Logs:Peter has Arrived

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Peter has Arrived


Characters: Gilles and Peter
Date: 2020-07-12
Summary: Peter visits at L'Auberge to see about renting it out.
Disclaimers:

Lauberge02.jpg Divided into several rooms the dining area of L'Auberge seems almost like a quaint roadside inn that one might encounter out in the French countryside. With flagstone floors, exposed rafters, and dark wood columns it evokes the imagery of a century earlier, when most travel was done by horse or foot and only on the rare occasion would a coughing and rattling car disturb the bucolic peace.

There are no booths, only wooden chairs and tables and the walls are either stone or lathe and plaster with wooden wainscoting. The main room contains a counter carved of dark wood where people can sit and a pair of fireplaces set in opposite walls while most of the smaller rooms contain a single fireplace. A doorway just to the right of the counter leads to the kitchen in back.

The majority of the dark wooden posts scattered throughout the building are simple square columns but several of them are elaborately carved. On closer inspection each one seems to illustrate some story such as the life and death of Jeanne d'Arc, the adventures of Huon of Bordeaux, or the Battle of Verdun.

Gilles.jpeg Warm blond hair the color of old whiskey aged in oak frames Gilles's face. Just slightly on the long side he tends to wear it in a sort of loose and unruly mane, the tips just threatening to hang down into his eyes. His face is lean with high cheekbones and a strong jawline. Blond stubble adorns his chin and cheeks, giving him a slightly relaxed and Bohemian air. His skin is the fair and light indicating some form of western European descent. Pale blue eyes the color of faded denim finish his features, giving him a rather penetrating gaze despite his friendly appearance.

Gilles is tall but not overly so, just an inch or so over six feet in height. He is not what anyone would term as large, being right around a hundred and seventy five pound. Small injuries, tiny cuts and burns, crisscross the flesh of his strong hands, hinting that he most likely makes his living doing some form of labor. He lacks the definition of a bodybuilder, his physique coming more from regular athletic endeavors and exertion than from any particular desire to shape his body.

He wears a dark vest with a faint brocade pattern over a blue linen shirt, the sleeves loosely rolled up to his forearms. A pair of broken in faded bluejeans cover his legs while on his feet he wears a tightly laced pair of brown hiking boots, used but in good shape with a thick waffle-pattern tread.

Mien:

While not as transformed as other Changelings there is still no doubt that Gilles is not human. His features are thin and sharp an his ears bear an inhuman tapering. It may be a little difficult to determine his seeming, though clearly he is no Beast or Ogre. The way his hair seems to refuse to remain combed and his almost perpetual five o'clock shadow indicate that he is most likely not one of the Fairest nor does he seem to carry the signs of an elemental. The most likely guess would be that he is a Wizened, but then wouldn't it be just like a Darkling to look like someone else?

Peter.jpg

.o.........................oO( The Mask )Oo.........................o.

Of middle age, and austere bearing, this Jewish male seems forever weary. His fine brown hair is cut close and kept neat and professional. Blue eyes scan the world with only passive interest, a glimmer of emotion barely perceptible. His faintly tan skin is lined with age, trauma, and stress, but the same lines make his smile or glower all the more pronounced and alive.

His suit is top of the line and tailored to fit him, a black, five piece suit: glossy black shoes, a crisp, black shirt, matching waist coat and trousers, and a silk, checkerboard embroidered black tie.

.o.........................oO( The Mien )Oo.........................o.

With eyes too large, and Arcadian Blue,
Tis not the man the Lost's family knew.
His Keeper, a Dragon, twisted his form,
So in His likeness, the Author'd perform.
His smile is now graced, by fangs sharp and long,
So every smile, is twisted and wrong.
His nails became claws, ivory and keen.
Skin became scales, but too fine to be seen.
Confidence and grace enshroud him like light,
And no tenderness shown ever seems right.

