| Logs |
2022 December 18
| Goblin Town |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
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| Realms: Goblin Town Logs |
Willow Weep for Me
One day, Thorn's mail at his quarters contains a letter from his relative -- the one who mentioned their shared ancestor's grave site. There's some information about the address, and then an interesting little snippet, "Apparently it's not actually inside the churchyard proper. I couldn't figure out why. He wasn't executed and he didn't suicide, so none of those normal 'unhallowed ground' things apply. But his wife's grave is on one side of the fence and his is directly next to hers, but on the other side of the fence. The groundskeeper thought it might have been because they got married late in life and her plot was already laid out, and there was no room for his on the other side actually inside the churchyard." There's a little more stuff after that before the cousin signs off.
Thorn is seriously surprised. Someone buried outside the church wouldn't usually be given the courtesy of such a burial arrangement. He doesn't buy the groundskeeper's story, though that would make the most sense. He has a tiny little worried feeling... but he ignores it for now. Once he arranges for some time that he can be away from Coblyn Street and the infirmary, he asks Cinnamon and Shane if they maybe have some time to go with him to this graveyard -- or rather, just outside it. He doesn't know what he'll find, but it's certain to be something, and he'd like to have friends there whom he trusts to keep this secret if it becomes an 'issue' in the future. Cinnamon pushes up her glasses and blinks interestedly, "Outside the fenceline? Wow, that's interesting! Do you suppose he was... like, allergic to hallowed ground, maybe? Like Elias is allergic to sunlight, I mean?" She grins as she adds, "And I'm happy to go with you, Thorny! It sounds like a fun adventure -- and maybe we'll figure out what's going on with your fabulous magical abilities!"
Thorn shakes his head, "I'm not sure, really, but I'm intrigued! I don't know what to think, if my ancestor is, uh, allergic to hallowed ground -- that could mean a lot of things, so I'm trying not to theory-craft just yet!" He smiles and sighs a little, "Thank you, both of you. I really appreciate it!"
Shane nods. He's also looking serious and curious, "I know some sidhe-type species can't step onto that type of hallowed ground either. Quinn said it was part of the reason he and mum are handfasted and not married. Of course, they aren't legally anything, but..."
It takes a couple of days to get it set up, but they get travel arrangements made. The three of them set off on a road trip to the church where Thorn's ancestor is buried. Shane's got a good sense of direction and he seems to enjoy driving. But if either of the others wants to take the wheel, he'll let them. Thorn doesn't mind driving as well, but if Shane wants to drive, he's comfortable letting him! Besides, he realizes, he's color blind. Driving would probably be not good for him to do. He thanks Shane, and frowns a little, "I wonder what it is about hallowed ground that makes it... troublesome?
Cinnamon considers for a bit, then muses, "Is it only for Christian hallowed ground? Or other religions' consecrated ground too?"
"I'm not sure," Thorn replies. "I know that all my magic seems to go away if I hear church bells." Again, he trusts both Shane and Cinnamon with that information, "So there's likely some sort of connection there."
"Huh!" The little dragon sounds both fascinated and bemused. "So... what about, umm... well, like the Islamic call to prayers? Have you ever heard that?"
Shane thinks aloud as he drives, "Some churches, their hallowing ceremonies are specifically banishings as well... and sidhe and such are considered... well, we're considered demons."
Thorn shakes his head to Cinnamon, "I haven't, no... but it honestly wouldn't surprise me." Then he nods wryly to Shane, "Somehow I'm not surprised!"
Cinnamon asks, "So is it more how the religion sees you? I mean, dragons in the western world are usually considered the epitome of greed and violence, right? But... I've never felt the urge to attack anyone in church?" She thinks about that, then giggles, "That'd be an exciting church service, though!"
Thorn laughs. "I can imagine it would be, yeah!"
Cinnamon grins shyly, "Well, either way, I hope this place is good for you, Thorny!"
Shane glances at Thorn, eyebrow raised, "It... goes away? Like, you can't use it at all? Hm... Well, but you thought it came from Athala, right? Though your link to her?"
Thorn nods, "That's what I thought as well. I did some reading, and in some of the legends -- some, so I don't know how accurate they are -- apparently church bells scare away the fey. I thought that it was something related to that; that the magic I got through the link from Athala was affected by that... but maybe it's more than that, now that I'm thinking of it."
Cinnamon's eyes widen, "Wow, Thorny, that's... cool, and weird! Have you ever tried testing it at all?"
Thorn grins, "Thanks, Cinnamon! I'm hoping it'll clear a few things up that have been confusing me about this... this." He shakes his head, "I'm honestly a little scared of testing it too much, especially now."
Cinnamon tilts her head puzzledly, "Why's that?"
Shane chuckles quietly, "We're also considered not to have souls. So..." He shrugs. As he does so, they pull into the parking lot for the church. It's a pretty large church, the kind that is likely the central one for the county. It's not 'cathedral' in size, but it's definitely not 'neighborhood chapel,' either. The graveyard attached is rather sprawling.
Thorn replies to Cinnamon, "What if my healing is a sort of continual thing? What happens if I get disconnected from the magic? Does that mean that any healing I've done gets canceled out? I know it's a very remote possibility, but I've not wanted to risk it." He looks out the window at the church and its steeple. The fence around the graveyard is high, iron, and has the spearhead tips one would expect. The churchyard inside it is well-kept, the grass mowed and manicured. Many of the graves have flowers on them, and some of the stones are tall and ornate. There are very few of the low, modern stones. "Well... no time like the present...."
Cinnamon considers that for a moment... then slowly shakes her head, "Surely that can't be the case, though? I mean, isn't Athala immortal? So wouldn't your magic be that way too? Otherwise... what happens to immortals you've healed after your death?"
Thorn thinks for a second, as he steps out of the car. "You're right," he says with a sigh and a smile. "I think it's less that, and more me being without it. For the longest time, my connection to Athala kept me going in the mundane world, and I was really reluctant to lose it even for a second." He smiles to Cinnamon, "I don't feel that way anymore, I think." Then he looks around the graveyard, "Wow. Um... so his name was Hans Muller, and he's.... apparently buried just outside the churchyard. Should we just go looking for it?"
Cinnamon pushes her glasses up as she stares around interestedly, "I... guess so? If nothing else, it'll keep you out of the hallowed ground, right?" She gives Shane a worried look, "How about you, Shaney? Does hallowed ground or church bells or anything like that hurt you?"
Shane shakes his head, "Nope... or at least it doesn't seem to. Quinn chalks it up to the hybrid vigor thing. I can handle steel. I can walk on hallowed ground. The church bells..." He stops -- then continues thoughtfully, "Huh... they give me a headache. I never really thought about it. I just thought they were loud." He snorts, "New information."
Cinnamon sighs in relief, "Oh, good! Okay then, I won't worry too much about you both." She grins cheerfully at both men, then patters forward, "Maybe we should just, like, walk around the outside fence?" Thorn nods in agreement with Cinnamon, and they start to pace the perimeter of the churchyard, looking for, well, an out-of-place gravestone. As it turns out, the grave is easy to spot. There's a whole section that's obviously the potter's field, but Hans' grave is separate even from that, alone outside the fence but lined up with the rest of the graves. It faces east and is as well-tended as the rest of the churchyard. "Oh! That must be it!" Cinnamon patters that way, cheerfully adding, "Well, at least it's well taken care of? I wonder how his wife's grave is... or if they died with a lot of time separating them or something?" She rustles through her bag, pulling out a notepad and a pencil -- then she looks up and smiles at Thorn, "So what're the names and dates for them both?"
Thorn considers, "That's a good question, actually. My cousin said that he was very old when they had my grandmother. Hmm... there might have been a significant age difference."
The two gravestones are situated together in much the same way many married couples' stones are -- just on opposite sides of the fence. From Hans' dates, he was into his 80's before he died. From his wife's dates, their age gap was a good thirty years, and she outlived him by at least twenty. Cinnamon raises an eyebrow, "Wow, 30 years! They must've really been in love... or... maybe he was just taking care of her?" She grins as she adds, "Or maybe he lied about his age?"
Thorn tilts his head, "He... might have? But wow -- thirty years? That's a lot, even for that time! -- and my cousin didn't say anything about him having been married before."
