guardians

Ezekiel de le Poer · 01-01-2012, 05:26 AM

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Word took time to reach the southern coast of France, traveling through relatives and merchants and those whom knew of her name and her title. Mab did not see many strangers these days, content with her children and grandchildren and an extension of blood that reached all the way back across the Atlantic. She had often thought of those old lands, where she had once led, but her time there had not been a happy one. After all, the blind eye proved such a thing—it had healed, truly, for a few years…but age had chased after her as had all the ghosts and demons of the past. Ahren was never coming back. Draco had made that point very clear to her when he had returned a much changed boy.

The trip to London was not a long one, though winter often slowed progress. Mab had enough connections to ensure her passage was comfortable, both for her and the horses. Draco was comfortable anywhere despite his constant complaints, but she expected such things from him. Though his true parents were long gone, Mab considered him her son and did not dispute his claim.

They had landed in Ireland two days ago. Their horses were not used to travel and needed time to settle, and business kept them with family for an extra day. Once settled and prepared for the length journey to the land claimed, they had set out long before dawn. The ride was an easy one, though long. Traveling from Dublin to the small area mentioned was a long process; dawn came and went and the day wore on and grew late when they first spotted the encroaching landmarks.

Mab, on the massive freisian, slowed only to have Draco come forward. The reddish hybrid advanced and regarded the small village with a low grunt. She laughed lightly, a sound that was oddly lyrical despite her rugged form and white-streaked hair. Age had sunk into her bones but good breeding and physical activity kept her strong. Blue eyes narrowed upon her adoptive son, one covered by a leather eyepatch she had taken to wearing since the return of her blindness. “Oh hush. He is your brother, after all.”

“Half-brother,” the wolf replied, frowning.

“Your father,” the harlequin woman countered sharply. “Is not my brother by blood, but I consider him such—even after what he became. You would do well to remember this lesson, Draco.”

The man fell silent. Even though he was very much an adult, the older woman had served as his mother since he had been a child and commanded respect. She would have done so without such a claim, though. A former alpha, and a current Lord of various titles, she was powerfully spoken and carried herself with a presence that outweighed even the massive form of the burly man behind her.

Aisling Winters · 01-01-2012, 06:40 AM

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The Winters family rose early, also, but it was not for the practicality of travelling. Alaine rose before dawn, slipping away from the warm body of her mate and sneaking through the sleeping mansion to her small kitchen, near the rear. Although once occupied by a serving staff, the little chamber had been adopted by the Winters matriarch the instant she had returned home, to the sweeping valley of Airgid Gleann and the Macha estate it held within its voluminous green hills. It was the delicious wafting scents that curled throughout the house and into her own sleeping chamber that awoke Aisling. The young girl yawned hugely, and enticed by the smells wafting up from below, rose. She slunk quietly past the still-sleeping form of her sister, Sinéad, and down the hall, past the closed door where her male kin slumbered. The girls had been overjoyed at the return of their aunt - Since the death of the her father Bran, Leader of the Macha tribe, the family's existence had been fragile and without direction. Alaine had returned to the ruins of her pack, but she had brought more than just herself - She had brought her son, Elijah, and her grandson, Cern. Ais had been quick to accept her cousins. The girl was kind-hearted and welcoming, sunny in spite of her mother's deteriorating health. With Eimhear ill, and Elenore in mourning since the death of her son, Alaine had been quick to take up the mantle of leader. Her sister, and Aisling's other aunt, was the Triad of the pack - Eira had struggled to perform her spiritual duty to the Macha tribe, whilst also holding together her small, grieving family.

But the two boys were not the only new faces that Aisling's aunt had brought with her. She had also brought the tall, dark man, Gabriel de le Poer. He had a strange accent, and had seemed to struggle to understand the thick lilting brogue of Alaine's family in the beginning. But they spoke a common language, knowing both the new and the old dialogues, and he had been welcomed by the Winters. It was because of him that Aisling's aunt was in such a flurry now - This was the day that his kin was coming to visit them, the red-haired girl knew. Alaine had been harping on about the visit ever since she had received the de le Poer hawk, with the message attached in a small bundle to one of his legs. Oh, what a fuss she had made that day! And it had been getting increasingly worse. Even now, as Aisling tread quietly towards the kitchen, Alaine emerged at the bottom of the stairs with a pan and a wooden spoon in hand. With a loud, clamorous BANG BANG BANG, she had awoken the family to preparations.

