The floor of the treehouse is nestled, carefully placed in the break in between a twin-tree trunk about ten feet off the ground. The panel in the center of the wood paneled floor opens to allow a rope to drop down, to give access to those welcome.
The house itself is sturdily built, mainly of pine panels. One wall is left mostly open, covered in a metal wire mosquito-screen. This makeshift window faces the lake, westward.
By itself, the place is scarcely furnished. A bedroll in the corner carries a work pillow, though a rolled-up sleeping bag is available for others. A clay pot in the opposite corner, by the window, smells of woodsmoke and coal, so it's obviously a firepot. A small frying pan leans against it, the bottom blackened by multiple uses.
Did someone call for 'tall, dark, and handsome'? Well, dark's fairly well covered, at least. Jet-black hair's pulled into a long, loose tail at the nape of his neck, a few stray strands about the face occasionally drifting into his almost equally dark eyes, the irises of which are a brown deep enough that one needs to look closely to find the pupil. Nut-brown skin that sets off the white of his teeth and eyes -- it could just barely be mistaken for a very deep tan, if one really tried. Tall is a miss; he's still several inches off six feet, and he probably won't ever get there. Handsome... well, not a classic beauty, to be sure, but well-proportioned, with a stunning, frequent grin and deeply expressive features. Slim, but in perfectly good shape.
He's clad in... well, black leather pants. Somewhat faded, well broken in, but nicely cut and really =quite= nicely fitted. A simple cream shirt hangs untucked above them, long sleeved and fastened with a row of small, black stone buttons. Over that, he wears a decidedly well-worn old black trenchcoat, almost too big for him -- the cuffs hang down half-over his hands, when he lets them, and the hem hangs perilously close to his heels. Scuffed black leather boots with worn soles adorn his feet; there's a seemingly random collection of bracelets, all on one wrist, and several piercings along the upper section of each ear -- little silver hoops.
She's a young thing, looking to be in her late teens or early twenties. Not terribly imposing, she stands at about an average height for a woman with a build that's a few meals shy of healthy. Golden-toned skin hints at Latina heritage, a notion reinforced by her sleek, straight black hair, which has been bound into twin braids, each tied off with a length of powder blue ribbon fashioned into a bow. Several strands have fallen free to frame a pretty face with delicate bone structure and soft features. Dark eyes glitter behind the errant locks of her hair, bright and intelligent.
The dress she wears is a little loose on her, but she fills it out well enough to give her a distinctly feminine figure. Like the ribbons in her hair, the dress is powder blue, printed with tiny flowers in white and green. The cut is simple, a scooped neck with short poofy sleeves and a voluminous calf-length skirt. To keep warm, she wears a long coat over the dress, woolen and brown, with broad fleecy cuffs and more fleece lining along the lapel. Over a pair of somewhat faded white stockings, she wears somewhat battered leather boots embroidered on the sides with colorful flowers.
Around her neck, on a leather thong, is a pendant made from what looks to be a piece of glass taken from a chandelier, a faceted teardrop that catches ambient light and reflects it back in prismatic sparkles. She also wears a silver charm bracelet on one wrist and a mismatched pair of silvery clip-on earrings.
Well, look at this city boy. He's middling-tall, with the sort of skinny-yet-flabby physique that comes of never exercising or eating right; although his limbs are lanky, he's got a bit of an overhang in the belly region. His looks are plain, nothing special to them at all except an interestingly aristocratic nose, long and thin. His complexion is fair--no, it's pale, desperately pale, almost albino, although there is some natural color. Apparently he doesn't get a lot of sun. His eyes are a confused dark gray-blue-hazel, and intently wary, often flicking to the source of a sudden sound or movement. They're often veiled by his hair, which is a mop of Beatles-esque proportions, ugly in a way that went out of style during the Long Night. Also in the way of bad fashion statements, he has jaw-length sideburns which widen at their ends, although he's otherwise clean-shaven. It's a look that hasn't been in vogue for a century or so. His hair, eyebrows, and sideburns are all a uniform shade of absolute black; it does not flatter him.
