You step onto a cracked but clean tile floor that was probably once red, but is now a faded salmon pink. A large, rectangular communal table seating about 10 takes up the middle of the floor, with mismatched smaller tables arranged near the large front windows. The long counter in front of the kitchen door sports plates of fragrant bread, cookies, and muffins and bowls of fresh wild fruits. A small, rattling fridge in the corner holds a selection of juices and cold spring water in reused bottles and jars. Atop the refrigerator is a can for cash donations; next to it is a box for barter payments. Scrawled on the box in black marker are the words "Pay what you can, when you can."
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 is tucked into them at the waist; the collar of it's left mostly unlaced, the ends of the cord hanging down. 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.
This young man has a definite Native American cast to his features. Black, sharply defined eyebrows and high cheekbones frame eyes the brown-black color of richly brewed coffee. A prominent, straight nose set above expressive lips complete his dark-skinned face. Those lips quirk easily into a smile of one variety or another, though the expressions tend not to linger. Deep, dark brown eyes regard the world around him with mixed curiosity and wariness. He's also frequently brushing his thick black hair out of his eyes. It's straight, from those Native American genes, and is just long enough to get in the way without being long enough to tie back. At the moment his hair is loose around his shoulders.
He's not especially tall, about five and a half feet, but with the way he carries himself, he doesn't give the impression of being short. His build is the wiry one of youth, and that of someone who is in shape from exercise that comes from doing physical work. He is lean and muscular, his chest broader than might be expected, his waist and hips narrow, and he moves with deceptively languid grace.
Bryce is dressed in an assortment of borrowed clothes. A cream-colored, long-sleeved cotton shirt billows about his chest and arms, and has the baggy sleeves rolled up many times so his hands and wrists are free. Brown woven wool pants are heavily belted around his waist, and the cuffs are similarly rolled many times to allow his feet access to the ground. His sturdy brown leather boots seems to be the only things he's wearing that actually fit him, and he wears them comfortably. A long vest of the same material as the pants helps keep him warm and has a few pockets.
By far the most striking thing about this woman's appearance is her hair, which stands away from her face and falls in a wriggling, comb eating torrent around her shoulders, with every lock a different color - here dark brown, here black, here ash-blond, here ginger, here auburn. A lock of silver gray grows beside a lock of bronze, and the locks on the other side of each may be hazel-brown or white. It doesnt seem to be dyed; at least, each color stretches unbroken from tip to root.
One eye is green and the other is brown. One eyebrow is just a little darker than the other. Even her - roughly caucasian - complexion shows, in good lighting, uneven coloring, as though some patches have tanned while others have not. Quite short, square-built but light-boned, this woman seems to bounce a little when she walks, and to transition seamlessly between full-energy and full lethargy, with an animalistic, hedonistic presence in the moment. Fine lines in the corners of her eyes place her age somewhere in her thirties, but perhaps not far in.
Barefoot, she wears baggy blue denim overalls over a cropped black tank-top, the combination revealing muscular arms, well-defined collar bones, tantalizing glimpses of torso, and a truly alarming collection of scars.
(You can +view scars on Dali if you wish.)
This is a man, human to the core. No strange blood runs in his veins, but there is an air of power about him nonetheless, arcane knowledge on a tight leash. Physically, he is a perfectly average height with a broad and stocky frame that is not fat but is made to carry a lot of it. He's probably from a variety of European stock; his face is open and gentle, his nose just large enough to be interesting. He wears a short, neat beard, trimmed close, and gold-wire-rimmed spectacles with expensively slim lenses. Behind the specs, his eyes are a light, tawny brown, almost golden. His hands are a scholar's: large and dexterous, inkstained, callused where his pen rests on his right ring finger. Callused in new places, lately, from rougher work than turning pages. His hair is dark, somewhere between auburn and brown, and almost excessively thick and shiny. It's very long, ending about waist-length, and usually worn in a glossy braid. The color is broken by a thick streak of startling, pure-white hair that starts above his left temple. So much white in his hair makes him look older than he might otherwise seem--mid thirties, as opposed to late twenties.
He wears jeans, a white shirt under a dark grey sweater, and leather lace-up boots of a rusty color. In the cold of the late year he often wears a heather-gray woolen cloak, as well. Always within reach, if not actually in hand, is a wooden staff as tall as he is.
