Between dinner and the eight 0'clock hour, the first floor boys wing has fairly quite. Few students seem to actually be about, having left for an evening of entertainment of one sort or another. It's that dull, quiet haze that makes one think that this area is deserted.A door is wrenched open with a loud crash, and from Sir Quiran's/Dante's room a yong girl bolts down the hallway. Long brown hair, straight and fine, streams behind her. Her sobs are loud and uncontrolled, her chest and throat heaving with the effort is gasp in air. One hand is furiously wiping away at tears, while the other hand clutches closed a leather jacket, beneath which is an open blouse. Her sneakers seemed to have been jammed onto her feet in a hurry. She is pretty enough, for a mortal girl, and looks to be in her late teens or early twenties.Sir Quiran appears in the doorway, his face a mixture of exasperation and frustration. Dressed in jeans of darkest blue and a long sleeved t-shirt of black, he follows after her on bare feet. "Gwen, will you please wait a moment? I'm sorry!" His shouts are clearly audible.The mortal girl, her complexion and makeup ravished by her weeping, does not stop. Out of the boy's wing and into the main lobby she flees. Anyone there is ignored as she makes for the main doors. Sir Quiran's long legs shorten the distance between them, but too late. She bangs through the glass and steel doors and into the night. Sir Quiran slows to a stop. His indigo eyes watch her through the glass panes as she runs off into the night. In a most un-Quiran like way, he slams a fist against the door frame."Oh to sail a sunless sea," he mutters.
Hannah was lying on her chair in the lounge, working her way attentively through Leibniz's Monadology. She was a little better dressed this time, not in the overly short shorts the Liam had caught her in earlier. When a girl came barreling through the room, she jumped up for a moment only to see the back of the girl disappear out the door. As Sir Quiran entered the room, she turned to him with a worried frown. "Is everything alright?"
"No." The Ailil has his teeth clenched. He doesn't turn around, but instead strikes the door frame again in anger. "I fear there has been a... misunderstanding."A moment later, he finally turns around. His handsome features are flushed, and his hair is tousled. The left side of his face is bright red, as if recently struck. Seeing who it is, the knight straightens and begins to compose himself, slicking his hair back. "Forgive me, dear lady, for my... unseemly appearance and behavior. An old acquaintance came to pay me a visit, and I... misread her intentions."
Hannah waved off his apology with a gracious gesture of the hand. "My lord, if we are to be residing together, I hardly expect you to stand on ceremony all the time. If you'd like to talk about it..."
"No may mean 'no,' but mortals are such tempermental creatures. Rather unpredictable, to say the least."The knight sits in one of the overstuffed armchairs, his spine straight and his head held high. Despite what just transpired, he still seems to maintain a kind of charming dignity. Sir Quiran wipes at his sore cheek, then checks his palm to any sign of blood. "I did not think there was any need for her to resort to physical violence, though. In truth, I can not say which of us is more disappointed with this evening's turn of events."
"No does mean no." Hannah repeated in a very Gwydion way.
Sir Quiran nods sagely. "That it does, that it does."He sighs. "If you had but seen how friendly she was when she first arrived, though! You would never have thought things would have ended like this." He waved negligently towards the doors. "Gwen is certainly a different creature from her sister, I can tell you! Camille was willing to do anything for someone she liked. Anything She was very understanding. Gwen?" Sir Quiran shakes his head.
"Being friendly does not always mean..." Hannah shakes her head, a little uncomfortable about the whole conversation. She knew that Unseelie had a different way of looking at things...or perhaps men had a different way of looking at things. Brushing aside her reservations, she smiles. "You'll have to apologize later but it's unlikely she'll want to talk more tonight. If you can't do...what you were planning, perhaps we could find some more genteel way to pass the time?"
Sir Quiran shrugs. "I was planning on taking her on a tour of campus, followed by a jaunt into town so she could see what passes for a nightlife here. But I suppose we might pass the evening telling tales, singing songs... Or perhaps a cup of coffee? I prefer tea, myself, but the local cafe is said to have several different blends of roast bean available."He rubs his sore cheek again. Looking up at his fellow Sidhe, there is plainly a look of confusion on his face. "Tell me... do you think all mortal women handle rejection like this?"
"Oh, she was..." Hannah blushes a little and shakes her head. "I'm sorry."She considers his request thoughtfully. "I suppose coffee would be quite pleasant."
"Excellent! Allow me but a moment to retreive some footwear and my coat. Providing I can find what she did with my sneakers." Sir Quiran stands and walks back towards his room."Next time someone offers me a foot massage, I think I will decline," he murmurs to himself.
"Let me go get my coat." Hannah said, heading briefly back to her room. Grabbing a warm coat, she returned to the lounge, waiting for the Ailil.
