The mansion had changed and twisted itself into a multitude of other shapes since the satyr had set hoof the premises last. Esti had been here with her when the hen was a hatchling, and she was growing so fast they took another trip later in the month when she was a gawky teenager. Back when she was a hatchling, she managed to get herself lost in the orchard, little shit. Later, they got lost together in a corn maze. The memory of a smaller Esti was certainly different from the rotund, broody hen back at home. A full-grown brown of two years old now, a figure that would never cease to be startling when considered. It was hard to believe the lanky adolescent she brought here was the mother of a handful of hatchlings now, and quite settled in her ways of being queen of the roost.
It's hard to tell how Meade, who she carried with her today, would compare.
Meade lv|0.1 ly|0.1 June|1
Last Edit: Feb 13, 2020 18:16:17 GMT -6 by Lethalia
So far Meade doesn't share nearly the same markers for being as dominant of a hen, despite the fact that she should be lording over them all, if birth status meant anything. Such a placid demeanor made the woman question whether or not this hen was a flighted one or not, even if their growth suggested otherwise. Expectations were a little high for the hatchling, considering she was technically Vidarr's first daughter. Well; she's not sure what to call Vidarr's sleeping daughter cradled in her arms as she headed for the mansion.
Meade was the second of Vidarr's eggs that hatched, in spite of being the first one laid. Ardith beat her to being the first to burst from her shell, despite being a season behind her sibling. Uncertain if that makes any difference in the creatures when there's fully grown sarane from the same breeding seasons her hatchlings came from. Interesting how fickle they could decide to be.
There was no wonder why Ardith beat her sibling to hatching, once seeing their personalities side-by-side. They were different as night and day from the moment they shared the world.
Meade was softer in color than her sister, a soft buttery yellow as counter shading to a dark green blanket over her topside and upper wings. She was just old enough to have grown in some of her markings and it was starting to look like she was going to inherit Vidarr's mottled hide, but in near jewel tones if the subtle colors in her dam was anything to go off of. Where her sibling was soft, Ardith had jagged stripes forming on her dark brown hide, along with the buds of some real thorns upon her tail. They were both undoubtedly Vidarr's daughters, and Lethalia had intentionally picked very different hens each season - and yet somehow, she hadn't expected the siblings to have ended up as different from one another as they did.
It was already teaching her so much more about the creatures she'd thought herself so well acquainted with. It would stand to reason that not each hatchling would take after their parents as much as she originally assumed.
As much as she loathed the magic abuzz at this place, Lethalia had heard bits and pieces about what was going on this month. Chaotic, certainly - fireworks, fae fire, summer brought indoors? Though she could never look upon the place as being benign, aside from losing track of Esti nothing bad had ever really happened here. Still, she couldn't help the feeling that she didn't lose track of her henbaby years ago, but she'd no way to prove it was a malicious building that hid her.
All of the commotion sounded like it could do the meek baby Meade some good. The intent wasn't to scare her small hen, or at least not irreparably. It felt like she was doing the little one a disservice if she didn't try and make her a little more resilient.
There wasn't anything with mild-mannered sarane, but with the rest of her creatures... it would be in Mead's best interest to gain some backbone before she grew up. Part of the woman wanted to remind herself it may be too early to tell what their personalities would be when they grew up, since things could change pretty dramatically along with their adult growth spurt.
"C'mon baby, time t' get going."
Meade doesn't cling to her in stubbornness as much as the other babies did, but her tiny hooked claws scrabbled for a handle on her owner's clothing as it felt like she was being pried away. Upset squeaks and chirps fill Lethalia's ear as she attempts to pick Meade's claws out of her shirt gingerly as she could, feeling like she'd just done much the same with her sibling. It almost made her feel bad about setting the hen down, all of the fearful murmurings in her ear.
Given even the slightest pause, Meade grappled with whatever she could get a claw hold on all the more tightly. At some point this had meant she folded herself up into her owner, ending up curled up into the side of the woman's neck and tucked beneath her chin. A soft headbutt from the baby cause Lethalia to instantly soften, arm coming back to wrap around the hen's hind end instead of trying to push her away. "Alrigh', I've got you, don' worry little one. Y'don' have'ta brave the world just yet," she murmurs, tone changing in a moment. There's not a single defense she's got against this.
Usually she would encourage her hatchlings to explore, hence why she wouldn't allow them to be little freeloaders as long as they were inclined to be. In this case, it feels like she needs to make an exception. If she pushes a soft creature like this too much, she'd run the risk of getting the opposite outcome and ending up with a constantly terrified adult hen.
In the interest of not damaging her creatures in the long run, Lethalia chose to not press the issue with Meade. She wasn't just being sleepy and stubborn like her sibling had, but if the trembling under her chin was any indication, the little one was terrified about being away from home and her mother figure. Lacking Esti to defend her, the satyr's warmth and horns seemed enough like a mother hen to be more comforting than the open world.
Quite different sisters indeed.
"D'you just wanna explore with me? Y'can stay righ' here with me," Lethalia continued to discuss with her charge, planting a small kiss on the muzzle tucked beneath her chin. Words would be lost on the hen unless she was provided with her own ribbon at some point later on, but the satyr hadn't quite gotten that far with planning out this one's future just yet.
"Y'can keep me safe in there, baby girl," she decides for the hen. It wasn't as though that would prevent her from chatting with her pets without a ribbon, especially a baby who needed courage lent to her. It seems to help, and it's not as though she's about to change her ways.
