|[ October Arrival ]|
05.10.05 ; A new Forgotten and daemon and Wren's the one to explain.
05.10.05 ; A new Forgotten and daemon and Wren's the one to explain.
It was a dark night. The stars glimmered brightly, but even they could not truly cast light upon the area. Even the moon seemed to be missing and there was barely a cloud hanging in the sky over the mansion. There was a cold edge to the breeze that blew through the area, hinting that fall wasn't too far away.
The mansion was all ready decorated for Halloween. There were pumpkins doting the path that lead up to the house, each and every single one carved with a different face and a few plastic skeletons that hid out in the tall grass of the yard. A cauldron looked to be bubbling over on the porch and whether or not it was a personal project or for decoration, one never knew ( particularly when it came to Pippin ).
Spider webs, real or fake was any one's guess, hung from every possible place they could and it was obvious that the owner was, truly, getting into the Halloween spirit.
It had been so so long and so many years since Raife had attempted anything of the sort that she was trying now. Frankly, she was just doing it to see if she could. To see if it was still possible. If she still had the skills. Dressed in an inconspicuous black hoodie and dark jeans -all black was predictable and therefore, by association, conspicuous- she slipped quietly around the side of the house and pressed herself flat against the front entrance, hiding herself in the shadows and cobwebs under the eaves of the porch. She paid little mind to the halloween decorations. Nobody would see her when she was inside. It didn't matter.
At least, they wouldn't if she was still any good. She slipped the lockpicks from her back pocket, feeling the light weight of the tension wrench and the diamond tip in her hands. Her favorites. She crouched next to the door frame unconcernedly, steadily working the ancient front lock until it easily clicked, opening for her like the arms of a friend. She grinned into the doorway and the darkness.
She still had it.
It was that simple. She slipped into the house like a shadow, listening with perked ears for the sounds of voices, staying close to walls and doors and ways of escape.
The house itself was entirely dark on the inside, the only source of light from the kitchen and it flickered distantly in the darkness before it entirely winked out. It was, however, just as decorated inside as it was inside. There were halloween decorations everywhere. Little paper ghosts hanging in the foyer and trailing down from ceiling to floor and back again.
So it was no surprise, that upon the guest stepping into the house, one of those little motion sensor witches immediately started to cackle and wiggle back and forth as she stirred a miniature cauldron. Some horrid halloween tune played after the cackle ended and the dancing continued, but it was drowned out by the sudden sound of screeching.
The noise seemed to come from deeper within the house and it echoed within the walls, not stopping.
Raife jolted as the witch set to stirring, and rubbed her nose embarrassedly. Okay, okay. Over confident. She'd tripped some stupid halloween decoration. She'd been in and out of museums after hours without a stir, for chrissakes. She could take some old broken down house. Her eyes darted, watching her surroundings. Okay, light from the kitchen, that was an obvious no for a direction to head.
Now on the other hand there was screeching. Not quite nails on a chalkboard screeching, but some sort of horrible bone deep chill. Why was it she wanted to head that way? She didn't really have a choice. She'd sworn she'd make it through one side of the house to the other. She needed to know she could still do it. It was more than a challenge or a compulsion. It was just...necessary.
So she stupidly pressed forward. Towards the howling screams. Instead of away. Where, you know, somebody sane and not breaking into houses might consider going.
The screech continued, but it changed as one progressed deeper into the house. It changed from loud oppressive screams to a more high pitched noise that merely echoed back and forth between the walls of the mansion. Just how could a sound like that have possibly transformed into a scream at the front of the house?
Never could tell and it was a wonder that no one else had stirred at the sound of it.
Further along into the house the hallways started to look like they repeated, like everything was the same: oppresive and ominous. There was no light, only a pitch black abyss and the cool air of a place not often visited.
And still, the screech continued, but it eventually it faded away until it was nothing at all and complete silence took over. It was easy at moments like these to hear one's own heartbeat.
This is a ridiculously stupid house, Raife whined internally as she rounded her third corridor that looked exactly the same as the second that looked exactly the same as the first. I'm tired and I want a nap. And a juice box. Where was the back exit to this place? Where was any exit? Where were the bathrooms?
She really needed to pee.
She picked a door at random, sticking her finger in her ear uselessly to block out the noise. Unfortunately, she had two ears, so it wasn't at all helpful.
Then it all stopped.
She looked around, her hand on the doorknob, at the oppressive silence. It was like someone had turned the light on, except it was still pitch black and she was the worst thief ever and god she wanted to go homeee...it wasn't like she was going to steal anything anyway. Pouting a bit, she leant back against the door and sighed, forgetting her intention to open it.
There was a window, strangely a break in the repetitive pattern of hallways, not that far down from the door. ( Had it been there a second before? ) For one brief moment, for one second to break the darkness, the moon finally shone through the window and light and shadows scattered everywhere.
It was a cold light that shone through however, one that seemed to infect the hallway itself until it was cool enough to make someone want warmer clothing or a warm bath to ward off the chill.
Still, the moment passed and the moon once again faded from sight and the area was cast back into complete darkness. Yet it seemed something had been awakened by the light -- or maybe it had all ready been awake -- and it did not feel the need to play so much as to taunt.
So the doorknob turned quickly and the door opened abruptly, hopefully sending the person sprawling into the room behind it. Though one couldn't really call it a room, so much as a stair case, and once inside and on the stairs the door shut itself as easily as it opened up on it's own.
A light flickered at the bottom, though it seemed a hopelessly long way, but it glittered brightly, promisingly. The was a rush of warm air in the cold.
Perhaps there was a way out this way and this was it?
Indeed, the doorknob did turn, the door did open and Raife DID go sprawling backwards into the room. And down the staircase.
Down the staircase. Tumbling backwards. With her rock-like skull leading the way. Only one thought was left in her jumbled, jostled little brain.
Whoa.
She fell unti her head hit bottom with a solid thud, followed by her butt slowly behind. Her face was on the ground and all she could think was that she had no idea where she was and nobody to miss her and why had she picked the house with the blood curdling, suddenly disappearing death screams that probably foretold her imminent doom.
With a heartfelt groan, she rolled over.
It probably was not a good thing that the screeching, at this point, once again picked up. Except it was far more high pitched -- the sounds an animal might make -- and it echoed about in the area at the bottom of the stairs.
There was also the sudden sound of a door sliding, shutting, and locking to go with the screeching and what light had been burning brightly down at the bottom of the stairway was only a dim reminder, a faint hope.
Halloween decorations could be seen here, as well, and it was beginning to seem that there was no place they did not reach. It was more spider webbing and paper ghosts and goblins and witches. They hung down and veiled two greatly detailed ornate doors. Despite the hangings that overshadowed them, it was hard to miss the detail in the glass -- the leaves and vines that decorated the aged glass and seemingly burst out of the actual glass as the golden leaf handle that rests temptingly, gleaming brightly in the darkness.
But once more the lighting begins to flicker, as if considering going out entirely, and the screeching picks up a notch. There's something beyond the glass doorway, shadows that play back and forth and somewhere, beyond the high pitched screech, there is the sound of flapping wings.