((Bumped to below))
Coming back toward Rowan from the athletic centre, Morag hears the sound of running footsteps and looks up just in time to avoid a full-on collision with the fleeing girl. In a glance she takes in the situation, and snaps into action almost instinctively, putting out a gentle but firm hand to stop the girl before she runs blindly into traffic or something."Hey -- what's wrong? What happened to you? It's OK, whoever's after you, it looks like you outran them. Can you tell me what happened?" She tries to speak soothingly, and contain the growing surge of anger.** Whoever's responsible for this is going to be in for a world of hurt when I get hold of him... **
The girl is crying heavily, barely commprehensible between sobs. A quick examination does not reveal evidence of violence: her clothes are not torn, the buttons on her blouse are intact, and her sneakers are untied. Through her hair, tears and winter wind, it's difficult to see her face clearly. She doesn't seem to be from around campus."Dante (something) we were going to (something) I was(gasp) I was going to (something) but then he... he... I thought he..." There is a long shuddering breathe, followed by a wail. "But he didn't! He wouldn't... he just laughed at me! He... He... "Unable to finish her sentence, she flings herself away and continues her mad dash for the visitor's lot.
** What the hell...? I thought -- well, apparently I thought wrong. **But the girl's distress was clearly real. Whatever the hell happened to her, it wasn't pleasant.The red haze of rage that had risen when Morag thought the girl had been attacked doesn't subside... It seems to swirl around her, as though looking for a target, and her fists clench involuntarily as she feels it singing through her veins, stirring faint traces of ancient memory battlefields past.** Whoa. CALM, girl! You don't even know exactly what happened. Or how much of what you're feeling now is justified and how much is you being so antsy from not having been in a real fight in months that you're a goddamn volcano ready to blow at anything. Remember what you learned in your anger management classes. Breathe! **For a moment, she tries to follow her own advice. Then, abruptly, she turns and stalks toward the main doors of Rowan like a hunting cat. ** Fuck anger management. Someone got hurt tonight, and someone's going to pay. **(( OOC: Would I have recognized your character's mortal name? I don't think we've ever really talked, and at court I'd only have heard you introduce yourself by your fae name... ))
((OOC: Doubtful, at best...))
Sir Quiran meets Hannah in the lobby. He's now shod in white sneakers, and a grey trench coat falls to his knees. His voile has adopted the image of a dark grey woolen cloak about his shoulders; the basket-hilt of his chimerical blade peaks out from beneath the cloak. The knight has combed his hair back into place, although his unearthly features are still marked by the red splotch on his cheek."Shall we then?" He opens the lobby door for the Lady, allowing her to go first.
Hannah smiles, stepping through the door and inclining her head as she passes him. "We certainly shall."She paused as she saw the angry Redcap approaching, giving a small, polite smile. "Good evening."
Morag stops abruptly as she sees the two sidhe in the doorway."What the hell just happened here? Did you see that girl that just ran out crying? Do you know what --?" The last question trails off as her eyes light on the mark on Sir Quiran's face.** Something tells me THAT one knows what happened... **
"From what I've been able to gather, the young woman in question attempted to thrust herself on a young man who wasn't interested." Hannah said.
"You have a talent for understatement, Lady Hannah," Sir Quiran dryly remarks. As he steps out into the cold to join her, he offers up his arm once more so that he might act as escort.Turning to the Redcap, he attempts a wry smile. "The girl is the younger sister of an old schoolmate of mine, a schoolmate I once... helped. She came under the pretense that Fairgrove was one of the universities she was considering applying for; she had other things.. well, not on her mind.... Suffice to say, the evening did not progress the way either of us expected, if for different reasons."
Hannah slid her arm gracefully into Quiran's, still regarding the Redcap with slight curiosity. "I don't believe we've met before?"
Thrown momentarily by the two sidhe's calm demeanour after the mortal girl's hysterics, Morag feels her rage ebb for a moment -- but then remembers some of what she's heard about sidhe. Not to mention her experiences with the one sidhe she ever met before coming to Fairgrove...** Don't let them trick you. They're master manipulators, you know that. SOMETHING happened to that girl! And pretty-boy here just admitted he's the one responsible. **"Funny, I don't think I've ever seen a girl get quite that upset from just a simple thanks-but-no-thanks," she snaps, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Wonder what could have brought that on? Maybe because it's not all that happened? Maybe you get your kicks singling out some girl who seems vulnerable, leading her on and making her think she has a chance with you, then shooting her down and laughing at her so you can get a quick glamour fix off her shattered dreams? Is that what guys like you do for fun?"
"Is that what guys like you do for fun?"Sir Quiran's charming and congenial demeanor evaporates as the Redcap verbally lambasts him. Those purple eyes begin to smoulder. His bearing becomes rigid and stern, fine features hardening with anger. The terrible Awe and Beauty inherent in Sidhe nature becomes more than just a cliche; the Birthright almost seems to visually surround the knight. He glares down in barely controlled anger at the commoner."No." His words are slow and measured but dripping with distain at the accusations. "It is not what I do for fun. Or any other reason, for that matter. I am a knight. One in exile from his House, but a knight all the same. I uphold the Seelie Code, the Escheat and the Code of Chivalry. And while there may be some who have forgotten what it means to bear that title, that responsibility, I have not. So I pray thee, give careful consideration before you accuse me of such unseemly behavior."