Cinnamon narrows her eyes thoughtfully, "Hmm... different name, maybe? That's what Liam did, according to his diary to me?" She crouches in front of the gravestone, gently brushing it off a bit, "He looks... kinda grim? Though that was sort of the thing -- to look that way then, right?"
"I think it was, yes," Thorn replies. "They weren't much for smiling in photos, I think." He looks over the gravestone, trying to see if there's any... well, identifiable tree motif, or particular tree-fruits, or something that would suggest fey connections. He also looks for anything that looks out-of-place on a gravestone, though that could mean any number of things. Some Masonic tombstones would drive a conspiracy theorist into apoplexy!
Cinnamon grins, "Hey, maybe touch it, Thorny?"
Thorn blinks to Cinnamon, "Huh, I hadn't thought of that!" He reaches out and (hesitating only a little) brushes his hands over the tombstone.
Cinnamon grins at him, then stares with intent interest at the gravestone. "Are you feeling anything?"
Shane smiles, "They didn't smile because smiles were harder to hold for the long exposure times." He's examining the gravestone as well.
Cinnamon grins up at Shane, "Really? Cool! I did not know that!"
Since both Cinnamon and Thorn are examining it so closely, they see something that wasn't visible in the photos Thorn's cousin sent. Around the central photographic engraving, there's etching that's almost worn away by time, rain, and wind. The leaves take a little while to resolve themselves, but eventually it works out to look like willow fronds circle the portrait. "Ooh, willow!" Cinnamon grins over her shoulder at Shane, "What does willow signify, Shaney?"
Further, Thorn -- with his hand brushing over the stone and touching the engravings, feels there might be characters of some sort incised on the stone. He leans closer, "There's... there's writing here. Incised. I mean, that are worn away by the elements. I don't... I don't know if I can read them... but that and the willow leaves...."
Shane's brows go up, "Uhm... I think in the Bible it's a rebirth thing, but... uhm... there's a Willow trod. They're gealsidhe."
Cinnamon brightens, "Ooh, even cooler!" She folds her notepad so one page sticks out, and lays it against part of the willow so she doesn't block Thorn's examination. Then she takes her pencil and rubs it gently against the pencil to take a rubbing, "Maybe we can see it this way?"
Behind her, Shane unslings the backpack he brought, getting out a roll of white paper and a flat, broad piece of charcoal, "Here, it's what they use for grave rubbings. Maybe we can raise the lettering."
Cinnamon laughs when she sees Shane's tools, "Oh, let's use yours -- they're better!"
Thorn beams, "Oh, perfect! Thank you, Shane!"
Shane smiles crookedly, "Elias suggested it."
Once the rubbing is done, it initially looks like it's just a horizontal line with shorter lines crossing it -- some completely, some going above or below; some slanted, some perpendicular. It would look mostly like a border around the stone. Cinnamon grins excitedly, "Isn't that... what is it, ogham? Can you read it, Shaney?"
Thorn blinks, "It is, yes -- ogham! Muller is a German name, though, so it's strange that ogham would be on his gravestone... I mean, if there was nothing else strange about it, I mean.
Cinnamon grins cheerfully at Thorn, "Well, that's a vote for him changing his name several times, don't you think?"
Thorn nods, "Almost certainly, yes...." He glances to Shane, "I don't suppose you can read ogham?"
Shane studies the faded inscription, "It... it is... and I'm wondering why ogham is on a German's gravestone, as well. Though... I mean, it wouldn't be unusual to try to hide your heritage. There are Celtic Elms and German Elms..." He tips his head and murmurs slowly, "'Though the tree of thy life speak of rebirth, steel yet stole ye from me.'" His brows go up, "I... think his wife may have known!"
Cinnamon's eyes widen, "Ooooh! Maybe he was an elf! 'Cause, like, the Germanic elves are harmed by steel too, right?"
Thorn frowns thoughtfully, "If it's her speaking, then... yes, she might have known. 'Steel yet stole ye from me.' It sounds like he was killed, or was exposed to too much steel."
Cinnamon tilts her head curiously, "Sounds like he was a Willow elf maybe?"
Thorn nods thoughtfully to Cinnamon, "Maybe he was Germanic after all! Willow... are there any trods named Willow? I'm... afraid I don't know many of them, but I've not heard of Willow before."
Shane nods, "There is; I mentioned it before. Willow are gealsidhe. They're a small trod."
Cinnamon nods, "Jaeger mentioned them to help in the protection of Shane's trod, if the Hollies were obdurate!"
Shane adds, "They're... fierce. And largely nocturnal, actually."
Cinnamon grins, "Really? Cool!"
Thorn blinks, "How did I forget that? Erf -- sorry, Shane. My mind was probably scattered to the four winds....."
Cinnamon grins as she pats Thorn's arm, "Don't sweat it, Thorny -- you're learning exciting new things! After all, it looks like you're part elf too, just like Shaney!"
"I suppose so!" Thorn taps his chin, "'Steel yet stole ye....'" For some reason that makes him think his ancestor Hans met an untimely end. There'll be time to consider that later, at least! "That certainly explains a lot."
Shane hmms, crouching to examine the portrait, "No..." He taps the top of his ear where most of the sidhe have pointed ears and he doesn't. Well, not much. His ears have a slightly longish shape, but no point, "Unless there was some kind of surgery... which is possible. I mean... this isn't exactly a high-res photo..."
Cinnamon sits back and counts on her fingers, "So... a father would be half elf. Grandfather is quarter elf, which means... great-grandfather would make you an eighth elf? Unless he was only part elf too, of course. But still -- very cool, Thorny!"
Thorn hmms thoughtfully, "Interesting... well, this is certainly a piece of a larger puzzle! It's certainly comforting to know where these weirdly powerful magic abilities came from. Sort of? I think?" Cinnamon giggles and nods to Thorn!
Shane considers, "Unless he's another species and still part of the trod. I mean, there are other species in the trods. Steel stealing him could mean he was killed by a knife or sword... and if he was Willow, they-yyy... huh. Yeah. It makes sense. Thorn, did you know aspirin was considered a miracle drug?"
Thorn blinks, "Kind of, yes. At the time it seemed like there was nothing it couldn't do. We got a better understanding of it over time, but it's still in most commercial first-aid kids."
Shane pushes to his feet, "It cures fevers. It relieves pain. It can stop a fucking heart attack. Did you know that? EMTs give it to people having cardiac events... and it's made of salicylic acid. Which comes from..." He makes a gesture meant to indicate Thorn should answer.
Cinnamon smiles as she watches -- but then suddenly blinks, "Oh! Healing! How cool!"
Thorn lets out a breath, "The willow." Shane makes a 'there you go' gesture.
Cinnamon grins excitedly, pushing up her glasses, "So in a way, it's truly in your bloodline, Thorny!"
Shane smiles crookedly, "The shi... stuff you learn when your mom's a nurse." He suddenly realizes he's been cursing around Cinnamon. "Willow really are fierce... and a little scary. Largely nocturnal. But... yeah... they're small because they're excessively long-lived and healthy even for sidhe."
Thorn looks at the gravestone, "Curiouser and curiouser.... I guess it is, at that! I should probably reach out to the Willow Trod and ask them about him...."
Shane nods, "I would, yeah." He looks over the fence, "And he wouldn't have been able to go to church because he couldn't have stepped on hallowed ground or handled the bells... so he couldn't have been baptized, and therefore buried in the churchyard..."
Cinnamon brightens, "Oh! Thorn, remember the queen at the Welsh enclave? The one that was glad that we stopped Jenny the grindylow? She was introduced to us as Queen Ceridwen of the Trod of the Willow!" She thinks for a moment, then smiles, "She was nice... not scary."
Thorn nods very thoughtfully, then looks at Cinnamon and Shane, "Until we know more -- like, especially just who Hans Muller was... could I ask you both not to mention this? I mean, it's not like it's top secret or anything, but... just until we know more? I still feel like I'm missing something here...."
Cinnamon looks curious as she replies, "Happy to keep it quiet, Thorny... but what do you feel you're missing? This seems, um... kind of clear to me?" She beams, "You're part elf -- congrats!"
Thorn adds, "Especially if 'steel yet stole him' means he was killed. I don't know if he was killed, or for what reason... or how long whomever might have done it would hold a grudge!"