If it wasn't already painfully obvious that he's fresh from a big city, his clothes cinch the deal. Loose gray corduroy pants, long enough to bunch over the tops of sneakers, a long-sleeved thin blue cotton shirt of the pullover variety, and over that, a battered red-and-black flannel shirt, unbuttoned. Despite the light clothing, the chill of the season doesn't seem to bother him.
Nighttime, and Aurelia and Ren haven't done a damned thing today that has required much effort. At some point Aurelia did put on her dress and washed up the dishes from the night before, then made a meal for them out of food stored in the treehouse. By evening, the lounging has reached a fevered pitch, magnified by full bellies and relaxing tea. Aurelia sprawls on the bed-nest, quite possibly using Ren for furniture. If laziness had a personification, these two would be it.
Serendipity doesn't seem to mind being furniture; he, too, lounges in the blanket-nest, one arm loosely but insistently wound around the Corax. At some point he seems to have at least acquired pants, less for modesty or warmth and more to cut down on temptation. He's probably finger-combed his hair, judging by the lack of terrible tangles, but hasn't bothered finding the hair tie or anything like that. At the moment, he's singing something to Aurelia, cheerful but not at the top of his lungs. ♫ I am the slyest of the gods / fire is the gift I gave / I am swifter than the wind / and none can match the tricks I've played... ♫
The serenity is jarred by the sound of frantic skittering pebbles on the lakeshore below. A short dash and then a rabbit squeals its death cry. The following swift and efficient crunch may or may not be audible in the treehouse.
Aurelia rises up a bit at the sound, but lethargy takes its toll and she settles down again. "Did you hear somethin'?" she asks lazily. She hasn't gnawed Ren's arm off yet, a good sign that she doesn't mind it being around her. Thoughts of escape require effort. "I think your singin' just killed somethin'."
Serendipity sticks his tongue out at Aurelia. "I gotta nice voice. My mommy told me so." He grins, and then shifts a little, stretching. "Y'want I should check?"
Footsteps crunch around on the pebbles below, occasionally pausing, then starting up again.
Aurelia sits up at this, frowning as she glances downward, not that she sees anything but treehouse floor. "Moms just say that so they don't gotta comfort you," she says absently, like the insult just comes without her having to think about it. Her mind is clearly in the puzzle of what just went crunch on the pebbles below. "Ren, I think your singin' didn't just kill somethin', but brought it back to life. One of them revenge things."
"She said mean girls like you'd say things like that, too, just t' hurt me," Ren claims haughtily, and grins, unwinding himself. "I'll take a look," he informs her, leaning over to open the hatch and hang halfway out for a good view.
The snowy head of hair bobbing around down there is unmistakeable. Oh, sure, it /could/ be Miki, but would Miki have such a bad haircut? Not if he lived to be as old as Tristan. Who, hearing the hatch open, lifts his head and looks at Ren with an odd, half-annoyed, half-apologetic expression. He holds up the newly killed rabbit, dangling limply from his hand. "Hey. Brought dinner."
Aurelia unwinds herself from Ren, then snags the blanket and eases into the space he's just left, lest any of that remnant body heat go unstolen. "My stalwart hero," she says dryly as she leans over to snag a bit of leftover bread that, along with various other edibles and drinkables, have been arranges within reach of the nest. Glancing toward the hatch, she asks, "Who is it?"
"Hey!" Ren exclaims in reply, breaking into a bright grin. "Where you been, Tris?" He looks over his shoulder, and adds rather needlessly to Aurelia, "It's Tristan. He brought a bunny."
"Around," Tristan says with the precision accuracy of your finer German clocks. He lets the hand with the rabbit drop, and looks forlornly up at Ren. "Can I come up?"
