#oh the way you draw Meister’s hair is so cool actually

[colleydogstar]

A Ranger’s Tale - 10 -Breakfast at the Manor

Rhodie’s story continues.....

The first night after meeting with Silberschmidt has Rhodie lead to her room by a demure maid. A single guest room, though one that's bigger than the average hotel room. A single four poster bed dominated the room. Along with a chest, two end tables, a chair and smaller table. A trio of large mirrors on the wall, and art pieces dominate the remaining space. Leaving everything opulent, yet a little crowded feeling. The room itself is warm, though a window to the outside allows cool air and a view of the great forest falsely hidden in the industrious city of Estorly. And it's in that night that Rhodie gets one strong reminder that she isn't home. That there aren't modern entertainment devices to occupy her time.

Rhodie takes a look around the room, and lets out a short whistle. "Fancy arrangements, can't say I'm too surprised..." She does her best to make herself at least somewhat comfortable, but after a few minutes, can already start to feel herself getting antsy. This time of night she'd be in front of her computer desk editing videos, or working on an art stream. In the forest she could at least distract herself practicing the things the others were teaching her, but here... Something clicks in her mind however. Her skills in other things seem to improve majorly here, but what about stuff she already knew? She thinks, and then leans out the door to shout at the nearest servant. "Hey! One of you fetch me some paper and pencils or pens?" She may not have her computer, but there's always the old school method, and she wants to test something.

"Of course, miss Michaels." The supplies arrive quickly. Ink and pen set along with a ream of paper. It isn't good for mapping, something tells Rhodie that in the back of her head, as it's stationary, but it will do for the practice in the time being. "I will remain over here if you need anything," the maid informs Rhodie, leaving the room and true to her word, remaining there at an easy attention. A constant reminder to Rhodie of what could await her as the house continues to try to impress and impress upon the young woman.

She can sense it, like a voice in the back of her head telling her to follow in the maid's behavior. Persistent, and annoying. She thinks back to a technique her therapist in college taught her, associating intrusive thoughts with someone you would never agree with to make them easier to ignore. In her case, a very hateful grandmother. Visualizing her telling Rhodie to obey and submit prompts a small growl from her canine-like muzzle as she begins pushing back against the house. Looking at the maid when she returns, she remembers what she was told. Forceful, and on the rude side. "Go." She says to the maid and watches her leave. She drags a chair over to one of the tables, and sets out the supplies. "Ok.. let’s start with something basic... mapping later." She tells herself, before closing her eyes and getting a visual. With a nod to herself, she sets to work, beginning to try and sketch out Sgt. Donnel from memory.

Her hand moves lightly, deftly sketching lines across the page. Loose and freeflowing, the art comes easy at the expense of the flowing and sometimes difficult to control pen. The face comes, perhaps too easily making the curious connection between canine and human that demi's have. The facial structure as easy at the edge of her nose constantly in her point of view. like drawing someone like her. It finishes with a little past an hour gone by. The light in the room still up, and apparently from some unseen sources. A staunch reminder of the magic present all about the manor of Silberschmidt. The words have quieted some, with her concentration. Her confidence pushing away. Even as she sees herself in the mirrors in the room, at the reflection looking back at her.

Rhodie sits back as she reaches a finishing point. Looking at the image. Sketched, refined, even hatch shaded, in... an hour? She looks back at the drawing. Something like that would normally take her at least 2-3 to do properly before. The setter demi smirks to herself, and looks at her drawing hand. "OK then... we can work with that." She says as if talking to whatever magic is driving her skills. Rhodie goes to scratch her muzzle but then pauses. Looking over at the mirror, seeing the canine demihuman looking back at her. She grabs another page and begins to work on a self-portrait, well a former self-portrait. Things start off well, but as she goes, the figure looks less human, the hair looking styled more like her ears, the face a little bit too far out. She scraps the piece and tries again, and then a third time... each one just not quite working.... Rhodie sets the pen down and rubs at her face, lightly laughing. "Losing my mind or adapting my self-image?"

