"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
12-31-2019, 12:23 AM (This post was last modified: 12-31-2019, 12:24 AM by Brennen.)
so give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light 'cause oh that gave me such a fright
It has been some time since he was here.
Most of Brennen’s time he bides in Ischia, or wherever Nihlus wants to be; he finds constant pleasure and youthful energy at his lover’s side, and so far nothing has been able to part him from the younger stallion. Occasionally he visits his descendants, moving from land to land with little concern for whether he is welcomed or not. But somewhere in the back of his mind he is constantly keeping track of a little seaside land he has twice pledged his loyalty to, though so far he has not had to uphold his most recent promise.
He is their Champion; a mantle he took up willingly for his spotted friend Breckin and he has not yet set aside, though she no longer rules the cliffs and craggs of Nerine. It would have been easy to break from them after Scorch left him, after Breckin was no longer their Khaleesi, after his long-daughter Heartfire also stepped aside…but, once Brennen pledged himself to the Kingdom fully. To this place where the spirit of lands lost still burned bright, and he cannot bring himself to cut those ties completely, though he grows ever more distant from the land’s changing residents.
The water-mage hasn’t even met the current Queen, and doesn’t know where his grandson stands now in the ranks. He had been advisor to Heartfire, a boy grown into his own as a man, but Brennen has been lax in keeping tabs on Jesper as well, as the boy grew more confidently into his own; there is always more to do to raise up the younger children than those who have flown the nest.
From high above, soaring on warm thermals, he can feel the call of the stormy sea. It is not his sun-warmed shores of Ischia, but a more feral and dangerous set of waters here in Nerine. Once, the sea here had felt foreign, driving Brennen to leave Nerine again and again. Now all water feels like his own skin, but other things keep him away.
He lands in the water, knee deep and completely unphased by the waves that crash around him, taller than the bay, soaking him to the skin. Amber eyes flick upwards and around, as if he can ‘see’ the magic he is checking, the net he had cast soon after learning to control the magic, the early-warning system should he ever be needed. Only after ensuring its continued pulse and strength does he wade onto the pebbled shore, calling for the one the land tells him is its Queen. He doesn’t know her name, so his gentle mental call is vague, simply a feeling, but it should be enough to pique and interest and draw her to him. At the same time he sends a little wave across the other net, the far-flung one that ties him to all of his children and Scorch’s, wondering who else is here and inviting them to come to him as well.
And then, to all appearances, he closes his eyes in the late autumn sunshine and falls asleep.
but I will hold, as long as you like just promise me we'll be alright
BrenneN
@[Neverwhere]
also any of his or scorch's descendants who might want to play if they're around he 'pinged' that net as well :3 @[Jesper] @[Leilan] @[Eurwen] are on the board and I know they would be in that list
The quiet nature of Nerine is such that news of Heartfire's disappearance has been slow to spread, and that suits her well enough. No one has yet come to visit her in any sort of an official capacity, perhaps they barely notice the radio silence from the North. Heartfire's leadership was a quiet one in as much experience as Neverwhere had had with it, and it would be unlikely for anyone to notice the eyes that watched them from the northern country were now... elsewhere, if they watched at all. The earth-brown mare knew only what she had been had shown, and that was vague enough.
She could be dead, for all I know. It might be surprising that the thought troubles her as much as it does, though the rankling feelings keep deep in the darkest shadows of her mind and don't color the soft scowl that already rests on her scarred face. There is no reason to believe that this was a random occurrence, a chance encounter that led to her abduction, not when she dabbled so heavily in plots and intrigue and magic. Now all those things have landed squarely before the new queen, demanding her reluctant attention.
"That sounds like Heartfire's problem." she had said, and not so long ago, either. Ironic.
The day is still, the usual winds calm and the quiet roars in her ears, but she hears the tug of his announcement and turns her head in the direction that he has landed. Magic. She's getting good at recognizing it, now, that strange feeling as if she's rushing headlong even as she is standing still, the odd itch and tingle and pull of it. It was never something she'd meant to become accustomed to, and it isn't something she intends to run after. A poor choice on his part, but, of course, he couldn't have known how she distrusted the magic of Beqanna. It would not seem sensible when it was that magic that let her blind eyes see so clearly - a gift she had not asked for, but clung to, anyway. Those clouded eyes flicker again between the view ahead of her and the water far below where he stands, basking, unseen. A snarl leaps onto her lips, born of knowing there is more to this, that there is more to leadership than hiding away among the rocks and that it is not, perhaps, best to ignore this request for a meeting.
