure she believes this statement from Quinn.

Quinn takes a deep breath and sets his tea down, looking at Cinnamon. For a moment, she can see a flash of tiredness in his face, "Consent. I see where ye're coming from there. But I also have to think of the safety of the trod. So, I walk a fine line. I know me knack can splash over and people will tell me things I didn't need or want to know. I'll remember going forward to tell people what I told you. Nothing personal nor private that doesn't have to do with protecting my people will go past my lips." He waves a hand in an encompassing gesture, "There used to be more kings. I know Caradog styles himself a king. I know there are others that do. But we're no kingdom and I'm no king. Nor would I want to be."

Cinnamon's cheeks heat up with embarrassment again as Quinn puts his finger precisely on her greatest fear, regarding his knack! Fright and humiliation causes her to blurt out, "Y-you could have told me that -- now I d-don't want to get stuck alone with you, like kings and stuff, because they always make me cry and act stupid!" She gulps, adding, "A-and w-why did you leave me to last!? I thought you were mad at me! I -- I w-was worried you were g-going to throw me out or something!" She blinks rapidly, horrified as she realizes her fear is also making her need to choke back tears -- good golly, she can't start sobbing right now!

"Tomorrow, my son and I are going to start interrogating my trod," Quinn's voice is quiet, "and I am not going to ask their permission to do so. Because I can't. I will be asking the people I trust most some very difficult, painful, and possibly offensive questions. Because to let them not answer would be to shirk my duty. Someone here has already taken advantage of trust and loyalty to murder me father. And it sounds as if they took advantage of that to do a lot more and to harm a lot more people. Do you believe me when I say I would not then turn the information I get around on them for spite? That I will only use it to keep this trod -- this family -- safe?"

Shane listens to this and puts an arm around Cinnamon's shoulders... because he knows what Quinn is saying is not gentle and may sound even quite harsh. She's shaking slightly, in fact, from the effort of not crying -- and at Shane's touch she turns to almost bury her face against the half-sidhe's shoulder. Shane keeps holding her and pets her hair. He had forgotten she's still new to this and nervous. She's shown so much strength that it can be easy to forget that she's come from decades of abuse by people that see her as lesser.

Quinn finally gets something and he smiles gently, "And I left you to last because..." he considers for a moment how to explain this, "...because Shane trusts you. He told me the things you've done for the council and for Coblyn. I left you to last, dragan deas, because my questions to you were a formality. And by leaving you to last, I had a chance to have a chat with you after the forms had been observed. Aisling thinks ye're lovely and Shane counts you a friend. Jaeger himself told me he saw a wonderful future for you. I was intrigued."

Shane murmurs with amusement, "By 'chat,' I think he means he wanted a chance to flirt with you, acushla." He's gently rubbing a hand up and down Cinnamon's arm.

Cinnamon has to swallow hard a few times, and rub her eyes, to keep down the tears... but eventually the shaking stops and she can take a few deep, almost gulping breaths and slowly lift her head again. She sighs at Shane's comment, her gaze still downcast as she mumbles to him, "Yeah, um... no. I... kinda blew up at him... about that..." She's not sure why Quinn would call her a pretty dragon though... oh, wait. Of course: other folks must have described her dragon form to him. She thinks a moment, then gets a small smile. She's not had a chance to look in a mirror yet, as a dragon... but the parts of her that she can see in that form do seem kind of... well, attractive to her? Bright crimson scales with violet and indigo iridescence... ahem! Focus here -- she takes another deep breath and gives Quinn a determined (and unwittingly ghastly) smile, "Er, th-thank you... for the compliment. Sir."

Quinn gives a playful and theatrical groan, eyes rolling back and a hand over his heart, "Dear stars and stones. Please don't 'sir' me. I'm Quinn. And why did ye not tell me she speaks Irish, lad?"

Shane's brows go up, "Because I didn't know she does, da. More and more surprises, acushla." He squeezes her again.

Cinnamon mutters embarrassedly, "I, er... th-thought flirtation was supposed to be... to sound complimentary?" She sighs as she adds, "Though... er, y-yeah, I... do... kinda speak Irish now, darnit! I..." she blushes again, "I, um, w-wanted t-to... to surprise you, Shane. I'm sorry I, um... kinda blurted it out stupidly..."

Quinn's eyes are twinkling. He can see a couple of things quite clearly here, but he's not about to tease the young dragon about it. His son, now, may come in for a little gentle ribbing later. Shane grins, "I am surprised. Pleasantly so. It'll let me practice a little. Aisling says my accent can be terrible sometimes." Cinnamon looks at first shyly pleased -- then slightly shocked! How could Aisling say something like that?! Shane has a lovely accent all the time, to the young dragon's perspective! Fortunately she manages to keep her mouth shut about it... for now, at least!