Cinnamon thinks for a moment, then smiles, "So willow is a tree of rebirth? Cool. It could just mean he had an unfortunate accident too, Thorny. It's not automatically horrible?"
Thorn hastily adds, "Oh, I know! Just, we don't know yet, you know?" He lets out a breath, then smiles, "Thank you both. It means a lot to me for you both to be here."
Cinnamon beams as she leans forward to give Thorn a quick hug, "It's exciting -- and so cool for you, Thorny! Though..." she sits back again, frowning thoughtfully, "I wonder why your lineage doesn't all do healing? Why is it that you can do so much?" She's silent a moment, then looks intrigued, "Hey, Shaney! What does Elm signify, please?"
Shane hmms? "You mean like Willow is rebirth?"
Thorn nods to Cinnamon, returning the hug, "More mysteries to solve!" He laughs, "I'm really, really curious now!"
Cinnamon nods interestedly to Shane over Thorn's shoulder, as she's hugging back, "Yes, please? Because that, er... 'element' is magically mingling with the 'healing and rebirth' parts of Thorny's heritage, right?" She grins excitedly, "I'm guessing it's something else with healing, and that explains the, um... super-boosted magical results he's getting?"
Shane chuckles, "Believe it or not, with the Elm being gealsidhe, they're the guardians of the passage to the underworld. But that's actually not a dark thing in the esoteric world. The passage between life and death is sacred."
Cinnamon hms thoughtfully, pushing her glasses back into place, "That... well, I guess that could work too? I mean, he's kinda magically nudging folks back from there, right?" She grins hopefully at Thorn, "That'd sorta describe what you did at, say, Sparrow's rez, don't you think?"
Shane adds, "The passage can work both ways, you know. It's a portal."
Thorn thinks, "Maybe? I would have thought it would push someone to whichever they're closest to? We need a bit more information, I think... and I think we need to go to the Willow trod to do it."
Cinnamon shakes her head, "Wouldn't it be more where they want to go? I might be almost dying, but really want to live, after all, right?" She glances inquiringly at Shane, "Where's the closest Willow trod, please, since we're no longer in Wales?"
Shane considers, "To here? Or to Coblyn? Because I don't know this area, but there's one about five hours out from Coblyn. Like I said, not very prolific -- they don't come to the enclave often. Do you want to travel there or try to send a message?"
Cinnamon nods to Thorn, "I'm thinking closest to Coblyn, maybe?"
Thorn thinks... then asks, "Which would be more polite?"
Cinnamon grins shyly, "Doesn't it depend on whether you'd like answers fast or slow? Like, a letter is slow, and a visit is fast... right?"
Shane too considers, "I'd say sending a message ahead of time, and then visiting. Just showing up on any trod's doorstep could be..." He makes a seesawing motion with his hand, "Iffy. I mean, I wouldn't want to show up on Rowan's doorstep without warning. But you don't have to send the letter like a month in advance. Just give them a day's warning."
Cinnamon grins again, "We've still got some time before we have to take off for Iceland, too?"
Thorn nods to Cinnamon, "That's true, yes." He thinks again. "I'd love to find out fast! But... ah, that sounds like a plan, Shane -- thank you! I'll send a letter and tell them I'll come by in a couple of days, and why I'm coming by. I hope they aren't put off by that... and that's true too, Cinnamon -- we do have a bit of time. Could I ask you both to come with me to Willow?"
Cinnamon laughs excitedly, bouncing on her toes with her hands clasped, "Love to! This is so exciting!"
It doesn't take much to get the message sent. Shane, for once, isn't the messenger. Instead, it's sent via actual messenger pigeon. The reply comes back within a day, as well and says the trod would welcome Thorn's visit. Cinnamon watches in fascination as the pigeon is sent... though she does request permission to very, very gently pet the bird before it's released! She thinks this is a totally awesome way to send mail! Thorn too is fascinated by the messenger pigeon system. He has a lot of questions about it, since messenger birds are supposed to 'return' to where they roost; do all the enclaves and trods exchange messenger pigeons?
The keeper of the pigeons at Caradog's castle explains that, no, not all the trods keep up with this form of communication. Elm, for instance, doesn't -- or at least not the trod nearest Coblyn; they prefer to keep their own messengers. But there are several that prefer less direct communication, and there are a good dozen that do it this way. Cinnamon curiously asks, "Are they all in the US, or are there international pigeon services -- or whatever bird you'd use? Or is this just for... for the eastern seaboard?" She grins at the thought of, say, cross-continental albatrosses -- or even something wild like cross-oceanic griffins!
The pigeon keeper smiles, "Some other enclaves keep pigeons. Some keep other messenger birds or animals. I remember one keeper laughing uproariously when it was told to her that something very like her system was being copied for some children's book or another. But her birds are actually familiars, so they aren't quite like the ones in those books."
Cinnamon blinks, her eyes widening, "White owls?! Oh my gosh, how absolutely marvelous!" She grins but shyly doesn't say anything, when she remembers that at least some of the Harry Potter owls turned out to be familiars.
Shane, again, does the driving. The Willow trod is far out in the boonies and, perhaps unsurprisingly, down in a small valley with a stream running through it. There's a grove of the trod's trees there, and the threesome have to park a mile out and hike the rest of the way. Shane warned them of that ahead of time, of course. But then, is either of them surprised at the hike? Thorn is amusedly, thoroughly unsurprised at the hike; he's come to expect it from trods by now. Cinnamon giggles at Shane driving -- she's not sure why, but she really likes it when he does that! She happily sings along with the songs on the radio, and once they arrive she cheerfully stuffs her aran jumper into her backpack, shoulders the backpack and re-ties her hiking boots... and then follows along with her dear friends!
The grove of willows along the stream is lush; the whole area seems serene. One particular Willow is enormous. The fronds fall around it all the way to the ground in a complete curtain of green. The tree itself soars a good ten feet higher than any of the others, and its footprint is as large -- if not slightly larger -- than Cinnamon's little cottage. The little dragon ooohs, looking up at the tree, "Isn't that one beautiful?" She grins hopefully at her companions, "Can we pause for a moment? I've always loved sort of... slipping out of sight between the willow fronds -- that kind of really long-branched tree always felt magical to me!"
Thorn lets out a breath, looking around,"It's peaceful here... and very beautiful."
Shane nods and smiles, "It is peaceful here. They're fierce, but they... Well, they'd rather not fight if they don't have to. Most real warriors are like that." Cinnamon grins excitedly at her friends' willingness to pause, then turns and patters happily over to the willow. She pauses to stroke her fingers almost reverently along the long, trailing branches... then slips through them as if they were curtains. This is so fun to her! Shane was just starting to say something to Cinnamon -- and then she's already slipping through the fronds! He hisses through his teeth, "Fuck! C'mon, we need to follow her. That's the trod entrance." Thorn blinks, wondering why Shane is so worried? But he follows quickly along.
Cinnamon steps carefully through the branches, sniffing the lovely, rich scent of growing things and letting her fingers trail lightly along the thick curtain of leaves that eddies around her. As she slips through the curtain of fronds, there's a palpable change. Not only does she seem to move from the world into quietude and dark... there's the moment she expected of being in that green, arboreal cave -- but then there's a transition of some sort... and she finds herself in an earthen-walled chamber with two sidhe. One is raven-haired with golden eyes. The other has fiery red hair and green eyes. Somewhere in the middle of these branches, Cinnamon knows, there must be a little open space where she can- the little dragon stops abruptly, almost squeaking in startlement, "Oh!" -- then blinking interestedly and smiling, "Hello?" She looks around again, a bit bewildered, "Wait... where did your lovely tree go?"
The red-haired sidhe speaks in a very mid-west accented English, pointing over his head, "About twenty feet that direction." That makes his partner's lips twitch up on the right side.
Cinnamon glances back the way the gealsidhe points... then smiles at him, "So I stumbled into the trod's entrance, then?" Curiously she adds, "Are you one of those trods with both geal- and bean-sidhe?" Meanwhile, twenty feet above their heads, Shane leads Thorn through the same path Cinnamon just took. There's the earthy-damp scent of the tree, and the same thing happens: for a moment they're in what seems almost like a cave made out of a tree... and then they're in an actual underground chamber with Cinnamon and two sidhe. The little dragon blinks as two more folks appear... then brightens, "Oh! Hi, guys! Look, I think we found the Willow trod!"