The paper decorations move, as if blown by wind when there is no source, and then fall silent just as the screeching does. The flapping of wings, however, continues on, but it too eventually fades away ...
Raife pushed herself up to her feet, crouching and looking up at the big ornate doors. "Goddamn it, house. Now you owe me. And whatever it is you owe me, I'm sure I can find it behind such fancy doors." She squinted up at them, standing up and reaching for a doorknob. It was still dark, and her head was spinning from her fall, but she wasn't as useless as to not be able to open a door.
The door shut.
The screaming came back.
"Goddamn it, house!!" She didn't care if someone heard her now. Frankly, she was ultimately positive somebody wouldn't. Wherever she was, despite the cheery cardboard ghost grinning down at her, seemed remote. "Stupid house, stupid doors, stupid screaming murder victims!" She thudded a fist against the door, and rammed her way through them, turning the knob and slamming her shoulder against it at the same time. Raife was nothing if not dramatic.
The house was, if anything, a giving sort -- but this one would figure out that what it gave in return for playing it's games wasn't necessarily the sort of thing one wanted to receive.
The doors opened surprisingly easily, even if the handle was a little cold to the touch. However, hasty and dramatic steps into the next area might not have helped someone to avoid what was obviously a stray banana peel that had been left on the floor carelessly.
It most likely wasn't Pippin, who did uphold the rules of no food in the library ( but his office was another story ), but -- well, no one was for sure how it got there. Maybe it fell when the trash was being taken out.
In any case, the two great ornate doors lead to an expansive library. There was still dust on the books and a stand towards the center of the area where a much larger book might've rested. Endless rows of shelves lined the library and there was an all most sacred feel to the place, despite the chill, as if this was a place rarely reached by humans.
As if these books were something special.
Raife didn't merely step into the room. She stumbled.
And she didn't merely trip on the banana peel. She slid headfirst from it into a wall of shelves, thwacking her head on a row of books and tumbling back onto her butt.
Three hits and still not out. The girl had a hard head.
Rubbing her temples, she squinted and shut her eyes before opening them again, surveying her surroundings and glaring at the peel.
"Touche, house. Touche." She prodded it away with her toe and looked up. And brightened.
My oh my. Now wasn't the room just filled with one of her favorite things?
Maybe the house was trying to apologize.
Or maybe this was that twilight episode and now her glasses would break.
That hard head just and impact just managed to dislodge a book from the shelf. It fell from what seemed to be the very top of the shelf, as if it had been resting there away from the rest of the books or as if it had taken a higher vantage point so as to observe and see when it was best to do what it had just done.
Fallen right into Raife's lap.
It was, strangely enough, a seemingly ordinary book. It looked thick, as if it would be heavy, but it was surprisingly light weight for it's size. Appearances were deceiving. It had a thick brown cover, perhaps leather, and there might have once been a title on the book, but it looked as it was worn away -- the words blurred and barely legible. The spine itself was a darker brown and just as worn as the cover, a tiny bit frayed at the edges as well.
If one opened the book they would see that there was a tattered piece of leather on the inside, as if it had been used as a bookmark. For all that it looked like an old book, the pages within seemed only a little off white and crisp and new.
Raife started as the book fell onto her lap. It hadn't hurt. She squinted up to where it came from. A larger, thicker book teetered, but seemed held. It didn't fall at all. She was thankful. She didn't think that four times would be the charm. She ran her fingers over the spine of the book, clicking her tongue a bit. It looked old. Old books were valuable. She squinted, trying to read the words on the cover. Couldn't tell. She frowned a bit. No, it didn't matter. The pages looked too new anyway. She sighed and opened the book up. At least, maybe, she could figure out what book it was. Maybe have a good read.
She wasn't the type to write in books but she desperately wanted to write "Raife was here."
She slid her fingers softly over the piece of leather and the crisp white pages. "Damn you and your non-yellowed pages." Somehow, she wasn't really upset at all.
No, only one book was meant for her -- the other would stay where it was, forever teetering until something else came along. The book rested innocently in Raife's arms and lap, an all most comfortable weight.
However, it was someone else that came along first. A light spread through out the library as the two ornate doors were opened up and Wren came bounding through, a warm voice filling the air. "Pippin! PIP! Where are you? It's our night out and ..." he trailed as he walked further into the library and spied the person on the ground in all black and --
" -- oh." Coming to a complete halt, he stood not too far away from where Raife rested on the ground and rather than staring at her, particularly her garb, he was staring at the book in her hands. "... got to be kidding me," he muttered to himself, before he lifted his head up to look at the face of the person who had just unknowingly saddled themselves with something far more than they expected than a simple book.
"Great," he spoke a bit louder, realizing that the person on the floor was more than just a little familiar to him. It hopefully made things a lot simpler, but then again -- where the hell was Pippin when he needed him? Never mind it was their night to go crash at bars!
Raife's head jerked up and she blinked owlishly before recognition dawned on her face. She tucked the book under her arm and stood up, forgetting that she was, you know, some sort of a burglar. "Hey, I know you! Wren! With Lafe!" She remembered the man with his little fox boy and the way he'd gotten along with her little boy and the lemonade and....good times. She waved her hands and the book, sending up dust flying into the air. "You own this place? This house hates me...Probably shouldn't have..........accidentally...walked in." That was plausible. Good job. She looked around. "And why is such a great library in the basement? And what's with the screaming? And..." It was clear that Raife could go on babbling questions all night if she was left to her own devices.
"And you're Raife!" Wren smiled, remembering Raife and Mikhael and the playdate that had happened a while ago between Lafe and the woman's legend. Besides, he was totally oblivious to the fact she, obviously, had probably snuck in here as some sort of thieving attempt.
Then again, he probably figured that was the case, but considering the building they were in -- well, stealing from it wasn't likely something that anyone could get away with it.
"Um, no, I don't own it, this house likes to play with people, you probably would've come here anyway," he was rattling off responses to hers all most as fast as she was getting them out. "... and, um, no clue. It's not really a basement, I mean ... you'll never use -- urgh, I'm getting ahead of myself." He raked a hand through his hair and pointed to a nearby table.
"Raife, why don't you just go ahead and set that book down on the table there? I need to see if Pippin's here, he owns this place," as much as it could be owned, "and ... I'll try to explain the ... screaming," sweet deities, the house was getting a bit morbid wasn't it, "and some other things you're going to need to know." He started to walk towards the back of the library, pausing for a moment and waiting for her to set the book down as he said and then head towards the office with him.
Pippin, he hoped, had better be in the office or he was going to have a fun time explaining this all to Raife.
Raife shrugged complacently and set the book on the table. He didn't seem to realize she'd gotten into the house through questionable means, so perhaps it'd be okay. "Alright...uhm....Hmm." She stuck her hands in her pockets and followed Wren towards the office. She wondered about this Pippin fellow. Would HE be more suspicious about why she was in the house? She really couldn't afford a B&E wrap. Not with the kid at home and the boys and...well, everything. She'd gone straight now.
Mostly.
Apparently mostly.
