Welcome to Gaia! ::

Before she can get more than a few steps inside the little solicitor’s shop, she’s met by a whirlwind of movement in the form of a young man who comes breezing down the hall with a bright and cheerful laugh that seems to be a driving force, carrying him on. He nearly bowls into her, he is in such a hurry, but manages at the last moment to halt himself, catching her gently by the elbows and drawing up just short of leaning into her. “Aaah! My apologies, m’lady, I’m usually not so — why, Lady Senka!” The man’s voice is as warm and inviting as his laugh, with his looks no less so; he is a handsome fellow with gold in his hair and hazel eyes, and more than a little gold on his skin. He wears fine clothes and a few touches of jewelry uncommon for a man, but they sit well on him. He is a rogue, oh most certainly, one can tell just by looking at him that he is the sort to kiss and run away, when he is minded to, and to make silly comments in serious conversation that has everyone fighting smiles. But his smile is also infectious, and his expression is one of perfectly sincere joy at seeing her.

There’s a shout from behind him, and a scuffling sound, and stifling a laugh he will very quickly tuck one of her arms around one of his and begin towing her toward the door. “Whoops, there’s my cue, you don’t mind if we step out for a moment, do you? Just a little while, long enough for tempers to cool .. I’ve all your numbers up here, and I can give you a good accounting of your accounts, don’t you fret.” He taps one temple with two fingers of his free hand, grinning broadly as he opens the door and sweeps her back out of it. Should she allow him to pull her along without digging her heels in, he will have her down and around the corner before he slows to a more leisurely stroll, tucking her hand more comfortably into the crook of his elbow and patting it gently.

Somehow — and she may remember this — there is nothing at all sexual about the way he touches her, seems to need to touch her. Certainly he has never seemed interested in her in that fashion, for all his pretty compliments of her hair and her clothing; he treats her rather as a very close friend, or perhaps even a sibling of whom he is quite fond.

"What can I say, dear lady? I've learned from some of the best!" He gives her a little half bow without releasing her hand, relaxing comfortably in her company. He has always liked the Lady Senka, for all that she is a client: ordinarily he should feel obliged to fleece her, to gently guide the greatest portion of investments into his own pockets as possible. But there are a great many gulls, and not a great many women like she, women who are ready to tweak the noses of men in authority whenever there is the chance.

Like most young men in his family, he holds confident women in high esteem; unlike the others, he holds no more than that. So he is able to grin at her, knowing that she will know that he has always been so mischievous, and hardly needed lessons from anyone, for all that her influence certainly can't have hurt him on that score. "And how glad I am to see you here! Do you intend to stay for a while? Please tell me you do; we can get up to twice as much trouble if we are both in town for a while!"

He laughs outright, delighted to hear her talk in this way; he should be the last to warn her about the danger, the very last person to try and convince her that she ought to stay away. After all, for all that he’s grown up around the rough-and-tumble sort, for all that his littlest sibling, despite being a few years from puberty, already carries a set of brass knuckles — well, he knows that Senka’s not a fighting sort, and yet somehow he imagines she’ll be able to take care of herself nonetheless. Picturing her as incapable of something, of anything, is somehow impossible.

“Oh, I should think so! Let us set the bar high for ourselves, after all! And besides, I haven’t the chance to write you, it has all happened so quickly, but you have arrived at the best of times. It seems my family itself has decided to give you the story of a lifetime, if you happened to be interested ..” He grins sidelong at her, knowing full well that such words will pique her curiosity; he does not seem the least concerned about setting her loose on his family, like a fox among the hens.

Speaking of foxes, it is only then that he notices they are accompanied by one, and he blinks, leaning out a bit to look down at the pale bit of fluff at her side. “Hey now, we are being followed! What a handsome little beastie — hello, you. You have thrown your lot in with this one, have you?”

"Well!" Ferdinand has a bubbling laugh for the fox, delighted with this show of personality from the handsome little creature; nothing does better to charm him than such boldness as this.

"Suspense? Dear lady, I know you far too well -- you should have the story out of me sooner or later, even if it took drugging my drink so that you could lock me up and berate me in private!" It is clear that he delights in being able to provide her with the meat and bread of her existence, and he has never disliked being the center of attention: he tosses his head with the pleasure of it all, and then gestures grandly toward a tavern that he seems to have been directing their steps to all along. "So let's sit down for the telling of it where I shan't worry about the source of what's on tap, hmm?" Oh, he is in high good humor, and not the least afraid of her, even though from the glitter in his eyes he may very well believe her fully capable of just that .. which is not something that most would say of any sort of lady. Yet from Ferdinand, somehow, it is a compliment.

"I will tell you this, to whet your appetite: at the heart of it all, there is to be a wedding, the first I know of between two young Wardens. It is being planned to be a wild affair, with as much pomp and circumstance as anyone could wish, and I am personally inviting you to be in the thick of it all."