The sun had been up for some hours when Alaine, her glorious auburn hair frizzed out and her deep emerald eyes looking somewhat more frazzled, declared her home, the estate mansion, suitable for visitors. Every able hand had been scrubbing, washing, polishing and arranging since dawn. Eira had run around after Alaine as she babbled and bossed, cursing her sister lowly and crudely under her breath as she was also set to work. Although the Triad had a high standing within the pack, to the Winters family, she was still little more than Eira. The witchwoman's cussing and bemoaning made Aisling laugh. The girl was her pupil, set to be the pack's Triad herself when she was older - Since her shifting day, when she had been blessed with womanhood, Aisling had been learning about the old Celtic magics that her aunt commanded.

The girl's blue eyes, similar in hue to the startling quality of her cousins, lifted up as her aunt approached. Alaine dusted her hands on the apron she wore, cast her emerald eyes to the sky, before returning them to her niece. "Aisling, beidh siad ag teacht go luath. Le do thoil, téigh a fháil ar an capall agus taistil chuig an dair mhór. Ní bheidh a fhios acu conas a fháil ar an eastát, mar sin beidh ort chun iad a threorú ar ais," She babbled rapidly, nervous energy radiating from her beautiful, healthy frame. Gabriel's woman had flourished since she had returned to Ireland - What grief and haunting memories had stolen from her beauty had returned, adding flesh to her lean curved and silk to her creamy pelt. Aisling looked strikingly similar to the Winters matriarch - Her hair was a shade more strawberry blond, and her pelt somewhat more ivory. The girl nodded, but Alaine was not done with her yet - Her hands began to fuss and brush at the child as she spoke, "Téigh fháil ar do gúna deas, an ceann gorm, agus do chuid gruaige Scuab. Bí cinnte go bhfuil Nana presentable. Déan deifir, anois! Gabriel, will you grab your sons please?!" Grabbing her chance as Alaine became distracted, Aisling slipped from the woman's grasp and ran back into the building to do as she bid. Alaine's voice chased her into the building, "Take some food with you from the kitchen and please BE POLITE, AISLING!"

It was not long until, her blue laced dress scrunched up at her knees and the bow in her hair lopsided, Aisling reached bolted toward Nana's paddock. The fat mare lifted her head at the girl's sharp whistle and trotted over obediently. Not bothering to saddle her, Aisling swung open the gate and climbed onto the fence so that she was tall enough to spring onto the horse's wide back. Her little clawed footpaws dangled over Nana's wide belly, not quite long enough to give her much guidance. However, as with all the children, Aisling seemed to have quite a way with the mare, and she goaded her to a heavy, rumbling canter.

Aisling loved to ride. Her laughter, light like the sound of bells, spilled out into the open air as she moved with the heavy clydesdale. Nana enjoyed the sound, tossing her head and whickering in response as the girl clung to her messy black mane. It was not long until they reached the tree that Alaine had mentioned - It was a mammoth thing, with great bit stretching branches. Letting Nana crop the frosty grass that scattered about its roots, the young girl clambered in its branches, find a suitable perch that looked down across the path leading back to civilization.

She waiting in the strong boughs, nibbling on the warm bread and strips of meat she had brought. When that was gone, the girl licked her finger and collected the crumbs that had fallen on her blue dress. She was just succumbing to boredom when Nana whickered softly. Peering down at her, the red-haired girl followed her fat steed's gaze to a spot where the trail tapered and was hidden from view by the next hill. She squinted, lifting one hand to shade piercing blue eyes until they detected two forms, which quickly became the silhouettes of approaching horses. Excitement swelled within her, and she swung down through the branches, landing neatly on Nana's back. The bombproof mare obediently trotted forward, her king brown eyes and small cupped ears directed towards the two strangers.

One was a young, reddish man, who rode on a horse bigger than Nana. Aisling's eyes looked over him quickly, noticing his scowl. But it was the woman who drew her attention - She rode a beautiful black horse, and her very being radiated calm dominance. That must be Mab! The girl's senses, made keen by her early Triad training, sensed that the old woman held great power and esteem. Humbled, she became somewhat shy as Nana drew to a halt near the two strangers. She wished Eli had come with her - Her strange cousin had a way of being bold and entertaining. It was no wonder he made such a fantastic storyteller. "Lady Mab?" Her accented voice, sweet and lilting like music, piped up in uncertainty. "Beannachtaí, máistreás de le Poer. My aunt sent me to find you. Follow me, if you don't mind - It isn't far from here," Offering her most charming smile, the young girl turned her rotund steed about, and headed back towards the estate.