"Okay," he started slowly, holding open the door to the office once they were there and letting them both in, "one thing, the odds are ... you were lured into this house. Maybe not at first, it doesn't matter how you got in -- but something probably brought you down here. You said screams, right? I ended up lead into the library by light, so it's a different sort of bait with all of us ..." he trailed off with a shake of his head.
He did not want to scare her off with the fact that the house was likely sentient and laughing it's arse off at both of them. Wren knew the library and the house liked to toy with him. He gave up poking about the office and stopped searching at the crib with a sigh.
"And obviously Pippin isn't here, but he was ..." There was a pizza box with still fresh and somewhat warm pizza inside. "Probably think you were a ninja or something trying to sneak in with that get up on." He moved and leaned against the desk and turned around to face Raife. "Anyway, since he's not here, I suppose I get the honor of telling you that once you step back outside that door, there's going to be another baby in your life ...
"You opened a book within this library and there's something about these books, something magical, mystical, whatever you want to call it and somehow ... there's going to be a kid outside sitting on that table where you put that book. There'll be an excerpt with the baby and somehow those words on that small piece of parchment is tied to them, it's what they're born from.
"... never mind they're going to have another creature with them. It's a part of the child, just as the child is a part of it, and it'll be with the child all ways. You can't separate them, unless you want them to get ill or do harm. It's ... like the daemon, that's what we call the creatures, is a companion for the child and they're connected deeply, on a spiritual level I think, not that ... we really know for sure. We don't know that much about this place or why children come from books ..." He trailed off, straightening up and looking up at Raife seriously. He probably sounded insane, but it was the truth he was speaking.
"It sounds crazy, but what isn't in this world?" he chuckled, waving a hand in the air and then tilting his head back towards the office door and the library outside where there was table waiting for Raife.
"You'll really understand and believe, if you don't now, once you step outside and see the baby out there. So, let's go, shall we ... ?" Wren moves again, going to hold open the door for Raife to exit. He was, most certainly, going to be leaving a long and detailed note for Pippin if he didn't find him.
Never mind making him buy the first few rounds of drinks when they did go out.
Raife stood with a slightly drooly expression, her hair sticking up in all directions from her various falls and looking generally a mess. "....baby?" She blinked to clear her head. It didn't quite work, but it helped a little, at least psychologically. All of the information was flying in one ear and out the other, as there wasn't really much to catch it inbetween.
What she did catch was something to the effect of:
Book --> Baby --> Child ---> Creature --> What?
"What?" Oh, he wanted her to exit. Oh. Okay. She still was a bit lost, but she followed anyway. "Baby?" She repeated again, scratching her head. She was picturing some sort of strange MUTANT BOOK CHILD, with a BOOK for a body and little arms and legs and eyes, and ohgodcreepy.
"Um. Baby and a usually cute little daemon that will eventually grow bigger, baby at least. They're from a book. You take care of them, because you're the one that opened the book." Never mind never being able to open another book in the library again. "That's basically it." He laughed, though it could've been nervously, and walked along anyway.
"You all right?" The question was sudden, but Raife seemed a little out of it -- more than he remembered being out of it. He seriously hoped the house did not do a number on her, but ... one never knew.
And then, of course, our friend the banana peel from earlier resurfaced and without realizing, and paying attention mostly to Raife as he walked along, Wren tripped on it and started to slide forward.
He actually slid rid right into the table that Raife had set the book on, but did not cause it to shake whatsoever.
That wasn't what anyone would really pay attention to, however, if they had just recently set a book on the table and were coming out to find something else in it's place. On the edge of the table there sat a baby boy, with an expressive set of blue eyes behind a pair of glasses. He was, it seemed, tugging on a loose string on his jacket as if he didn't appreciate the fact that it was there. His hands easily disappeared back underneath the sleeves of the jacket as they were a little too long.
The sleeve on the left side rode up as something was wrapped around it, something that lead to a leash that there was a daemon attached to. A daemon, who just happened to be a bat, that looked like he was a bit curious about the man that had collapsed and nearly bothered them from their perch. Both baby and daemon were peering curiously at him, before their piercing observant stare went to focus on the other one in the room.
The baby's right hand came up, as if reaching for the left and the leash, but instead pressed against his chest briefly. There was a piece of parchment that peeked out from his jacket, an excerpt waiting to be read:
"All emotions, and that one particularly, were abhorrent to his cold, precise but admirably balanced mind. He was, I take it, the most perfect reasoning and observing machine that the world has seen, but as a lover he would have placed himself in a false position. He never spoke of the softer passions, save with a gibe and a sneer. They were admirable things for the observer -- excellent for drawing the veil from men's motives and actions. But for the trained teasoner to admit such intrusions into his own delicate and finely adjusted temperament was to introduce a distracting factor which might throw a doubt upon all his mental results. Grit in a sensitive instrument, or a crack in one of his own high-power lenses, would not be more disturbing than a strong emotion in a nature such as his."
Wren was oblivious for the moment, his vision swimming, and the only thing he saw was spots and that of, perhaps, a baby's foot. "... see?" he murmured, rubbing his head and starting to push himself up and away from the table to get a better look at this new child.
And then consider where he could find Pippin, find a drink, and wonder how the man dealt with informing people that they were due to look after babies from books as he did.
Raife's eyes widened again, as if she'd hit another object. But she hadn't. There WAS a baby. That didn't look like a book at all. With a little whirling bat on a leash. She squinted at the baby.
He squinted back.
The pair of them blinked and squinted at each other, but eventually, possibly because he might have been smarter than the ninjathiefgirl, the child lost interest in Raife and turned to survey Wren. Then his daemon. Then Raife again. Who was still blinking and staring.
"So...wait...he's...mine?" She didn't know, but she wondered if she'd somehow inadvertently had sex with the book. Book sex. Yeah. Okay. Been hit a bit much, and she hadn't listened to a word Wren had said.
"Does he have a name...or..." She reached for the paper sticking out from his jacket, to read it. As if he had a tag, like a stuffed animal. It disappeared back into his jacket before she could touch it. She looked up helplessly at Wren.
Wren came to his feet entirely and rubbed at his head. "Yeah, he's all yours now. He came from the book ..." Once he was sure that he hadn't hit his head a too hard ( though his mother had all ways assured him it was hard to knock him around, as he was a little thick at times ) he peered at the baby in question.
Well. This one made him think of Mael, at least in regards to the fact he had one of those expressions that made you question whether or not the baby is smarter than you.
"... actually, he doesn't have a name, so you name him, and the daemon is usually named after a word from the excerpt, I believe. It's not all ways obvious, but ..." He leaned in a little closer to the baby, though he wasn't trying to touch or anything. "If you could get the excerpt from him, it might help? He is yours now to look after, might as well get use to you being around him?" He had seen the excerpt slip back into the jacket -- he wasn't going to go fishing for it, oh no. Wren had learned his lesson about touching babies when they didn't want to be touched, you just didn't do it unless it was your own and you had to do it.