"And aye, the flirtation was supposed to be complimentary," Quinn affirms, "in that you usually flirt with someone because you enjoy them. That's a compliment." He takes a deep breath, "Now, lass: do I scare ye slightly less? Because I'd not have ye fear me for all the worlds."

Cinnamon eyes Quinn thoughtfully from the safety of Shane's encircling arm, and considers his words. After a moment she says carefully, "So, wait... you're telling me that flirting... that it's like... like just talking? Or, um... like teasing or joking? Not... not because you just want something from them?" To her, this is the more startling and new concept!

Quinn considers hard for a moment. The comment about wanting something... the girl is a bit naive and it's rather adorable and he can't help teasing, "Well, I wouldn't say you don't want something from them. I mean, usually you flirt because you at least want a smile from them. Or a kiss. Or more. Pleasant things, ye ken. Playful. Nice. Mercenary flirting ought to be punishable by flogging."

Cinnamon turns bright pink! [Oh my gosh, he's talking about sex, isn't he?! ...wait, is that... is that an ulterior motive?] She frowns consideringly, studying her interlaced fingers as she thinks, [Well, it's... I don't think he means sex to make fun of you, at least... maybe? Surely that'd fall under mercenary flirting?]

Shane chuckles and agrees, "Flirting shouldn't be a weapon." He gives her another squeeze and rocks a little to playfully jiggle Cinnamon, "And neither should any of the responses -- yea, nay, or maybe. And I promise if you tell him -- or me or anyone else in the trod -- no and they're an amad�n about it, I'll give them a slap upside the head. Though I'd be shocked if that happened."

Cinnamon snorts wryly, still staring at her hands, "Yeah, I'd be shocked too. People like me get asked for stuff like sex only when there's some ulterior motive. Not going there!" She speaks with tired assurance; this is reality for her, after all.

Quinn gives Shane a perplexed, 'Is she serious?!' look -- and gets a rueful half-smile and a nod from his son. He shakes his head once, then speaks to Cinnamon, "Let me clarify. Lass, people here are like to flirt with you. Because they want to. Because you're interesting. What Shane was saying was that he doubted anyone was going to be a prick to ye if ye say no... not that he doubted you'd be flirted with." Cinnamon gives Quinn a dubious glance -- mostly because it doesn't occur to her to look at Shane with an incredulous, 'Is he serious?!' expression.

Quinn says wryly, "Let's us back up a wee bit. Think back. Back before haunted chairs and misunderstandings. Back to before I left... remember?" Cinnamon nods once -- she remembers quite clearly how frightened she'd been. She watches Quinn curiously, wondering where he's going with this. He continues, "Back to when I told ye I don't bite?" Cinnamon nods again, and Quinn adds firmly, "Back to when I was flirting with you."

Cinnamon nods again, her voice pragmatic, "Sure. You were using your knack... probably trying to calm me down some." Wryly she adds, "Though to be honest, I really was incredibly tense by then."

Quinn finds this adorable, "No. I wasn't just trying to calm you down, lass. I was flirting in good faith. I wanted to make you smile. You've got a lovely smile." Shane is still hugging her with one arm and smiling. It would never occur to him to find it odd that his father might flirt with the little dragon. He himself does it often -- though it has yet to occur to him that Cinnamon has missed it every single time.

Cinnamon watches Quinn steadily and silently. Frankly, what that 'flirtation' had most reminded her of was how nasty her father could be when 'joking'... but she's not sure where Quinn is going here, and she really doesn't want to provoke him into behavior similar to her father's. So far he hasn't, thank goodness... but she really doesn't know the guy well enough to know what his 'tipping point' is... and she really doesn't want to find out the hard way. Plus... she's starting to become even more confused as Quinn sort of... well, not quite hammers on this flirtation thing. Where is he going with this? What does he want from her?

Shane, sensing his friend's confusion, takes a deep breath, "Let me try to translate. Cinnamon, me da's saying that people have already been flirting with you. He's trying to point out that people here will want your attention for your own sake." He looks at Quinn and then lowers his head so he can speak quietly to just Cinnamon, lips against her ear again, "Acushla, no one here is trying to use you to get to someone else. No one here is going to treat you like you're less-than. If they show interest in you, it's because you're you, which is pretty amazing. You are a trusted and respected guest. A trusted, respected, and intriguing guest." He smiles a little, "And no one here has 'bad eyes' as Josie describes your folks. Do you believe me?"