Thorn too blinks at the sudden transition, looking around a touch warily... but then relaxes, "I, uh, it looks like we did! Um... hello! My name is Thorn -- I sent a message a few days ago? This is Cinnamon O'Donnell and Shane Rowantrod, both also of Coblyn Street." The little dragon grins and gives a small, shy wave at the two sidhe.
Shane smiles a bit worriedly to Cinnamon, "Yeah, I was just about to tell you that we were going to be going in there, and you went in before I could say anything."
The dark-haired sidhe chuckles. His voice, when he speaks, is thickly Welsh-accented, "Oh, don't worry about it. The entrance has been activated because we've been waiting."
Cinnamon looks worried at Shane's words, "Oh, dear! I'm so sorr-" She pauses, blinking at the dark-haired sidhe... then brightens with excitement, "Oh!" Shifting to Welsh, she asks, "Would you please forgive my thoughtlessly blundering in to your home?" She quietly murmurs the translation to her friends as well, of course.
The dark-haired sidhe speaks again, this time in Welsh, "You're more than welcome in our home. We were awaiting your coming." He swaps back to English, "You're welcome here, Thorn of Coblyn. As to your question, ma'am, we're all beansidhe, though there is some gealsidhe blood that has influenced the looks of some of us." His redhaired companion grins, "I was once told that, in humans, red hair is closer to black than to blonde."
The dark-haired sidhe speaks again, in Welsh, though he'd spoken in Welsh-accented English before, "You're more than welcome in our home. We were awaiting your coming." He swaps back to English, "You're welcome here, Thorn of Coblyn. As to your question, ma'am, we're all gealsidhe though there is some beansidhe blood that has influenced the looks of some of us."
His redhaired companion grins, "It's like with the humans -- dark hair is a dominant gene; red or blonde hair is recessive. I think the yellow eyes are like brown eyes, as well. If Ianto there were to have a kid with one of the full gealsidhe, they've have a chance of being blue-eyed blondes -- since his mam is full gealsidhe and his da is half-beansidhe."
Ianto sighs, "Twm, can we just check these folks through the gate and not give 'em a biology lesson." He doesn't seem upset... just more like his companion is a chatterer and he's a bit tired of it. Cinnamon has to cover a giggle at that! She's fascinated by the 'chatter,' so she sure doesn't mind it! She doesn't mention that her own red hair isn't actually what she was born with, though. After all, technically it did sorta come from a recessive gene, right? Even if it was a really, really recessive one! Thorn doesn't mind the 'biology lesson,' either, especially since he's trying to puzzle out his own heritage. Ianto holds out a small notebook... well, something like a notebook. It's quite a fancy one; a journal, morelike: handbound and made of leather. "We need your sigils."
Cinnamon nods and pulls the attached pen out, then signs for herself, "Sure! Here you go." Then she hands the pen, with a smile, to Thorn. He too nods, accepting the pen with a smile from Cinnamon, and signs his sigil into the visitors' journal. Then he hands the pen to Shane... who signs as well, then pauses and asks, "Do you just need the sigil, or...?" He touches the knife at his belt.
Ianto twitches that half-smile again, "We're not going to require the blood. That's changed in the last 50 years. Once you're through here, we'll be deactivating the entrance. People don't just stumble in." Cinnamon tilts her head curiously, carefully observing the dark-haired sidhe. Is his face subtly scarred? Or does he just normally only smile on half of his face? Ianto just seems to have a sort of half-smile, "Speaking of which." He and Twm turn toward the wall behind themselves and touch spots about halfway up that seem smoother than the rest of the earthen wall. Cracks appear along the floor and then slowly slide up toward the ceiling. In less than a minute, the shape of double doors is there, where nothing stood before. They swing ponderously open, away from the party.
Twm cheerfully waves an arm, "Welcome to Willow! Wyn will meet you inside... straight down the corridor. It'll be the only open door at the end."
Cinnamon grins up at the two sidhe, "Thank you both so much!" then carefully makes sure that this time she's following Shane, rather than running ahead!
Thorn is surprised at news of the 'deactivating the entrance' thing, and wonders why the Trod of the Elm didn't do that. Not that he minds -- it's how he stumbled upon the esoteric world, after all -- he's just curious. He looks in surprise at the two-key method of opening the door, then smiles warmly to Twm and Ianto, "Thank you!"
The corridor is broad, smooth-floored, and arch-ceilinged. It's also tiled in shades of earthy green and brown. Shane, who is in the lead by a bit, murmurs about it reminding him of a subway tunnel. Cinnamon pads along quietly behind her friends, her head tilted back so she can interestedly study the rather lovely hallway. Thorn says thoughtfully to Shane, "A bit, yes... I wonder if that was intentional...."
Cinnamon grins at Thorn, "Wouldn't it be more likely that the subway tunnels were patterned after this? After all, sidhe would probably hate all the steel in a subway, right?"
They walk through the only open door... which might be a bit of a misnomer, since it's basically just the end of the corridor and opening into a large-ish chamber... and hear a voice say amusedly, "Yes. We do hate subways... and that particular corridor is actually meant to bring to mind walking through either water or through willow fronds. Myself? I'm with you in the subway tunnel." The voice is a warm, feminine alto and its owner is a strawberry-blonde woman with freckles across her nose and cheeks, and an impish grin.
Cinnamon pushes up her glasses, smiling in spite of herself at the friendly-sounding voice, "Hello? You must be, um... Wyn?" Thorn smiles in greeting at the sidhe as well, though he's not one-hundred-percent off his guard.
The woman smiles, "Correct; I'm Wyn -- and I would guess from my information that you are..." she looks between them and points, "Shane. Cinnamon. Thorn." She pegs them each correctly, then adds, "Please. Come, sit." The chamber they're in is a bit like a large lounge. Perhaps it's the subway analogy, but it might remind those that have been in such places of something like a VIP lounge in a airport or train station: comfortable chairs, tables nearby, a glowing fireplace. It looks like it would hold maybe thirty people, but they're the only ones present at the moment. Thorn looks around, a little surprised that it looks somewhat modern. Even so, it's comfortable, and he thanks Wyn as he sits. Cinnamon glances around with interest, then patters after Wyn to seat herself. She'll drop her backpack at her feet, and pull out a few bottles of water, offering one each to Shane and Thorn before she starts her own bottle.
Shane happily takes the bottle of water; Wyn laughs softly, "Ah. I see you're either extremely cautious of sidhe, or just the kind of person that always packs water and trail mix." She tucks her feet beneath herself in the capacious armchair she chose. Yes, the room is oddly modern for a trod. "So, your note, Thorn. It said you've got some questions. I'll do my best to answer. And you're a healer? You work with Iason?"
Cinnamon smiles shyly at Wyn after taking a long slug of her water, "I always try to have water and trail mix... so I don't slow my friends down."
Shane chuckles quietly, "I also don't take drinks from strangers for the most part, sidhe or not. Even humans can be a little shady."
Wyn nods and ahhs, "That's right. There's sort of a problem with that, isn't there?"
Cinnamon blinks startledly at Shane, pushing her glasses up as she does so... then looking a bit puzzledly at her own bottle. To Wyn she replies, "Er... there is? Explain, um, please?" She worriedly wonders if there's some kind of magical knack she's not heard of, that can... taint or contaminate a sealed water bottle -- that'd be bad, if so! She'd feel awful if she gave Shane poisoned water!
Wyn smiles, "At least in gathering places where there are a lot of humans together -- bars and festivals and so forth -- it's unwise to take a drink from a stranger if the seal has been broken, as I understand it. There's a non-zero possibility that it could be tampered with. I believe it's called being... what is it... ceilinged?"
Shane actually bites his tongue as Wyn gets the word almost right -- after all, roofs and ceilings are both above you. Cinnamon blinks slowly... then ah!s, "Oh, I get it! I know what you mean -- it's, er, roofies, I think, that they're called?"
Wyn brightens, "Right! Roofied! So, it's wise to be careful of who you accept drinks from and to only take sealed ones!" Then she smiles at Thorn again, "So! Your questions?"