The path they took was long, but breathtakingly beautiful. The Winters territory was at the top of the Airgid Gleann, the Silver Valley. It was named such for the river that wound through it, like a great silver serpent with scales flickering in the light. The sky was mild and grey, overcast but without the heavy scent of rain. The closer they got to the Macha mansion, the more civil the path became - Packed earth became crushed stone and gravel that crunched beneath the horse's hooves. A final corner revealed the house itself - Grand and startlingly beautiful, in spite of its state of disrepair. It had been old, even in the age of the humans. Alaine had gathered the family, and they waited in a line out the front of the house for the arrival of their prestigious guests.

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Ezekiel de le Poer · 01-01-2012, 07:32 AM

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Though both of the de le Poer’s who had come this day were trained for combat, it was Draco who had an advantage on the harlequin wolf. While her eyesight remained sharp, without the vision of her right eye the world was a much more difficult place to navigate. At their distance, he could see the approaching mass of a horse—the pale figure atop this beast was a bundle of ginger hair and a bold blue dress. A child. He made a low noise to attract Mab’s attention, though she had managed to catch the movement of the horse as it clambered towards them. It was an older, large mare. This was good. Her own steed, a frightfully powerful stallion, had a tendency to cause trouble when exposed to strange horses he considered a threat. A mare was not this, especially given his companion was also a mare; a younger Shire, but one he had already known. Next spring, their colt would prove most excellent.

Mab too, wore blue, but her colors were those of her eyes and the true de le Poer. Silver lined this, and alternating styles of fabric (clearly French, by their make) showed off a lean body still toned by physical work. A healthy diet kept her curvaceous, and kept her pelt remarkably glossy—it was a raven’s wing stained red, as was common for her side of the family. Blue-black was not a color seen within the de le Poer line.

Her companion was wearing only his tunic and chainmail, though his horse carried the bulk of their supplies. A sword was strapped to his saddle, though Draco was so well-trained in the art that should they have been attacked it would have taken mere seconds to drawn it. Comparatively, he was a messier looking beast. While his hair was tied back, it had been ruffled by the ride and the unforgiving Irish winds. Mab’s had settled rather easily back in place, for it was naturally wavy and suitable for such seasons. The Catskills had been a savage place, after all.

She smiled easily at the approaching child. After so many long years of judging people on first sight, Mab was quick to see the nervousness and, under this, a free spirit well reflected in sky colored eyes. The girl’s voice was quite pretty. With a nod, Mab allowed the girl to follow—she held her tongue, as was custom, for proper introductions would be required for even such an informal visit. As this was the first time that she, as head of House de le Poer, would be meeting another house of respect a formal procession would likely occur. Nobility were, as she had quickly learned, sometimes forced into these peculiar situations.

Ireland was a beautiful landscape, and Mab enjoyed that it lacked many of the rebuilt settlements and cities that were common in France and its neighboring countries. It was an open country suited for animals—the Eachan family, bound to her by her mate, were native to both Ireland and the countryside of England. Bowie had brought her to Ireland for a summer once, but Mab was duty-bound to France like it or not. Children had also kept her busy, though many of them now lived in various places of the world.

The house that rose to meet them was worn and washed to the no-color of rain or dust, and smoke rose from various chimney flumes. It was quaint, and Mab was truly pleased to be seeing it. She urged her horse forward to match pace with the girl. “My dear,” her voice had aged, and it was a low melodic thing that spoke of her various travels throughout Europe. While she was a native of the Americas, the majority of her life had been spent crossing through European countries. France was her home, but it was a port town crossed by many strangers who all spoke with unique accents and dialects. Mab had particularly loved Vienna’s African tones, a beautiful thing perhaps more because she was not native—it had merged with the English one she had picked up from her husband, the rather enigmatic pirate who had recommended the ship they had taken here. “I think you may want to ride on and let your aunt know we are here.” She smiled, showing this was not intended to be hostile. Indeed, Mab was not a woman who truly expected formality…but she intended to display it none the less.