Cinnamon manages not to squeak or jump at the ticklishly lovely sensation of Shane's breath against her ear, though she can't help the blush. She grins shyly at the reminder of how sweet Josie had been, and nods once to Shane, feeling unaccountably tongue-tied at all the really lovely things he's saying to her! As far as she's concerned, friends are wonderful. Shane nods back and raises his head, speaking to his father, "I think we might understand one another better. Cinnamon, Quinn is sorry he scared and confused you. Quinn, Cinnamon is willing to trust you -- provisionally -- as long as you continue to remember that she's known she's a dragon for a scanty handful of months, and humans are arseholes to people that are different. Now, do we have an accord?"

Cinnamon considers that. Provisional trust? Hmm... she eyes Quinn thoughtfully as she pushes her glasses back into place... then cautiously nods once, "I... um, yes; I can do that." She hesitates, then adds shyly, "Though... it'd help if, um... y-you didn't scare me again, please? Like... like, just ask me if you need to use your knack again with me?"

Quinn nods, "Aye. We have an accord. And if I scare you again, lass, feel free to bap me nose. Figuratively. I'd hate to have me pretty face spoiled because I'm oblivious." Cinnamon makes a small choked sound as she hastily covers her giggle! His amber eyes are twinkling. "Be blunt if ye need to." Cinnamon smiles shyly, "Okay. Um, should I... er, is it rude to be blunt in public, or... or what, please?"

Quinn considers a moment, then says, "Let's us have a code word. If I'm scaring you, say... mmm... 'soft.' As in, 'Quinn! Soft!' It's a phrasing we already use to tell someone to be more gentle."

Cinnamon looks relieved, nodding several times, "Sure! I can do that -- thank you!" Pushing up her glasses, she sheepishly admits, "I... I know that sometimes when people say to be blunt they don't mean all the time, but... well, I can't always t-tell when they do mean, you know? So... awesome, this helps a whole lot!"

Shane nods and squeezes Cinnamon again, "It can be hard to read people. Especially new people. Especially new people in a whole new culture! You'll be fine. You've got the lot of us to back you up. I defy anyone here to piss you off with me, me da, Josie, Spice, and Veles growling at them!" Cinnamon beams shyly up at Shane, deeply touched again! She always feels so... so warm and safe with Shane... and Josie too! It's kind of awesomely wonderful!

The young dragon unwittingly starts to really relax after that, sipping her tea and leaning companionably against Shane as he and his father thoughtfully discuss the best way to quietly arrange talking to everyone in the trod. During a pause in that conversation, she shyly checks, "So, um... I can leave my room now, right? I mean... you d-don't need me to stay here and, um, wait for anyone or anything, anymore, right?" She hesitates, glancing around the room once, then adds hopefully, "I, er, think I'd like to... to spend a little time in that nice, cozy common room with the fireplace in it, if that's okay? To, like... sort of shed the bad feelings from -- from feeling scared a-and trapped in here? Maybe get a bite to eat too. Maybe even... after a bit to relax, of course -- maybe even go for a walk outside... if... if that's okay now?"

Shane keeps quietly petting Cinnamon's arm as she relaxes and he speaks with his father. At the comment about feeling trapped, Quinn says, "We can even put you in another room if you'd like -- one that doesn't hold that memory! And you're welcome anywhere inside the trod that doesn't have a locked door. As for going outside? I'd rather you didn't do that alone. I'd like at least one of the members of Rowan to go with you."

Cinnamon nods, "Oh, I'm happy to take a Rowanite with me if I go outside -- I'd rather not get lost, you know?" She pauses, thinking for a moment: a new room would be awesome! Though... hmm... she slowly adds, "I... if you don't mind? I think, um... that I'd like to stay here, please? I mean..." she grins a bit sheepishly, "I'm supposed to be a big scary ol' dragon, right? So... maybe I should start working a bit on... well, on not being a scaredy-cat myself?"

"Lass, ye've nothing to prove to me," Quinn assures her, "Me Janet would knock me upside me head for making someone stay in a traumatic situation. We'll find you another room. Perhaps closer to your little clan."

Shane adds, "There are two or three empty rooms on the hall where I am. And Josie and Spice aren't far from there, either."

Cinnamon frowns thoughtfully, muttering quietly, "Think I've got to prove it to me first!" That makes her smile wryly to herself -- though at Shane's comment she brightens, "Oh, that'd be nice! Is Veles near there too? I don't want him to feel left out either, after all?" She's keenly aware of how unpleasant it is when all the 'cool kids' run off to do something fun... and either deliberately or ignorantly leave her behind. That's happened to her enough times in her life that she's determined to never do it to someone else, if she can help it at all!

Quinn says, "Veles is the fella with the burns and the tattoos? He's actually near Jaeger, and the both of them are on the same hallway with Aisling. In fact, that hallway's a bit populated. The werewolves are all down that way, too. I got the feeling Ciaran was putting all the warriors together." The way Quinn says 'burns' is as if they're no more consequential than eye or hair color. Of course, in the trod, hair and eye color aren't good ways to differentiate!