Thorn declines the water for the moment; he's grateful, though, and may take Cinnamon up on the offer soon... especially when he remembers not to trust sidhe -- even if it turns out he may be partly one! "You never slow anyone down, Cinnamon. Yes, Wyn, I am, and I do work with Iason. In fact, the healing magicks are kind of why I'm here. I'm actually not entirely certain why my healing magic is quite so... um, vigorous. So to speak. It might have something to do with my heritage. I seem to be related to a Hans Muller. We found his grave and there are markings on it that suggest he might have been part sidhe. There's a message on his gravestone from his wife saying, 'Though the tree of thy life speak of rebirth, steel yet stole ye from me.' From that we guessed he was of the Willow trod. And... that brings me here today, wondering if you knew anything about Hans Muller."
Cinnamon blushes with pleasure at Thorn's kind statement! She adds to the sidhe woman, "There were willow branches carved on the tombstone too! Also, um, Thorny? M-maybe show Wyn the photo? Since we think the name was an alias?" She adds to Wyn, "Thorn found out that his relative married a human woman, and they're buried by each other."
Thorn ohs! and nodnods to Cinnamon, digging through his pockets for the photo printout. "You're right, I do have a photo here...." As he hands the printout over to Wyn he adds, "Yes, she's buried in the church, but he's outside the church -- literally, he's on the other side of the wall to the churchyard."
Wyn leans forward as Thorn tells his story, her eyes widening in curiosity, "Steel yet stole ye... hmm... and yes, Willow is rebirth or regrowth. I actually think that's why we, as a gealsidhe trod, actually have several beansidhe. Back when the two, uhm... well, it used to be two courts... sort of... when the two... hrm... we're not breeds or species exactly..." She reaches out and takes the papers from Thorn, "Well, the beansidhe used to be seen as..." She glances at Shane, obviously trying to find a way to say something yet be inoffensive about it.
Shane smiles faintly, "Beansidhe were once seen as untrustworthy, shifty, and sometimes downright evil. The dark side to the gealsidhe's light." Cinnamon listens in fascination, her gaze flicking back and forth between the various speakers. Shane continues, "I'm half-beansidhe, Wyn. Don't worry. You'll only offend me if you lie."
Wyn nods at the explanation of Hans being buried outside the churchyard, "Outside the hallowed ground? Interesting. So unbaptized, definitely. In the potter's field?"
Cinnamon says, "It was really nice and well-tended, if it was the poor folks' area."
Thorn nods to Cinnamon, "No, he wasn't in the potter's field. This was a very well-tended gravesite, and his wife clearly worked hard on tending it."
Cinnamon adds, "It's still nicely tended, too, right, Thorny? Even though they both died in the... was it the late 1800s?"
Thorn nodnods, "Oh, very true, yes! Like, the church is still taking care of his site. That's about the time they died, yes."
Wyn hmms and looks down at the picture in her hands, "He's..." She tips her head this way and that, "I can't tell about his ears in this photo." She touches her own ear tips, delicately pointed as they are, "But if he had a glamour ability, that might not be difficult to hide."
Thorn nods to Wyn, "Might there be any records of him, or... or something like that?"
Wyn muses, "There may be. Especially since he's really not that far from here, geographically." Her brows draw together and she murmurs, "Muller... Muller... do any of you know what the name actually means? I mean, like its significance? It seems German. This particular sub-trod, we're largely Welsh in origin."
Cinnamon smiles, "Miller. It's a very common name."
Thorn blinks. "Uhm. I think it means 'miller'? And yes, it's not exactly Welsh."
Cinnamon thinks for a moment, then asks, "Could his name here have been maybe melinydd or felinydd?" She adds to her friends, "That's just miller in Welsh." She thinks a bit more, then adds more slowly, "Or... someone named John Miller?"
Thorn nods to Cinnamon, "Any one of those would give us a lead!"
Wyn nods, "Yeah. The Welsh version would be basically what you said.. though he may have twisted it a little more than that. People will do strange things with their names." She's tapping the photo on her thigh and staring into space, "Miller, Muller, mulling, lulling, thinking thoughty thinks... hm... milling... grinding... grinder... miller... milling... milling around... confused... well, I'm certainly confu... -sed..." At the last, she blinks slowly, "Dryswch."
Thorn blinks as he watches Wyn try to conjure up the name, "I'm... sorry? Dryswch?" His pronunciation of Welsh is not the greatest in the world.
Wyn repeats, "Dryswch. If he's not Dryswch himself, he may be a relative. The name means, essentially, befuddlement... and his knack is... or possibly was if this was him... obfuscation. A very powerful glamour. Illusionist extraordinaire."
Cinnamon blinks thoughtfully at that, "Confusion? How... odd. Not like Thorny's abilities at all, is it?"
Wyn goes on, "Dryswch was... or is! -- a member of a Willow trod about a month's ride on horseback, north of here. Oh, the name is because a glamour that strong can make you doubt yourself on anything. But... come with me." She stands and motions them to follow her, "We're going to the portrait gallery. That's why I think maybe a relative -- it would explain the strength, but also the drastic difference in ability."
Cinnamon shoulders her backpack and rises, water bottle in hand. This is certainly getting curiouser and curiouser! Thorn nods, "Yes, it's very much not what happens when I cast healing magic...." He blinks and stands up as well, following after Wyn with Cinnamon and Shane. This is getting even more strange....
Wyn takes them back down the hall and through a door. It opens into another corridor with paintings lining the walls. Some of them are very formal portraits; others are less so. Some are almost modern, and a few might even be photographs. Wyn murmurs to herself as they move along, repeating the name 'Dryswch' under her breath -- much as one might say, 'sugar, sugar, sugar,' when looking for it in the grocery store. When she finds what she's looking for, she beams, "Aha! Here we are!" Thorn pauses at the indicated portrait, looking up to study it.
Dryswch's portrait is quite similar to the gravestone's photograph -- except for a long sweep of reddish hair. Also, the formal clothing he's wearing looks more Elizabethan than Edwardian. But it's not... quite... Hans. Wyn hrms, then murmurs, "I think it's not him, though... not quite. Something's up with the jaw line... or something."
Cinnamon muses, "Did he have any offspring?"
Thorn tilts his head to the side, looking up at the portrait, "Yeah... yeah, it's... not quite him...." He brightens and nods to Cinnamon, "That's a great question!"
Cinnamon adds, "And is this painting of Dryswch, or a relative of his?" She remembers that Hans, in the gravestone photo, had a neatly-trimmed Van Dyke. "Sooo... could the beard account for the different jaw line?"
Wyn shakes her head, "No offspring -- not before he left the trod. I don't have record of any. Bu-uuut... he was quite successful and charming with those he wanted to, uhm... spend time with. Illusion is good at that."
Thorn feels his skin crawl a little bit at that, "Why did he leave the trod?"
Wyn is back to tapping her thigh with the photo, "I don't think it's just the beard. The eyes are a little different... the eye-shape is off." She turns to Thorn, "A... misunderstanding. It ended somewhat less than amicably -- by which I mean to say there was a fight -- nothing fatal! ...and Dryswch felt his prospects would be rosier elsewhere. If he had offspring, it's also possible the mother didn't name him as father. We aren't as attached to knowing the sire of a child as humans often are. We're usually just glad a child was conceived! Though honestly, Willow... for being rebirth, we are remarkably low-fertility."
Cinnamon sips her water as she thoughtfully studies the painting... then tilts her head, "All right, were there any children here, within that time frame?"
Wyn manages to stop long enough to take a breath and then goes on, "In fact, we have been at a stable population in this trod -- and when I say stable, I mean within two individuals of the same population -- for the last five hundred years."
Thorn blinks. "That's... a very stable population."
Cinnamon pragmatically checks, "So is it two more, or less?"
Shane blinks slowly, "So, you're saying that every time a child is born..."
Wyn smiles cheerfully, "Someone inevitably passes, mostly of natural causes. But it's often the other way around: someone passes, and within just a few weeks we find that one of the women of the trod has fallen pregnant. I honestly am of the opinion that we need to integrate more outsiders into the trod. Fresh blood, you know... because if you breed consistently within such a stable population, bad things can start to happen."