And yet... And yet.
A pained sigh stains the silence around her and Neverwhere does finally shift away, but she does not take up the path that will lead her down to the water's edge, only to the nearest cliff where she can see him, eyes shut and perhaps asleep. She snorts, a loud, ragged sound that he should be able to hear even from within the rocking waves.
"It's good you have wings to bring you up, because I am not coming down." she shouts roughly down to him, and having said it, turns away and returns to her grazing without waiting to see if he has heard her. Neverwhere hasn't ever been at anyone's beck and call, least of all a stranger's. If he wishes to speak, he will have to come to her rather than napping in the sea.
so give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light 'cause oh that gave me such a fright
It’s possible to watch someone move with his eyes closed. It’d taken him nearly a decade of practice (not aided by the first few years of anger making control impossible), but he finally feels like he has the fine control to do whatever he pleases. She makes ripples across her land, and her loud feelings precede her as she approaches the edge of the cliff. At the sound of her snort, he opens his eyes and looks up at her, interested to set his eyes on his – potentially – new Queen for the first time. Her eyes peer back at him from a startlingly white face in a dark dappled body, and then she offers her edict and turns away from the edge.
He holds a mostly impassive, politely curious face until she has moved away from the edge, but then a little half-smile turns up the side of his mouth and he has to stifle a chuckle to go along with it. He had no preconceived expectations for Nerine’s newest matriarch, but he supposes he shouldn’t be particularly surprised at the bright spirit she is. This is the modern-day legacy of the Amazons, after all, and he had ever loved the Jungle women for their indomitable spirit. He admires it, even in one so young…but he’s not one ever given to taking an idle command either.
Brennen doesn’t spread his wings, because flying up would be too much like taking an order from someone who is basically a stranger to him. He’s never been above taking orders, not from someone he respects, but he and this dark young queen are not there yet. Instead of flying up, he simply is; one moment on the rocky shores and the next standing in the grass before her. The bay stallion offers her a lazy, slow smile; already he is thrilled with the prospect of matching wits with her, alive in a way that he hasn’t felt anywhere but with his lover for some time. “Is this how you treat all loyal friends of your land?” he drawls, wondering if she really has no idea who he is. Surely ‘there’s a magician who’s pledged himself as our champion’ would be something important to pass along, one Queen to the next?
but I will hold, as long as you like just promise me we'll be alright
We got older and I should have known that I’d feel colder when I walk alone
It is a strange tugging, a magician’s call, that brings him into Nerine.
He hasn’t been here for such a long time. Last year, he’d travelled along the border, favoring Lilliana’s call on the Taigan side. The invisible but certainly scent-able line between the lands always resulted in a few horse lengths of no-man’s-land, which he had decided to use to avoid having to explain himself to Heartfire or any other Nerinian resident. After all, he had disappeared from the face of the Beqannan island for a time, and never explained why. Or why he returned at the time that he did, in the way that he had.
But Nerine is on the way between the heart-shaped lake of Icicle Isle and Hyaline, on the way to the Mountain, so certainly he can make a stop here.
And stopping, he does, gazing at the unknown mare from a distance as he sees her shout at someone below the cliffs. Certainly if she used her voice that way, she wasn’t the one who had called in the first place, had she? And the tone, well - Heartfire had found yet another addition to Nerine.
At first, when he approaches, the figure below is hidden from even his dragon-sight - he doesn’t immediately register who it is, but the split second it takes to recognize the winged bay who loves to teleport takes far less long than his trotting movement in the southern direction that he was moving in, so he greets the pair with a nicker when he comes close. His scent is icy, as is his frosted body, the only pinch of salt on him coming from the northern sea he just passed through - slightly-not the salty-rock scent that is on Nerinians. The difference however, is ice versus sand, not easily recognized by anyone who hasn’t studied both places.
He knows he’s never seen the bald-faced mare before, but Brennen’s implication is enough to go by. Looking around, he doesn’t see many others than the ones just gathered here, but seeing as it was Brennen calling him, he suspects only relatives received the message - relatives and the new queen.