Alaine Winters · 01-01-2012, 08:20 AM

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Alaine was full of nervous energy. It radiated from her, glowing from her skin and sparkling in the clear verdant of her deep, shadowy eyes. Her fists rested on hips curved from womanhood and childbearing - Even with this, she was a slightly, nymph-like figure, her collie blood prominent above all else. In her true youth, she had been a spectacular beauty; It was probably that which had drawn the monsters that sought to destroy her. But one had saved her from all such beasts, and even from the shade her own self had become - The true love of her life, and the only one to be able to contain the woman's wild Irish heart.

"GABRIEL?!" A dark frown pulled over her brow as she searched for him now, a woman on a mission. "GABRIEL, YOU USELESS OAF - Diabhal an lá Shíl mé a dhéanamh duit mianach! Bheannaigh mé féin le fear leisciúil!" Her melodic voice ranted, carrying through the aged wood of the Winters residence, but not awakening the man from his slumber. As always, the love between them was filled with fire, and although the welcoming beauty of Ireland seemed to have soothed the demons that haunted them both, it had not extinguished their spark. He was the sun, and she the moon - They would always be opposite, always complimenting the other.

It was this that made Alaine nervous. She had lost Gabriel too many times before to not feel the ache of anxiety that came with the possibility of losing him again - Although in her heart she knew the man would not leave her. But Mab presented the terrifying possibility of such a thing. In spite of her mate's reassurances, Alaine had fretted deeply that the woman would not find her good enough for her nephew. If Gabriel had known the extent to which her worry gnawed at her, perhaps he would not have picked this particular morning to sleep in.

Tossing her hands agitatedly in the air, and muttering various heinous curses at the man she had allowed into her heart and her home, Alaine marched back into the mansion. "THE REST OF YOU HAD BETTER BE IN YOUR SUNDAY BEST WHEN I RETURN, OR LUGH HELP ME-" There was a scuttle as feet dashed to obey the matriarch's sharp tones. Alaine was not usually so snippy, but they knew well enough to fear her wrath when she was.

Her obnoxious stomping grew quiet as she passed Elenore's room - Her elderly mother remained immovable in her grief over Brun's death, to the point that it was easier to let her remain in her room to sulk the remainder of her life away. Alaine had a short temper when it came to her mother's moanings - She, too, sorely missed her brother. But the time for moving on had come, and passed, and there were more important things to dwell on, now - She would allow the maid to dote on the old woman, rather than allowing any in the family to do such a thing.

The bedroom she shared with Gabriel was at the far end of the house, in the Eastern Wing which faced out towards the cliffs. Near as they were to the sea, where the silver river ended its journey, the scent of salt permeated this side of the mansion. Alaine loved the sheer bluffs, the jagged cliffs and the cold ocean of her home, and she prayed to Morrigan often that Gabriel had come to do likewise. It was in her sons blood, but not in his - She would often secretly wonder if her love alone would be enough to keep him here, always.

However, such tender thoughts were forgotten in the face of the woman's current foul mood. She busted in through the door and hesitated only a moment, as emerald eyes softened imperceptibly to grace the sharp lines of her lover, he who lay sprawled amongst their furs. Her solace did not remain long. "GABRIEL!" The furious tone to her usually melodic voice was accompanied by the woman roughly ripping the furs from about him. She moved to the windows and pulled back the heavy woolen curtains that blocked them, allowing in the sharp grey light before storming back to the side of the bed. "Faigh suas, tá tú fear Uafásach! Beidh tú náire dom!" She hissed, moving to the deep wooden chest that held their belongings. Thrusting open the latch, she rummaged inside, pulling out a heavy fur-lined tunic. It was a handsome item of clothing, and had belonged to her late father - Surprisingly, it fit her lover perfectly. Niall had been a large man, as her dead son had been. For a moment, her gaze again softened as delicate fingers lovingly stroked the handsome material, dyed a deep and somewhat faded green.

Then she rose abruptly, and threw the tunic at her mate. "Put it on, and hurry, please," Came the grumble. Her anger could only last so long - Especially at him, for she loved him with the deep passion of the ocean, and with the sheer wonder of the wind. Her head disappeared momentarily as she rummaged again through the chest, before emerging with another item of clothing. It was a dress of a faded green hue matching Gabriel's tunic, with laced sleeves that reached her fingertips and a skirt that came to her ankles. It was of an old design, from an age unknown to the Winters, but apart from a few rips in the hem it seemed to be in good repair. The woman straightened again, and pulled off her apron to get changed into the garment, unashamed of her nakedness in front of the man she had taken as a mate. "What will your Mab think of us, if we are late to greet her?!"

