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He had a totem. Why, he didn’t know. He was a runaway slave, a man who had no business fighting wolves or anything else. He wanted to keep to himself. What would happen if they found out he had a deer, guardian, thing? The man didn’t know. The totem was safe, and that was what he wanted oddly enough. What called him to the woods he hadn’t a clue, but he was going to find out.

He’d been hired to help out fix the library by a private investor. Lots of menial labor, but, it was honest work with good pay. He’d earn a bit of extra coin than he was used to plus- he eyed the books. They might know a few things about the whole totem and ward wood business. He hoped at least. It was strange to be in a library and not as someone only around to carry books. Be it was a worker or as a customer of sorts. Work shift over for the day, he made his way to the front, eyes set on the girl up front. He didn’t smile, but bowed his head slightly. “Excuse me.” He hesitated, looking to the books, “You don’t have anything on the woods up north do you? The lore?”

He nodded, silently following, absentmindedly looking at the names on the bindings of the tomes. He wished he could stay longer in towns and cities, enjoy what they could offer before moving on. But the ever living fear of being caught and sent back existed in his mind. He didn't want to die, not for being honest about what had happened.

As the girl showed him the book, he flipped through a few pages, looking up at her. "The lore would be helpful. Anything about the wolves and the guardians. I have a bit of.. personal investment you see." He sounded gruff, but tried to not intimidate. "I have found myself... involved? I do not quite understand what happened, but, books are more trustworthy than drunk men in a tavern. Plus, they don't yell about women." He sighed, looking to another book, this one titled 'The fauna and flora of Sunderland'.

He grabbed it as well.
"I have only recently come here to Sunderland, and I'm not quite sure why I feel I must stay. Not in the same town but.. this country."

Honestly, Marcus wasn’t sure what he meant. Ever since coming to Sunderland, and more specifically the wardwood, he’s felt a need to linger. Running was fine, but he felt like he’d be alright if he stayed in the country, that his former master would not find him and if he did, he’d be alright. The further north the better no less. Even if he didn’t like the scathing cold that came from it. He’d have liked more warmth. One thing that he supposed he could leave the country for, warmth in the winter months.

“I’m relatively new. I arrived just a few weeks past and went north. A bit too far north in hindsight.” North to the point he found the strange totem and then been stuck with an odd attachment to it. Marcus debated getting rid of it, but it felt wrong. The whole thing was ‘wrong’ in the sense he never expected it. No one told him he could wind up with one and end up some kind of chosen protector. Really, Sunderland natives ought to warn people about that sort of thing if they were going to head north looking for work.

At the lack of books, the man shrugged, adding what was offered to his pile. “I would not have thought of children’s stories but then I suppose all myth must have a basis in fact.” Fingers ran over the cover, lightly tapping on the letters as he thought. She was offering him something not normally available- he’d take it. Knowledge was knowledge. The more he knew, the more he might be able to solve the mystery of this whole totem and wardwood business.

Following her to the map, Marcus stared at it a short while. “It’s rather lovely. Detailed-“ Eyes started in the south, tracing along the eastern edge before ending in the forest he’d gotten wrapped up in. “Are there any pens and papers available? I have coin if I need to purchase them.”

Marcus gave a shrug, not sure about staying still.. though he felt a sort of bond now. Like him staying had purpose. That and if he left... no, for now staying was the more alluring of choices. His past was not likely to catch up to him, not to mention he wasn't sure if it was still seeking him or not. "It's not wholly unlike my old home." Less slavery and less being called Dog at the least. Plus the seasons were a bit more than just blistering hot and freezing cold apparently. Fall was short back home.

Home, such an odd concept now. That he might think of that place as his home, even after so many years. He still missed what he'd left behind. Idle as she went to gather more maps, he skimmed the children's book, noting a few of the illustrations. Looking back at the map- he rubbed his chin, ignoring the fact he'd yet to trim the past few days. The woods covered most of the north, and the coast hardly looked friendly. Sunderland was rather fortified by natural elements in a way, others such as the south less so. A book's story might lead him to it's origins... and more history of his little totem. When Tessa arrived, pens and papers in hand the man set the books down, careful not to set them too close to where he planned to draw and write.