Aurelia arches a brow, her trademark 'this looks ominous' expression at the ready as she leans back and says, "The one your singin' killed? Yeah, I guess he should come up so we can eat it. Poor thing. Must've been a painful goin'." She sits up, abandoning stolen warmth to stoke up the burner and look around for something that might pass for cookware. "You're cleanin' it outside though," she warns. "I don't need no rabbit guts in here."
"It dieda ecstasy," Ren retorts over his shoulder, "just as others've claimed I put 'em in danger of. So there." He grins, and turns back to Tristan, dropping down the rope. "Sure. Plentya room for three."
Tristan takes the rabbit's scruff in his teeth, and climbs up, nimble as a spider. Upon getting himself inside, he offers Ren the rabbit. "Least y' don't have to worry about it bleeding everywhere," he says with a lame attempt at gallows humor. He cocks his head at Aurelia, then squints at Ren meaningfully.
Aurelia glances up at Tristan and grunts by way of greeting. Then to Ren, "You gut that thing outside." In case he forgot in the past few seconds since she said it the first time. She then glances back to Tristan and smiles. It's like a perky grin on Wednesday Addams. It just should not be. "Why, evenin' there."
Serendipity accepts the rabbit, and grins a little at the joke. "...an' even so she's gonna send me out in th' cold t' gut it. She's just mean," he remarks, looking it over. "...still warm," he notes. Tristan's squint gets more of a grin in return. Mostly happy. Just a liiittle self-satisfied. But definitely not strutting. He gestures to the nest, inviting the vampire to sit, and fetches a knife, opening the hatch and leaning over the hole to start the skinning and disembowelment. Fun for the whole family!
Tristan's nostrils twitch. Possibly at the smell of fresh rabbit guts. Possibly at something else. He shuffles a little to a clear patch of floor and drops to his haunches. He compacts surprisingly well. "Yeah, killed it not five minutes ago," he responds to Ren. Aurelia gets a wary and lopsided smile. "Uh, hey. Uhm. How you doing?"
Aurelia's smile doesn't even dim as she replies, "Yeah, I nailed him. You want... well, no. I guess I can't offer you somethin' to drink. So, uh. Hey there. Thanks for the rabbit." She actually sounds sincere about that last bit.
Serendipity is fairly quick with his work, though he risks his fingers to glance behind him, studying Tristan appraisingly for a few moments. "I can," he offers, "...but, y'know. Later, when I'm not shoving knives in dead rabbits. So not much in the way of an aperitif." He emerges with the rabbit in one hand, its skin and the knife in the other, and the guts... well, probably down below, if probably not for long. Everything gets handed on to Aurelia to deal with. "Whatcha been up to?"
Tristan rolls his eyes theatrically at Aurelia. "No /shit/, Sherlock," he replies in answer to that stunning bit of news. "I can smell it from outside." His lips twitch as if he'd say something further on this subject, but he doesn't. "Yer welcome. Usually I leave em for the wolves or whatever, but, yannow." He hitches his shoulders at Ren. "Just kinda futzin around. Waiting for the thaw."
Aurelia studies that twitch with inordinate care. "Wise choice," she says in a low tone, when the comment-to-be is reconsidered. Aurelia takes the edible portion of the rabbit and tosses it in a fryer she's set up on the burner. The knife gets set aside, and the skin taken in hand to be looked at with a nonplussed expression. "Wow, raw skin for me? And to think all them other girls are gettin' stuck with ugly old rings."
Serendipity smirks at the girl. "All for you, baby. See how much I care? ...I just figured we could dry it, maybe use it in onea those quilts or somethin'. An' you care a lot more'n I do where things like that get put." He shrugs. "...and careful what you ask for, beautiful." He grins at her toothily, and sits down beside Tristan, getting comfortable. "I picked up a few of 'em, during the winter. Onea your little deer, too. You got plans for thaw?"