Crickets outside. The smell of cedar and pine. Sensory information flowing in as her mind ponders the potential of madness. Though what is madness when she can see herself staring, well, herself in the face. The night continues on. Sleep will come. The morning will come. Rhodie is left to her thoughts, and to consider what the others are up to as the night continues onward. It's not until the sun has broken the unseen horizon and cast a greying light of morning over the house that a knock comes at Rhodie's door. "Miss Michaels, you are wanted for breakfast. Do you need attending?"

Rhodie spends the rest of the evening drawing. The faces of her friends, places she has been, and even if the paper isn't the best for it, she works out a few maps, making notes of particular scents and things she observed that seemed of interest. Eventually crashing in the bed, her sleep is rough, feeling the house trying to intrude upon her in her dreams. As she hears the knocks, she lets out a groan. "You're not needed at this time," she growls. Following the habit she seemingly picked up from her first night in the world, Rhodie pushes up out of the bed, rear in the air, arms stretched forward as she lets out a large toothy yawn, before switching and pushing back with her legs, and up with her arms. Just keep telling yourself you're doing downward and upward dog yoga stretches, Rhodie. She rolls out of the bed, grabbing her dress, and throwing it back on. Just thankful she has any clothes of her own at this point, as she goes for the door, groggily opening it. "Breakfast is which way?"

Eggs, bacon, sausages, beans, several different fresh baked breads, a fuzzy fruit that's purple and tastes like canned peaches, strangely eclectic quantities of mustards. A large, large breakfast has been set out in the main dining hall. A table nearly fifteen foot long covered in many dishes. Plates are arrayed, and maids are present to commit to serving and cleaning for the guests of Meister Silberschmidt. The rest of the Order is already present and eating, along with Ember. With a quick scent, something that Rhodie did not do is apparent on every other person. Bathing and scented oils.

As she follows the directions toward the dining hall, her nose picks up the scent. Oh, that actually smells like a good spread of food.  "Those scents are thankfully familiar." She can feel her tail start to wag lightly, and shrugs. "Eh, that one you’re justified on." She knows she's talking to herself, but isn't awake enough yet to care.  Rhodie gives a two finger salute to the others as she enters the hall, "Yo." She lets out another yawn, and then pauses. She starts sniffing at the air again. Scented oils and...soaps? Ah, yes, you did forget to do that, didn't you, Rhodie? To be fair, it's been a while since you've had a proper chance in the morning but... eh, do it afterwards. She looks at the purple fruit, tilting her head slightly. "This one is called...what?"

It's Ember that answers. "Galsian Plum. Imported. They're good." Pritchard is speaking with Donnel over the far corner of the table. Their conversation hushed and quick patterned by their motions. Salicia joins Rhodie, somehow appearing in a stealthy manner far at odds with her imposing stature. "Fill up, Rhodie," she says with a laugh. "A few days here and we won't get a free spread like this for a while. Mikkelsbrugh is a ways away, even by traveled roads."

Rhodie gets a plate setup, and sniffs at the plums. "These are plums?" She tries one, and gives an approving nod. "Kinda like a Dole Peach with the syrup. Neat." Salicia's sudden appearance does give her a start, feeling her ears pop up slightly for a moment in surprise. "How do you do that?" She asks Salicia. The demi lets out a small laugh, pointing at her nose. "Super sniffer, and you still manage to be stealthy. Awake now at least. Adrenaline jolt instead of coffee will suffice I guess." She starts to eat, and looks back over at Sal. "So that'll be the next destination then?"

"If you'd like coffee, I can get one of the girl's to get you one," Pritchard says, breaking off his conversation with Donnel. A quick and sharp order and the maid staff is on their way.

Salicia has a laugh as she claps Rhodie on the back. "We're all cleaned up and all this food. You're still new to it all, ain't you?" she asks, leaning her weight onto Rhodie's shoulder. "Now watch, I need another bacon sandwich. Plenty of pork in Mikkelsbrugh, but Silberschmidt's butcher cuts it thicker." Ember just watches, a coy smile on her face as she just enjoys seeing a neophyte Errantblood learn about the new things that the world has to offer them.