Hannah, for her part, remains perfectly calm. She arches a brow faintly at Morag's explosion and then turns to her companion, studying his words carefully.
((OOC: Gwydion Birthright shows he is not lying about anything he just said.))
She turns back to the Redcap. "He's telling the truth."
** Is she just sticking up for him 'cause they're both sidhe? But she looked like she wasn't sure she believed him either for a minute there... Wait a minute, didn't I hear that some of them can read minds or something? Or at least tell if people are lying? Is that what she just did? Guess there's only one way to find out... **"Can you tell that for sure?" Morag asks, somewhat awkwardly. "Sorry if that's a dumb question -- I don't know that much about what you guys can and can't do."** Of course, that's assuming I can trust HER... **
"Yes, I can tell for sure." she answers. "He's not lying, although there might always be more to the story."
Morag involuntarily steps back a pace, torn between wanting to reply with a snappy comeback ("Once more in plain English, for those of us who don't speak RenFaire?" comes to mind, but the words won't quite come out) and a sudden, irrational urge to bow and apologize. ** Jesus! I'm still not crazy about the sidhe telling everyone what to do all the time, but I think I'm starting to see why they're so good at it... ** The effects of the sidhe's transformation are set against years of conditioning not to back down, from living in situations where losing face, or showing weakness, even once, can be almost a death sentence. In the end Morag manages to hold her ground, but only just. Trying to sound calm, but with a little less confidence than she'd hoped, she swallows and replies:"Look, I don't know what half that stuff means. I just know something bad happened to that girl, and seeing someone that broken tends to stir up my protective instincts. Which usually results in me looking to kick the ass of whoever's responsible. So maybe that's not always the right thing to do. But I just don't get it. Why would she get that upset if all that happened was a... clash of expectations? It doesn't make sense."
Sir Quiran stands there, unbending, for several quiet moments, before he begins to relax fractionally."I do not pretend to fully understand mortals. Had I indeed Ravaged her, perhaps those dreams which motivate her actions would have become more clear to me. I can tell you that she was very insistant, forcefully so." He lifts his chin slightly as if considering something. "You are right in that Gwen took to flight for some reason more than mere disappointment. If I were to put name to her emotions, I would guess... embarrassment?"The knight shakes his head. "I admit I do not know if I should inform Camille of her sister's behavior or not. While I do not wish to cause further distress to anyone..."
** God, this guy talks about emotions like they're a totally foreign topic. Well, at least it doesn't really look we're going to kill each other. Can't decide if I'm relieved or disappointed. **Morag sighs and leans back against the wall outside the doorway. "She said you laughed at her. And she seemed really crushed. You know, I don't know how much of the sort of... presence you guys seem to have is noticeable to mortals. I know after my chrysalis, people seemed to react to me differently -- get scared easier, and that sort of thing. They couldn't see me, not like this, but they could tell something about me was different. I don't know if it's like that for sidhe, but even a little of it comes through, then the things you say and do might have more of an impact than you realize."
Janko sits in the RA office, having watched all that happened in the lobby. Drumming a pencil on the edge of the desk, as he thinks, it takes him a moment to decide to make a note documenting what he witnessed.Then, he turns back to his computer.
"He's not lying, although there might always be more to the story."Sir Quiran nods. "Of course, there is always more to the story. That is the point of a story, is that there is always more to be said.""I don't know if it's like that for sidhe, but even a little of it comes through, then the things you say and do might have more of an impact than you realize.""There may be something in which you say. It is... difficult... for me to understand mortal females. The memories I inherited from Dante seem somewhat deficient in that regard. And romantic engagements between Sidhe contain a great degree of pageantry that mortal relationships may not encompass." He gives Lady Hannah's arm the slightest of squeezes, barely noticable. "As my laughter, I will admit that I chuckled at Gwen's initial proposal. I thought it but a flirtatious jest on her part."The exiled knight shivers slightly. "If either of you insist on the entire tale, complete with backstory, I will be glad to oblige you." He shivers slightly again. "But only if we three might locate ourselves to a climate of more mild nature? Standing in the doorway might not be the greatest of locations while it is snowing."
** Memories he inherited -- what? I don't understand... Wait, didn't Miss Amarshi say something about the sidhe being different than everyone else? Like they came into the world from outside it or something? God, I don't remember, it's been so long and it was a whole lot to absorb all at once. It'd probably do me good to find out more about all this, but I don't want to be horning in on what looks like a date, even if he did sort of invite me... **"I wouldn't mind, but it looks like you two... well, already had plans, and I don't want to intrude. You don't have to include me just to be polite," she adds with a half-smile.
"I don't mind." Hannah said. "We were just going for coffee."
"Then by all means, let us proceed. I believe the local cafe might be a tad crowded for our purposes, but the tea room at the Baron and Baroness's should afford enough privacy and quiet."**Mayhaps the Lady Hannah and I can find time alone later. For now, to convince everyone that I am not the Ailil manipulator that I appear to be.**
"That sounds ideal." Hannah agreed.