Tristan's left eyelid twitches as he listens to this banter. He rubs it unconsciously. "Bury it'n piss on it for six months, come out soft as butter," he opines on the subject of raw rabbit skin. Dropping his hand to dangle between his narrow thighs, he gives Ren a sidelong glance. "Dunno. You got my letter?"
Aurelia rolls her eyes and moves away from the sizzling rabbit toward the hatch in the floor. "Like I dunno what to do with a raw rabbit skin," she mutters. "I'm gonna find a board to nail it to. Stretch it out real nice." In the middle of the night, clad only in a somewhat skimpy dress.
Serendipity considers this suggestion. "I don't think I can piss for six months at a stretch," he decides innocently, and gives Tristan a curious look. "...you're twitchin'. And yeah, I did. Read it... looked for you, but you were hidin' too well." He does not seem concerned with Aurelia's plans, dress and time notwithstanding.
"Have fun," Tristan blithely bids Aurelia, then squints at Ren. "I am?" He scrubs at his eye, which at least settles down to irregular tics. "Uh. Yeah. I'm okay at hiding. Not as good as some.
Aurelia must be having a blast. There's muttering and rummaging below, her voice subdued but the tone and distinct swearing something keen ears could pick up. Something unflattering about someone's mother. Don't mind the girl below. She's just working out some frustrations, or something.
"Better'n most I've had reason t' look for," Serendipity replies, with a little shrug, and another grin plays about his mouth at the sound of the swearing. He leans over and gives the vampire a warm hug. "Missed you."
Tristan is cold. Strangely, he's colder to the touch than he was during the winter months. He smells like rain and dark wet earth. He says very softly, "Ren, I can't do this. It's breaking me. Every night I wake up wondering if tonight's the night he's gonna come and kill you all. I can't take it."
The swearing subsides, and not long after, it's followed by a sharp banging sound. If she hasn't found a hammer, then she's found something that will serve as one. And the peaceful evening, in its serene beauty, is shattered with BAM! BAM! BAMBAMBAMBAM! Such a delicate flower. A veritable primrose of femininity.
Serendipity frowns at little at the coldness, and doesn't let Tristan go, pulling him in companionably. "Then we gotta do somethin' about it. 'bout him, so you can stop livin' afraid of him." He lifts his free hand preemptively. "I know he's way powerful; you said. But there's a lotta us here, some with experience an' all, y'know? Can't run forever. Can't stay 'lone forever." Pause. "An' I'd miss you."
"See," Tristan says, still very softly, his voice neutral, "no matter how I tell ya, you keep thinkin' like that. Optimistic to the last. I tell you he's killed elder Garou, he used to have Resistance fighters drawn and quartered for fun, he slipped in and killed one a my old celmates while she was surrounded by people who were damn capable of taking care of themselves. But you don't care. You can overcome it, ya think, you just gotta find the weakness, the loophole, you just gotta be a coyote an it'll all work out. But it doesn't work like that Ren. Not with this. Not with him. And I can't stand around and let you die because you think you can handle it. I'm too old an' too fucked up for that."
The godawful banging subsides, and all is quiet for a time. Too quiet. There are scratching sounds of someone digging. Things being moved around other things. Then footsteps head down to the lake, followed by a splash, then a startled yelp. Then, amidst more splashing, Aurelia's voice carries to the treehouse, tremulous with cold and laughter, "Don't forget to turn the rabbit or it'll burn, dumbass!"
"But see," Tristan adds, when Aurelia's voice stops, "this is all soundin like I want you to wise up and quit being all full of optimism and pep and shit. That ain't so. You need to keep bein' like you are, Ren. You need to keep believing that nothing can really get you down, that you can overcome anything you put yer busy little mind to. The world needs people like you. Hell, needs /more/ people like you. Helios walks the sky again /because/ of people like you. You gotta be you. But," he drops his head, his white hair hanging in his face, "I'm not like that an' I can't ever be like that and I can't bring myself to believe it. I should just crawl in the ground and not come back up again, but you, you gotta stay in the light, and that's why I can't let you die for me."