Autumn's mantle lightly touches his aura. When his shadow is cast at night, it dances and flickers with a halo of orange and yellow, as if cast by firelight. During the day, light plays tricks on the eyes, and sometimes sparks and embers can be seen in his footsteps, gone with a second glance.

Wearing his fanciest suit, dark blue on black with embroidered draconic accents, Peter enters the dining area from outside. Immediately upon entering, he compulsively announces himself, "Peter has arrived!" Ignoring any unwanted attention that garnered, he moves to seat himself, setting the briefcase he's carrying in the seat beside himself.

The dress code for the restaurant seems to trend much more toward the casual and rustic than the formal and of course in most places such an entrance would quite possibly be met with a certain amount of ill-humor or derision, but the occupants are all in high spirits and good cheer and so the announcement is met with a cheer despite the fact that no one here actually seems to know who Peter is.

Giles, with a spotless white apron tied around his waist, approaches to take one of Peter's hands in both of his and pump it up and dow, a sort of double handed handshake of greeting as if happy to see a friend he hasn't seen in a very long time. "Mon ami," he cries out, his voice carrying the accents of France rather than the Creole or Cajun French. "It is good to see you. Come in and make yourself comfortable."

Wracking his brain to remember just where in the hell they've met, Peter does his best to charm his way through the confusing situation. He smiles wide, baring his abattoir of a mouth, "Yes, yess, wonderful my friend, thank you." Taking a shot in the dark, he guesses, "Robert, yes? Forgive me, my memory isn't what it used to be." The long and wicked looking claws on his hands, once touched, seem like nothing more than mere props, baring no edge to speak of.

Unsure what's happening now, he sets his free hand on his briefcase protectively. "I.. I'm looking to have a very normal, adult date with Lilium and thought this might be a good place." He squints at Gilles, "Do you... do you know Lilium?" Perhaps that's how they've met, as unimaginable as it is to Peter that a stranger would welcome him.

About him, hanging like a noxious cloud of wrong, the Wyrd proclaims him an Oathbreaker.

That Gilles is a Changeling is clear for another Changeling to see, yet if he notices the aura of Oathbreaking he gives no outward signs. His place is to help others in need, not to pass judgement, and while, perhaps, he will keep an extra eye upon Peter he will not deny the man his services until Peter should abuse his hospitality.

"Gilles," he replies, smiling genially to the question of his name, "and who of us have the memory we once did? I am rather new to town and have not had the opportunity to make your acquaintance yet." He releases the grip as he speaks and guides Peter to an open table next to one of the fireplaces, though in deference to the current temperature and the mortal patrons a glass screen ensures that nearly all the heat from the fire goes up the chimney.

"I am afraid I have not had the pleasure of meeting with Lilium either," he confesses as he seats Robert.

Taking a seat at the table offered by Gilles, Peter sets his briefcase in his lap, purposefully keeping it out of Gilles' reach. "Very well then, I am Peter Vhorman, and Lilium is my mate." He lowers his voice a bit, stage-whispering, "She isn't very connected with reality, and I'm hoping some normal, mundane activities may ground her a bit." He perks up suddenly, reaching into his blazer pocket to pull out a slip of cardboard with numbers and symbols on it.

Tucking it away again, he offers Gilles an apologetic smile, "Sorry. Business call... Do you work here, are you the owner? A member of the Freehold?" He gestures to the seat across from him, an invitation to sit.

Gilles smiles warmly. "I am the owner," he says with some pride, "and yes, I am a member. The staff here are all familiar with such matters though..." and at this he lowers his voice somewhat, "most of my patrons are not so your discretion in such matters would be appreciated." Returning to his normal voice he smiles once more and says, "But you must bring your mate by. One reason I opened the establishment was to try to assist those in such situations." He pauses to think for a moment and then says. "Perhaps I could show you the kitchen and you could explain to me any special requirements they might have. Things have quieted for the night and I am sure my staff can take care of our guests in my absence."