Cinnamon blushes hotly at mention of the burns! "Er, um, y-yes, the... the b-burns -- yes, ah, that's him!" She sighs, looking a bit guilty... then blinks in confusion, "Aisling... is a warrior? Huh! I hadn't realized that!"

Shane grins, "I think it's less that Aisling's a warrior than that she invited Jaeger and Veles to be near her and then Ciaran went 'Aha! There are a lot of rooms here! I can have all the fighting people together...'"

Quinn smirks, "Not that Aisling can't fight with the best of them. She's got a deadly eye with a bow, does our Aisling. But she's not fond of blood."

Cinnamon opens her mouth to ask something -- then goes still, remembering the comment regarding Aisling being 'fond of the male form' or something like that. Which means... Veles... huh! Cinnamon blinks once, then looks pleased to realize Veles is relaxing and fitting in well, if he's one of the guys Aisling is 'enjoying.' It makes Cinnamon blush a little... but she's also aware this is lovely news for Veles! She grins at her (predictably) turning slightly pink, bringing up one hand to cover her cheek -- then says, "Yeah, I... kinda prefer avoiding a lot of... uhhh, blood..." She takes a deep breath, hastily suppressing some of her more... bloody memories -- then firmly changes the subject, "So, um... I was thinking of maybe -- I mean, just if you guys d-don't mind, okay? I, er, I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings? -but... maybe I could ask someone to... to t-take me to see where Branigan died? While you two are busy talking to folks?"

Quinn says, "I don't think ye'll hurt anyone's feelings, lass. We'll ask when we get back to the common room, after I've hunted Ciaran down and told him we need to move you onto the hall with Shane."

Cinnamon brightens at that, "Yes, please! Um..." she glances around, "so... are we done? Do you need to ask me any more questions? Oh! Also, that?" She points at the sheaf of paperwork she handed Quinn earlier, "I figured Saoirse might find it interesting too, maybe? Like... it's not secret or anything, you know?" She pauses, then curiously adds, "Though I was wondering: do you have someone that can lead us, later, to the Trod of the Holly? Is it dangerous or anything?"

Quinn and Shane have a silent conversation with mostly eyebrows and headtilts before Quinn says, "I'd say let us do that in the morning. I'd rather not have ye out there until we've spoken to everyone, so it may be a day or two."

Cinnamon looks slightly confused, "Do what in the morning, please? Ask me more questions? Or... give Saoirse the paperwork, or what?"

Quinn chuckles, "Well, you can give her the paperwork tonight if ye like. What I meant was trying to go from here to Holly. I'd rather have it be after we've had a chance to speak wi' everyone."

Cinnamon nods thoughtfully at that, slightly surprised that Quinn doesn't seem that interested in reading the paperwork at all... but then she remembers: he'd already questioned everyone before her! He's probably heard the entire story several times already. Okay, she's good with that. "That's fine. Um... so, you didn't say -- are we done or do you have any further questions for me?" She grins shyly, "'Cause... I'm going to go get a bite to eat real soon if I can -- starving by now!" A heartbeat later Cinnamon blinks at another thought, then adds, "Also, Shane? When you guys catch the traitor, don't forget to ask about the nettles, ok? 'Cause like Jaeger said, that'd be our really strong proof that ties all the deaths together, if it was used then too?" Simultaneously she taps lightly on Shane's closer knee to underline her words; she doesn't realize she's doing so because she non-consciously doesn't quite dare rest her hand on his thigh. Instead she considers the upcoming interrogation -- and remembers how terribly frustrating the interrogations of both Qadan and Killian's daughter were... at least until they received something that got them to talk...

Cinnamon goes still at a sudden thought: if there's no real healer here who can make up those truth potion thingies, or someone like the guy at Trod of the Elm who could make people talk... then what- no, wait. She's overthinking this -- she's just borrowing unnecessary trouble, that's it! Surely Quinn's knack works all the time, right? Right? She hopes so (since she hasn't really registered that her own fear and terrified anxiety caused her to pull away from it more than once)... because what if the only real answer to get the traitor to talk without having to beat him up or something... is that scary mesmerizing thingie she can do, that Elias told her to keep secret?

Cinnamon nervously nibbles on her lower lip as she thinks. Hmm... horrible though it would be, would she rather lose Shane's friendship... or make the poor guy have to damage the traitor (with his father, of course, right?) so as to get a confession? She shudders slightly; both are really nasty, but... she's not willing, she realizes, to emotionally hurt Shane like that just to protect herself. But then again -- she takes a deep, hopeful breath -- maybe Quinn's knack really is all that and a box of crackers! She thinks a moment more, then says cautiously, "Um, Quinn? So... once you two capture the traitor... you, uhh... it w-won't be any issue for you to get him to talk... right...?"