He grins a bit, looking at the both of them, chiming in before she can respond. ”My my, and they think to say I’m cold.” He suspects getting certain look from that remark, but he charges onward without paying attention to it, as was the one and only tactic that might save him from actual repercussions. ”I’m Leilan, just heading over from Icicle Isle. This old man is Brennen, Nerine’s Champion… I think.” He gives the bay a sideways look, slightly questioning. He hadn’t seen him for such a long time, the roan can’t exactly be sure what’s what, and if everything is still as it was. Certainly it isn’t wholly as it was here, or Heartfire would be greeting them, with more familiarity.
And thus, introductions are in order - introductions in which he’ll take the brunt of both their irritations if he can. After all, he’s only passing through, and it’d be better if they sided together against a common enemy than go for each other’s throats.
Not that they literally would, would they? If so, he’s in deeper trouble than he had estimated.
Leilan
no. 7 | ice forged in fire
@[Neverwhere] @[Brennen]
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
She won't give him the satisfaction of flinching when suddenly he is there in a blink. The instinct is there, the desire to snort and shy kept chained tightly down, something she has mastered slowly through sheer stubbornness. Once upon a time, many things sprung up before her, not there, then there, it was the nature of the blindness that had afflicted her. Things could hide in between the clouds in her eyes. If Neverwhere had shied away from every unexpected thing, she wouldn't have crossed half the lands she had travelled, she might have never made it to Beqanna at all to be bothered by Magicians. She does not bother to hide the distaste that makes her ears pin flat until they disappear into the windswept sea of her mane, however, and his slow smile is met with a flat stare.
"Mm, the disloyal ones, too," her voice has an edge to it, a coolness, but she speaks with recklessness rather than aggression, letting the words drip from scarred lips without much thought as to whether he will think she is implying he is disloyal. She'd have to know who he is to decide that, and Heartfire did not assign any names or knowledge or meaning to any of the faces of the kingdom residents she had sewn into that patchwork vision. A black-winged bay... Even if he'd been in that dream, would she remember him? She does not, in either case, does not recall his wings, his scars, his star, and his easy manner strikes against the carefully built walls she has kept around her, sliding away to the rocky earth underneath.
Footsteps whisper in her ears and one of the halved curls lifts from where it lies. It traces the steps, bold and sure of themselves as they come closer, although she does not turn to greet the new stallion, all but ignoring him until he speaks. Her breath rattles noisily deep in her nostrils in response to his jab, but she does not mind being called cold. She is cold. She is stubborn and sarcastic and contrary, and she does not meet strangers with honeyed smiles and gentleness, especially not when there are two of them and just the one of her.
(At the corners of her vision, something phases in and out, a shape, vaguely familiar. It darkens the brightness of the afternoon sky then disappears again in a flutter, a shiver.)
There is sweat beneath her mane and a sudden chill. A tremor runs up her spine, finding a resting place behind her eyes, rooted in her skull. What the hell was that? Her unease makes her dig in with the stallions, her scowl deepens though they have been nothing but friendly, if irreverent.
(The shape flickers again. A horse? A silver-brown shadow, there and then gone just out of her field of vision. Upwind, but the only scent on the wind is her and the two stallions before her. Could there really be a third?)
The second stallion is speaking, making introductions. His name means nothing but the naming of the bay cuts through the competing confusion. Brennen.
(For half a breath the shape solidifies, a white face scowls at nothing, then it becomes nothing.)
The not-horse disappears, the tingling sensation that wrapped around her eyes evaporates, leaving behind only the skim of sweat on her neck. Pale blue eyes focus briefly on the scaled stallion. Eurwen did not mention Leilan - at least, she had not mentioned him by name or description which amounted to the same thing. The familiarity she finds in the lines of his face therefore goes unplaced and is shoved away as not immediately important. Her attention shifts again to the bay.
"Eurwen mentioned you..." The spotted mare's voice whispers a warning in her head and ears that swiveled forward in surprise now half-turn, back to their usual angle. She cannot find it in herself to temper the curtness of her voice, even knowing they will do much better if he is still on their side. Her nostrils curl, the scar tissue pulling at the corners of her lips, "Though, she didn't happen to mention that you stink like fish."
Neverwhere
...