Hands freed of pesky, now-hidden excerpts, the baby reached up and squished Wren's face between his hands. It didn't seem like the careless touch of a baby, but a more exploring one, as if he was deciding that this was what a Wren felt like, and that he would always remember. In the meantime, the bat was circling Wren's head, and making a nuisance of herself around Wren's horns, her leash tangling around one. His eyes stayed firm on Wren's for a moment, searching, before he let go of both face and gaze. Only to find his hands stuck inches from the man's face, the leash leashing him. His brow creased and he wiggled his fingers ineffectively.
He WAS only a baby, after all.
Raife was still overwhelmed. "I have to name a baby, and a bat...and...what the hell is going on? TWO POINTS FOR YOU, HOUSE." She yelled at the ceiling, then turned to look at the tangled baby. "Mmh. Might as well take the opportunity." Her hands wormed into the little boy's jacket, finding the paper and grasping it, much to his dismay.
She began to read.
"All emotions, and that one particularly, were abhorrent to his cold, precise but admirably balanced mind. He was, I take it, the most perfect reasoning
The bat began a racket of batting wings at this, answering an unspoken question.
and observing machine that the world has seen, but as a lover he would have placed himself in a false position. He never spoke of the softer passions, save with a gibe and a sneer. They were admirable things for the observer -- excellent for drawing the veil from men's motives and actions. But for the trained teasoner to admit such intrusions into his own delicate and finely adjusted temperament was to introduce a distracting factor which might throw a doubt upon all his mental results. Grit in a sensitive instrument, or a crack in one of his own high-power lenses, would not be more disturbing than a strong emotion in a nature such as his."
"Huh." She scratched her chin.
Wren just blinked steadily at the fact his face was being mushed by a baby. He couldn't find it in himself to be bothered, it was merely a curious child -- one that liked to touch it seemed, which was a change for what he was use to.
Of course Wren wrinkled his nose up at the bat that was circling his head and the fact it was now tangled up. "Well, ... that somehow figures." He refrained from snickering at Raife, just barely refrained.
"Don't worry," he said somewhat cheerfully as he gave Raife a few moments to snag the excerpt with the baby's hands otherwise busy, "the house probably keeps a running tally of points. I expect it's quite high and in it's favor, considering the number of children it's unleashed upon unsuspecting people."
With a quirk of his lips, listening to Raife read, he moved to untangle the leash from his horn and free both the bat and the baby. Of course, the extra racket of the batting wings was hard for him to not notice -- particularly at the mentioned word. "... so, uh, does that make her name Reasoning?"
Which still left a baby to name. Speaking of which, he had finally untangled the leash and was holding the baby's small hands in his own. "There we go, my boy, how's that?" For a moment, he was studying the small hands, a smile on his lips. It had been a while since he had seen hands this small and it brought back memories.
Wait, right. Not time for a trip down memory lane. Have to deal with this, find Pippin, hopefully still go out to the club and have a fun night. Otherwise, he was going to be sorely disappointed.
... and wage a war against the house he'd probably lose, but that's what it'd get for this hiccup in his plans for the night!
The baby had his hands now. Oho! More Wren to categorize in his brain. His little fingers ran over Wren's, testing the muscles in the man's hands and the different textures from back of hand to palm. Then he let go as suddenly as anything, losing interest. He tugged the leash close and Reasoning came to rest on his jacket. He ran his fingers over the bat's fur, petting it absently, as if more a habit, than any real affection.
"I hate this house." She added randomly to their ranting. "Anyway, he needs a name, right? A smart looking boy like that....or maybe it's just the glasses. What's with people and glasses and looking smart?" She scratched her head. "A smart looking boy like that needs a name."
"How 'bout Declan?" She smiled and cocked her head, looking at the boy, as if seeking approval.
From an infant.
The baby didn't seem to care more or less. He arched a brow and continued to survey his surroundings passively. Reasoning, however, flapped and batted her wings again before settling.
"Well. The bat votes for it, at least."
Interesting and more interesting. Wren merely grinned at the baby boy as his hands were examined, but finally did pull his hands back once it seemed he had no more interest in them.
"I think the house would be affronted if ... we didn't harbor some form of dislike for it," Wren added, rolling his eyes and tempted briefly to give the ceiling a two fingered salute but held back from doing so. He knew what happened when you did things like that in front of kids -- they repeated it and then it went down hill from there.
"... Declan sounds like a good name to me. He looks it, as much as ... one can look like a name," Wren spoke, as if he made sense. He probably did somewhere. Really. Somewhere, someone understood just what he was getting at. "Seems like he'll be a charming boy." So far, at least. He was friendly with touching, so that somehow translated to being charming.
What did he know.
"So, you have a name for the bat and for the boy, which gives you two points and the house none!" Hopefully the house wouldn't take offense to that and ... try and swallow him alive or trap him in a room with banana peels all over the floor.
He wasn't paranoid, no.
Raife looked a bit at the baby again, helplessly, before sighing resignedly. "Well. Glad my house has lots of rooms anyway. So....I best get out of here..." She scooped up the baby who immediately busied himself exploring her hoodie and her hair and all matter of business with the ten shiny piercings in her ears and even locating the lockpicks hiding in her jacket. "If I can figure out..how." She turned the helpless stupid look to Wren, with a plaintive, unasked, yet very obvious question.
"... well, I can help you out of here and then go and locate my dear wayward Pip, who is suppose to be out getting drinks with me," Wren shook his head and gestured towards the exit. He couldn't resist helping someone out, particularly when it came to beating out the house and potentially escaping from it. "Come on, I'll get you and Declan out of here before the house changes it's mind and decides it wants to keep us as pets or something."
With a bemused smile, he gave the new forgotten and daemon, as well as guardian, as quick look over -- as if further proving they would be all right -- before he started to walk and lead them out of the library and hopefully the house itself.
"Stupid house." Raife sneered at the walls. "We're leaving now, you rambshackle monster." She smirked, juggling the little boy in her arms. This one actually had a little bit of weight, unlike the museboy. What a strange feeling, actually having her arms full. She followed Wren through the maze of passages that she'd never remember. A left and a right and a leftleftleftrightrightleftupoveraroundandthrough. She didn't bother anymore. Finally, they got to the door and she sighed a little inward relief.
Meanwhile, the little one seemed absolutely fascinated at each twist of the house, even pouting a little when the corridors stopped turning and they got to the door. Something about the house called to him. He sighed, resting his head idly on Raife's shoulder and observing. With his large blue eyes, it suited him well, even if resting didn't.
"Thanks for showing me out...and...yeah...I'll...take the best care of him that I can. I've learned a lot from Mikhael, but..you know..each kid is different."
Wren merely smiled at Raife, not saying a word. He had his own little things to say about the house, but they were best said in private, and without an audience. He'd likely start once they were truly gone.
"You're very welcome, of course. And, yeah, trust me -- with these kids, even one is very much different. You should see my little boy, or Halo's. Nothing at all like Declan. Still, the three of you be safe and maybe we'll see each other again." He was leaning against the door one minute and the next leaning down to turn off the silly electronic witch that had been set off again.
"... and, um, if you come back and want to find the library ... Just, um, follow your instincts. You'll find it." Because the entrance was never the same twice, he just wouldn't go into that now. "Anyway, like I said, take care, and have a good night. I'm sure you'll do a good job, just like with Mikhael."