Cinnamon sighs thoughtfully, watching Wyn dance carefully around actually admitting anything about the trod's children. Well, the little dragon can kind of understand why, if children are that rare. Thorn is fascinated by the issues of fertility that Willow is experiencing... but he does agree with Wyn that they need fresh blood in their genetics. But... "So... it's possible that Dryswch had a child, and that child eventually took the name Hans Muller and married...." He thinks for a moment, then shakes his head, "You mentioned that the person we're looking for might be a relative of Dryswch?"
Wyn finally sighs, "I worry that what's happening is we're breeding too closely in. I am also a little superstitious -- that what is happening is actually ancestral reincarnation. But that seems silly when I say it out loud. But, yes, Thorn. I suspect the man in this picture could be a sibling or a son of Dryswch. I think you should go to the last trod Dryswch was a member of to double-check with anyone that might have borne a son to him."
Cinnamon murmurs, "Or daughter... who'd have had a son..."
Wyn nods, "True; or daughter... which might explain the healing touch. I mean, if it came in through a son-in-law..."
Thorn nods to Cinnamon, "Exactly." He looks back to Wyn, "We'll definitely have a look, then. What was the last trod Dryswch was a member of?"
Cinnamon glances around and has a seat nearby, then smiles at Thorn, "The Willow one that's a month away by horse, right?"
Thorn ohs! "Right, you're right, Cinnamon -- sorry, I forgot that bit. Well... another step closer!" He looks to their host, "Wyn, thank you very, very much for your help and your patience today. We really appreciate it, and you've helped us start to peel away the layers of this mystery."
Cinnamon glances at Shane, "Do you know where this other Willow trod is, Shaney, or do we need to ask Wyn for directions?"
Shane slowly shakes his head, "I... actually don't know about this one."
Wyn nods, "I'll get you a map. It's... difficult to find." She frets a little, "I might actually send Ianto with you. He's from there originally."
Thorn nods, "Thank you -- his help in finding the other trod would be very welcome!"
Wyn leads everyone back to the lounge-like area. Curiously, all the Willow-folk the little group has seen so far is just the three: Twm, Wyn, and Ianto. Shane murmurs, "This is the quietest, calmest trod I have ever been in. Ever." Cinnamon nods in silent, bemused agreement. Where is everyone? Thorn doesn't say, 'Almost too quiet' only because he feels that's courting fate!
Five or ten minutes later, Ianto appears. He's changed into clothes that look pretty human-normal and he's got a leather rucksack over one shoulder. He smiles wryly, "I've been voluntold that I'm going on a bit of a journey. I'm guessing it's going to be in a car?"
Cinnamon blinks, "Oh, no! That's right -- it'll make you sick! How can we help?" Thorn blinks as well, only now just realizing that car equals steel. He's going to have to get better at remembering that.
Ianto shrugs his shoulder and pats the rucksack, "Willowbark tea, honey, bread. A couple of other things... and a request to please, please, please sit in the very middle of the back seat. I apologize in advance to whoever's sitting back there with me; I promise I'm not trying to snuggle up and be flirtatious. It just keeps me as far away from the doors as possible." He actually seems almost... playful about it as he adds, "-and maybe a few hours' rest before we go into the other trod, to let the honey and bread take effect." His small smile accompanies his sigh, "I sometimes miss the days of carriages... even if the travel times were longer."
Cinnamon pushes her glasses up and nods firmly, "You can sit wherever in the back you want, Ianto -- I don't mind!"
When they get to the antechamber again, Twm is there with another guard -- a female one who looks more typically gealsidhe, with the classic golden-blonde hair and blue eyes. She also has a very serious expression on her face. There are very faint markings on the floor of the chamber, and Ianto has them step inside them, "This may feel a bit... odd..." Maybe it's knowing it's going to happen -- since they didn't the first time -- but there is a bit of a whooshing sensation. It's the type you can sometimes feel if you're in a car that's going too fast over a hill... and then they're standing in the dim, quiet, cave-like space created by the falls of the ancient willow's fronds.
Cinnamon looks up, smiling at the dimly green-tinted light. Her voice is quiet, "It's just as lovely as I'd hoped...."
Thorn smiles to Cinnamon, nodding to her, "It's very peaceful." He wonders if part of the peacefulness is because it's so... low in population?
Ianto looks around the little cave-like area and smiles, "It is. I sometimes come up and sit here and read. It's soothing. But the tree is very old, and it feels to me like it enjoys the company."
Moments later, Cinnamon waits for Ianto to carefully, wincingly climb into the station wagon and settle himself... before she squeezes in as well. She's pressed against the door in her efforts not to push him, and she worriedly checks, "Is this okay for you?"
He is very, very careful getting into the car, and then he smiles at Cinnamon, "You don't have to scootch away from me. I'm not touch-averse. I just didn't want you to feel uncomfortable if I ended up with my thigh against yours or something." He actually pats Cinnamon's knee. Shane glances back in the rearview mirror and hmms. He's protective, but this guy seems... okay.
Cinnamon nods gravely to the beansidhe, clearly still worried for him. To Shane she says, "How long a drive is a month's worth of horseback riding?"
Thorn sits quietly, watching the road pass by in a blur, "It's... more than a few hundred miles, isn't it?"
Cinnamon glances at the passing scenery, watching the sun starting to flame with approaching sunset -- they'd driven most of the day to this Willow trod, after all. "We're going to have to find a motel for the night soon, too, aren't we?"
Thorn nods to Cinnamon, "That'd be the best thing to do, unless we want to travel all night!"
Cinnamon is silent for a moment, thinking. She glances at Ianto, then back at her friends... then says quietly, "We could... cheat?" She asks the Willow sidhe, "Can you feel your trod from a distance? Like, 'walk to it blindfolded' kind of thing?"
Thorn blinks to Cinnamon, then grins sheepishly, "If you're willing to....?"
Cinnamon nods gravely to Thorn, "Well, it depends on both Ianto here, and how his trod's likely to respond... and also how populated the area is?"
Ianto looks curiously around at everyone, "Cheat? ...and I can find it, yes. It's not like I'm a homing pigeon, but I can find it."
Cinnamon giggles at that! Pushing up her glasses, she grins at the beansidhe, "Okay! Let's see... is your trod willing to break out a lot of food, real fast, for us? And how well populated is the area around here? Human population, I mean... we need to avoid a lot of lights."
Thorn nods, looking around outside, "This looks to be a fairly low-population area....?"
Cinnamon adds, "Is that okay with you, Shaney? It's your car, after all -- though I'd be very careful with it, I promise?"
Shane smiles, "I'm sure we can find a safe spot to park it."
Ianto still looks mystified, but replies, "It's not my trod -- my trod is the one we just left -- but most Willow trods are..." he winces as he says it, "They're kinda like doomsday preppers. They've got supplies that will last decades. We're prepared to sit out sieges. So yeah, they could break out a lot of food pretty quickly."
"Oh, good!" Cinnamon smiles at Shane, meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror, "I can carry it, Shaney -- no problem! It can't be heavier than two Humvees, surely, right?" She adds to Ianto, "I'd like to ask for protein-heavy food preferentially, please, when we arrive?"
Shane chuckles, "No. It's definitely not heavier than a pair of Hummers."
Ianto mouths, 'Carry... it?' while looking even more perplexed. He leans forward to murmur to Thorn, "I know they're speaking English, but....?"
Thorn laughs softly. "You'll see!" he tells Ianto. "It'll be fun!"
Cinnamon giggles at that! To Shane she happily says, "Okay, can we find a quiet, not-well-lit place to pull over for just a moment, then, please?" As Shane finds a tree-shaded bit of road to park on the shoulder, Cinnamon grins at Ianto, "I'm former Councilmember Liam's get, Ianto. Would you like to fly with us?"
Ianto's eyes widen, "Oh. Oh!" He grins delightedly, "Oh, Twm is going to be so jealous!" He slides out of the car when it stops; Shane is laughing as well. The Willow sidhe goes to stand by Thorn, asking, "Why didn't you just fly here in the first place?"