@[Brennen] @[Leilan] I don't know if Brennen smells like fish, Neverwhere's just being an ass lmao
cold in the violence after the war hope is a fire to keep us warm
There is a recklessness to the way she runs today. A wild inattentiveness that speaks of the sudden knowledge she’d developed surrounding the lack of true purpose in her life. Something that borders on a dangerous fearlessness and a need for adrenaline risk supplies. Were it not for the ping against her consciousness that drives her from careless thoughts, it’s difficult to say just how close to the edge she might have danced.
She slows her pace, rock crumbling down the edges of the cliff as she moves with a lack of deliberation from those perilous peaks. The manic light seems to fade, leaving behind only an uncertain curiosity as she glances around. She follows the subtle tug, caution lacking despite the unknown source.
Nerine has been her home too long for any sense of caution or trepidation to bother her. Foolish perhaps, but there is bravery in familiarity.
Of course, in this particular instance, there likely is no reason for fear anyway. Though her recognition of the gilted roan is tempered by time and youth, she does recall him from meetings passed. The winged stallion is a stranger to her, but one who carries with him a sense of familiarity. And Neverwhere, of course, though she has only a passing awareness of her. Regardless, there seems to be no sense of urgency surrounding the group.
She had missed whatever introductions had been made, but as she nears, she catches Neverwhere’s offhand comment about Eurwen and smelly fish. She sniffs the air curiously, though if there is indeed any sort of fishy odor, it is apparently lost on her. Of course, she likely isn’t smelling too fresh herself, given the blood and sweat drying on her mottled skin and protruding bone.
“Is Eurwen here?” she asks abruptly, curiosity catching on her name as she glances around, seeking her spotted, and decidedly absent, form. When the fact of absence becomes apparent, a soft “Hmm” escapes her lips. With a small frown, she turns her attention back to the small group, gaze landing curiously on Brennen. Had she heard his name, she would have recognized it. But alas, she may have her mother’s eyes, but unfortunately she is decidedly lacking in any of her abilities.
so give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light 'cause oh that gave me such a fright
She doesn’t smile back at him, and Brennen turns that over in his mind thoughtfully, but mostly entertained by her. He shifts, getting comfortable, though when she does speak, his bright eyes glint with something that definitely isn’t amusement. The magician has straightened subtly, slowly, considering his response, but is saved from making the decision whether or not to be offended when a familiar presence that had been nagging at the edges of his consciousness comes closer, arriving and filling the silence that had been verging on uncomfortable with easy noise.
The queen barely acknowledges Leilan, but he’s not a cold stranger to Brennen - who does turn exactly the look Leilan was expecting on him, something that hovers somewhere between exasperated and fond. The roan is one who might seem an odd link in his mental net; he’s not actually related to Brennen, after all, and Brennen and Scorch are no longer together. But a part of him still loves her, and her family isn’t the only brood he’s added to his personal protection. Perhaps he didn’t quite understand Leilan at first, and they have been known to butt heads, but loving Nihlus has made him understand more and he is appreciative of the way he diffuses the tension on purpose, and bites back a scolding type response when the boy calls him ‘old’. Their eyes meet over the question of his status as Nerine’s champion and he gives a small nod, because he is as far as he knows as well. He intends to remain thus, for some time.
“I don’t mind coldness,” he drawls with a flick of his tail, because heaven knows Brennen isn’t exactly known for being warm. “It’s much preferable to foolishness.” When she acknowledges him, she uses a name that isn’t Heartfire’s, and that does make him frown. Did he miss a queen entirely? He didn’t think he was that out of touch, and it makes him uneasy and unhappy.
And bemused, as he turns his attention to another arrival, one he can feel instantly might have been pulled in their direction by his other call – and this one, unlike Leilan, is one of his, because Heartfire had been his, thought he hadn’t known it until he became a magician. “I don’t think we’ve met, but I knew your mother,” he doesn’t miss the blood and all, but as a warrior that doesn’t bother him overmuch, and he smiles at her in a way that is quite gentle. “I’m Brennen, and I’m your great…great-great grandfather. If I’ve got that right.”
He is pleased to have them here, Leilan and Brazen, and that pleasure probably is obvious to them over the bond he’s established, however weak it normally is. And perhaps it is good that they are here, to buffer his somewhat contrary instinct to continue to needle the queen, to use irritation to see what she is made of. But that isn’t something he’s willing to do…in front of the children. He can still see Leilan in his mind as a child himself, a creature just coming into his own. Brennen turns his eyes back to the queen, and his voice is several degrees cooler than the words he’d used to address Brazen and Leilan, and his gaze watchful. “It seems you are the only one still lacking an introduction. One would think the name of the woman I may be to serve would not be too much to ask, even if other basic niceties like not commenting on one’s scent are not.”