Now Wren was off to hunt down Pippin and get that drink of his that he wanted now. He'd just ignore the fact that he caught his foot on a loose bit of floor and went stumbling forward.
Really, he would.
The mansion was all ready decorated for Halloween. There were pumpkins doting the path that lead up to the house, each and every single one carved with a different face and a few plastic skeletons that hid out in the tall grass of the yard. A cauldron looked to be bubbling over on the porch and whether or not it was a personal project or for decoration, one never knew ( particularly when it came to Pippin ).
Spider webs, real or fake was any one's guess, hung from every possible place they could and it was obvious that the owner was, truly, getting into the Halloween spirit.
It had been so so long and so many years since Raife had attempted anything of the sort that she was trying now. Frankly, she was just doing it to see if she could. To see if it was still possible. If she still had the skills. Dressed in an inconspicuous black hoodie and dark jeans -all black was predictable and therefore, by association, conspicuous- she slipped quietly around the side of the house and pressed herself flat against the front entrance, hiding herself in the shadows and cobwebs under the eaves of the porch. She paid little mind to the halloween decorations. Nobody would see her when she was inside. It didn't matter.
At least, they wouldn't if she was still any good. She slipped the lockpicks from her back pocket, feeling the light weight of the tension wrench and the diamond tip in her hands. Her favorites. She crouched next to the door frame unconcernedly, steadily working the ancient front lock until it easily clicked, opening for her like the arms of a friend. She grinned into the doorway and the darkness.
She still had it.
It was that simple. She slipped into the house like a shadow, listening with perked ears for the sounds of voices, staying close to walls and doors and ways of escape.
The house itself was entirely dark on the inside, the only source of light from the kitchen and it flickered distantly in the darkness before it entirely winked out. It was, however, just as decorated inside as it was inside. There were halloween decorations everywhere. Little paper ghosts hanging in the foyer and trailing down from ceiling to floor and back again.
So it was no surprise, that upon the guest stepping into the house, one of those little motion sensor witches immediately started to cackle and wiggle back and forth as she stirred a miniature cauldron. Some horrid halloween tune played after the cackle ended and the dancing continued, but it was drowned out by the sudden sound of screeching.
The noise seemed to come from deeper within the house and it echoed within the walls, not stopping.
Raife jolted as the witch set to stirring, and rubbed her nose embarrassedly. Okay, okay. Over confident. She'd tripped some stupid halloween decoration. She'd been in and out of museums after hours without a stir, for chrissakes. She could take some old broken down house. Her eyes darted, watching her surroundings. Okay, light from the kitchen, that was an obvious no for a direction to head.
Now on the other hand there was screeching. Not quite nails on a chalkboard screeching, but some sort of horrible bone deep chill. Why was it she wanted to head that way? She didn't really have a choice. She'd sworn she'd make it through one side of the house to the other. She needed to know she could still do it. It was more than a challenge or a compulsion. It was just...necessary.
So she stupidly pressed forward. Towards the howling screams. Instead of away. Where, you know, somebody sane and not breaking into houses might consider going.
The screech continued, but it changed as one progressed deeper into the house. It changed from loud oppressive screams to a more high pitched noise that merely echoed back and forth between the walls of the mansion. Just how could a sound like that have possibly transformed into a scream at the front of the house?
Never could tell and it was a wonder that no one else had stirred at the sound of it.
Further along into the house the hallways started to look like they repeated, like everything was the same: oppresive and ominous. There was no light, only a pitch black abyss and the cool air of a place not often visited.
And still, the screech continued, but it eventually it faded away until it was nothing at all and complete silence took over. It was easy at moments like these to hear one's own heartbeat.
This is a ridiculously stupid house, Raife whined internally as she rounded her third corridor that looked exactly the same as the second that looked exactly the same as the first. I'm tired and I want a nap. And a juice box. Where was the back exit to this place? Where was any exit? Where were the bathrooms?
She really needed to pee.
She picked a door at random, sticking her finger in her ear uselessly to block out the noise. Unfortunately, she had two ears, so it wasn't at all helpful.
Then it all stopped.
She looked around, her hand on the doorknob, at the oppressive silence. It was like someone had turned the light on, except it was still pitch black and she was the worst thief ever and god she wanted to go homeee...it wasn't like she was going to steal anything anyway. Pouting a bit, she leant back against the door and sighed, forgetting her intention to open it.
There was a window, strangely a break in the repetitive pattern of hallways, not that far down from the door. ( Had it been there a second before? ) For one brief moment, for one second to break the darkness, the moon finally shone through the window and light and shadows scattered everywhere.
It was a cold light that shone through however, one that seemed to infect the hallway itself until it was cool enough to make someone want warmer clothing or a warm bath to ward off the chill.
Still, the moment passed and the moon once again faded from sight and the area was cast back into complete darkness. Yet it seemed something had been awakened by the light -- or maybe it had all ready been awake -- and it did not feel the need to play so much as to taunt.
So the doorknob turned quickly and the door opened abruptly, hopefully sending the person sprawling into the room behind it. Though one couldn't really call it a room, so much as a stair case, and once inside and on the stairs the door shut itself as easily as it opened up on it's own.
A light flickered at the bottom, though it seemed a hopelessly long way, but it glittered brightly, promisingly. The was a rush of warm air in the cold.
Perhaps there was a way out this way and this was it?
Indeed, the doorknob did turn, the door did open and Raife DID go sprawling backwards into the room. And down the staircase.
Down the staircase. Tumbling backwards. With her rock-like skull leading the way. Only one thought was left in her jumbled, jostled little brain.
Whoa.
She fell unti her head hit bottom with a solid thud, followed by her butt slowly behind. Her face was on the ground and all she could think was that she had no idea where she was and nobody to miss her and why had she picked the house with the blood curdling, suddenly disappearing death screams that probably foretold her imminent doom.
With a heartfelt groan, she rolled over.
It probably was not a good thing that the screeching, at this point, once again picked up. Except it was far more high pitched -- the sounds an animal might make -- and it echoed about in the area at the bottom of the stairs.
There was also the sudden sound of a door sliding, shutting, and locking to go with the screeching and what light had been burning brightly down at the bottom of the stairway was only a dim reminder, a faint hope.
Halloween decorations could be seen here, as well, and it was beginning to seem that there was no place they did not reach. It was more spider webbing and paper ghosts and goblins and witches. They hung down and veiled two greatly detailed ornate doors. Despite the hangings that overshadowed them, it was hard to miss the detail in the glass -- the leaves and vines that decorated the aged glass and seemingly burst out of the actual glass as the golden leaf handle that rests temptingly, gleaming brightly in the darkness.
But once more the lighting begins to flicker, as if considering going out entirely, and the screeching picks up a notch. There's something beyond the glass doorway, shadows that play back and forth and somewhere, beyond the high pitched screech, there is the sound of flapping wings.
The paper decorations move, as if blown by wind when there is no source, and then fall silent just as the screeching does. The flapping of wings, however, continues on, but it too eventually fades away ...
