It is only a few paces from the edge of the wilderness to the lake; trees crowd close to the water in every direction. The water at your feet is pristine, shining blue. Gentle ripples ruffle the glossy surface of the water and whisper at the shore. The hump of Katahdin Peak, blue-grey with distance, looms over the trees as they ring the lake. The air smells clean, rich with pine and fish. In the distance you can make out a dock, and other signs of human habitation; but here, only the calls of birds, frogs, and insects disturb the peaceful quiet.
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.
Thin and lanky, almost gangly at her modest 5'5", Rahne has an almost childish quality to her form and features. Raggedly cut reddish-blonde hair falls in loose, fluffy curls about an impish face that's drifting into maturity. High cheekbones offset wide, oval eyes of bright, piercing green and a frequent smile that makes her tan face look rebellious.
Arms and legs that seem a little too long for the rest of her body are swathed in old clothes. A pair of faded jeans, the knees long since gone to rags, cover her legs. A thinner pair of leggings shows through underneath in a soft brown. Two sweatshirts cover her torso, one blue, one green, and both faded to near-grey. The collar of an old white t-shirt shows at the neckline. Sneakers patched with duct tape cover her feet, as well as a frequently dingy pair of white socks. Inconsistant with this portrait of growing youth is the large, broad knife resting in a worn, tooled leather sheath at her side. A rope belt, wound tightly about her waist four times, secures sheath and blade to her waist while a smaller leather strap pins the bottom to her right thigh. The leather bears the fading intricacies of celtic knotwork, a composition of light and dark growing dimmer with age.
She's often seen lugging around a somewhat sizeable backpack, the sides of it bulging here and there in possibly strange ways.
By the lake, there is a fallen log. On the log, there is a coat, a shirt, and stretched out full-length (still in his pants), arms above head, there's Serendipity. His eyes are closed, face tilted up half-blissfully toward the sky, and flakes of the recently started light snow have fallen all over him already, dotting his skin and hair. One would think it'd be rather chilly.
Well, at least one body thinks it's a bit chilly, given the bits of snow sticking to the thick wool cloak as Rahne wanders towards the lake. Pulling the hood back just a bit, she lets a little of it shield her face while she watches the soft white motes float to the ground. Her footsteps make the lightest crunch on the new-fallen snow, the cloak making a bit more noise as it drags a bit on the ground behind her.
Serendipity shifts, but apparently not due to the noise -- he laces his fingers behind his head, and crosses his ankles. Some of the snow falls off. He still looks far happier than he should have a right to be, and he's... humming.
Given the utter silence that seems to fall with the snow, the humming seems to drift over to Rahne's ears like a ghost on the wind. Stopping in her path for a moment, she leans her head to one side to make sure she's hearing correctly. Blinking a bit of snow from her eyes, she pulls back the hood and turns her head until she finds the source of the music. The sight of Ren on the log brings a wider smile to her face, and she alters her path towards his log-perch quietly.
It's an appropriately cheerful little tune -- appropriate for the expression, at least, if not for getting snowed on. One might notice, while approaching, that beneath the tree that holds the treehouse, there's a small family of snowmen. Well, snowpeople -- some of them are quite decidedly female. They seem to be dancing, or possibly just standing close to each other with branch-arms touching.
Rahne chuckles softly as she nears, though whether it's at the sight of Ren snow-bathing or the snowpeople is hard to tell. "Trying to get a snow-tan, Ren?" she says with obvious amusement, cloak bulging at the sides as if she set her hands on her hips. It really is hard to tell where it ends and she begins, since it comes to a white-fuzzed dark grey mass about her feet and legs.
Serendipity's eyes flick open, and the closed-lipped cat-that-ate-the-canary smile spreads into a bright grin. "Hiya, cutie," he greets her, switching from cheerful to over-the-top lofty, "Nah, I just figured I had t' do =somethin'= to keep everyone from bein' absolutely overwhelmed by my innate hotness." He pushes up to seated in a quick move, legs off the side of the log, and gives his hair a couple exaggerated flips, then brushes the gathering snow off his chest, and trades the bored-model-pout for his grin again, shrugging.
Rahne laughs merrily and blushes faintly through cheeks already cold-tinged. "Oh, yes, I can see the utter cloud of steam rising from your body. Careful, you might thaw out the area if you sit there long enough." One hand snakes out of the cloak to tuck curls behind her ears that are just starting to get wet now that the hood's down.
"You say that like it's a bad thing," Ren counters innocently, reaching over to reclaim his shirt. No hurry, apparently. "Bud's meant t' be budding anyway, innit?" He glances skyward, appraising the clouds. Snow falls in his face. "Couple friends of mine who were stayin' at the Farm already decided it was Bud enough to move on, even."
