[ He watches the shift in her attention. Had been, in fact, watching for it, because it's always good to know about the interworkings of animal and human natures. Additionally, he would have been put out at the loss of one of his tools. But no, Dinah does not crunch it out of the air, thankfully. ]
No? [ Brandon echoes, now more in the pleasant manner he used with Qetzi. Not too much; he doesn't want to emphasize his prey-like qualities, as he guesses they are obvious enough already. ] Well, I'm hoping to avoid being injured or harassed while here. Except, naturally, should Master Morrison wish it.
[ He doesn't think Dinah would have any objection to the usage of that particular honorific, but he watches all the same while they wait. ]
[ Ah, that is much more likely. Straight forward, she appreciates that. She eases off of him with a much more human looking smile, a little curve to her lips. ]
Well, [ She parrots that part back at him, ] I do not make promises.
[ With each moment that passes here before his childlike stare, the rough outlines of how he should act assemble themselves into place. Little tweaks here and there. Straightforwardness does seem more rewarding. He'll drop more of the language construction he uses for Haran and Qetzi'ah. It isn't the constructions themselves that present either obstacle or attractiveness, not to someone like Dinah, but what they represent to himself, which is artifice. The self he makes for her should lack as much of that as possible.
He keeps all his attention on her, though he's careful about too much eye contact. Animals don't always like that, is his impression. There are ways to naturally divert it, though, and he does so now, glancing around, making sure to note the outer structure of the House above the steps, how far the roof is, what kinds of shutters the windows have. ]
Qetzi'ah tells me you are the leader, though. The only one I should appease.
[ Some delicate creativity with her actual words, there. Need to appease versus should, and Qetzi'ah quite noticeably only said they had their own rules. ]
[ Dinah is not skilled enough in artifice to notice what he does. It makes no real impact upon her, he seems the same flighty little stranger that he had when he first appeared before her. A flighty little stranger that Haran and the witch are entertaining... ]
You listen to what witches have to say?
[ And this little query is her own sense of amusement. ]
[ He couldn't stop doing it if he tried, such as in this perhaps pointless flattery.
The sound of the approaching deer, pulled against their will by both of his messengers, is too faint for his human senses. It's them he feels, and turns his head in that direction. It'll be a minute or two more before the herd comes stumbling to the house, froth on their snouts and eyes wide. ]
[ She inhales noisily, not even bothering to hide the utterly inhuman gesture. The waft of the herd is growing stronger, especially in their state of distress, hides soaked in anxiety. She licks her lips, thoughts leaving her for a moment. But then she looks back at Brandon.
She is not one who uses words to convey herself. Hyenas used teeth and deep braying laughter, harassment and abuse and dominance. ]
I am the leader.
[ But there is nothing that appeases anything upon this Hill. ]
[ He watches her openly, not flinching away when she turns her attention back to him for the moment. The straightforward, forthright self, so that there will be as little chance as possible of ever annoying her. ]
Then these are for you.
[ The two winged things shoot ahead of the deer, and in the seconds before they return to Brandon's hands, it might be clear that though they are bird-sized (a crow, maybe), they are not birds; they seem to be nothing but wings.
The deer are likely of more pressing interest. Six of them, and staggering at the front, too winded to make any sounds of complaint, a ten point buck. ]
[ She doesn't hide her hunger, her lips parted, licking at them to keep the saliva in her mouth. When she has regained herself, she turns her head towards the House and makes an ugly inhuman noise: a high pitched squealing laugh that she repeats several times until the others begin to filter out the doorway... ]
[ There are twelve of them in all, including Dinah. Only three of the males are as large as she, the others are half their height, half their weight, scrawny and feral eyed. They come out the door in a procession, some looking still half-asleep and others utterly alert to Dinah's voice. Some of them fixate on the deer immediately, others stare deeply at Brandon with suspicion.
A tiny girl with long blonde hair and terrifyingly large blue eyes is especially intent upon the magus. Her stare is maddeningly intent.
When all of the hyenas have assembled, Dinah looks to Brandon and commands him, ]
[ The careful two, three steps he takes back from Dinah when she begins to call the others is deliberate, not overly fearful. It would be a lie to claim his heart isn't going faster, however, and his stomach tight, or that he has to struggle to control his breathing. In and out, measured, fingers curling around his bundles of feathers to lessen any obvious trembling.
Brandon's gaze moves from Dinah to the others who have filed out, meeting the eyes of any who stare at him, and lingering last on the small girl before his attention is called away. He gives Dinah a swift nod, and just like that, whatever spell brought the deer to grounds they would never have strayed within twenty miles of on their own is gone: there's a small explosion of suddenly accelerating deer, dirt and leaves kicking up beneath their hooves as they take to mad flight, barely able to stick together in their panic.