Raife pushed herself up to her feet, crouching and looking up at the big ornate doors. "Goddamn it, house. Now you owe me. And whatever it is you owe me, I'm sure I can find it behind such fancy doors." She squinted up at them, standing up and reaching for a doorknob. It was still dark, and her head was spinning from her fall, but she wasn't as useless as to not be able to open a door.
The door shut.
The screaming came back.
"Goddamn it, house!!" She didn't care if someone heard her now. Frankly, she was ultimately positive somebody wouldn't. Wherever she was, despite the cheery cardboard ghost grinning down at her, seemed remote. "Stupid house, stupid doors, stupid screaming murder victims!" She thudded a fist against the door, and rammed her way through them, turning the knob and slamming her shoulder against it at the same time. Raife was nothing if not dramatic.
The house was, if anything, a giving sort -- but this one would figure out that what it gave in return for playing it's games wasn't necessarily the sort of thing one wanted to receive.
The doors opened surprisingly easily, even if the handle was a little cold to the touch. However, hasty and dramatic steps into the next area might not have helped someone to avoid what was obviously a stray banana peel that had been left on the floor carelessly.
It most likely wasn't Pippin, who did uphold the rules of no food in the library ( but his office was another story ), but -- well, no one was for sure how it got there. Maybe it fell when the trash was being taken out.
In any case, the two great ornate doors lead to an expansive library. There was still dust on the books and a stand towards the center of the area where a much larger book might've rested. Endless rows of shelves lined the library and there was an all most sacred feel to the place, despite the chill, as if this was a place rarely reached by humans.
As if these books were something special.
Raife didn't merely step into the room. She stumbled.
And she didn't merely trip on the banana peel. She slid headfirst from it into a wall of shelves, thwacking her head on a row of books and tumbling back onto her butt.
Three hits and still not out. The girl had a hard head.
Rubbing her temples, she squinted and shut her eyes before opening them again, surveying her surroundings and glaring at the peel.
"Touche, house. Touche." She prodded it away with her toe and looked up. And brightened.
My oh my. Now wasn't the room just filled with one of her favorite things?
Maybe the house was trying to apologize.
Or maybe this was that twilight episode and now her glasses would break.
That hard head just and impact just managed to dislodge a book from the shelf. It fell from what seemed to be the very top of the shelf, as if it had been resting there away from the rest of the books or as if it had taken a higher vantage point so as to observe and see when it was best to do what it had just done.
Fallen right into Raife's lap.
It was, strangely enough, a seemingly ordinary book. It looked thick, as if it would be heavy, but it was surprisingly light weight for it's size. Appearances were deceiving. It had a thick brown cover, perhaps leather, and there might have once been a title on the book, but it looked as it was worn away -- the words blurred and barely legible. The spine itself was a darker brown and just as worn as the cover, a tiny bit frayed at the edges as well.
If one opened the book they would see that there was a tattered piece of leather on the inside, as if it had been used as a bookmark. For all that it looked like an old book, the pages within seemed only a little off white and crisp and new.
Raife started as the book fell onto her lap. It hadn't hurt. She squinted up to where it came from. A larger, thicker book teetered, but seemed held. It didn't fall at all. She was thankful. She didn't think that four times would be the charm. She ran her fingers over the spine of the book, clicking her tongue a bit. It looked old. Old books were valuable. She squinted, trying to read the words on the cover. Couldn't tell. She frowned a bit. No, it didn't matter. The pages looked too new anyway. She sighed and opened the book up. At least, maybe, she could figure out what book it was. Maybe have a good read.
She wasn't the type to write in books but she desperately wanted to write "Raife was here."
She slid her fingers softly over the piece of leather and the crisp white pages. "Damn you and your non-yellowed pages." Somehow, she wasn't really upset at all.
No, only one book was meant for her -- the other would stay where it was, forever teetering until something else came along. The book rested innocently in Raife's arms and lap, an all most comfortable weight.
However, it was someone else that came along first. A light spread through out the library as the two ornate doors were opened up and Wren came bounding through, a warm voice filling the air. "Pippin! PIP! Where are you? It's our night out and ..." he trailed as he walked further into the library and spied the person on the ground in all black and --
" -- oh." Coming to a complete halt, he stood not too far away from where Raife rested on the ground and rather than staring at her, particularly her garb, he was staring at the book in her hands. "... got to be kidding me," he muttered to himself, before he lifted his head up to look at the face of the person who had just unknowingly saddled themselves with something far more than they expected than a simple book.
"Great," he spoke a bit louder, realizing that the person on the floor was more than just a little familiar to him. It hopefully made things a lot simpler, but then again -- where the hell was Pippin when he needed him? Never mind it was their night to go crash at bars!
Raife's head jerked up and she blinked owlishly before recognition dawned on her face. She tucked the book under her arm and stood up, forgetting that she was, you know, some sort of a burglar. "Hey, I know you! Wren! With Lafe!" She remembered the man with his little fox boy and the way he'd gotten along with her little boy and the lemonade and....good times. She waved her hands and the book, sending up dust flying into the air. "You own this place? This house hates me...Probably shouldn't have..........accidentally...walked in." That was plausible. Good job. She looked around. "And why is such a great library in the basement? And what's with the screaming? And..." It was clear that Raife could go on babbling questions all night if she was left to her own devices.
"And you're Raife!" Wren smiled, remembering Raife and Mikhael and the playdate that had happened a while ago between Lafe and the woman's legend. Besides, he was totally oblivious to the fact she, obviously, had probably snuck in here as some sort of thieving attempt.
Then again, he probably figured that was the case, but considering the building they were in -- well, stealing from it wasn't likely something that anyone could get away with it.
"Um, no, I don't own it, this house likes to play with people, you probably would've come here anyway," he was rattling off responses to hers all most as fast as she was getting them out. "... and, um, no clue. It's not really a basement, I mean ... you'll never use -- urgh, I'm getting ahead of myself." He raked a hand through his hair and pointed to a nearby table.
"Raife, why don't you just go ahead and set that book down on the table there? I need to see if Pippin's here, he owns this place," as much as it could be owned, "and ... I'll try to explain the ... screaming," sweet deities, the house was getting a bit morbid wasn't it, "and some other things you're going to need to know." He started to walk towards the back of the library, pausing for a moment and waiting for her to set the book down as he said and then head towards the office with him.
Pippin, he hoped, had better be in the office or he was going to have a fun time explaining this all to Raife.
Raife shrugged complacently and set the book on the table. He didn't seem to realize she'd gotten into the house through questionable means, so perhaps it'd be okay. "Alright...uhm....Hmm." She stuck her hands in her pockets and followed Wren towards the office. She wondered about this Pippin fellow. Would HE be more suspicious about why she was in the house? She really couldn't afford a B&E wrap. Not with the kid at home and the boys and...well, everything. She'd gone straight now.
Mostly.
Apparently mostly.
"Okay," he started slowly, holding open the door to the office once they were there and letting them both in, "one thing, the odds are ... you were lured into this house. Maybe not at first, it doesn't matter how you got in -- but something probably brought you down here. You said screams, right? I ended up lead into the library by light, so it's a different sort of bait with all of us ..." he trailed off with a shake of his head.