This, a lupine child
caught in the long spring before
summer's certain change
Gray's shades, back and white
in which amber's autumn eyes
are winter's herald
Although he moves with the ungulate grace which is too often compared to deer, unlike a deer he usually does not make a sound, this slender young man with a waterfall of perfectly white hair-- not blond, but white and fine as Queen Anne's lace-- which has been rather carelessly confined with a simple tie at the nape of his neck. His eyes at first appear to be dark rather than the blue that is their shade, as they are so saturated with color that they absorb rather than reflect, like the evening sky. The planes of his perfectly symmetrical face reflect a beauty so delicate and finely drawn as to be almost inhuman, an impression furthered by the translucent pallor of his skin. Yet the lovely lines of his collarbones and his wrists showing delicately through that transparency paradoxically reinforce his humanity by suggesting his fragility.
He is currently wearing a calf-length dark blue cloak or full coat of wool with carved bone buttons and a shoulder cape instead of proper sleeves. Under this, he wears plain but sturdy-looking brown leather boots that reach halfway up to his knees, pale brown pants, a buff-colored shirt with wide gathered sleeves, and his green leather vest.
At rest, he sits quite still, not even fidgeting with his long and capable hands. His face tends to assume a clear, icy expression which is a first cousin to sorrow.
At 5'6", Rahne isn't really anywhere near slender, she's definitely thin. She possesses the figure of one who spends more time subsisting on dreams than real food; bird-like and nearly waifish. Reddish-blonde hair has been roughly hacked close to her head, leaving the impression of a bird's nest of fire colors. The haircut does nothing to soften an impish face that still retains some vestiges of childhood in its features. The youth is accented by the wide oval eyes of purest emerald green that rest above high cheekbones and a ready smile. Her skin is incredibly tan, though there is the hint of freckles across her nose and cheeks.
Her clothes have the look of being recently mended, if anything, yet look a tad threadbare. Thick fabric in a black long-faded to dark grey covers her legs from waist to ankle, only a single patch of fuzzy blue on each knee. On top is a long-sleeved dolman-style top with flowy sleeves that could use a bit of repatching here and there. Her feet, however, are uniquely clad in a pair of once-white sneakers held together by duct tape (a true treasure!).
She can frequently be seen with either a time-worn knapsack with some interesting bulges, or carrying a scuffed and balding leather-bound book with ties holding it closed. To ward off winter's chill, she has a loose, poncho-like patchwork hooded garment tossed over all when outside.
Sean is a moderately tall man, standing just over six feet with an average build and an easygoing smile. His strong jaw is softened by dark stubble and his pale blue eyes are sharp and observant. Short-cropped, black-brown hair with the faintest suggestion of a widow's peak and modest cheekbones combine nicely with his other features, and his skin has been lightly tanned by numerous spells outdoors.
His clothes have seen a good deal of use but are still holding up. A dark green, button-up, long-sleeved flannel shirt has a few obvious repairs, particularly along the arms, and it's tucked into plain beige pants that have the look of city manufacturing. He's wearing sturdy brown hiking boots that are newer than the rest of his attire, and the middle finger on his left hand sports a ring of Celtic design in white and rose gold.
Dali pushes the door of the diner open and slides inside, letting it close quickly behind her, and pulling close around her the much-patched, well-faded quilted shirt/jacket she has recently acquired. "Cold!" she says plaintively. And then, "Hiya folks. Leaflet!"
Looking up from her rarely-vacated spot by the stove, Rahne smiles sunnily and waves a hand bearing a slightly chewed writing implement. Sitting cross-legged, she appears to have been scribbling in a worn leather-bound book that's resting on her right knee. "Hello!"
The cub in question is curled up on a chair, one leg dangling down, the other folded, her golden eyes set intent on a stack of gears in front of her. Steel and brass, metal cold and metal warm, linked tooth to tooth. She looks up at Dali's voice, scrambles off the chair, under the table, on four legs then two, to lope up to the Nunda. She looks at her, sidelong, then holds her hands out. Cold, cold!"
Sean has spent a good portion of the evening cooking, both for himself and for public consumption. He brings out a platter from the kitchen and sets it on the counter, along with a loaf of french bread. It's pasta, with a topping of winter vegetables sauteed in olive oil and garlic and a little cheese melted over it. Nothing fancy, but certainly fragrant. "Food for those who'd have it," he announces in his mostly understandable Scottish accent.