Rhodie's eyes light up, her tail beginning to wag like it was going out of style. "Coffee. You have coffee here. Coffee is a thing in this world. Yes, the answer is YES TO COFFEE." Something familiar may exist, and it's something she loves? OK, mood brightening for sure. Even with the clap on the back. She laughs, "Sal, it’s like I said out in the forest. My normal routine had me waking up around noon, since my work kept me up so late. And when you work from home by yourself, a morning shower isn't always the first priority." She raises an eyebrow. "OK, so other worlder question: He has his own butchers? I mean that in like, he eats meat, or he keeps them on hand for guests? Cervines are more vegetarian diets back home. Though if the dude likes meat, power to him."

"You're a strange girl, Rhodie," Salicia comments and elicits a chuckle from the knowing Ember. "He's got butchers, and cooks, you don't see them much. They live in the city. The cook comes in. He's a big human named Gerhardt. Friendly fellow, and his kitchen's the only place you won't have to deal with Silberschmidt's bought spellcasting. Man may own the house, but no man is crazy enough to deal with a chef's claim to the kitchen," Donnel explains while Pritchard speaks with the maids. Ember fields the more important part of the question. "Don't take species appearances for expected, Rhodie," she explains. "Your gut's as human as it ever was. Which, yes, does mean you can eat chocolate. And by god, you will want some of that if you ever go overseas."

She gives a grin in response to Salicia. "And I'll only get stranger with time." Aha, the kitchen you say? Thank you for that little tidbit of information, Donnel, Rhodie thinks to herself. "Good to know some things are universal across then. Mess with a chef, and you're in for a bad time," Rhodie says to Donnel. Ember's comment gets her attention, "Chocolate. Oh wow, I hadn't even thought about that. Oh man, everything is going to be like home made stuff instead of processed brand name." She take in a breath as she pictures the implications of that. "Well, that's something that'll be tried."

The coffee arrives. It's in a white cup with genuine gold trim. Markings run along the rim of the cup, reflecting off the deep, impossibly black void of liquid that has been called coffee. "Your coffee, ma'am, brewed in the gentleman's suggestion," the squeak of a soft voiced maid is a reminder that Rhodie could be that shrinking violet in the frilly outfit. "Not cheap, not compared to home," Ember clarifies, "But you're an errantblood, so you can work for high marks." "And Pritchard's a Geistmacher," Salicia says. "So he can just buy whatever you want."

Rhodie takes the cup, and grimaces a bit at the quick reminder of what could be. Still telling that now assigned voice to stay shut up while she enjoys her coffee. She's surrounded by her friends now, people she actually will be loyal to, and like hell she's going to give in to this magic. She makes a shooing motion to the maid. "I have no idea what Geistmacher means. Excuse me for a moment..." She turns her attention to the coffee. Black, blacker than the blackest black times infinity. She closes her eyes and takes a long whiff of the coffee. Taking time to  savor and process the smell, probably looking like she's deep in thought to the others. Moment of truth, is it truly worthy to be called coffee... She takes the cup with both hands and drinks.

The smell of the coffee is a smoldering mixture of earthy woods and an undercurrent of bitterness. The liquid is piping hot, the flavor is sharp and rich. There's no sweetener in the liquid, no milk to make it blonde. It kicks like an espresso run through with the mouth filling tingling aftermath of chili. The sudden tang opens Rhodie's sinus in the way normally reserved for cold medication. Bitter, lingering spice, and a heat beyond simply being cooked bean water. Pritchard appears vaguely discomforted despite a moment ago wanting to see Rhodie's reaction to the coffee. "Geistmacher is my family name," he explains.

Taking time to process the taste and flavors, a smile slowly creeps across Rhodie's face. For the others, it might be the first time they've seen her smile that wide since she joined up. "Sweet. Bitter. Drink of the Gods." She says with a contented sigh. She looks around, and clears her throat, "Sorry, was having a moment there." Her moment of joy is broken when she sees Pritchard's reaction, feeling her tail sag a little. "Sorry.... To be fair, we haven't really discussed family names in our time together, but that's still me putting my foot in my mouth there, Pritchard. My apologies."