He did not want to scare her off with the fact that the house was likely sentient and laughing it's arse off at both of them. Wren knew the library and the house liked to toy with him. He gave up poking about the office and stopped searching at the crib with a sigh.
"And obviously Pippin isn't here, but he was ..." There was a pizza box with still fresh and somewhat warm pizza inside. "Probably think you were a ninja or something trying to sneak in with that get up on." He moved and leaned against the desk and turned around to face Raife. "Anyway, since he's not here, I suppose I get the honor of telling you that once you step back outside that door, there's going to be another baby in your life ...
"You opened a book within this library and there's something about these books, something magical, mystical, whatever you want to call it and somehow ... there's going to be a kid outside sitting on that table where you put that book. There'll be an excerpt with the baby and somehow those words on that small piece of parchment is tied to them, it's what they're born from.
"... never mind they're going to have another creature with them. It's a part of the child, just as the child is a part of it, and it'll be with the child all ways. You can't separate them, unless you want them to get ill or do harm. It's ... like the daemon, that's what we call the creatures, is a companion for the child and they're connected deeply, on a spiritual level I think, not that ... we really know for sure. We don't know that much about this place or why children come from books ..." He trailed off, straightening up and looking up at Raife seriously. He probably sounded insane, but it was the truth he was speaking.
"It sounds crazy, but what isn't in this world?" he chuckled, waving a hand in the air and then tilting his head back towards the office door and the library outside where there was table waiting for Raife.
"You'll really understand and believe, if you don't now, once you step outside and see the baby out there. So, let's go, shall we ... ?" Wren moves again, going to hold open the door for Raife to exit. He was, most certainly, going to be leaving a long and detailed note for Pippin if he didn't find him.
Never mind making him buy the first few rounds of drinks when they did go out.
Raife stood with a slightly drooly expression, her hair sticking up in all directions from her various falls and looking generally a mess. "....baby?" She blinked to clear her head. It didn't quite work, but it helped a little, at least psychologically. All of the information was flying in one ear and out the other, as there wasn't really much to catch it inbetween.
What she did catch was something to the effect of:
Book --> Baby --> Child ---> Creature --> What?
"What?" Oh, he wanted her to exit. Oh. Okay. She still was a bit lost, but she followed anyway. "Baby?" She repeated again, scratching her head. She was picturing some sort of strange MUTANT BOOK CHILD, with a BOOK for a body and little arms and legs and eyes, and ohgodcreepy.
"Um. Baby and a usually cute little daemon that will eventually grow bigger, baby at least. They're from a book. You take care of them, because you're the one that opened the book." Never mind never being able to open another book in the library again. "That's basically it." He laughed, though it could've been nervously, and walked along anyway.
"You all right?" The question was sudden, but Raife seemed a little out of it -- more than he remembered being out of it. He seriously hoped the house did not do a number on her, but ... one never knew.
And then, of course, our friend the banana peel from earlier resurfaced and without realizing, and paying attention mostly to Raife as he walked along, Wren tripped on it and started to slide forward.
He actually slid rid right into the table that Raife had set the book on, but did not cause it to shake whatsoever.
That wasn't what anyone would really pay attention to, however, if they had just recently set a book on the table and were coming out to find something else in it's place. On the edge of the table there sat a baby boy, with an expressive set of blue eyes behind a pair of glasses. He was, it seemed, tugging on a loose string on his jacket as if he didn't appreciate the fact that it was there. His hands easily disappeared back underneath the sleeves of the jacket as they were a little too long.
The sleeve on the left side rode up as something was wrapped around it, something that lead to a leash that there was a daemon attached to. A daemon, who just happened to be a bat, that looked like he was a bit curious about the man that had collapsed and nearly bothered them from their perch. Both baby and daemon were peering curiously at him, before their piercing observant stare went to focus on the other one in the room.
The baby's right hand came up, as if reaching for the left and the leash, but instead pressed against his chest briefly. There was a piece of parchment that peeked out from his jacket, an excerpt waiting to be read:
"All emotions, and that one particularly, were abhorrent to his cold, precise but admirably balanced mind. He was, I take it, the most perfect reasoning and observing machine that the world has seen, but as a lover he would have placed himself in a false position. He never spoke of the softer passions, save with a gibe and a sneer. They were admirable things for the observer -- excellent for drawing the veil from men's motives and actions. But for the trained teasoner to admit such intrusions into his own delicate and finely adjusted temperament was to introduce a distracting factor which might throw a doubt upon all his mental results. Grit in a sensitive instrument, or a crack in one of his own high-power lenses, would not be more disturbing than a strong emotion in a nature such as his."
Wren was oblivious for the moment, his vision swimming, and the only thing he saw was spots and that of, perhaps, a baby's foot. "... see?" he murmured, rubbing his head and starting to push himself up and away from the table to get a better look at this new child.
And then consider where he could find Pippin, find a drink, and wonder how the man dealt with informing people that they were due to look after babies from books as he did.
Raife's eyes widened again, as if she'd hit another object. But she hadn't. There WAS a baby. That didn't look like a book at all. With a little whirling bat on a leash. She squinted at the baby.
He squinted back.
The pair of them blinked and squinted at each other, but eventually, possibly because he might have been smarter than the ninjathiefgirl, the child lost interest in Raife and turned to survey Wren. Then his daemon. Then Raife again. Who was still blinking and staring.
"So...wait...he's...mine?" She didn't know, but she wondered if she'd somehow inadvertently had sex with the book. Book sex. Yeah. Okay. Been hit a bit much, and she hadn't listened to a word Wren had said.
"Does he have a name...or..." She reached for the paper sticking out from his jacket, to read it. As if he had a tag, like a stuffed animal. It disappeared back into his jacket before she could touch it. She looked up helplessly at Wren.
Wren came to his feet entirely and rubbed at his head. "Yeah, he's all yours now. He came from the book ..." Once he was sure that he hadn't hit his head a too hard ( though his mother had all ways assured him it was hard to knock him around, as he was a little thick at times ) he peered at the baby in question.
Well. This one made him think of Mael, at least in regards to the fact he had one of those expressions that made you question whether or not the baby is smarter than you.
"... actually, he doesn't have a name, so you name him, and the daemon is usually named after a word from the excerpt, I believe. It's not all ways obvious, but ..." He leaned in a little closer to the baby, though he wasn't trying to touch or anything. "If you could get the excerpt from him, it might help? He is yours now to look after, might as well get use to you being around him?" He had seen the excerpt slip back into the jacket -- he wasn't going to go fishing for it, oh no. Wren had learned his lesson about touching babies when they didn't want to be touched, you just didn't do it unless it was your own and you had to do it.
Hands freed of pesky, now-hidden excerpts, the baby reached up and squished Wren's face between his hands. It didn't seem like the careless touch of a baby, but a more exploring one, as if he was deciding that this was what a Wren felt like, and that he would always remember. In the meantime, the bat was circling Wren's head, and making a nuisance of herself around Wren's horns, her leash tangling around one. His eyes stayed firm on Wren's for a moment, searching, before he let go of both face and gaze. Only to find his hands stuck inches from the man's face, the leash leashing him. His brow creased and he wiggled his fingers ineffectively.