Dali swoops the gangly girl up in a hug and spins her around a few times before setting her on her feet again. "Get yourself more clothes, girl, and I'll stick'em to you like I did those. Aw, foooood," she adds, heading toward Sean. "This is a good place we found, I'm tellin' you."
The door opens again to admit Justin and Miklos, both a bit snowy and damp and neither apparently minding. "Hello," Justin says to the diner in general, and "Dali!" to the nunda in particular.
One would think Rahne might float up from where she sits at the scent of food as the young woman's nose rises high into the air at the wonderful scent. "Ooooooh. Smells beyond description. I must try." Marking her place with the implement, she folds the book and sets it atop her knapsack before rising fluidly to her feet. Stretching both arms wide and shaking herself out, she happily wanders over to the counter to gaze at the source of the wonderful scent and collect some. On the way there, she grins and waves pleasantly to Justin and Miki...well, more like an utterly girlish finger-wiggle, but who's counting?
Leafcutter laughs in the lupine fashion as she's twirled about, her limbs curl and a tail sneaks out from under her green shirt. Something between wolf and girl, glabro, but certainly a strange sort. She lopes along after Dali, finds her human guise again along the way and tugs on her shirt. "Wolf not cold," she says, amiably. "Fur, cold nose. Nose-- hat?" She tilts her head.
Miki's hair is wet, and his shirt is untucked, and he looks generally rather like he hasn't bundled up enough against the cold (in fact, his cloak isn't even buttoned up down the front). But he's practically glowing with warmth in spite of that, and gives the room an impartial grin.
Dali grins down at the child. "My friend, if you can make or find a nose-hat, I will Dedicate you. It just might be the most ridiculous thing I get to do all year." She looks up and smiles at Justin. "Hey, you." Her gaze hesitates on Miki, as it so often does, but his radiant good humor defeats her and she grins back at him, too.
"It certainly is, all the finest cookin' ingrediants. Have at, have at, I canna finish it all by myself." Sean already has his own much smaller plate, as well as a bottle of juice and a slice of bread. He leaves the counter and goes to claim a seat at the large table, nodding a hello to Miklos and Justin on his way and ducking clear of Leaf and Dali with a grin.
Leafcutter looks around Dali at Miklos and Justin, sniffs once. Then she's gathering dried fruit from a basket at the counter, gnaws on what may be a pear. "Leaf say hi, hi."
Justin looks excessively happy, himself, grinning cheerfully as he says, "Sean, Rahne, Leaf," to people in turn. He leans his staff against the wall, and stretches, content, smiling at Miki. "Thank you, Sean, I'm starving."
"Me, too," says Miki gratefully. "Thank you, it smells very good. Hello, Leaf!" He seems slightly surprised when Dali smiles at him, but is in far too good a mood to question anything pleasant. He hangs his cloak by the door and drops his backpack there.
Rahne beams and takes a long sniff as she looks at the steaming plate, quickly fetching herself the required plate and flatware to eat it with. Leaf gets a warm smile as she ferries pasta from pile to plate, mindful of her stomach as it speaks up. "Hello, Leaf." she says, picking up on what Justin says and following that with a similar thank you to the cook. Grabbing a couple of slices of bread, she takes a seat at the big table herself and manages to sit cross-legged on the chair.
It's only a few minutes after the door closed behind Justin and Miki that it flies open again, revealing Serendipity in all his, uh, glory, grin wide and bright as he steps inside, avoiding catching his coat in the door behind him by sheer luck. "So who missed me?" he asks cheerfully, by way of greeting, and stops short as he takes a look around the room and notes the people currently within. "...=Definitely= something in the water," he mutters to himself by the time his gaze gets all the way back around to Miklos, shakes his head once, and recovers, sauntering further into the room.
Dali fills a plate for herself, and perches on a nearby table with her bare feet on the seat of a chair. To Sean she says, "Do I know you?" around a mouthful of pasta.
"Tapadh leat, it's my pleasure. I dinna get to cook in a real kitchen all that often." Sean takes a long drink from his juice, then once the bottle's set aside he shakes his head at Dali and offers his hand to her. "Probably not. Sean Bremerton."
As the door bangs open again, Miki pauses in the act of filling a plate with pasta and vegetables and raises his gaze to look at the stranger. The greeting seems to puzzle him, but it is the remark about the water which really baffles him. His gaze slides sideways to Justin, obviously questioning him silently about whether *he* understood that remark at all.