Quinn mms? -then seems to parse the question, "It depends, lass. If they're trying really hard� and it takes some serious willpower to do it� they might be able to get past me. I don't think they'll get past Shane unless they manage to simply not say anything he can check." He shakes his head, "If that happens� we'll figure something out."

Cinnamon anxiously considers that for a few moments... then nods slowly. It sounds like the best thing to do is to wait and see how it goes. Okay! She can do that... and she should look on the bright side! It's a good bet Quinn will be just fine, from the sound of things -- and she won't have to worry about a thing!

Cinnamon smiles and shyly thanks Quinn for his patience with her, and after a few more minutes of tea, the two men offer to see her to the kitchen before heading off to start working on the subtle interrogation of the entire trod. Cinnamon hastily stuffs all her goods back into her duffel, leaving it zipped up on her bed for Ciaran to move later... and then Shane and Quinn escort her to the kitchen.

After Quinn's explanation of Cinnamon's needs, Eirich is very sweet, insisting on setting up a tray with a large and delicious late lunch on it for Cinnamon so she can go eat in the common room and be around people again. While he's doing so, Quinn chats amiably with him -- and is unsurprised to subtly discover Eirich has nothing to do with Branigan's death. The trod guardian lightly pats Cinnamon on the shoulder, assuring her that Eirich will take good care of her, and then he and Shane head off to start the interrogations. Cinnamon thanks the trod's cook several times, bemusedly happy at how nice he's being... then goes and settles herself in a quiet, out of the way corner near the common room fireplace. She's warm, she's got food and hot drinks, she's not terrified any more... and she thinks maybe Quinn is okay with her? She hopes so, at least!

Cinnamon neatly and quietly eats all her food, then just sits and contentedly sips the last of her tea. She feels pleasantly full and finally somewhat relaxed! Watching the various folk of the Trod of the Rowan is... nice? They seem happy enough, to her unpracticed eyes. No one seems unduly twitchy or anything, at least. She's shyly pleased when Aisling finds her, though, and introduces her to the glowingly happy pregnant sidhe woman. The young dragon offers her sincere congratulations, then draws back out of the small crush around the woman and seats herself in her inconspicuous spot again... so she can daydream happily for a bit about what it might be like to have a real family -- with children and everything!

A few minutes later, though, Cinnamon's eyes widen as she registers one of the names she's hearing, regarding a woman who's happily chattering with the women around the pregnant sidhe -- wasn't Dorcas the handfasted of the father? According to Aisling, both Dorcas and the handfasted guy of the pregnant woman are all happy about this weirdness -- which... is good! Yes! -and Cinnamon thinks that's good too! It's just... wow. Whenever Cinnamon thinks about maybe having a sweetie that's actually in love with her too... a sweetie with that long, beautifully shining sweep of gorgeous jet-black hair... though it could be golden too, yes! -er... right. So thinking about... about sitting up and waiting for a possible sweetie to come home... from spending sex-time with someone else... oh, yuck yuckity yuck nonononooo! The very thought makes her feel vaguely nauseous. She's... definitely better off not doing the sex thing at all! Definitely. Not at all. Right...

Cinnamon pushes her glasses up as she hastily changes her mental subject, studying the group in utter fascination. She'd really like to catch Dorcas alone at some point... so she can whisper her question to the sidhe woman: just how exactly does Dorcas manage not to be jealous?!

Dorcas turns out to be somewhat short for a beansidhe. She's likely closest to fitting the term 'elfin' of any of the elves Cinnamon's met. When she moves away from the crowd around the mother-to-be and Cinnamon catches her attention, she's happy to find a quiet corner to sit with Cinnamon and talk. Her voice is a little husky naturally and has the warm, soft brogue of most of the trod. One or two of them don't have much of an accent -- such as Shane -- but most of them do. "Jealous? Why would I be jealous? He comes home to me almost every night. And if he doesn't come home, I know ahead of time that he isn't. I never feel slighted." She leans in, golden eyes twinkling and half-whispers, "And besides, I've experienced over many years the fact that my lovely man always wants to make me feel very special when he's been wi' a lover."

Cinnamon blinks perplexedly at that, pushing her glasses up as she thinks. Finally she says cautiously, "Y-you don't... don't, like... worry th-that he'll... he'll decide he likes someone else better than you?"

Dorcas shakes her head, still smiling and glancing over toward the pregnant woman, "Not really, no. He might like someone in a different way than me, but not more."