He WAS only a baby, after all.
Raife was still overwhelmed. "I have to name a baby, and a bat...and...what the hell is going on? TWO POINTS FOR YOU, HOUSE." She yelled at the ceiling, then turned to look at the tangled baby. "Mmh. Might as well take the opportunity." Her hands wormed into the little boy's jacket, finding the paper and grasping it, much to his dismay.
She began to read.
"All emotions, and that one particularly, were abhorrent to his cold, precise but admirably balanced mind. He was, I take it, the most perfect reasoning
The bat began a racket of batting wings at this, answering an unspoken question.
and observing machine that the world has seen, but as a lover he would have placed himself in a false position. He never spoke of the softer passions, save with a gibe and a sneer. They were admirable things for the observer -- excellent for drawing the veil from men's motives and actions. But for the trained teasoner to admit such intrusions into his own delicate and finely adjusted temperament was to introduce a distracting factor which might throw a doubt upon all his mental results. Grit in a sensitive instrument, or a crack in one of his own high-power lenses, would not be more disturbing than a strong emotion in a nature such as his."
"Huh." She scratched her chin.
Wren just blinked steadily at the fact his face was being mushed by a baby. He couldn't find it in himself to be bothered, it was merely a curious child -- one that liked to touch it seemed, which was a change for what he was use to.
Of course Wren wrinkled his nose up at the bat that was circling his head and the fact it was now tangled up. "Well, ... that somehow figures." He refrained from snickering at Raife, just barely refrained.
"Don't worry," he said somewhat cheerfully as he gave Raife a few moments to snag the excerpt with the baby's hands otherwise busy, "the house probably keeps a running tally of points. I expect it's quite high and in it's favor, considering the number of children it's unleashed upon unsuspecting people."
With a quirk of his lips, listening to Raife read, he moved to untangle the leash from his horn and free both the bat and the baby. Of course, the extra racket of the batting wings was hard for him to not notice -- particularly at the mentioned word. "... so, uh, does that make her name Reasoning?"
Which still left a baby to name. Speaking of which, he had finally untangled the leash and was holding the baby's small hands in his own. "There we go, my boy, how's that?" For a moment, he was studying the small hands, a smile on his lips. It had been a while since he had seen hands this small and it brought back memories.
Wait, right. Not time for a trip down memory lane. Have to deal with this, find Pippin, hopefully still go out to the club and have a fun night. Otherwise, he was going to be sorely disappointed.
... and wage a war against the house he'd probably lose, but that's what it'd get for this hiccup in his plans for the night!
The baby had his hands now. Oho! More Wren to categorize in his brain. His little fingers ran over Wren's, testing the muscles in the man's hands and the different textures from back of hand to palm. Then he let go as suddenly as anything, losing interest. He tugged the leash close and Reasoning came to rest on his jacket. He ran his fingers over the bat's fur, petting it absently, as if more a habit, than any real affection.
"I hate this house." She added randomly to their ranting. "Anyway, he needs a name, right? A smart looking boy like that....or maybe it's just the glasses. What's with people and glasses and looking smart?" She scratched her head. "A smart looking boy like that needs a name."
"How 'bout Declan?" She smiled and cocked her head, looking at the boy, as if seeking approval.
From an infant.
The baby didn't seem to care more or less. He arched a brow and continued to survey his surroundings passively. Reasoning, however, flapped and batted her wings again before settling.
"Well. The bat votes for it, at least."
Interesting and more interesting. Wren merely grinned at the baby boy as his hands were examined, but finally did pull his hands back once it seemed he had no more interest in them.
"I think the house would be affronted if ... we didn't harbor some form of dislike for it," Wren added, rolling his eyes and tempted briefly to give the ceiling a two fingered salute but held back from doing so. He knew what happened when you did things like that in front of kids -- they repeated it and then it went down hill from there.
"... Declan sounds like a good name to me. He looks it, as much as ... one can look like a name," Wren spoke, as if he made sense. He probably did somewhere. Really. Somewhere, someone understood just what he was getting at. "Seems like he'll be a charming boy." So far, at least. He was friendly with touching, so that somehow translated to being charming.
What did he know.
"So, you have a name for the bat and for the boy, which gives you two points and the house none!" Hopefully the house wouldn't take offense to that and ... try and swallow him alive or trap him in a room with banana peels all over the floor.
He wasn't paranoid, no.
Raife looked a bit at the baby again, helplessly, before sighing resignedly. "Well. Glad my house has lots of rooms anyway. So....I best get out of here..." She scooped up the baby who immediately busied himself exploring her hoodie and her hair and all matter of business with the ten shiny piercings in her ears and even locating the lockpicks hiding in her jacket. "If I can figure out..how." She turned the helpless stupid look to Wren, with a plaintive, unasked, yet very obvious question.
"... well, I can help you out of here and then go and locate my dear wayward Pip, who is suppose to be out getting drinks with me," Wren shook his head and gestured towards the exit. He couldn't resist helping someone out, particularly when it came to beating out the house and potentially escaping from it. "Come on, I'll get you and Declan out of here before the house changes it's mind and decides it wants to keep us as pets or something."
With a bemused smile, he gave the new forgotten and daemon, as well as guardian, as quick look over -- as if further proving they would be all right -- before he started to walk and lead them out of the library and hopefully the house itself.
"Stupid house." Raife sneered at the walls. "We're leaving now, you rambshackle monster." She smirked, juggling the little boy in her arms. This one actually had a little bit of weight, unlike the museboy. What a strange feeling, actually having her arms full. She followed Wren through the maze of passages that she'd never remember. A left and a right and a leftleftleftrightrightleftupoveraroundandthrough. She didn't bother anymore. Finally, they got to the door and she sighed a little inward relief.
Meanwhile, the little one seemed absolutely fascinated at each twist of the house, even pouting a little when the corridors stopped turning and they got to the door. Something about the house called to him. He sighed, resting his head idly on Raife's shoulder and observing. With his large blue eyes, it suited him well, even if resting didn't.
"Thanks for showing me out...and...yeah...I'll...take the best care of him that I can. I've learned a lot from Mikhael, but..you know..each kid is different."
Wren merely smiled at Raife, not saying a word. He had his own little things to say about the house, but they were best said in private, and without an audience. He'd likely start once they were truly gone.
"You're very welcome, of course. And, yeah, trust me -- with these kids, even one is very much different. You should see my little boy, or Halo's. Nothing at all like Declan. Still, the three of you be safe and maybe we'll see each other again." He was leaning against the door one minute and the next leaning down to turn off the silly electronic witch that had been set off again.
"... and, um, if you come back and want to find the library ... Just, um, follow your instincts. You'll find it." Because the entrance was never the same twice, he just wouldn't go into that now. "Anyway, like I said, take care, and have a good night. I'm sure you'll do a good job, just like with Mikhael."
Now Wren was off to hunt down Pippin and get that drink of his that he wanted now. He'd just ignore the fact that he caught his foot on a loose bit of floor and went stumbling forward.
Really, he would.