The tavern, as they come upon it and he pushes the door open for her, has hanging outside of it a simply carved wooden sign: two overflowing mugs. Hanging just beneath it is a smaller sign, far less weathered, with a crude image of a bird of prey and a rough X marked over it.

“The sign?” He tips himself back to glance at it as they go through the door, and spares a chuckle for it. Inside, the tavern isn’t a bad one — not exactly up to the level of her money, but he knows that she won’t mind. There’s plenty to see here, after all: the assorted baskets by the fireplace, stuffed with fresh hay and bits of cloth, the server who is carefully carrying a basket of greens past them, and tucking it underneath a table before starting up a familiar conversation with the patron sitting at that table, the soft little head of the Guardian fawn peeking out from between the man’s legs to eat. It is a tavern, yes, with all the expected staples — mugs with thick bottoms, extraordinarily simple food and no menu to speak of, a big fireplace at one end and a bar at the other. But everywhere are those little signs of a group of people who have taken efforts to accommodate visitors .. well, visitors like Senka, with her little pale slip of mischief.

(This is not really out of any kindness-of-heart on their part, really. Right now, Guardians and Familiars are profitable, and by catering to those who have them, and those who want to see them, they can line their pockets and build their reputations ..)

“Oh, you can blame that on jealousy, from what I have heard.” He waves a hand lazily at the rafters, where a cream-colored bird fluffs up her chest and seems to recognize him, greeting him with a cheerful chuckle. “That little mistress up there belongs to one of the owners — or perhaps it is better said that he belongs to her — and she can’t abide hawks. Guardians, rabbits, even cats, she puts up with those well enough, but she won’t have a hawk in her territory.”

Even the fox Unwelcome views with interest but not outright suspicion; she turns one eye toward him, then the other, and with a little hop drops off her rafter to glide gently down, landing soft as can be on Ferdinand’s shoulder, so that she can get a better look.

She seems quite used to him, but he not so much used to her: he holds himself with greater care than might be necessary, and looks sidelong at her, slowing his steps as he guides Senka to a free table. “And you have caught her eye, it seems. Lady, this is Miss Unwelcome, who owns one of my brothers, heart and soul; Wellie, this is the Lady Senka Zimakova, a friend. You’ll like her, I should think. She causes nearly as much trouble as you do, when she puts her mind to it.”

Ferdinand will pull Senka’s chair for her, as gentlemanly as can be, and Unwelcome croons with pleasure at the compliment from her. Once Ferdinand is seated she will drop to the edge of the table and lean over it to look at Lucius: she croaks once, feathers around her throat fluffed up, in a warning: she could take him, if she needed to! He better behave! But her warning given she will settle, apparently unafraid, and toddles back over to climb up Ferdinand’s shoulder and preen his hair.

Ferdinand puts up with this with a wry look: unaccustomed to it but perhaps unsurprised. “Tch, you don’t tell her anything she doesn’t already know. Full of herself, this one is.” Keeping his shoulder steady, Ferdinand will wave at one of the servers with a free hand, and without a word the girl bobs her head and darts off, presumably to fetch them something to wet their throats.

“So. The story goes like this: this tavern belongs to my middlemost brothers — a matched set, you see? One of them is most unfortunate as to belong to this fussbudget,” he indicates, tugging lightly on Unwelcome’s tail, “and one so unlucky as to have his heart given over to a Guardian. I am given to understand it was considered to be an enormous disaster on their part.” He sits back in his seat with a grin: given the current tide of popular opinion, it is rare to find someone genuinely horrified by finding themselves Chosen. Ferdinand, being not so burdened himself and being of course related to the parties in question, can very easily find it all terribly amusing.

"So it is and so it was with these two," Ferdinand agrees, with the same amusement. "Unwelcome, they called her," and he taps the head of the rook again, who fluffs up with irritation, "and Unwanted, the guardian. They were not happy, oh no! And though there are some who would claim that it is because of their colors -- the buck matches the rook, you see? -- those who know us well would know that there is more reason than that." He sits back, watching her, and wonders if she knows that the category of individuals he has just described may not, in fact, exist. Very few have known the Grimms for long and long enough to know what Ferdinand is just about to explain.

"Father, bless his foolish memory, did not hold with the old traditions and thought them a fool's game. Mother was more circumspect and always thought it best to pay respects where they might be due, but in private did not hesitate to remark that she thought such actions made little difference. Such were the Grimms raised, to think little of the old ways and the old stories, which we were not raised on at all: so no joy had they. as another child might, to have been gifted with a legend. Instead they had received a bitter curse, to be that thing which no Grimm .. and particularly not these .. wishes to be: memorable."

His eyes glitter: from times he has written her before, and the clever way in which he has managed her funds (making her wealthy beyond what should have been, legally at least, possible) she may have deduced that Ferdinand at least is no sort of fellow for the straight and narrow. But will she understand why a Grimm might not wish to be recognizable? That -- as a criminal -- to be memorable, recognizable, means only that one is easier to catch?