He hopes they all go, for even the scrawniest of them is clearly a menace. Haran may wish him only still alive, and not necessarily unhurt, or any number of other potential unpleasant things. ]
[ Too much to hope for. There are exactly two blondes in the group, both of them are small and skeletal, looking malnourished and terrifying with their large blue eyes. They look nothing like a Morrison should. Aberrant, bearing the markings of another witch: the mad woman who had given birth to jackal Anubis.
The male stands behind his sister, clutching at her clothing with a deep and ferocious mistrust. It is clear he would jump at the magus if it were needed, it is even more clear that the female does not require his protection.
Hekate comes a little closer to Brendan, eyes heavy lidded and bored. And then she smiles, a relaxed expression that looks quite human. ]
Hello there.
[ Her voice has a pleasant gravel to it, and she does not press upon his space and sniff at him the way that Dinah had. This one seems to have a better understanding of human motions. ]
I'm Hekate [ Queen of magic with many faces. ] and this is Ivor.
[ His gaze darts here and there, tracking those who go, and returning like one of his feathery messengers to the two that remain. As they approach, he slides one shoe along the ground so that the carved sole leaves a strange mark on the path and he stands with his feet at shoulder width. A small and deliberate gesture that seems to encourage him to stay where he is rather than retreat further. A single mark won't protect him; it merely grounds the warding running through his coat lining, which in turn can only buy him time in the event of an attack. Best of all, obviously, would simply not to be attacked in the first place.
With that in mind, the incline of the head he gives to the pair is not that different from the one with which he took leave from Qetzi'ah, but imbued with more politeness than the uncomfortable weight of significance that deforms Qetzi's place in the House. This one pretends that all positions are clear, that everything is as it should be. It projects that he will be fine, that he temporarily belongs here. All notions and ideas that would most likely only amuse Dinah, if they made any impact at all. ]
Greetings, Hekate. Ivor. [ He stares guilelessly at Hekate, barely glancing at the man lurking behind her. Men are not masters in this house, Qetzi'ah said, and hyenas are matriarchal. ] A pleasure to meet you. I'm Brandon, Master Morrison's guest.
[ Which hardly needed to be said, but Hekate seems like she might tolerate human frivolities of speech. ]
[ None of the others remain, they leave behind them only kicked up dust and the smell of animals. It is almost more dangerous that they can no longer be seen amongst the trees.... Perhaps it would be wise to be inside the House before they return, giddy with gore. ]
[ Hekate crosses her arms across her chest, her smile quirking sideways in dull amusement. ]
Haran.
[ She dislikes referring to him as 'Master' herself, although not nearly so violently as Qetzi does. He does not rule her, in her mind, and apparently neither does Dinah. Neither she nor Ivor had hesitated even a little in rejecting the call of hunt. It would be wrong to call them uninterested in the meat, but... not beholden to it.
Hekate's eyes lower to the mark he's made in their dirt. She does not seem perturbed by it... Despite her name she does not work magicks well, it was not a skill they were trained in. They were lesser Morrisons, and they relied on different skills.
She shrugs off Ivor's clinging hands in the fabric of her worn shirt, beginning to circle the guest. It lacks the basic animal threat, as she stares upward at the reaching brambles of the forest overhead rather than at Brandon. ]
[ Of all of them, he does wonder that these two starved-looking waifs aren't the hungriest for the deer he brought, and in the back of his mind, he turns Hekate's very different mannerisms over and over without deep thought, the way he might with an old coin. He glances once to the side to follow Hekate's progress around him, then back to Ivor.
When he answers her, his voice is obscurely gentle, some odd inflection in it, aimed entirely at the male hyena. He hadn't dared try this on Dinah, and it doesn't seem any wiser to try it on Hekate. Yet he must start experimenting somewhere, and if he can see what effect his attempt to soothe Ivor has, that seems like the least dangerous option. It is a simple thing, an insinuating calmness, an effort to mitigate the aggression that awaits outlet before it finds any such excuse. ]
I'm from England. Wales, before that. I've come a long, long way.
[ Unnecessary words, simplistic construction, the tiniest bit of repetition, all subtle reinforcements of what he's trying to do. ]
[ Ivor is not as animated as his sister, and it is somewhat difficult to even tell whether he has such easy mannerisms as her, because he remains silent. When she had shrugged off his touch he had put his hands amiably into his pockets. His expression has not changed from the same heavy-browed and frowning distrust throughout all of this.