Rahne smiles softly and looks up at the snow herself, blinking as it attempts to coat her eyelashes. "Mayhap it just needs a bit of help? A little encouragement? I know the Oak is waiting for its children to have a chance to grow." One foot pokes out of the cloak, clad not in her usual revered sneakers but in thicker leather boots that look a fair site newer and sturdier. "Sometimes I think singin' or dancin' the snow away helps. Gets the energy flowin' right."
Serendipity arches a brow at Rahne, looks thoughtful a second, and belts out toward the clouds, "Siiinging in the snow, just singin' in the snow, what a glorious feelin', I'm..." slight pause, mental rewrite, "havin' a lotta trouble makin' this line come out clean..." Well, it doesn't rhyme, but he tries real hard to get it to scan.
Rahne snickers and tries her hand at it, albeit a bit softer, "Siiiiinging in the snow, just siiiingin' in the snow! What a gloorious feelin', grass starting to grow....?" She trails off there, her own mind working on the rewrite with a grin on her face. "Hmmm, that gives me lots of ideas."
"Obviously better ones'n mine," Ren remarks cheerfully, pulling his coat on over the shirt. He doesn't bother to fasten either of them for now; apparently he's enjoying the cold. "...d'you write a lotta songs?"
Rahne nods with a warm smile, "All the time. Sometimes stories, too, if the right words hit me. I have a couple of notebooks of stuff I've done, in bits and pieces. Some are finished, some not...." She closes her eyes for a moment or two, letting the flakes land on her still-upturned face.
Serendipity watches her for a couple moments, sitting comfortably on the log, and looks thoughtful. "...d'you write music for 'em, too?" he inquires, curiously.
Rahne leans her head back down, resting her chin on the folds of cloak around the clasp in front. "Mmm, as much as I can without instruments of my own. I imagine where the notes would go, but all I have is my harp for sounds. I'm sure any of my songs could be done on anything, really.
"You," Ren decides, "oughta meet Aurelia. If y'haven't properly yet, anyway. She plays guitar, better'n almost anyone I've met. And sings. You could prolly make beautiful music together, no metaphor intended." He grins again, glancing up toward the treehouse.
Rahne looks intrigued, eyebrows arching as she mouths the name to herself before speaking it. "Aurelia. Lovely name. Be nice to work with someone else who plays...kinda missed that for a while now." She follows Ren's glance upward speculatively and smiles to herself.
Serendipity nods. "Yeah, 's a nice name, innit? Better'n Sandro, I think -- actually, you mighta met her when she was using that one," he remarks, glancing back to Rahne, "that night that Tobin guy showed up in the Diner? Anyway. We're startin' a kumi, but, y'know, she doesn't know all that many people 'round here yet, and seein' as you mostly just arrived too..." He makes a hand gesture that presumably indicates how much sense it makes that the two of them meet.
The revelation makes Rahne blink for a moment, and the expression on her face seems to speak of a bit of mental addition going on behind her green eyes. After a brief bit of rapid blinking, she grins and nods, "I 'member, now you clued me in. Yeah...I kinda vanished from known existence for 'while, didn't expect t' see so many new faces when I came back. Would love to meet her with this name, 'stead of the last one." she says, amiably enough and smiling enthusiastically.
Serendipity grins again. "I'll hafta make sure y'do. Where're you stayin'?" he asks, adding innocently, "...so I can find you t' make the introductions and all, y'know. Wouldn't wanna be chasing all over town or anything."
Rahne chuckles softly and produces a hand to ruffle her now-damp hair while answering, "Most of the time, I'm doing a bit of work for the Bishops in turn for a place to lay m'head. Sometimes, though, I give in and accept a patch of space from the Collins' at request of the Missus." Thnking a moment, she chews on her lower lip before adding, "If I'm not there, you could likely find me in the Library or the Diner...especially the Diner, since my stomach rediscovered real food."
Serendipity reaches over and quite solemnly ruffles Rahne's hair as well, then pulls his hand back and grins, indicating the treehouse with a movement of his head. "I'm livin' up there, mostly. Library and Diner're always good, too. But you oughta come up an' visit sometime."
Rahne's cheeks redden a bit more than the cold can account for at the ruffling, and she gives Ren a warm smile from behind a couple of tousled curls. Shifting her focus to look up at the treehouse for a long moment, she smiles and murmurs, "I haven't been in a treehouse in a long time, not since I was last home. Would be fun...I'd love to come up....sometime."
Serendipity gives a gallantly flamboyant half-bow. "Any time you like, cutie," he invites, and stretches. "Mm. Thinkin' of hunting down something to eat, now that you mentioned food..."