Rahne is apparently all smiles and sunniness, as she gives the new arrival the same wonderfully pleasant greeting. Although, it's not vocal, as that would spray the table before with a mouthful of rather good food. So, she makes do with wiggling her fingers again and waving her fork.
Justin looks around at the unfamiliar voice, follows the strange young man's glance to Miki, and grins. Obviously he does, indeed, understand that remark. "Hello," he says to Serendipity, as he gathers food for himself. "Are you new in town?"
Leafcutter drifts off towards the pasta, stands on her toes so she can get a proper look at the bowl. Curious, she tilts her head.
Dali frees her hand from her plate long enough to shake Sean's firmly. "Dali Hunter," she says. Then Serendipity gets a look. "Oh, come on in," she says, tossing her head toward the interior. "The water's *fine*."
Sean smiles a hello at Serendipity. "Mr. Jones, verra good to see ye again. How've things been?"
"Damn straight it is," Serendipity replies without hesitation, the grin still firmly in place as he looks Dali over slightly more thoroughly. He returns Rahne's greeting with an entirely unselfconscious wink, and inclines about a quarter of a bow toward Sean. "Good t'see you too, and things've been moderately neato, thanks for asking. You?" he asks, and immediately turns his attention to Justin, giving him the same look Dali was favoured with. "...Pretty new, as people in town go. Serendipity Jones, at your service," he answers, and this time the bow is not merely full but flamboyant.
Leafcutter leans to sniff at the pasta, looks from Sean to Dali, then with some care gathers some into a bowl. She promptly draws it up to her mouth and chomps at the noodles and veggies.
Justin's eyebrows go up in amusement. "Justin, at yours, good sir. What brings you to our fair town?" Pasta and implements suitably collected, he sits down at a table to eat.
"I do not believe we have met," says Miki, setting his plate down and moving around the counter cautiously. "I am Majlath de Holtsapadtbolyh Miklos, although most people call me Miki." He offers the stranger a small bow on his own behalf, not nearly as flamboyant.
Rahne busies herself with food for a bit, slurping a little without too much care for table manners beyond keeping her meal confined to the plate and her mouth. She does, however, keep avid tabs on the exchanges taking place, listening to names and observing people for now.
Leafcutter squints at the pasta, gathers some up with her fingers and nibbles at it, pads along the cold floor to settle down near Dali.
Sean watches the various bows with amusement. "Not bad at all," he tells Serendipity. "There's a comforting lack of colds and flus thus far. However, a bit more arthritis than I'd hoped. New England wint's a bit hard on the joints." He takes a few bites from his pasta and chases it with more juice.
"Serendipity Jones," Dali says, rolling the name in her mouth appreciatively. "Now there's a name with character." She hooks a chair with one foot and half turns it, half pushes it out toward the newcomer. "Have some dinner?" She considers a moment. "Bit late for dinner," she concedes, "but where there's food, there's appetite."
Leafcutter sets herself on a chair near Dali, sits crosslegged on it with her pasta bowl in her lap. She picks at the vegetables, eats them individually, a neat counter to the way she eats the pasta, slurps, then rubs her nose.
"A large white horse with a definite disrespect for authority," Serendipity replies, and then gives Miklos the thorough look. Extra thorough, actually. "Pleased to meet you, Miki. Don't mind if I call you Miki, I hope? You can call me anytime. Did I say 'anytime'? I mean, Ren." Blinding grin, as he steps around the counter to serve himself up a healthy plate of the food, neatly out of fist range, though surely that's coincidental. He salutes Sean on his way back to the table, and slides into the seat Dali offered, dropping the plate gently onto the table. "...so what can I call you, love?"
Justin's amused look grows, as he glances at Miki, and then at Dali. He eats his pasta with the air of a spectator at a particularly good joust.
Dali gives Serendipity what can only be described as an old look. "Well, my name's Dali Hunter. I 'spect you'll make free with what you ackshally call me, if your intro's any example. You got business here...Dippy?"
Leafcutter looks about over her shoulder at Miklos and Justin, then back at Dali, at Serendipity. Gold eyes set on the fellow, then drift to Dali. It's hard to say what she understands, of anything, but she makes a small sound, almost a giggle. And, pasta finished, she finds four legs, fur and tail, curls up under Dali's chair. She doesn't really fit there.