Cinnamon smiles as she tucks her backpack into the trunk, "We weren't trying to show off. We really wanted just to find out information for Thorny here. But if we're going to have to drive for hundreds of miles in a car with a sidhe... it'd be really rude of me to make you suffer needlessly, I think... you know?" She hesitates, then adds shyly, "Plus... I'm kinda a really new dragon, so... it doesn't always immediately occur to me?" She decides not to mention that she really enjoys getting to spend time in close proximity with Shane, however... and Thorn too! She's uncomfortably aware, after all, that she'd be flame-red with embarrassment if she did mention it out loud!
Shane grins, "Plus, she's kind of adorable when she's excited about flying."
Cinnamon blushes hotly at that! Crabcakes -- she simply must not think about blushing, or how cute Shane is, when people are watching her! She coughs, then hastily patters to the side of the road, "Okay then! Are we all ready?" Both dark-haired men nod. Ianto's eyes are wide and curious -- he's never actually seen a dragon. He just knows about them. Cinnamon nods in return, then shifts shape... then settles down into her usual sphynx pose. She rumbles cheerfully, "Okay, all aboard! Buckle in carefully, please!"
Thorn smiles quietly at Cinnamon's blush, but does not call attention to it. He waits until Cinnamon transforms, watching Ianto's expression somewhat eagerly. He's always interested -- and amused -- to see peoples' reaction to Cinnamon's dragon form. The little dragon doesn't realize Thorn's doing that -- mostly because she's watching avidly too! Well... plus she's got half an eye on Shane...
Ianto's eyes widen and he says something very quietly in Welsh. Shane chuckles, "Something that big, and still bloody adorable, right?" He walks over and strokes Cinnamon's nose, causing her to beam toothily down at him, rumbling contentedly... and unwittingly gusting warm breath into the cold night air. She's guiltily glad, however, that blushing doesn't really show in her draconic form! Otherwise she'd be red as a (quite delighted!) beet... at Ianto's very sweet and heartfelt murmur of, "Gorgeous!" in Welsh. The gealsidhe looks somewhat awed, and somewhat like a kid who just got their favorite toy for Christmas! Shane boosts Ianto up and shows him how to strap in before he straps himself in. As usual, he's up near Cinnamon's head. Thorn too straps in as instructed, happy to be flying again -- it's a rare treat!
Cinnamon curves her long neck around to watch her friends' preparations. Once they're done she grins again, "Okay! Red Dragon Airlines, taking off soon... because we're gonna be a cargo dragon too, tonight!" She trills laughter as she rises, gives a careful testing shake to ensure everyone's secure... then pads over to the car and carefully wraps her arms around it. To her passengers she adds, "Lean forward and hold on tight, because I'm going to have to leap up hard into the air, okay?" She counts down her takeoff from five as well, so no one's surprised -- then bounds upwards! Her wings slap down hard, raising a cloud of dust and causing the nearby trees' branches to wave wildly and shed leaves... and then she's well above the treeline and trilling happily to herself!
Cinnamon gets up to circling height so she can orient herself on the stars... then heads towards the Willow trod. Over her shoulder she calls, "Ianto, sing out when we're close! It shouldn't be more than ten, fifteen minutes, so be ready!" Ianto calls back in reply that he'll let her know -- then he closes his eyes, as if that will let him tell more easily. Cinnamon hums contentedly to herself as she flaps easily along... this is so nice! She should fly more with friends, she decides. Thorn enjoys the flight, not quite leaning out and watching the ground pass by below. Ianto calls out about twelve minutes into the flight that they're very near... and Cinnamon can smell water again. Apparently Willow trods tend to be near streams or rivers. The young dragon nods to herself, unsurprised by that thought -- after all, willows themselves enjoy water too!
Cinnamon slows her wingbeat, just gliding swiftly through the air -- so she can slipwing downwards quickly, as necessary. When Ianto calls out again, she drops one wing and they all spiral gradually towards the ground. She corrects little by little, with Ianto's directions... and eyeballs the ground carefully. She needs an open spot to touch down in; fortunately trods seem to prefer hidden places to locate, so she's not too worried about humans right now. Plus, her heat-detecting vision will alert her if anyone's present. Thorn is perfectly content with Cinnamon's landings -- he has no worry at all and trusts her entirely, so he is calm and relaxed as the great dragon spirals downward.
The trod doesn't seem to have any external guards. This grove (like the other visited by the little group) seems to be free of people at ground-level. But there is a large clearing. Cinnamon lands hind legs first, with a great flapping of her wings... then very carefully sets down the station wagon! Only then does she back up a bit and settle herself completely down, and cheerfully announce, "The dragon has landed!" She knows Ianto won't get it, but maybe Thorn and Shane will get a giggle from the paraphrased moon landing call!
Ianto's eyes are wide and delighted as he unstraps and slides carefully down to the ground, "That was entirely too short a flight!" He looks around, "They'll no doubt be sending a sentry up soon..."
Shane is already pulling a space blanket out of the station wagon's emergency supplies. Cinnamon grins over her shoulder at Ianto, "Glad you enjoyed it!" She waits until everyone is off her back, then rises and pads over to Shane, "Thank you, Shaney! I think we better back against a tree or something, okay?" Shane bites. His. Tongue. And just holds the blanket up and keeps his eyes averted. He is, as always, a perfect gentleman, as a paladin should be. Cinnamon beams a few seconds later at how easily she shifted to human shape, cheering, "We did it -- yay!" She is (as always) utterly clueless as to the potential flirtatiousness of her unwitting remark! Instead, she happily grabs Shane's arm and nods towards Ianto, "Isn't it cool? He doesn't seem at all sick!" It feels... very nice here, with Shane! He folds the blanket over his free arm and walks back with Cinnamon to the car so he can stash it.
Ianto smiles, "Not a bit sick, no." He points to the largest willow in the grove, "That's likely the entrance. Most trods like this..." Even as he's speaking, two people come brushing through the fronds.
Cinnamon brightens, "There they are!" The two figures are wearing cowled robes, though the cowls are down around their shoulders. As with most sidhe, it's difficult to tell gender when they're swathed like that, but both have the light gealsidhe hair. Ianto calls out some kind of passphrase in a tongue which is neither Welsh nor Irish. The two figures relax a bit at that, and Ianto motions the visitors forward. Cinnamon gets her backpack out of the car's trunk, then patters after her friends. She peeks a bit shyly, from behind them, at the two newcomers. Thorn looks curiously at the newly-arrived as well, and wonders what language Ianto is speaking. Is it even in the family of Celtic languages? He can't tell.
Ianto says to the two newly arrived folk, "I'm Ianto of the Deirdre Willow trod. Wyn sent me to escort these folks up here. This is Thorn Elmtrod, who is looking for information on his heritage. These are Shane Rowantrod and Cinnamon O'Donnell, his companions."
The two newcomers nods and introduce themselves as Aron and Rhun. Rhun is the one who speaks most, "Welcome. We were... a bit surprised to see... well..." He motions at Cinnamon.
Cinnamon pushes her glasses up, "Oh! Did you see me arrive, then? I didn't notice any heat signatures... I hope I didn't alarm anyone?"
Thorn nods in greeting, "Apologies for the sudden arrival, but we weren't certain how to get a message to you."
Cinnamon adds in explanation, "And we didn't want poor Ianto to have to suffer through a car ride if we didn't have to!" Thorn nods in firm agreement with Cinnamon at that.
Rhun nods, "There wasn't anyone aboveground to see it, but we have alarms that were set off. When that happened, Aron scried you out."
Aron's voice is husky, "That is very thoughtful of you. Steel sickness is... unpleasant enough as it is. Please, come with us." He and Rhun step toward the old willow and hold the fronds aside as if holding open curtains.
Cinnamon nods interestedly, "A scrying! That's cool." She grins hopefully as she adds to Ianto, "So... is it okay to ask about food?"
Ianto ohs! "Uhm... right! Apparently the flight causes some need for food. I offered your hospitality as a sister trod."
Rhun nods, "Of course. Of course. Please. We have plenty of provisions." He keeps glancing at Thorn and tipping his head as if he's trying to figure something out. Cinnamon signs in relief, whispering thanks to Ianto as she patters along.
Ianto murmurs back, "Don't worry about it. Feeding guests is just good hospitality. Feeding you a little more and a little more quickly is just a slight alteration."