Ember seems to be laughing to herself while Pritchard shakes his head. "It's nothing, Rhodie. I haven't spoken about it because I generally don't. I'd rather not put too much on my family name." Donnel snorts. "You going to stop being modest, you've known the gel for a month. She'll be finding out on her own soon enough." Pritchard nods. "What Salicia was inferring is my family's wealth. While not nearly to the degree of Meister Silberschmidt, we are a successful family." Ember fills for reference. "The Geistmacher's own the First Lantern Coffee House. Which is also one of the most important insurer, underwriter, and moneylender in the region."

Ok, so the reaction was more to the situation and no her response, that's a relief. "Oh, so that's what you meant yesterday on the affording dinner thing. Neat!" She says in regards to his financial situation as if he had just shown off a new jacket. The next part though seems to be her focus, "The First Lantern Coffee House? Explains this rather well." She holds up the cup and takes another sip. "I can understand not wanting to put on your name, but doesn't seem like something you should try to hide like you seem to have been doing. My mom used to do accounting for folks along the lines of Silberschmidt's position back home, so we weren't want for finances either."

"So you owned multiple homes in Manhattan, Rhodie?" Ember asks in a way that suggests she's trying to make a point. "I do not do much business with Augustus Geistmacher. Though should my project come to fruition, I may keep in mind that the First Lantern could use a second location," Silberschmidt's voice proceeds him as he enters the room clad in a belted smoking jacket and silk trousers. He has a stein in his hand and a flat, neutral look of amusement about him.

Rhodie looks over at Ember with an 'Are you serious?' look. Then over at Pritchard. She shakes her head, "Wow, OK, yeah, no, not to that level. Definitely not on that level." Ah, speak of the buck and he shall appear. "With a lead in like that, I'll bite. Your project?"

"I'm one of the last remaining old nobility with any power and dignity remaining," Silberschmidt explains. "But I've needed to grow with the times. I believe the term is vertical integration?" he asks with a look toward Rhodie as though she'd know the term by dint of being an errantblood. "I've been looking into establishing a new port that's independant of Mikkelsbrugh's regulatory committees and mercantile guild." Silberschmidt steps into the dining room and hands his stein to one of the maids. "As for my plans today, I'd like a wager with Magus Geistmacher. A trial of arms, for the attention of the errantblood, Rhodie Michaels."

Rhodie thinks for a moment, "So... expanding your reach and business, in this case power, but without the pesky addition of having to pay fees and taxes to another company governing the rules and regulations?" She goes to take another drink of coffee, but then stops. The irish setter raises an eyebrow, "'For the attention of...' Oh please tell me you're not about to get into the magical equivalent of waving your masculinity at one another."

Pritchard pauses for a moment, then he nods. "I see," he says. "First, the proposal is flawed because Rhodie has not submitted to any particular spellcasting for me to claim any ownership of. I will need something else for the wager." Silberschmidt looks toward Rhodie and nods. "Then I will extend forgiveness for any past trespass she may have committed. In writing, noterized by myself." Ember watches. She looks toward Rhodie and taps at her eyes and gives a subtle shake of her head. Appearances may deceive.

Rhodie catches Ember's signal and frowns. She narrows her eyes at the spellcasters. "I can't help but feel I'm being put on the betting table here for something without my consent, guys. Liiiitle bit rude and disrespectful of visiting guests if so."

"Did I say you were a guest?" Silberschmidt asks Rhodie. "I don't believe so. What I recall were my gamesmasters returning with a wastrel they captured that are now refusing to offer up for punishment. As per our discussion last night, correct Sergeant Donnel? This girl has no paperwork to her name. Of course, were I to formulate such paperwork in the event of a wager, then she would have some, perhaps. But as of right now, you have none. And it is custom for the lord to decide the fates of those caught trespassing on his lands."

Rhodie takes one long drink and finishes her coffee. "Actually you did, and I quote in regards to the offering of wine last night, 'I won't have a GUEST in my house that refuses my offering.' As for the trespassing, it was the magic of your lands that brought me here. Against my will, I might add, which is along the lines of kidnapping," Rhodie says. "But we can also say that they invited me here, in exchange for a new body and abilities still developing. Sounds a lot nicer than TAKING ME FROM MY HOME AND DESTROYING MY LIFE."