Why, one might ask, would Brennen continue to be the champion for a place he does not live, and to which he has only the vaguest of loyalties? It is for these children. In part for the memory of his Amazonian queens, of course, for Scorch and for Breckin and the others, but also because their children and grandchildren are still a big part of this sector of the world, and that makes them safer if many know he is their first line of defense.
but I will hold, as long as you like just promise me we'll be alright
It certainly had been quiet. If there is one thing Jesper knows, the quiet does not last. And, honestly, that is a shame because the fox-shifter loves the quiet. It is one of the reasons he loves the Forest so much. He loved being able to hear the rustle of leaves in the wind or, the groan of a bough bent beyond its usual range. The scratching sound of squirrels scampering up tree trunks and whooshing of a pair of wings as a bird braced for landing or, took flight.
Things are a bit different here on Icicle Isle. Oh, it is still quiet. It is just, quiet on the Isle, sounds different. The male's acute ears pick up all of the various sounds the wind makes across a barren land: whipping, whistling, whooshing, and howling. Then, there is the distinct sound of snow crunching beneath paw pads or hooves. Water drips off of icicles and, hits the ground with a splat. When icicles fall they chink and shatter upon impact. These are the normal sounds of the Isle.
Thus, Jesper instantly notes a break in the normal soundtrack of the Isle when a distant call echoes across the bay. His unshod hooves detect the pulse of magic that vibrates through the ground and tugs at his heart. There is only one being that possesses such a power. Brennen. Without further ado, the black stallion pushes himself into motion. His sturdy limbs churn and stretch beneath his chassis as he heads towards the coast facing the mainland. He plunges into the frigid waters as he has done so many times before. Icy chunks float beside him as he pushes himself through the freezing cold liquid. His muscles tense away from the icy temperature and his strides seem sluggish as if he is cutting through thick mud. Jesper reminds himself to push on because staying in this water too long would only slow him down more. As the rocky shore comes into focus, his energy feels renewed. He clambers onto the craggy shore and shakes as much water as is possible from his pelt.
His desert lineage did not bless him with a fur coat suited for winter; however, his efforts in a quest granted him the ability to adapt to his environment. His top coat is long and serves to guard the dense undercoat beneath. The frigid water flies from the guard hairs and, within moments, his coat is dry. The air on the mainland is noticeably milder than the Isle and, with a sigh of relief, Jesper scans the rocky cliffside with his aquamarine gaze. He deduces that navigating it would be easier in his canine form and so, in a breath, a silver fox stands where the black stallion a moment prior. Now more agile and compact, the canine leaps onto the rocks. Nails unsheath and grip the uneven surface he stands upon. He bounds from ledge to ledge, using all four legs to balance as he climbs the face of the cliff.
Before long, the canine pulls himself onto the ledge and up onto the damp terrain. He pauses for a moment to get his bearings and, recover his breath. While standing still, his icy blue gaze fixates upon the gathering. Brennen is here! And, Leilan! Jesper did not recognize the other two though, he could guess that was the objective of the meeting. A spritely jog carries the canine forward as he approaches Leilan's right side. A playful smirk spreads across his lips as his jog morphs in leaps and bounds. He jumps into the frost dragon's chest and butts the top of his skull into the space under Leilan's cheeks. When his front paws reconnect with the stiff but damp ground, Jesper braces for a landing. His hindpaws follow suit and, when all four paws are on the ground, he directs his attention to Brennen. He pads forward with a warm smile tugging at his lips. He nudges the chest of his winged bay grandfather before he assumes his post on Brennen's left side.
He shifts back to his equine form (as a fox doesn't make for great first impressions) before he turns and sidles alongside the noble steed. Turning to face the dappled mare, he allows his aquamarine gaze to study her for a moment. She stood strong and purposeful and although, they had not formally been introduced, Jesper suspects she holds authority here in Nerine. A bronze-tipped, tufted lobe swivels to note Brennen's prompt for the mare to introduce herself. He listens silently and waits for her to speak. She could oblige or, perhaps, she will be so distracted by his enthusiastic entrance, she will ask for him to go first. In the pending silence, the black Arab-built stallion, marked with a white star, a right front sock, and streaks of bronze (that match the tipping on his ears) in his mane and tail. His expression is alert and eager. His ears point forward and his eyes flick from the dapple brown mare with a white face and silver locks to the copper roan and white mare.