Meade's intention for the future would depend a lot on what Lethalia was able to garner about her in their outings to come. Just now things weren't looking likely for a bold grown lady. Part of her mind wanted to instantly affirm that this hen wouldn't ever see the pit, but she'd thought the same of Meade's sire at one point in time, hadn't she? Everything in would come in time - though the satyr had never been a patient person.
These hatchlings were a good distraction from other things the future would herald, which were somehow more worrying than the idea of breaking her three future monsters.
Unlike other times she'd visited the mansion, there was little reason to remain outdoors. Some seasons brought with them lovely changes to the grounds - Lethalia could have wandered and gotten lost in the corn maze and orchard for quite some time. Even the creepy ice sculptures winter brought could have been explored among for ages.
June heat may normally dive her inside, but she typically took every route she possibly could to not go into the mansion even if that's normally the entire point of going. Lethalia could normally have find plenty of trouble outside for Meade, if the hen was even capable of 'getting into' anything.
This 'Firefly Festival' however, left the mansion looking offensively normal. Perhaps that was the point, where the huge iron gate was the only thing that looked remotely out of place. Otherwise, the mansion looked something like a suburban house with a well kept, boring lawn and little else. Even the building itself was deceptively plain, disguising itself in generically boring off-white siding.
Enough of a facade was in place to make the place look benign to most; nothing could make Lethalia trust the place. The arcane energy surrounding the place was enough to make her vision swim if she focused on it too hard, but it's a hard thing to forget being in a house that was steeped in the stuff.
Meade flinched heavily at the squeal of the gate, Lethalia shoving against it with her shoulder to make up for lacking another free hand. Carrying the hen was going to be a bit of a hassle, but maybe not as much as the potential of losing her if she was exploring on her own. Should count her blessings as they come, right? "You're fine, little one," the woman mumbled absentmindedly, squishing Meade a little closer. Even if she was a time away from the shell, the babies still seemed to take solace in a cozy space.
The porch even looked quaint and harmless. It wrapped around the house in it's entirety, giving the woman an excuse to walk around the mansion's border. Just a little while longer before going in was a welcome excuse, even if it becomes quickly clear that she would be finding nothing special out here.
Strange to see the place in such an abnormal state - and funny that the normalcy of it was enough to make her all the more wary of it. Cute potted plants span the wide porch railing, and she passes by a large old-fashioned swinging bench chained to the rafters above. The quiet had brought Meade's curious amber eyes out from beneath her owner's chin, daring to take a look around now that she wasn't under the impression she was going to be torn away from her safe spot. Lethalia smiles at the hen's quiet snuffling of the air, gingerly switching which arm she cradled the hatchling in.
In spite of it's rather normal outward appearance, the building still has it's tricks. For all appearances the porch looks to hug an average-sized house, but with each step she took, the far corner she faced never seemed to get any closer. Plants don't especially stand out to the woman, but the flowers on the border of the porch began to take on a long-repeating pattern that causes the woman to narrow her eyes. Hadn't she passed that porch swing before, not very long ago? A glimpse over her shoulder found the side she'd come from appeared no closer than where she was headed.
Meade had yet to catch onto anything amiss, likely for the better. She'd unfurled herself from a defensive ball, instead clinging to her owner's arm. Tiny claws twitched at the ready to cling to her again if it was necessary, but she was content to sample all of the new smells from her safe space.
"Glad you're happy," Lethalia remarked, causing Meade to turn to her with a minuscule peep. The hen had managed to relax enough to get curious about their quiet surroundings, yet the satyr can't keep herself from getting into a battle of wits with a house, goddssake. Surely she didn't need to be this intimidated by the magic of this place, did she?
There was a chance it was just her instincts that the magical spark set off, but she couldn't help her dislike for it. It was true enough that she always made it out, with her pets and a handful of small trinkets. There was just something too unsettling about a place that changed and almost reacted to a presence, responded with a real sort of magic. All like some sort of twisted funhouse, but Lethalia didn't care for those either. There was much less to trust here, more real and unsettling than warped mirrors.
What seemed so far away came upon her so quickly, the satyr found herself stumbling over the guard railing of the corner she'd been walking towards. Lethalia grabbed onto the railing with her free hand in an attempt to not go ass over teakettle when she's got Meade tucked in the crook of her arm.
This place's taunting of her is as obnoxious as it is objectively harmless. That's what makes it so horrible - she regained her footing with a scowl. It made her feel so silly for getting upset at a house, when at worst, it just seems to be messing around with her. Especially because it never really does anything, and she would sound like a gibbering idiot to anybody who she tried to explain a building's vendetta against her, magical or no. But the mansion really likes doing it's freaky magical house thing, and she keeps coming back for whatever reason.
Ashe: When the credits have been handed over IC, and the transfer is posted. Threads are often left open a little longer, in case the customer wishes to RP their exit or anything else.
Sept 13, 2020 14:49:02 GMT -6
Renathan: I've been meaning to ask- is a person considered out of the shop when the shop transfer is posted/items are given, or when the shop thread is locked?
Sept 13, 2020 14:20:16 GMT -6
Flare: It was hinted in the discord, so nothing officially announced.
Sept 10, 2020 22:30:10 GMT -6
Riku: Oh, when and where was that announced? Lol
Sept 10, 2020 21:38:50 GMT -6
Xentus: Sarane eggs. Lil' egg hunt around the boards to get a brown with neat markings
Sept 10, 2020 13:45:16 GMT -6
Riku: What eggs...? 😅
Sept 10, 2020 13:40:49 GMT -6