"But... but how, er... how do you know? What -- or no, I mean: how can you be so confident he -- he w-won't just... up and leave you?" Cinnamon's voice is genuinely puzzled -- and, truth be told, a little frightened. She can't yet see at all how this sort of behavior can lead to anything but heartache for the poor woman left behind... since, in her (admittedly quite limited) experience, it's the man who dumps the woman.

Dorcas reaches out and lays a hand on Cinnamon's, "He hasn't in seven decades. And if he did? Then good riddance to him! If he doesn't want to be with me, I don't want to be with him! You can't know at the outset. You can only trust. Which is frightening. Or it was to me the first time I had a lover many, many years ago. He was lovely and funny and very, very good in bed. We had a wonderful time together for a handful of years. But then we drifted. It wasn't traumatic. It happens. We parted on good terms. That, luv, isn't a failure. It's a successful short-term relationship." She looks around the room and grins, then points to a sidhe man wearing most of what looks like it was a three-piece suit. He's got a hairstyle that's fairly modern and he is, as Dorcas said, quite lovely. "That's him. Doesn't he have a smile to die for? And such nice hands! But he got interested in different things and so did I." He catches them looking and waves -- which causes Cinnamon to blush at being caught staring in fascination! Dorcas waves back with a laugh.

"Love? It's scary and wonderful. I was with my beloved twenty years before we handfasted. Because neither of us could ever see being without one another after that long. You have to wait and see. And have a friend or three whose shoulder you can cry on while you mourn." Cinnamon unwittingly winces at that statement! But then she reassures herself: she's got friends now! If there's more mourning... she won't be alone for it any more! She blinks, hastily jerking her attention back to Dorcas as the sidhe continues, "But what you can't do is let a relationship that ends make you feel like you're less-than or like you fell short. You just didn't match!"

Dorcas looks around the room and points to the dry-stone chimney of the fireplace that seems to just disappear into the earth, "Like that. See all the different sizes of stones? There's one right at the top where the chimney starts that's about four inches wide. It fits perfectly in that space. But it wouldn't fit in that space." She points to another place where one of the stones is nearly a foot wide, "And that wide piece wouldn't fit where the four-inch piece does. Neither of them is inherently wrong. They're just right for where they are but would be wrong in one another's places."

Cinnamon blinks again, feeling weirdly off balance -- though not in an unpleasant way. In her (limited) experience, people just don't do this sort of thing! She's been raised with the classic American myth: you find The One, you marry and have kids, you're happy forever after. Simultaneously she clearly understands the classic American reality of serial monogamy, with all the accompanying drama and angst -- which clearly occurred because the folks involved didn't find The One... though Cinnamon had been beginning to wonder if there really is such a thing. Now, though... she... just doesn't know?

The young dragon's voice is uncertain, "W-well, I... I guess if you had, um... more than one chance at finding The One, that'd sorta take a lot of the pressure off? Though I... I'm not sure how you'd tell... or... or, actually, um, not... not be really hurt if someone you really cared about just... j-just left you?" She clasps her hands tightly together in her lap, careful to study only them -- she's a little nervous about how... well, how scared she feels about -- about sweeties. "S-so... so d-do you just... just find someone for... um, for s-s-sex?" She winces at the squeak in her voice as she finishes that sentence, then adds quickly, "-a-and um... k-kinda hope it'll work out? Or... or what, please?"

Dorcas is gentle with her; most folks have been, fortunately. "Well, that depends. I mean, sometimes I do just want to spend a night or two with someone. There's no shame in that, lass. Also, that 'The One' thing? That's... not something everyone finds. It's very rare for two people to be able to be everything to one another. As much as my beloved is my beloved, he absolutely falls asleep if I drag him to an art gallery. However, Lucas loves art galleries." Cinnamon grins shyly at that, wondering hopefully if she'll find someone that likes concerts and museums as much as she does. From the sound of what Dorcas is saying, it sounds quite feasible?

Dorcas looks around again, then points out a fellow wearing bell-bottom jeans and not much else, "That's Lucas. He and I have a date every few months. We go to a gallery or three, have a really lovely lunch, and then spend the afternoon and night making one another feel divine. The man has a magnificent mouth." Cinnamon has discovered the beansidhe -- when chatting about their lovers -- are absolutely unfazed by describing the mundane things they love about them right along with the more erotic things they love about them. Of course, she's also discovered entirely unsuspected levels of incandescently flushed embarrassment, too!