Even as Brandon's soothing voice touches his ears, the expression itself doesn't change, he gives what looks to be a confused or perhaps agitated little toss of his head, but stares so intently at Hekate as she walks circles around Brandon: an orbit that eventually brings her circling close to her brother again. ]
[ They are two pieces of a whole, these two. And the unspoken energy of Hekate's circuit is like a piece of silk, tied from brother to sister and winding around Brandon with its curiosity, soft and subtle and unrestrictive, but in a way it deflects Brandon's attentions: Ivor's moods and thoughts are Hekate's. Hekate's moods and thoughts are Ivor's. Like a maze of mirrors that only they truly know how to navigate.
Hekate hears the soothing tone of Brandon's voice, and rather than toss in uncertainty of what it implies, finds it somewhat pleasant and tilts her head to listen to it more closely. Her eyes fail to betray anything from beneath their heavy lids. ]
A long way, yes. [ she replies thoughtfully. ] We do not cross water.
[ While conversational, she is not verbose and always cryptic, at best. ]
[ That the first explicit exercise of power on the Morrison lands does not provoke hostility is a relief, and worth the danger to find out, he decides. The other signs are too ambiguous for him to intuit, though he simply supposes it isn't really working — not an uncommon result with normal people, let alone ... well, what would he call them? Creatures?
The conversation, such as it is, is quieter than he expected, or perhaps it's the comparative quiet of the surrounding woods that he's noticing. He's not sure how long the hyenas will take to catch the deer, and how long they will eat. He should remain alert, which is difficult in the face of Hekate's enigmatic presence. Brandon has trained so long and hard at pleasing people that it demands his attention. He keeps the vein of lassitude in his voice, no longer aiming it so much as attempting to maintain the calm mood. ]
[ With caution, Brandon tucks one of the messengers into his sleeve, leaving the other free to bet pet slowly. They are indifferent to such physical shows of affection, so it's merely like his verbal reinforcement of before. He would never dream of trying to pet actual hyenas, let alone hyenas in a humanoid form. The relaxed rhythm of his hand against their feathers is a mild projection. ]
You must be important to him.
[ Not an actual hypothesis of his. Her reaction, or Ivor's, to that statement might be informative, however. ]
[ He likes the look of Brandon's pet, the slow stroking motions. It leaves him discontent to remain where he is, and he crosses the gap between them to be back at Hekate's side. She wraps her arm around his shoulders without bothering to look down into his face. They are both an odd little paradox of weakness and will. Hekate's unbreakable belief in herself, bolstered by Ivor's unending devotion to her. She refuses to succumb to the clan, to the witches, to the House, the only place she will accept is at the crown.
And that is what makes her what she is: ]
We are Morrisons.
[ Ivor has a hoarse voice, dry and disused and tight. ]
[ Hekate's expression shows pleasure to hear Ivor assert himself, he was small and adoring, but she would not have kept him as her own if he could not show his teeth. In her youth, she had been forced to make up for her lack of size with her viciousness. All those years the two of them spent off the Hill have made them both smarter and wiser, above their animal beginnings. ]
[ The feathers shift under the pressure of his fingers, ruffle a little, settle again as he scratches. His eyes move between Ivor and Hekate, expression placid as he thinks. Haran evidently only counts Qetzi'ah and Tavor as his cousins; Qetzi'ah herself evinced little interest in the hyena's affairs. But here, as everywhere, there are gradations of power within every rank, hierarchies inside hierarchies.
He offers no dispute to Hekate's statement, which might make the purpose of his own preceding one obvious. ]
I came to give gifts to the Morrisons. I see that deer aren't to your liking.
[ Is it telling of him, to take on the additional burden of another gift when it is to two who appear weak and unregarded, but also different and clever? Will the others notice, would Dinah take offense? So it's not an outright offer, and echoes Hekate's oblique conversational tendencies. ]
[ Hekate raises an eyebrow, gauging him. Unlike Dinah, she sees and understands perfectly well what such a gift represents, and may just be interested in the bargain... If he can be useful to her. ]
When the House was full, there was trade from other lands.
[ Plucking up the thread from earlier, how he has come from far, far away. ]
[ This time, the lowered gaze comes with a hint of smile so that the show of humbleness is acknowledged as such, unlike his posturing toward Haran and Qetzi'ah. Thus he positions himself like them, nominally answerable to others above him, and like them, not as subservient as the position might call for. Brandon takes one step forward as well, leaving behind his mark in the path, but halting politely should Hekate and Ivor not wish him to draw close. He offers them the gently fidgeting bundle of feathers in his hands, seemingly to at least touch, perhaps to pet like he did if they wished.