Miki raises an eyebrow at Serendipity as he fetches his plate and goes to sit at the table with Justin. He may not have understood the remark about the water, but this he knows about. "Anytime is an odd name," he says gravely, his eyes sparking mischief. "Ren is simpler, much easier to pronounce."
Sean watches Dali and Serendipity, amusement dancing in his eyes. He continues eating his dinner, waiting to see who will be the final victor.
Serendipity arches a mirroring eyebrow at Miki, and the smile goes more openly mischievous in return. "Feels good on the tongue, too," he agrees, and relaxes comfortably into his chair, pointing to Dali with a forkful of pasta as he adds musingly, "You should try it. You might like it."
"I'm picky about what I put in my mouth," Dali says drily. "Where's your disrespectful horse at the moment, Mr. Jones?"
The front door opens and Bryce steps inside, letting cold air in with him. He's got a packet snowball in his hands and is taking a moment to look for someone to throw it at. Seeing Dali in conversation with a stranger, however, he sighs and tosses the snowball back outside and closes the door.
Leafcutter settles her muzzle down on her forelegs and closes her eyes, drifts off to swift slumber.
Miki raises both eyebrows at Serendipity's comment, and does not quite suppress a grin. He puts his head on one side mock-inquiringly and says, apparently to his plate of pasta, "A good enough reason for a name, I think. But it is very not formal, I think I will have to use your long name until I know you better." Then he gives Justin a conspiritorial grin, and begins to fork up pasta from his plate.
Justin grins back at Miki, plainly pleased with all the world tonight. He flashes the grin at Bryce, too, and raises a hand in greeting. "Hey, Bryce!"
Sean glances at the new arrival to the Diner, then back at Serendipity. "Are ye stayin' on the Farm then, Mr. Jones?"
Serendipity eats the forkful of pasta, and essays to look despondent at Miki, the first sign that the smile can ever be evicted. "Does that mean I'll have to call you Majlath de Holtsapadtbolyh Miklos?" he inquires plaintively, eyes surprisingly wide and -- if the adjective doesn't create a world-ending paradox -- innocent. Awww. Lashbat. The grin creeps back into place as he leans into his chair again, and answers Dali with a vague gesture in no particular direction. "Oh, out there somewhere. Prolly that way, 'less the guy who wanted him back finally caught him," he decides, unconcerned, and munches another bite. At least he doesn't talk with his mouth full; Sean's question just gets a nod for the time being.
Bryce waves cheerfully at Justin and heads for the communal food. He makes himself a plate while throwing the occassional curious glance at the stranger. He seems to be waiting for a lull in the conversation to introduce himself. Or maybe he's just more concerned with stuffing his face, which he proceeds to do once he sits down at Justin's table.
Miklos blinks, then blinks again at the sheer effrontery of an English-speaking someone pronouncing his name correctly on the first try. "Do you speak magyarul?" he asks, clearly rather broadsided. "Or have you heard my name before?" His face indicates that he doesn't seem to think that either one is likely... well, possibly the former, given recent events.
Justin also blinks at Serendipity, glancing at Miki for confirmation that, yes, that was just Miki's full name that came correctly out of the stranger's mouth. He looks back at Serendipity for the answer to Miki's question.
Dali scoops up another mouthful of pasta, and winks at Bryce. Or maybe something just got in her eye.
Miki gives Justin a quick glance, eyes wide. His surprise seems to indicate that the answer to Justin's wordless question is yes.
Serendipity grins cheekily, apparently enjoying the reactions. "Not as such. I've just got a gift with tongues," he drawls in explanation, and takes another lesiurely bite, glancing over to Bryce, and regarding him curiously. Thorough look, but a different quality in it -- more serious. It passes quickly.
"You certainly talk about them often enough," Dali murmurs.
"I'll bet ye do," Sean tells Serendipity with a gleam in his eye.
Bryce gives Dali a mischievous look when she winks at him, then returns his attention to the stranger. "My name's Bryce," he says. "I fell out of the sky a couple months ago."
Miki raises one eyebrow again and murmurs something in Hungarian, then shakes his head with a smile and looks back at Justin.
You paged Miklos with 'I don't have the book handy so I'm not going to roll -- better for scene if I do or don't understand the Hungarian there? :)'.
Miklos pages: Roll? What?