Dorcas cheerfully continues, "And then I come home and he goes home to his lover." The person she points out this time is another male who is wearing the sort of tunic-and-trousers clothing Quinn seems to favor. "They are the sweetest pair. Absolutely ga-ga for one another. My beloved and his beloved sometimes spend those days together. They aren't lovers, but they are both avid hunters. So Lucas and I often come home to scrumptious food. It works out for everyone involved." Cinnamon blinks bemusedly, pushing up her glasses as she stares at the people being pointed out: [Can... can you like both women and men for... for sex?!] This is startlingly new to her! Dorcas' voice yanks her back to the present, "Now, we both have veto power. I've only had to use it once and that's because the woman he wanted to get off with was a right little madam. She actively tried to drive wedges and I'd seen it once too often. He's never exercised his right, though I think we both feel safer having it."

Cinnamon nods mutely, feeling like she's caught in a sort of mental whirlpool, spinning her around and around until she's almost dizzy, and can't tell up from down any more -- all these shocking new ideas! She takes a few breaths, then whispers to Dorcas, "Can I- uh, wait. Th-thank you, Dorcas, for... for answering all my questions so patiently? -and, umm... uh, is it okay if I just... just sit here and think for a bit? I... I, uh... have a lot of -- of new ideas to think about... p-please?"

Dorcas nods and pats Cinnamon's hand again, "Of course. Feel free to hunt me down again if you want to talk." Cinnamon nods and smiles uncertainly at the kind-hearted woman... and once Dorcas has moved off, the young dragon pulls her knees up and wraps her arms around them. She doesn't look unhappy or frightened... just incredibly thoughtful and slightly confused. She sits silently, chin on her knees, and thinks at a furiously fast rate... of terrifying chieftains and calming elders and Shane, of beautifully talented sidhe and pregnancy and multiple lovers... and most of all, about the weirdly fascinating, perplexing realities she's seeing all around herself -- realities that don't match with anything she learned as a child!

There's only a little questioning of trodmembers that night, as Quinn and Shane start working through the group by starting with the people they're almost certain aren't the traitor -- folks such as Saoirse, Aisling, and even Quinn himself -- who basically says to Shane, "I had nothing to do with these deaths and this conspiracy." Nevertheless, word goes through the trod as to what's happening, and people start to get worried -- mostly at the idea that someone so treacherous has managed to go uncaught for well over two decades.

The next morning Eirich creates a large and tasty buffet breakfast. Cinnamon is in line with Aisling, who explains what some of the food is, "That's... ahh... black pudding. It's quite tasty! I know it's a sausage, but it's called a pudding..."

Cinnamon looks puzzled, "Why's it called that?"

A male sidhe on Cinnamon's other side says quietly -- and with some playfulness in his voice, "Eat it first and then ask. It's delicious, but you know what they say about making sausage!" If Cinnamon remembers correctly, this fellow's name is Loman, and he's one of the ranger-guards of the trod. His hair is pulled back into a complex plait that makes it quite smooth. His facial features are lovely and almost delicate for a male, and he's got eyes that are closer to brown than yellow. If he were able to hide the points of his ears he'd be able to pass as a particularly pretty human male.

Aisling laughs at Loman and says, "Now you'll have scared her off trying it!"

Cinnamon thinks about that for a few seconds. She remembers having a steak and kidney pie in a British-style pub in her home city, a few years ago. It had been delicious! She takes a deep breath, then grins with only a little trepidation, and says firmly, "I'm going to try it!" She adds a bit shyly, "D-don't tell me what it is until after I've tried it, okay? But then I'd like to know, please?" She forks a few small pieces onto her plate, happily reminding herself: this is an adventure! She's never really had adventures before, so she's going to do her best to enjoy this one!

Cinnamon eats the black pudding at first cautiously, then with pleasure, "It's tasty! So, what is it?" She blinks at hearing it's predominantly pork blood... but then rallies herself by stoutly declaring that it was good -- and she's going to have a bit more, thanks! Loman laughs, "That's a trooper! I mean, it's just another source of animal protein, after all!"

Cinnamon smiles and nods shyly at the pretty man... then quietly asks Aisling, "So, um... do you know if there's anyone free who could, er, maybe... lead me to go see where Branigan died, Ash? Just... just so I could get out and get some sunshine for a bit, maybe? I mean... j-just if they're not busy or anything?"

Loman is seated on the other side of Cinnamon from Aisling, at the table. He says cheerfully, "I can take you, if you'd like? I don't stand a watch today and had no plans."

Aisling smiles across at Loman and then says to Cinnamon, "Loman knows the whole of the trod like the back of his hand."

Cinnamon brightens at that, "Oh, thank you! Umm..." she glances around, then smiles shyly again as she offers her hand to shake to the sidhe, "I'm Cinnamon? N-nice to meet you, Loman! Er... let me get my hiking boots and stuff together, and I can join you then, okay? Er, though... is it -- how many hours away, please?"