There's no head, no easily discernible body shape. Just wings folded in complicated arrangements, some tucked tight, others twitching, one or two extending in a stretch. There is a seed of something dead buried deep inside, but still living flesh also, strange configurations of honeycomb-hollowed bone and small mechanisms. ]
Your feet don't have to leave the dirt, if you'd like to see other lands again.
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No? [ Brandon echoes, now more in the pleasant manner he used with Qetzi. Not too much; he doesn't want to emphasize his prey-like qualities, as he guesses they are obvious enough already. ] Well, I'm hoping to avoid being injured or harassed while here. Except, naturally, should Master Morrison wish it.
[ He doesn't think Dinah would have any objection to the usage of that particular honorific, but he watches all the same while they wait. ]
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Well, [ She parrots that part back at him, ] I do not make promises.
[ Only threats. ]
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He keeps all his attention on her, though he's careful about too much eye contact. Animals don't always like that, is his impression. There are ways to naturally divert it, though, and he does so now, glancing around, making sure to note the outer structure of the House above the steps, how far the roof is, what kinds of shutters the windows have. ]
Qetzi'ah tells me you are the leader, though. The only one I should appease.
[ Some delicate creativity with her actual words, there. Need to appease versus should, and Qetzi'ah quite noticeably only said they had their own rules. ]
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You listen to what witches have to say?
[ And this little query is her own sense of amusement. ]
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[ He couldn't stop doing it if he tried, such as in this perhaps pointless flattery.
The sound of the approaching deer, pulled against their will by both of his messengers, is too faint for his human senses. It's them he feels, and turns his head in that direction. It'll be a minute or two more before the herd comes stumbling to the house, froth on their snouts and eyes wide. ]
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She is not one who uses words to convey herself. Hyenas used teeth and deep braying laughter, harassment and abuse and dominance. ]
I am the leader.
[ But there is nothing that appeases anything upon this Hill. ]
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Then these are for you.
[ The two winged things shoot ahead of the deer, and in the seconds before they return to Brandon's hands, it might be clear that though they are bird-sized (a crow, maybe), they are not birds; they seem to be nothing but wings.
The deer are likely of more pressing interest. Six of them, and staggering at the front, too winded to make any sounds of complaint, a ten point buck. ]
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A tiny girl with long blonde hair and terrifyingly large blue eyes is especially intent upon the magus. Her stare is maddeningly intent.
When all of the hyenas have assembled, Dinah looks to Brandon and commands him, ]
Disperse them.
[ The clan is going hunting. ]
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Brandon's gaze moves from Dinah to the others who have filed out, meeting the eyes of any who stare at him, and lingering last on the small girl before his attention is called away. He gives Dinah a swift nod, and just like that, whatever spell brought the deer to grounds they would never have strayed within twenty miles of on their own is gone: there's a small explosion of suddenly accelerating deer, dirt and leaves kicking up beneath their hooves as they take to mad flight, barely able to stick together in their panic.
He hopes they all go, for even the scrawniest of them is clearly a menace. Haran may wish him only still alive, and not necessarily unhurt, or any number of other potential unpleasant things. ]
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The male stands behind his sister, clutching at her clothing with a deep and ferocious mistrust. It is clear he would jump at the magus if it were needed, it is even more clear that the female does not require his protection.
Hekate comes a little closer to Brendan, eyes heavy lidded and bored. And then she smiles, a relaxed expression that looks quite human. ]
Hello there.
[ Her voice has a pleasant gravel to it, and she does not press upon his space and sniff at him the way that Dinah had. This one seems to have a better understanding of human motions. ]
I'm Hekate [ Queen of magic with many faces. ] and this is Ivor.
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With that in mind, the incline of the head he gives to the pair is not that different from the one with which he took leave from Qetzi'ah, but imbued with more politeness than the uncomfortable weight of significance that deforms Qetzi's place in the House. This one pretends that all positions are clear, that everything is as it should be. It projects that he will be fine, that he temporarily belongs here. All notions and ideas that would most likely only amuse Dinah, if they made any impact at all. ]
Greetings, Hekate. Ivor. [ He stares guilelessly at Hekate, barely glancing at the man lurking behind her. Men are not masters in this house, Qetzi'ah said, and hyenas are matriarchal. ] A pleasure to meet you. I'm Brandon, Master Morrison's guest.
[ Which hardly needed to be said, but Hekate seems like she might tolerate human frivolities of speech. ]
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Haran.