Miklos pages: You have a translation spell!
Long distance to Miklos: Serendipity's comment about having a gift for tongues? No, really, I have a Gift for Tongues. ;)
Miklos pages: You cunning person. Sure, you can understand it if you like. Um, let me try to remember what it WAS...
From afar, Miklos blushes. Okay, it was "A gift with tongues, that sounds very *useful.*"
Miklos pages: It will, at least, generate roleplay.
Long distance to Miklos: Serendipity laughs! :) Thanks.
Justin eyes Serendipity with more interest, now, a professional sort of measuring. He's done eating now, though, and takes his plate into the kitchen to wash it.
"...fun, too," Serendipity remarks agreeably to Miki, the eyebrow arching again to match the grin, which finds its way to Sean without fading. "Hey, if the bear doesn't mind," he replies lightly, before eyeing Bryce thoughtfully again. "Really? I fell off a horse. Well. Jumped. It sounds more swashbuckling. ...any chance we're related? You look kinda like my cousin."
Miki's jaw drops open briefly and a very faint bit of extra color appears, high on his cheekbones. Then he shuts his mouth with a snap and applies himself to his food.
Sean grins slyly at Serendipity, but turns and raises his eyebrows at Bryce. "Didye then? Well I must say ye certainly look quite well for such an adventure." He offers his hand to the young man with a grin. "Sean Bremerton."
Bryce shakes his head at Ren, grinning widely. "Probably not. They grew me in a lab," he says like it was nothing. He hops up to shake Sean's hand firmly. "Justin caught me before I hit the water. Lucky thing too, since I like my bones the way they are, and not jellied."
Dali's head lifts sharply and she gives Bryce a wide-eyed look in which surprise and pleasure are equally evident. Slowly, she grins, and gives the boy a 'thumb's up' from behind Serendipity's head before going back to the remains of her meal.
"You never get tired of telling that story, do you," Justin says, coming out of the kitchen, grinning with fond chagrin at Bryce.
Miki's blush distracts Ren a moment, but then he goes back to studying Bryce, brow slightly furrowed. "....You fell outta the sky, survived, and say you got made in a lab... you =sure= you're not a cousin?" he inquires, sounding still a little hopeful.
Miki picks up his plate and brushes by Justin on his way to the kitchen to wash it.
"Grew ye in a lab?" Sean rubs his chin and looks at Bryce with new consideration. "I dinna think I've heard of the likes a' that since I finished medical school."
Bryce sits back down and devours another large mouthful of pasta, throwing a wink to Dali. He's polite though, for a teenager, and chews and swallows before answering. "I'm pretty sure I'm not your cousin, yeah," he tells Ren, then answers Sean. "My grandpa and his crew are all very talented techno-mages," he explains.
Miki returns to the doorway of the kitchen to dry his plate, plainly fascinated by Bryce's story. He darts a mock-suspicious glance at Serendipity as well, though.
Justin slips an arm around Miki's waist to give him a one-sided squeeze and a smile.
Dali finishes eating and licks her plte unself-consciously.
Serendipity wrinkles his nose, looking briefly disappointed. "Damn. Prolly not, then. Oh well." He pauses, and glances around speculatively. "...I'm very disappointed. Someone should console me," he remarks rather matter-of-factly, and glances around with his best cute and beseeching look. Justin and Miki's little embrace doesn't seem to exclude them from the suggestion, but Dali's plate-washing technique suddenly looks like it might be distracting enough to do the job itself.
Miki smiles up at Justin, openly pleased at the hug.
Sean sits up, the last of his dinner forgotten in light of Bryce's very interesting revelations. "Techno-mages, that I *know* I've never run across. I suppose if you fell from the sky they're not around these parts." His tone invites further exposition, as does the expression on his face.
Bryce gives Ren an odd look, then glances at Justin as if to say, 'Is this guy for real?'. He shakes his head at Sean. "No, they're back in Colorado. They tell me it was a Lilith Moon Bridge that brought me here. Some kind of spacial distortion or folding, I guess. No one's really been able to figure out exactly why I was brought here, but I've done some good while I was."
Dali sets the plate down on the table beside her, puts her arms over her head and streeeeeeetcches, leaning first to one side and then the other. She drops her arms, leans back, and tilts her head to one side until it cracks. "That was good," she tells Sean.