Loman takes her hand and kisses the knuckles instead of shaking it, "It's a goodly hike. Two hours at least. It was at the edge of the trod's lands, but we're not dead-center of the territory." Cinnamon blushes hotly at that! She stutters her thanks and her promise to be right back, then almost flees the room! She can hear Aisling saying to Loman, as the young dragon darts off, "Keep her safe for us. She's quite d..."

Only once she's in her own (new) little room does Cinnamon sigh ruefully at herself, shaking her head and sitting on the bed to lace on her boots. [Oh my gosh, I have just got to learn some... some poise! I mean, even Spice and Veles are taking this better than I am!] She laughs with quiet embarrassment to herself, reflecting that at least she's lucky physically, even if she's a mental mess! After all, she didn't blister even after all the walking in the new boots, due to her physical sturdiness -- though her feet swelled a little and ached a ton that first night! But they seem to be recovered by now... and also the boots seem to be breaking in well enough? Comforted by that thought, Cinnamon cheerfully shoulders her little backpack of water, snacks, and other pocket fluff, and heads out for her hike. She giggles quietly as she also realizes: at least the view will be pretty as she follows her guide!

Loman is waiting for her in the great room when she returns. He himself doesn't have a backpack, but he does have a few pouches on his sturdy leather belt. He also has his bow slung across his back and a dagger at his hip. As far as Cinnamon can tell, a dagger is barely even considered a weapon amongst the magical folk. He smiles, "You look like you're ready for a ramble. I promise we'll be gentle."

Cinnamon blushes a bit as she replies, "I, um... yeah, uh, sorry... I'm kind of the odd man out, I guess... sorry?" She's referring as subtly as she can to her size and lack of fitness -- though it sounds like Aisling already warned Loman that Cinnamon was kind of delicate compared to everyone else here. She can't help but wonder a bit, though... is a two hour hike really nothing to these folks?! She ducks her head as she follows Loman, feeling a bit like a waddly hippopotamus compared to everyone else here.

Loman smiles, "Oh, aye. Aisling fussed at me. Told me you were quite dear to her and Shane and I'm to take care of you."

Cinnamon nods and smiles shyly, almost whispering, "They're... very good to me. Thank you."

As they walk, the beansidhe chats about the trod, and asks Cinnamon what she does in America, adding, "You must have impressed them quite a lot, lass!" He's keeping easily to Cinnamon's pace, doing it so naturally that it's not at all obvious. The walk really is quite lovely, though since he never stumbles he barely even looks where he's going. He also waits until they're out of sight of the mound before starting to subtly steer Cinnamon in a different direction. She can't, after all, know that he's taking her almost directly opposite the place Branigan was killed.

Cinnamon smiles shyly at the questions, feeling a bit tongue-tied -- why is this really handsome man so interested in her? When he mentions America, the young dragon assumes he means her non-supernatural life, so she describes being a sort of forensic accountant. She also mentions with pride the wonderful hacking work Spice did, shyly downplaying her own work in interpreting the numbers to discern who the gang of assassins was -- and as she does so, it never occurs to her that Loman apparently believes she's only human. Of course, her explanation is also a bit disjointed, interrupted as it often is by gasping while clambering over rocks and boulders, and having to take short, panting breaks to catch her breath. However, the terrain truly is lushly gorgeous, and Cinnamon is quite willing to pause and wheeze quietly every time Loman stops to point out some lovely local landmark.

At no point does Loman make a big deal of their pace or of Cinnamon needing to rest. He simply slows with her and stops or helps her over obstacles, without being overly-solicitous. He is, in fact, rather a good guide -- such that Cinnamon is extremely grateful for Loman's help! She tries to thank him politely each time he helps her... though as the first hour passes she ends up just giving a small, wry smile as thanks -- she needs all her breath for just keeping on going right now! Loman is unflaggingly cheerful in return. It only makes sense to him, after all, that a young human not used to this sort of exercise might need frequent pauses. Further, the last thing he wants is for her to feel like he thinks she's a burden! What he has planned requires her to trust him, after all.

As they start up an incline, the beansidhe grins down at Cinnamon, "This is a bit of a pain to get up, but the view can't be beat, lass! There's a tarn just up here that's one of nature's wonders." It is also a local site with a very typical suicide legend.

Cinnamon nods breathlessly up at Loman, wheezing, "Hokay!" -- then ducks her head down to concentrate on the tricky path. Rocks and pebbles keep trying to skitter away from under her boots, while she's starting to exasperatedly wonder if the stupid roots are actually moving to entangle her ankles! She grins tiredly at her internal whimsy, then firmly promises herself a moment to 'admire the view' -- which will let her catch her breath! Heck, if it's really pretty then she'll definitely want to get out her cell phone and take a few photos too, after all!

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Last modified: 2019-Jun-12 19:53:32

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