Everyone in the room just sort of looks at Rhodie for a long moment as if to figure out just how serious she is in her argument.

Rhodie looks quite serious, "For the last month I've had to deal with the fact that everything I know and love is GONE. Family and loved ones I will NEVER be able to see again. Everything I worked for, everything I was, all that work getting my life together, destroyed the moment YOUR LANDS decided it wanted me to be part of some grand scheme this world is plotting. And it IS plotting something!" She is looking more frustrated by the moment, a month of anxiety and just general GRAUGH apparently finally slipping out. "Come on, you all saw the connections, right? Why I got dropped on top of Donnel's party and your region?"

Silberschmidt looks toward Rhodie. "You have much to learn about your world, miss Michaels. It is not the kindly place you are from. We have legality here. We all have standards to meet. Regardless of where you are from, you are here with no paperwork, no vouching, no identity as far as any law cares for. You are nothing and the very fact I'm entertaining your whims is a sign of my magnanimity. Know yourself, cur." He looks over his shoulder. "Magus Geistmacher. I trust I will see you in the courtyard?" Pritchard simply nods and gestures agreement toward Silberschmidt as the deer makes his leave.

Rhodie tries to steady her breathing, face scrunched up like she's ready to bite the first person to come near her as she watches him leave. She grabs her hair and pulls, not hard enough to tear anything out, but it is very clearly she's doing it to keep from doing something she'll regret. "I fucking hate this place. I fucking hate this place and want it to burn so i can go home and never think about it again."

Ember is the one that approaches. Donnel and Salicia look on with sympathy, but it's the lioness that understands. "Rhodie," she says, "For better or for worse this is where people like us are. We have to live with it, or let it consume us. You have good friends and supportive ones. You will survive, and I can assure you that Silberschmidt has meant nothing but benefits for you in his challenge. Though you may have angered him in your misinterpretation."

"I can't. I can't. Do this. Ember. I'm trying, but every step of the way feels like someone is kicking me in the chest when I try to make progress," Rhodie says through gritted teeth. She glares at her at the last part. "Does he? Does he really? Because ever since arriving in town, all I've been told is to beware him, not to trust him. By you, by Pritchard, be aggressive, be forceful, and a bad guest, that's what you all kept saying, but now I'm supposed to about face and believe he has my best interests?" She looks toward Donnel and the others, "And guys, you did nothing to warn about any of this. Not. One. Word. about any of this crap the last two days until I was already in the den of the beast. I love you, I  genuinely, truly do. You are the ONLY things I have left for support and are probably the only ones who give a shit what happens to me. You three are the only thing that has kept me going this far, and not winding up dead or zombified or worse. You CAN'T do that to me anymore, OK?"

"He wanted to spar with me. He always does," Pritchard is the next to speak. "I generally refuse. Silberschmidt enjoys self improvement and as I'm one of the few experienced in both magic and combat around here, he seeks me out when we're reporting. You see, despite all of this, Silberschmidt is not himself a spellcaster. He buys all of it. He's deathly afraid of the moment a truly competent caster arrives under the hire of his enemies." He reaches for a glass of water on the table. "And furthermore, the paperwork notion is so that it doesn't become obvious that he is giving you free pass. You are a trespasser in the eyes of the law. He can't appear weak, nor does he want it to become apparent he is assisting you. Should I win against him and force his hand, you are free from carrying around a gift from a man with a great deal of power and a great deal of enemies. I'm sorry, Rhodie, I am, but he is acting terribly quickly and we've not had time. I hadn't expected him to do this in front of you." "Aye," Donnel adds, "Whatever you said to him last night impressed him. And gel, maybe sometimes just shut your yap and have some faith that the ones who lived in this place know what they're doing better than you, even if you are an errantblood. Remember what I said about letting it all get to your head."

"This has nothing with me being an Errantblood, this isn't ego, this me trying to deal with the fact that I am NOT ME ANYMORE, Donnel. I can't even remember what I used to look like... i spent last night trying to remember, and it was just this... red mess. I just.. I just want to be normal again. I don't want this body, whatever these powers are," Rhodie says, body hanging in defeat. "And I know, it's who I am now.. and that's the worst part."