Serendipity looks at Tristan for several seconds, studying him with a difficult to read expression, and then raises an index finger in a gesture somewhere between 'wait' and 'stay', getting to his feet and crossing the treehouse to turn the rabbit as ordered. He tweaks a small loose part of the blanket over the screen to get a look at what's going on outside, smiling very faintly as he seeks out Aurelia, and then returns to sit back down beside the vampire. He reaches over, guiding Tristan's chin up with a couple fingers, and leans in to give him a gentle kiss on his cold mouth.
Aurelia would be the shape in the lake, splashing and laughing like an idiot as the icy water washes over her skin. The dress is on the shore, and she's up to her waist in the cold water, her head tilted back as her hair drips from a recent drenching. She doesn't seem to notice being sighted yet, since she doesn't hurl any death threats Ren's way.
Tristan doesn't exactly return the kiss, but he doesn't reject it either, and his muddled eyes track Ren like a soulful dog's. "After all that squawking I did, that's all you gotta say?" he says, his voice rough around the edges, but a quivery and barely-there smile ventures to his lips.
Serendipity smiles back just a little, fondly, and brushes a bit of the vampire's hair back behind his ear. "Nah, I got more t'say. But I wan'ed t' make sure you at least heard that part," he replies wryly, and slips his arm around Tristan's waist companionably again. More seriously than usual, he goes on. "I gotta be me, an' I don't plan t' stop. Like you said. And yeah, Helios is back becausea people like me. But also 'causea people like you. ...'causea people who ARE you, 'mong others. Shit, Tristan, you shouldn't be spending eternity runnin', not bein' able to have friends, family 'n' all. People oughta be givin' you a nice sun-proof house with a dirt floor an' bringin' fat pigs by every few days, and bringin' over their kids t'say see him? He's parta why you get t' grow up free, an' play in the sun. Say thank you t' Mr. Tristan. An' if you never came outta the ground again... the asshole you're talkin' 'bout wins, an' the rest of us, we lose. ...you're somethin' special. You deserve better. An' you're my =friend=. This guy, he's just... unfinished business. An' maybe he's a big chunka it, an' it'd take a lotta people and plannin' an' work t' deal with, but that's still all he is. Unfinished business, an' someday someone's gotta finish it. Seems t'me it might's well be when it'll do you some good, 's well as the resta the world."
The splashing outside continues, but the shrieking subsides. Perhaps Miss Dainty has grown accustomed to the cold.
Tristan rests his forehead against his knee, and his shoulders and back hitch a few times, as if he's holding in sobs. He nods silently, though whether in agreement or acknowledgement is up for debate. He sits there, still, for a good few minutes more. When he raises his head his eyes are bloody, but the tears don't overspill. "You're a good kid," he says, his voice breaking. "I gotta think about what you said. I gotta think real hard."
Serendipity stays there, arm still around the vampire, and rubs his back a little, lightly, through the clothes. "You're a good guy, Tristan," he replies quietly. "You really are. An' I'm here, y'know? When you've thought. An' if you need me. An' I'd still be kumi with you, if you decided you wan'ed to." He half-smiles, "...an' as long as you 'n' Rae promised not t' drive each other nuttier. ...no pressure, just... I'm here. Y'know?" He studies the welling blood in the eyes, a little intrigued, but mostly sympathetic.
Tristan nods again, managing, "Yeah." He pats Ren clumsily on the shoulder, then rises, standing up out of Ren's embrace. He's tall, but doesn't seem it in that moment; he seems like a small and broken shambling thing. Turning to the trapdoor, he pauses, and half-turns back. "Thanks." Then he drops out of the treehouse, and disappears.
Serendipity watches Tristan depart, then stands, and checks on the rabbit. It seems done; he takes it off the fire, puts a lid atop, and then swings his way down from the treehouse, abandoning his pants along the way as he runs to join Aurelia in the lake.