The entrance to this trod is slightly different. It might even remind those that grew up in the human world of something like a movie, as Aron and Rhun both go to different parts of the trunk and press in on parts of it... and a section of trunk slowly turns inward -- a door. The two gealsidhe usher in their guests, and the door closes behind them, as they start down well-maintained stairs. Aron goes on ahead to get food prepared while Rhun plays guide -- and murmurs to Thorn, "Getting messages between the trods can sometimes be cumbersome, I know. So... heritage. You have some link to Willow?"
Thorn tilts his head to the side as he's studied by Rhun, and looks curiously back at the gealsidhe. Once inside, the partial-human nods to Rhun, "Yes. We... think that I might have an ancestor who came to this trod, from the Willow trod somewhat to the south. Dryswch, or his son. Or daughter, I should say."
Rhun blinks rapidly, "Oh. Ohhhh! That's it!" He actually laughs, "Okay, that's why. Dryswch has been gone from here for quite a while, but yes, he did have a son. But you don't look like him. You look like the mother."
Thorn brightens excitedly! "Oh! That explains quite a lot, actually. YOu see, we found what we think is his son's grave. He was apparently my great grandfather!"
Cinnamon asks, "Who was the mother? Is she still here?"
Rhun grins, "She is! She'll be stunned." He laughs, "Oh dear. Oh dearie-dear."
Cinnamon looks mystified, "What?!"
Thorn blinks as well, "She... she is?! Oh, wow... I honestly hadn't expected that! Uh... what's wrong?"
Rhun smiles, "I'm sorry. I'm just surprised. Modron probably never expected to hear from... well, I guess none of us expected there to be..." He makes a sort of up and down gesture at Thorn, "I mean, it's not as if we're prolific... and Dryswch has been gone less than three hundred years! Gruffydd's been gone a shorter time than that, too, I think."
Cinnamon's voice is pragmatic, "Bit more explanation would be good, please!" She doesn't like seeing her friends worry... and then her stomach rumbles loudly and she adds sheepishly, "and food..."
They've come to the bottom of the stairs and into an antechamber. This one is more like they've seen in other trods: heavy wooden walls with pegs where hang several cloaks like the ones Aron and Rhun are wearing. Rhun takes his off and hangs it up, continuing to talk, "And cross-breeding? Even more unusual. Of course, Modron herself isn't sidhe." He's wearing comfortable clothes: a knee-length tunic of some soft material, and leggings with moccasin boots.
Cinnamon is tired and hungry; she sighs at what seems to be the usual Willow conflict with being straightforward, and says bluntly, "OKay, what is Modron, and what and who is Gruffydd?" -- then adds to Thorn, "Why not show him the photo and see if he recognizes the person?"
Rhun smiles, "Sorry; let's get you fed. Gruffydd is probably your great-grandfather, Thorn. Modron is a tuatha." He's motioning them to follow him. "The dining hall is this way." This trod seems more populated than the one Ianto is from and people greet Rhun as they walk through. They only see a dozen or so.
Thorn blinks again; this is getting a bit confusing. "Who is -- yes, that's probably a good idea, Cinnamon, yes." He takes out the picture to show Rhun as they walk to the dining hall, "A... a tuatha? Huh!" This makes him even more intrigued, if anything. So he's part sidhe and part tuatha (whatever that is), too? Cinnamon shakes her head puzzledly -- a tuatha? Aren't they... shapechangers or something? But then, would a shapechanger be good at healing? Genetically good, that is... since anyone can learn a skill, usually -- but what Thorn does is not just training. It's well past knack and into the biblical definition of miracle.
When they reach the dining hall, it seems set up to hold perhaps forty people at maximum. A couple of people are bringing out enough food to feed twenty. It's heavy on protein -- steaks and roasts as well as bread and fruit and cheese. Rhun invites them all to sit, then takes the picture -- and smiles, "Ah. Yes. This is Gruffydd." His smile gets a bit wistful, "So... he did not survive the outside world. His mother will be sad to hear it." He hands the picture back to Thorn.
Thorn accepts the picture, "Actually, that was something we hoped would be answerable. On his gravestone, his wife -- oh! He married in the outside world, by the way!" He gives them the information that his cousin gave him, and adds, "His wife had something enscripted on his gravestone: 'Though the tree of thy life speak of rebirth, steel yet stole ye from me.'"
Cinnamon brightens at the delicious smells -- thank goodness! She hastily heads over to the buffet table and politely asks if it's permissible for her to serve herself, please? Behind her, Shane is a bit worried about Cinnamon getting food... so Rhun's comment about a tuatha only now starts to register, as the gealsidhe goes on, "Of course, Modron is also several generations down the line from what people think of when you say tuatha... and the legends -- as legends often are -- were always exaggerated. I think her lineage is of Dianus. But it would have been... ten or fifteen generations to get to her, at least... and then, of course, Gruffydd is half sidhe, and married a human." He smiles at Thorn, "You, sir, are an enigma."
Cinnamon comes wandering back at that point, bearing a heavily loaded plate. As she smiles and tilts her head to indicate to her friends that she's going to sit right there at that table and they're welcome to join her... she hears Rhun's last sentence, and grins, "That's the truth!" Then she seats herself -- eating is serious business for a dragon! Shane has a plate of food as well, and he sits close by Cinnamon, listening to the conversation.
Thorn lets out a breath. "Hopefully not wrapped around a riddle!" he quips, grinning at Cinnamon. "I've never heard of 'tuatha' before. But thank you for the information. That probably points to why I'm... apparently very, very good at healing magic."
Rhun continues, "The tuatha -- the original tuatha -- were by and large...." he seems to be looking for a diplomatic word, "ahh... somewhat full of themselves."
Shane has a fork halfway to his mouth -- and it stops right there, his mouth still open, "Wait. Tuatha. As in Tuatha de Danann?"
Rhun mms? "Oh, yes. That's the full title."
Shane looks at Thorn, "They're Irish, Thorn. They were considered gods."
Rhun nods, "As I said: somewhat full of themselves. Powerful, yes, but not gods. And Modron? Not full of herself. I think you will like her... and she will be very happy to meet you."
Thorn sounds unsettled, "Hopefully they learned to, um, work well with others. We've had some, ah, unpleasant encounters with people who want to be worshipped as gods again. It... didn't go well."
Cinnamon blinks curiously, "Tuatha? Huh... let me think." She stares off sightlessly into the distance, murmuring, "Tuatha, tuatha... ah." She grins at her friends, reciting, "The Tuatha Dé Danann are described as a supernatural race, much like idealized humans, who are immune from ageing and sickness, and who have powers of magic. The powers most often attributed to the Tuatha Dé are control over the weather and the elements, and the ability to shapeshift themselves and other things." Apologetically she adds, "It's just wikipedia," then looks puzzled, "So... are you saying, Rhun, that the Tuatha can do stuff like shapeshift someone's limbs back into being? But... no, that can't be right, can it? -- or Nuada Airgeadlámh wouldn't have had to abdicate the throne!" She adds to Shane with a shy grin, "I read up on Irish mythology while I was learning the language!"
Cinnamon has several bites of food as she ponders that... then slowly adds, "Though... hang on! Maybe... maybe that is Thorny's knack -- he can shapeshift a body to return it to health! I mean, knacks are all different, right? So... just because Nuada couldn't do it doesn't mean no one can, right?!" She grins excitedly at Thorn.
Thorn blinks to Cinnamon, "You can... you can remember things like that? Just from reading? That's awesome!"
Cinnamon grins and nods happily to Thorn, "I can! It's new -- relatively -- but it's part of why I can learn languages so quickly, I think!"
Rhun smiles, "It depends upon the lineage. Modron is of the lineage of Dianus the healer. He was said to be able to heal anyone as long as they still had their head."
Cinnamon nods interestedly to Rhun, "Oh, Dian Cécht the magical healer -- right! Okay, that makes sense." She grins at Thorn, "There you go, then -- you're distantly related to a magical healer, the same way I'm distantly related to a dragon!"
Thorn nods to Cinnamon, "And something about the, uh, power level of Dryswch must have combined with Modron's heritage and... boom?"
Cinnamon shakes her head, "No, I think it was Athala's power that, er, made it all go boom... sort of kickstarted it, in a way -- don't you think?"
Thorn says, "Oh, I see what you're saying... yes, that makes sense!"
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