[ She dislikes referring to him as 'Master' herself, although not nearly so violently as Qetzi does. He does not rule her, in her mind, and apparently neither does Dinah. Neither she nor Ivor had hesitated even a little in rejecting the call of hunt. It would be wrong to call them uninterested in the meat, but... not beholden to it.
Hekate's eyes lower to the mark he's made in their dirt. She does not seem perturbed by it... Despite her name she does not work magicks well, it was not a skill they were trained in. They were lesser Morrisons, and they relied on different skills.
She shrugs off Ivor's clinging hands in the fabric of her worn shirt, beginning to circle the guest. It lacks the basic animal threat, as she stares upward at the reaching brambles of the forest overhead rather than at Brandon. ]
Where do you come from, Brandon?
[ She draws out his name, as if tasting it. ]
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[ Of all of them, he does wonder that these two starved-looking waifs aren't the hungriest for the deer he brought, and in the back of his mind, he turns Hekate's very different mannerisms over and over without deep thought, the way he might with an old coin. He glances once to the side to follow Hekate's progress around him, then back to Ivor.
When he answers her, his voice is obscurely gentle, some odd inflection in it, aimed entirely at the male hyena. He hadn't dared try this on Dinah, and it doesn't seem any wiser to try it on Hekate. Yet he must start experimenting somewhere, and if he can see what effect his attempt to soothe Ivor has, that seems like the least dangerous option. It is a simple thing, an insinuating calmness, an effort to mitigate the aggression that awaits outlet before it finds any such excuse. ]
I'm from England. Wales, before that. I've come a long, long way.
[ Unnecessary words, simplistic construction, the tiniest bit of repetition, all subtle reinforcements of what he's trying to do. ]
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Even as Brandon's soothing voice touches his ears, the expression itself doesn't change, he gives what looks to be a confused or perhaps agitated little toss of his head, but stares so intently at Hekate as she walks circles around Brandon: an orbit that eventually brings her circling close to her brother again. ]
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Hekate hears the soothing tone of Brandon's voice, and rather than toss in uncertainty of what it implies, finds it somewhat pleasant and tilts her head to listen to it more closely. Her eyes fail to betray anything from beneath their heavy lids. ]
A long way, yes. [ she replies thoughtfully. ] We do not cross water.
[ While conversational, she is not verbose and always cryptic, at best. ]
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The conversation, such as it is, is quieter than he expected, or perhaps it's the comparative quiet of the surrounding woods that he's noticing. He's not sure how long the hyenas will take to catch the deer, and how long they will eat. He should remain alert, which is difficult in the face of Hekate's enigmatic presence. Brandon has trained so long and hard at pleasing people that it demands his attention. He keeps the vein of lassitude in his voice, no longer aiming it so much as attempting to maintain the calm mood. ]
Would you ever want to?
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We have been and gone. We returned, because Haran asked it.
[ There is a shrug implied in her voice, she has traveled, and now she is here again to vie for the fate of the House, just like everyone else. ]
We would not be what we are if our feet could leave the dirt.
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You must be important to him.
[ Not an actual hypothesis of his. Her reaction, or Ivor's, to that statement might be informative, however. ]
And is this what you want to be?
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And that is what makes her what she is: ]
We are Morrisons.
[ Ivor has a hoarse voice, dry and disused and tight. ]
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And no one is important to Haran.
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He offers no dispute to Hekate's statement, which might make the purpose of his own preceding one obvious. ]
I came to give gifts to the Morrisons. I see that deer aren't to your liking.
[ Is it telling of him, to take on the additional burden of another gift when it is to two who appear weak and unregarded, but also different and clever? Will the others notice, would Dinah take offense? So it's not an outright offer, and echoes Hekate's oblique conversational tendencies. ]
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When the House was full, there was trade from other lands.
[ Plucking up the thread from earlier, how he has come from far, far away. ]
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[ This time, the lowered gaze comes with a hint of smile so that the show of humbleness is acknowledged as such, unlike his posturing toward Haran and Qetzi'ah. Thus he positions himself like them, nominally answerable to others above him, and like them, not as subservient as the position might call for. Brandon takes one step forward as well, leaving behind his mark in the path, but halting politely should Hekate and Ivor not wish him to draw close. He offers them the gently fidgeting bundle of feathers in his hands, seemingly to at least touch, perhaps to pet like he did if they wished.
There's no head, no easily discernible body shape. Just wings folded in complicated arrangements, some tucked tight, others twitching, one or two extending in a stretch. There is a seed of something dead buried deep inside, but still living flesh also, strange configurations of honeycomb-hollowed bone and small mechanisms. ]
Your feet don't have to leave the dirt, if you'd like to see other lands again.
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