"Thank you. You're been extremely helpful. I- are you sure I do not have to pay for these materials?" He gave her a curious look, so used to paying his way for things. "I am not ungrateful, but I do not wish to place a burden on you." He looked at them again, unsure. Gifts from strangers- This Sunderland was most odd.

He looked down at the pens and paper, a heavy sigh passing his lips. If he wasn’t a burden… so be it. He’d take the kindness just as he’d taken the kindness of the church he’d passed on his way from the ashes of his past. Granted, he’d taken more than their kindness. He’d taken food, clothing, shelter, and in the end, a name. Perhaps the greatest kindness, to be given a name when you’d never had one to start with. It was a good name he thought, even if it took some getting used to. “Maybe. I am used to having things a little harder to obtain is all.” Like from his master. Or from traders who didn’t take too kindly to his skin.

A curious place, Sunderland. More curious, the wardwood. “You have my thanks in any event. I will return here perhaps if I have need and am ever in the area.” It was always a strange thing to remind himself. That he was supposed to keep moving but now- now he didn’t want to leave. Not the country at least. Not anymore. He almost felt safe. He doubted he’d feel completely so, but.. it was nice to feel somewhat safe again.

“And please, do not call me a kind man. I am simply... trained. I know my place and-“ He was falling back to old habits. He was a free man. He had rights. He was not ‘in a place’. He was just like any other. Free. “I have done many things that are unkind Miss. I only try to live to rectify such mistakes as I was taught to do.” She wanted his name and as he sat down, he looked up at her, taking the pen in hand. “Marcus Delacroix miss. A man of no importance to a lady such as yourself. Just a man.” Not to his views in any event.

The library would always have things in stock? Well, he supposed that was good to know. If he ever needed to work with pen and paper and had no coin for whatever reason, he could use their services. Granted if abused that would be rude. He’d try to avoid such cases all the same. In the meantime however, he had what he needed in order to copy the map down. “Thank you Miss.” He rolled out another sheet, holding up to the map, roughing trying to find a scale.

At the mention of being trained he stiffened ever so slightly, shoulders rolling back as he hoped she’d gloss over it, and in a way, with her apology, she did. Thank goodness. “It’s alright. I’m not the most interesting man, but when a man doesn’t talk, people ask after a time. However, Some things are best left unanswered however so, forgive me if I’m not… inclined.” He bowed his head at that, looking away. It was an honest answer, if a bit blunt on his end. A small part of her told him he must have sounded rather more the dangerous criminal than just a runaway slave. Even if they were one in the same in his homeland… if he could even call it that.

“But I have been rude. You ask my name and despite your help I didn’t bother to ask you own.” He shuffled at the curtsey, taking the stance he’d been taught to do, bowing low and without looking up. “So allow me ask a final thing, what might your name be?”

Marcus shrugged. He figured that when you didn’t give answers it just made people upset, and then they would ask more. People were often nosey that way, much to his annoyance. “People ask because they want to know. If they keep asking… they think they might get a different answer.” Her quation didn’t bother him really, even if the premise did. Nosey people who always asked more than they needed to know. “You’re fine though. I take no offense.” He paused, thinking on it. “Yet anyway. You apologized as well, so it’s better than what many others might do.”

The truth really, so many would run their mouths and not think. Something he did time to time actually. Something that he had to learn to stop if he never wanted to be captured and returned ‘home’. Last thing he needed was some idiot thinking they could get a good price for his head. If a man was desperate enough after all…
“I’m not exactly the most.. skilled of men when it comes to formalities, despite my training. So, Thank you Tessa. You have been most kind and helpful.” Looking to the books, then to the map he crossed his arms. “….Just a matter of seeing how much these might help me in finding my own answers.” Figure out this whole mystery about the guardians, the wolves, everything. He’d gotten roped into something, and now he just wanted to know what it was… And possibly, how to get out of it.