Nodding in understanding, Peter casts a wary glance around at the patrons. Rising, he moves to follow Gilles into the kitchen. "Me and my little love have ah.. peculiar tastes. I can't really stomach anything that's not meat. Preferably raw, and Lilium, she uh .. heh". He shakes his head, "Last week her dinner was just a desert buffet. No ten, sane and healthy people could have finished it." He laughs with amusement, tone warmed.

Gilles nods as he leads Peter to the kitchen. "I do not think that should be a problem," he says, "though I must admit that my dessert menu may not be up to her satisfaction. However, now that I know perhaps I can pick something up from Mlle. Stasya for her." Inside the kitchen he heads into the store room and from there through a second door while he is speaking.

The second door opens into a second storyroom much like the first but in reverse. That storeroom in turn leads to a reversed kitchen and from there Gilles leads Peter into a copy of the original dining room.

Lauberge02.jpg Divided into several rooms, the dining area of the Other Side is nearly a mirror image of L'Auberge. With flagstone floors, exposed rafters, and dark wood columns it evokes the imagery of a century earlier, when most travel was done by horse or foot and only on the rare occasion would a coughing and rattling car disturb the bucolic peace and one could feel as though one were in some isolated countryside. The only thing is that the Hedge is clearly visible outside the windows, the unearthly foliage making it clear that the inn does not sit anywhere on Earth.

There are no booths, only wooden chairs and tables and the walls are either stone or lathe and plaster with wooden wainscoting. The main room contains a counter carved of dark wood where people can sit and a pair of fireplaces set in opposite walls while most of the smaller rooms contain a single fireplace. A doorway just to the right of the counter leads to the kitchen in back.

The majority of the dark wooden posts scattered throughout the building are simple square columns but several of them are elaborately carved. On closer inspection each one seems to illustrate some story such as the life and death of Jeanne d'Arc, the adventures of Huon of Bordeaux, or the Battle of Verdun.

Outside the walls of the inn sits a forge, a simple affair consisting of a roof to ward off the elements with the four walls open to the air. A stable sits next to this and a dirt footpath leads to the gateway that separates the Hollow from the trod just outside.

Following Gilles into the kitchen, Peter clutches his briefcase tight to his chest. Immediately upon entering the room, Peter compulsively says, "Peter has arrived!" Beyond that he falls silent and follows along, content to ket Gilles take the lead.

Gilles quickly realizes that Peter's pronouncements are the result of his wyrdling nature, carrying such burdens of his own. "We can speak more freely here," he says, "since the staff will not allow those not connected to the Freehold to poke around the kitchen. I built this as a place to help those like your mate, so that they could interact with others in a more controlled fashion with the ability to make a retreat if they should feel the need."

Peeking outside the window with a longing sigh, Peter shakes his head and turns back to face Gilles eventually, "That's kind of you. Very altruistic." He wanders slowly around, curiously. "Lilium's a good egg, honestly. I /try/ to be as well, but it can be hard, you know, pushing back tnose tendencies." A low, nearly inaudible growl comes from bis throat as he looks down at his briefcase. "The desire to simply rule by force is always present." A beat of silence and he snaps his attention back to Gilles with abrubt laughter, "But that'd make me too much like them, hmm?"

"How much does it cost to rent the restaurant for an evening? One diamond starling? A couple emerald finches?"

Gilles smiles just a little wryly. "We are as our stories have made us," he says, "though we do still have some say in how we bear our burdens. Just as yours gives you certain urges you must usually fight mine give me those which I can generally release." Although Gilles speaks with a noticeable French accent his command of English seems quite good.

"Why don't you tell me what you wish to rent it for," he says. "I suspect it will not be neccessary to use the entire establishment. I have organized it into rooms that can be rented out if needed and of course there is always this side for the more unconventional needs. I would rather not turn away people who might need a place to eat and rest if I can avoid it."

