Video, Unseelie court

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[It's early in the morning. Actually, it's the creeping up on the buttcrack of dawn, entirely too early in the morning, but there you are. Sun's not quite up yet; the cold light of early morning seeping into the cracks of windows, not enough to take the chill out of the night yet. Who's been up for a while? This guy. There's errands to run, and if it's going to take days to run them, might as well get started early. Really early.

So! Good morning, Caer Scima! You get a Troll. Or at least, the painted-up face of one.]

I'm Vol'jin, Chief of the Darkspear tribe. Wit' that out of the way, listen up:

I'mma be travelin' to the Station soon. Ya need somethin' from there, or ya just want company, or ya don't feel right travelin' wit'out someone to watch ya back, meet me down in the Courtyard at sunrise.

Bring ya own supplies, at least a week's worth. I ain't ya minder.

[This ain't no newbie fetch quest; don't expect him to hold your hand.

Chieftain out.]

Comments

[noirant]

[ It's really only chance that he's up at all; rather, chance and habit. Waking for Court is a habit so ingrained as to wrap about his bones, though admittedly, one look at Vol'jin implies he might still be dreaming. What in the five Powers --

Felix blinks, shoves the hair from his eyes, and finally takes it all in. ]

Do you plan to walk or ride?

[ Does a...a Darkspear, whatever that is, ride? There are half a dozen variables to puzzle over and consider, but it's not an opportunity which he's eager to pass up. Felix knows his sense of direction too well to venture out alone. ]

Felix Harrowgate, chieftan of absolutely nothing. I'll be along.

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[He snorts, looking up at the sky, as though to say "You really expect me to get up on one of those herd animals? That thing is prey, don't be ridiculous." Someone clearly has a low opinion of horses.]

Walking. Don't plan to take more than I can walk back wit'.

[He looks away from the locket, staring hard at something in the distance to the right.] Ya got maybe... a third an hour.

[noirant]

Fabulous.

[ The elegance of pre-planning asserts itself, he nearly drawls, but Felix can hold his tongue for now. Once they’re on the road…

He has only the barest idea of what to pack -- it's not as though he owns anything much here, but Mildmay usually handles all that. Mildmay usually handles it, because the last time they waltzed out on an extended walkabout, Felix was in no position to. ]

If you’ve no objections, I’ll be riding, [ Horses are prey, Felix knows that well. He also knows that horse-meat stew is great in a pinch. If you hold your horses, I'll hold mine. ] Won't tarry you more than a few minutes, darling.

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[He grins. This is shaping up to be beautiful, already.]

I imagine that be the only way ya gonna keep up wit' me.

-> action

[noirant]

[ Felix lifts an eyebrow, somewhere between banter and true inquiry. Half the Drabwurld’s been taller than him to date; it’s frankly a little irritating. He’s far more used to looming than to being loomed over. ]

Kind of you to slow yourself for we poor invalids. [ But a glance out the window shows the early stretches of dawn peering through, and — ] On my way.

[ When he arrives, it’s barely a minute before the mark, but punctual enough to Felix’s taste. Leading a sleek black mare, his usual garish colours traded for castle mores, he looks rather close to competent, or at least: confident enough to fake it.

Then the horse jerks its head aside to nose at the cobbles, and Felix nearly goes sprawling. Hissing something under his breath, he rights himself, checks the reins, and finally turns to face Vol’jin. He beams up, broad and brilliant; though it’s not enough to cover the plain curiosity in his eyes. ]

Chieftan. [ Is that how you’re supposed to address a walking blue allefant? Felix ducks his head briefly, supposes it will do. ] A gracious invitation, I confess I've heard little of the place.

action!

[ziggyzoggy]

[Just...just the driest look there, when he trips. Who's leading whom, eh? He stood as Felix approached with the horse, figuring he could at least greet the first person upright.

Well, semi-upright. The crouch keeps him mostly eye-level for a human. He's here to make friends (--is a bit of a stretch, but if they're going to be spending multiple days on the road together, they should at least get along). He's not here to intimidate his, er, traveling companions.

So, no blatant looming, and no commenting on the whole "I can be pulled to the ground by my own horse" thing.

He nods. The tusks seem to exaggerate every movement of his head.]

Never been there either, but I find myself in need of things.