"Why should there be a why?" asks Miki, his clean plate dangling forgotten from one hand. "Can you not have come here by, by accident? Or is it the Mountain again?"
Justin takes Miki's plate and vanishes momentarily back into the kitchen to put it wherever good clean plates go. Reemerging, he tells Ren dryly, "It will have to be someone other than me, for I am going to bed." He glances at Miki, asking him lowly, "Like to spend the night, or?"
Miki turns a smile on Justin, his eyes slanting up at the corners. "Or what? To walk the many miles home in the snow? I am not as... warm as I was." He leans a little closer to Justin and murmurs something to him.
"Moran taing, Miss Dali. Always glad to cook if there's a kitchen about." Sean's attention turns back to to Bryce, and he smiles and half-shrugs in agreement with Miklos. "The why of things is often a lot harder to figure out than just the facts. I imagine the townsfolk are plenty glad ta have ye around, regardless of why."
"Yes, it was," Ren murmurs, admiring the stretch, and he slips out of his chair, picking up Dali's plate as well as his own to take it back to the kitchen. He replies to Justin with a grin, wicked again, "...Not seeing where the problem is, there." The dishes find the sink, as they should.
"I dunno," Bryce replies to Miki. "But I got the impression that Lilith caused the moon bridge, and I just don't think an entity like that does something without a reason." He shoots a grin over towards Sean. "I haven't heard anybody complain about me yet. Well, except Rex. But that was when I was trying to be a secret-shifter."
Miki eyes Ren with wry amusement. "Boldness."
Justin blushes, but it seems to be because of whatever Miki whispered to him--although the timing is rather well to go along with Ren's comment. He kisses Miki briefly, shoots an amused, wry glance at Ren, and starts towards the door. "Goodnight, folks." His staff skips into his hand as he passes where it leans against the wall.
Dali eyes Bryce reminiscently. "Idiots."
Miki follows Justin out the door.
"A secret shifter?" Sean asks, giving Bryce an odd look. "Yer a shifter then?" He tears himself away from his interrogation of Bryce long enough to wave a goodnight to Miklos and Justin.
Serendipity, on the other hand, tears himself away from Justin and Miklos to look at Bryce again. "What kinda shifter?" he asks, leaning on the back of the chair he'd been sitting in before.
Dali props her elbow on her knees and her chin on her fist, watching Bryce. "Only the best," she murmurs, with a grin half covered by her hand.
Bryce nods at Sean and Ren. "Felis concolor is the DNA they used. They didn't /really/ grow me in a vat. I was born human, but they changed me." He looks somewhat wary now, though he tries to keep up the cheerful, light demeanor. He looks back and forth between Sean and Ren as if waiting for them to rebuke his claim.
Dali expression stills. Though nothing obvious changes in her face or her posture, a lot of the sparkle slips away at Bryce's response. She exhales softly, and climbs down from the table. "Age'f miracles and no mistake," she says, probably to herself.
Serendipity considers this a moment. The wheels in the head go round and round. "...I didn't know they could do that," he comments, drumming his fingers lightly on the chair back. It must be an engrossing thought; he hardly even watches Dali climb down.
"Concolor--lion of some sort?" Sean asks absently, trying to remember the name from his distant school years. "So they made you using human and animal DNA. Interestin', I've read a number of papers on the biology methods from before the Oidhche Fada--they cloned a lot of things back then. This sounds like a bit a' that."
Dali starts to push her chair in, then realizes there is a sleeping wolf beneath it. She grins down at the cub, some of her humor restored. "Night, folks," she says to the room in general. "Nice meetin' you, Sean...'Dippy..." She heads for the door without haste.
Bryce doesn't miss the hint of disappointment in Dali's body language, and his own cheer ebbs because of it. "Night, Dali," he says, humor much diminished. He watches her go and doesn't bother to respond to Sean or Ren.
"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Dali Hunter," Ren purrs in reply, ignoring the unflattering nickname. For now. "Dream sweet." He watches a moment, and takes a couple steps around the table to lean casually against the edge of it near Sean.
"Oidhche Mhath, Miss Dali." Sean nods a farewell to her as she goes, then looks back at Bryce. "Is something wrong, Bryce?" He glances up at Ren, favoring the other man with an amused smile before focusing on the last of his pasta.
Bryce gets up and moves towards the kitchen, plate in hand. "Uh, no, not really," he lies. Sounds of washing up are heard from the kitchen.