"Ah, I understand. Merely one room, then, that'd be suitable." Peter nods, "I suspect it would just be me, Lilium, and some of her closer friends, Spring courtiers and the like." His attention keeps being drawn to the window, "Maybe a couple Hobs she knows, if they're still around."

"Lilium has quite a bit of treasure stored away, so payment should be easy. However, if you want something more esoteric, I suppose I could oblige."

Gilles smiles a bit and says, "Please do not be insulted. My question is to illustrate a point rather than to imply a flaw in your character. How much would you charge to defend the Freehold from its enemies? I suspect nothing at all, and just as you do not charge to use your gifts for us why should I charge to use my gifts for you? We are each strengthened by the other. I suppose in one sense it could be construed as a bargain being made between us but I would not wish to make it so formal. Rather I would simply trust in your good nature for repayment, either to myself or to someone else who needs it."

With a pleased, ivory fanged smile, Peter nods, "I've actually got an assignment from our Queen. I'm to retrieve some Vines of Bacchus for her. So I do know something of service." Nodding to himself, he continues, that aura of wrongness still clinging to the Oathbreaker, "I'm glad we can keep it informal. I think you'd very much like meeting my dear Lilium, she can be incredibly charming." Gesturing to the Springling, he states, "I think this would be a fine place for our event." He glances towards the window, "Nothing ever crosses inside, right? No hunters, anything like that?"

Gilles shakes his head. "This is the way station between worlds," he says. "A place of safety after a long and difficult trip for those who need to rest. Its defenses may not be perfect, but so long as no one brings anything directly to our door they should hold. I am currently trying to establish ties with the local hobgoblins to provide better warning of any dangers, and if any creatures should cross I am not entirely without my own gifts. While they may not be well suited for the battlefield they would help me make this place safer."

"The local hobs, you say?" There's a devious grin, "Oh me, oh my, haven't you heard?" He slaps his briefcase down on a counter and comically highsteps over to the window, "There's a storm out there... Strange things a brewin', what's that Hedge a doin'? Something twisted this way comes, but I'll look out for you and your chums." He cackles with delight, and begins snapping his fingers in slow rhythm.

Gilles quirks an eyebrow at the sudden turn. "The ones from Tumbledown Market at any rate," he says. He nods his head in the direction of the window and the front gate of the Hollow where a meager footpath passes by. "I am hoping to build a more secure road to the market. I've already made fairly good inroads with them, I believe, and just hosted the Wayward Company before they set out back home. I haven't heard anything about a storm, however."

Peter stops snapping his fingers, smile fading, "Oh, the Market..." He sounds more than disappointed and a little dejected, "Nevermind then," he looks out the window, "The skies are clear along that route, as far as I can tell." He moves to grab his briefcase, telling Gilles, "Well, if you've got a phone number for the store, or yourself, I could call and set up a time for our date. That'd be fine, yes?"

Gilles chuckles a little and nods. "I do, though I have to confess it feels a bit odd to have one," he says. "There were phones before I was taken but they were much fewer and far between. Now people walk around them in their pockets with an entire world of knowledge at their fingertips." He smiles and then gives the phone number for L'Auberge and his own personal cell phone as well. "Though it does not tend to work when I am over here, of course," he adds.

Peter nods a few times, listening to the phone number intently as if trying to memorize it, "I was only sixteen when I was taken, and I feel it, most of the time." He glances down at his aging body with a vague gesture, "And now there's cameras and phones and computers all rolled into one. It's a different sort of madnesss." He shoots Gilles a cheesy grin, "I think that'll be all, good sir. I should probably get going. She tends to worry when I'm gone too long." He looks briefly around for a door, "Mind if portal home from one of your exits?"

Gilles smiles and shakes his head. "Not at all," he says, "I look forward to hearing from you again."

"And so you shall," Peter responds, heading for the nearest door. He knocks twice and sings, "All is swellll, at the bottom of the well." And when he opens the door, it opens to cavernous room, smelling of stale water and a chill breeze wafting from inside. "Au revoir."