@[Brennen] @[Leilan] @[Neverwhere] @[Brazen]
Late to the party, I know. Sorry! I hope it isn't a dreadful read <3
01-16-2020, 12:46 PM (This post was last modified: 01-16-2020, 12:47 PM by Leilan.)
We got older and I should have known that I’d feel colder when I walk alone
Leilan isn’t the only one besides Neverwhere who got the call, he notices quickly. While the silver and chocolate dappled mare listens to his introductions - albeit with complete disinterest in whatever else he said that wasn’t their actual names - a number of things appear in the edges of his peripheral vision; and only two of them are real. How he knows this? Well, as soon as the weird visions start, with every other blink his eyes turn a molten-orange, then back to the icy blue state they had before. These heat signals show him nothing but Brazen approaching, and a figure far away that is rapidly joining them. But of the ghost-figures, none are real.
Brennen isn’t the type to joke around like that, so it’s probably an uncontrolled magic from either of the females. Harmless for now, he decides not to comment, his eyes quitting their dancing as soon as someone starts speaking again.
The dragon-eyed male focuses back on the conversation, which seems less fiery now and more of a not-so-subtly prodding of each other, to see what they’re made of. Although Leilan indulges in such jokes often enough, these are not of the tone he wants to bother with right away. Ignoring comments of fish and foolishness therefore, he focuses on Brazen’s arrival and the question of Eurwen with a tilt of his head. Was the spotted girl ever not in Nerine? Shit, I missed that. Damn his parenting skills. Can’t he even keep track of the daughter who doesn’t move around? Even if she was the most responsible and most adult one he ever had (definitely her mother’s doing).
However, it is Brennen’s subsequent introduction that causes his face to break from seriousness. He knows exactly how Brennen did not want him to say out loud that he was old - but how many greats were in there? ”Wow, Brennen. You know how to make an impression.”
Further conversation however, is again interrupted. If the new queen of Nerine is introducing herself, he misses out on it because he is head-bumped by a certain small figure - one he’d spotted earlier and hadn’t paid enough attention to - and a near-silent oof-like sound is outed from the impact.
Knowing exactly who or what hit him, he narrows his eyes at the first white, then black culprit. ”I stand corrected. Making impressions must run in the family.” Literally - or well, almost. It’s not like he’s really dented, but had he been of softer material, he just might have been.
Leilan
no. 7 | ice forged in fire
It’s such a group thread, I’m gonna add Eurwen bc YOLO. Be right at it!
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
the secret of walking on water is knowing where the rocks lie
She’s late to the meeting, but not because she was lazy or distracted - well, a bit, but mostly, the magic pulse had come from inside Nerine and therefore she had located it as on the beach. Obviously, by the time she got around to the place, the conversation was taking place on top of the cliffs, and she missed most of it by standing down below. Voices were carried on the wind, but she could not understand the words.
Roughly around the time of Brazen and Jesper’s arrival, the rock wall that separates her from the others makes a grumbling and screeching sound, a tremor to be felt as she moves the rock and re-makes it. She is in a bit of a hurry; if she had wanted to make her stairs beautiful or lasting, she would not have forced it into existence like this, but taken a whole day. Now though, her efforts result in a little protest from the rock as she works with and against it - but she’s stubborn enough not to let the nature of the rock win. In heartbeats, she carves out a path from the beach towards the top, then trots upwards. She knows the path probably won’t hold forever, but for now, it is suitable enough for her.
Reaching the chaos on top, her dark eyes examine what is happening quickly. One, or perhaps nearly two, heartbeats later she excellerates towards her family. ”Brazen!” Excited, she greets her cousin first with a bump of a nose touch. Looking around, she then picks up on the fox-shifter, the magician Brennen, Neverwhere’s not-too-amused look (but is she ever?), and her father making matters possibly worse as always. ”Please shut up, dad.” she asks him with a wry smile.
She eyes Neverwhere. She must be either furious or completely overwhelmed by now, and neither are any good. ”Sorry I’m late.” she apologizes to all those present, and no-one in particular.
| 
Jesper