Serendipity grins back, getting into a comfortable lean, and absently steals a noodle from Sean's plate, a rather deft two-fingered theft he doesn't try to hide. "Sure?" he inquires, not overly concerned.
Sean seems only a little more concerned than Ren; enough to listen for Bryce's response but not enough to pry. He finishes off the last of his juice and watches Ren's noodle thievery out of the corner of his eye.
Bryce, in typical Angsty Teenager fashion, doesn't answer the inquiries of the people asking after him and just leaves by the back door.
The sound of the door closing behind Bryce resounds through the room, and Ren pauses a moment, then shrugs, idly stealing another noodle. "...that one's gotta cheer up," he decides, shifting his lean slightly -- it starts to resemble a perch.
Sean sighs at Bryce's departure. "He certainly does." He glances up at Ren and observes, "Well, my friend, I believe that leaves the two of us to put away what's left, with our questions not all answered."
Serendipity nods, half-smiling. "Alas. But we can ask again later, and hey, if you need me to lend a hand, I'm up for it." He drops his weight onto his feet again, standing, and his hand snakes in to snag Sean's plate, food finished or not.
"Help would be most appreciated in the kitchen then, Mr. Jones," Sean says with a grin. He slowly gets up from his chair and takes his now-empty juice bottle with him, pausing at the counter to collect the platter with its small handful of leftovers.
"Kinky," Serendipity replies cheerfully, gathering what remains on the table and carrying it in toward the sink. "...and c'mon, call me Ren. Don't need to stand on ceremony or anything."
"Fair enough, Ren" Sean says, rolling the r under his accent a little more than completely necessary. "After that, it's back to the Farm for me." He sets to washing the dishes, scrubbing them thoroughly in a manner that most shrewd mother-in-laws would approve of.
Serendipity hums to himself quietly, finding a towel for drying the dishes, and promptly abandoning it on his side of the sink in favour of pushing his sleeves up to his elbows -- which only makes them look longer, somehow -- and reaching in to help with the actual scrubbing for a bit. Collisions are no big deal, right? "Me too. Might hafta start looking for somewhere else to crash, eventually, if I'm gonna stay a while."
Sean nods. "Might not be a bad idea, that. There're a few unused buildings, or so I hear tell, and there's always the folks who take boarders if the Farm's a bit too much of a farm for ye."
Serendipity mmms, and nods. "I'll find somethin'. It's not that I don't like the Farm.. I just don't like spending too many nights in the same bed." The grin's back; he nudges Sean with his shoulder, and shakes his hands dry, starting to use the towel on clean china.
Sean ahs softly. "I see, in that case, there's probably plenty to choose from around here, come to it." He gives Ren an appraising look and takes up a drying towel of his own, putting the dishes away as he wipes them off.
Serendipity just dries for a bit, waiting to see where the dishes go before he starts helping to put them in their places. He returns the look, sidelong, and is actually silent a minute or so. "Tried sleeping in the loft the other night," he remarks, then.
The last of the dishes put away, Sean rinses his hands one final time with a practiced motion and sets the towel out to dry. "Oh, didja? And did that work out at all?" He heads back to the front room to fetch his cloak and satchel.
Serendipity sets the other towel out, pushes his sleeves back down, and strolls after Sean, hands in his pockets. "Wasn't bad at all. Straw's pretty soft, nice view of the stars through the window up there... you ever slept there?" he inquires.
"That I havena. D'ya recommend it?" Sean raises his eyebrows at Ren as he slips on his cloak and hefts his satchel, and smiles at him unabashedly.
Serendipity grins back and tilts his head slightly, arching a brow in return. "Oh, yeah," he affirms lightly, "...bet it'll be nice t'night, too. Wanna come try it out?"
"Seein' as my own accomodations are not exactly luxurious, I'm more than happy to give it a go." Sean grins and holds open the door for Ren, gesturing for him to lead the way.
Serendipity grins broader, and gives the ghost of a bow, leading the way out the door with another sidelong look. It's not as if Sean doesn't know how to get to the farm, but Ren takes his way-leading duties half-seriously, exaggerating it a bit.
Sean allows the door to shut behind him, leaving the Diner empty after the impromptu gathering filled it with so many people earlier. He trails slightly behind Ren, his steps still energetic despite the late hour, as they make their way back to New Moon Farm.