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Gabriel de le Poer · 01-01-2012, 04:31 PM

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(891)

Long weeks had passed since they had left behind the land in which he had been born. Gabriel, Alaine, and their two oddball children (though Cern was, technically, a grandchild) had traveled south along the well-founded route into the city of Freetown. That part of the trip had been easy, and pleasant. With only themselves and the children for company, a comfortable pattern had settled into their lives. After that, the world had begun moving incredibly quickly and without solid ground under them.

Traveling across an ocean had been a grueling, awful experience for him. Having never really been on water, Gabriel had been uncomfortable and felt ill for nearly the whole ride. He had spent most of this trip holed up in their cabin with Cern, sleeping when he could. Elijah had loved the sea; the boy had spent his entire time on the ship babbling hysterically about all the sights he saw upon the water.

Of course, once they had reached Ireland things had become even further complicated. Alaine, as it turned out, was related to a conglomeration of women whose entire goal was to drive him absolutely insane. By being a male, and by mating Alaine, he had unwittingly doomed himself into filling the empty position left at their household’s head. This meant, therefore, he was subject to all sorts of insane demands and requests and things he often denied in favor of running off with his boys. Alaine’s family did not favor their lupus forms, but he most certainly did—so he made a point to travel in it as often as possible.

Yet Alaine often needed aid with the boys while she worked on her potions and brews, and hands were needed for various thing throughout the house. He in particular enjoyed making love to his mate while in the form; since she had filled out with rest and the rather pushy maid who seemed to think that they were never ever full, her body was particularly admirable to his eyes. She was still lean, as dogs tended to be, but oh how nice it was for her to feel like more than soft fur and lean muscle. Of course, he also truly loved her wild hair that her relatives so deeply despised, and made a point to often tousle it while they were involved so she might boast of her deeds without ever saying a world. Then again, those damned women often nagged after them about more children, for while Elijah was dearly loved and a male, he was…peculiar. Though his vocabulary and behavior had become far more normal since their arrival, no one could deny that he was a boy touched by something else.

A frantic harpy shriek woke him and was echoed by the warmth being ripped from his body. Gabriel growled and rolled over as she attempted to blind him with the no-color light of the Irish winter. He was looking forward to the spring, but this northern land would not see such a thing for many moons yet.

He grunted and finally rose as something struck him in the side. It was a well-worn tunic, old, and one he had worn before. This, as he had been told a thousand times, belonged to her father. The fact she had demanded him wear such a thing was often argued good-heartedly, but today he only rose and pulled on the worn thing silently. If this was truly so important to her he would put up with it, especially since it was his relatives coming.

“Oh calm down,” he growled half-heartedly, running a hand through his wavy hair. It had become entirely black since he had aged, no longer a sun-colored thing streaked with red. Gabriel’s already thick frame had not lost its tone since his arrival, but his pelt had become a magnificent wolfish thing. No one doubted he was wild, and while he despised behind called a wolf, he was glad that he looked enough like a dog to be called a hybrid. Coyote would always ring true to him, but he knew that he had never truly resembled such a thing.

He smiled at her frame and rose, trailing towards her. One hand slipped around her waist and the other rose to stroke at the thick red hair he so loved. “You worry too much, grá.” While Gaelic was not his native tongue, he had picked up on a few key phrases and liked to use them around Alaine. It was a low growling thing and once echoed by a suggestive brush of one scarred hand, but he quickly moved to avoid a jab from her fluffy elbow.

A low laugh broke from his throat and he trailed over to the nearby dresser. The top drawer was filled with various pieces of jewelry and odds and ends both collected and given to them. Gabriel did not remove his even when he slept, but he was after a necklace for her. It was a golden thing dotted with glittering green gems, long ago brought from a pirate’s cache. “Wear this one,” he said, and once she was dressed, slipped it around her neck. Pleased, he moved towards the door. “I’ll go find those boys of ours…Lord knows that if they’re left alone at least one of them will end up running off.”

Alaine Winters · 01-12-2012, 10:55 PM

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Her emerald eyes were focused on the dress, but every other sense was instinctively tuned to her lover. His presence was impossible to ignore - It filled every room he entered, brimming with power and the wild dignity that belonged to Gabriel alone. It was heightened by her love for him; She allowed his very being to seep into her, into her ever pore, until his movement and existence was as familiar to the matriarch as her own heartbeats.

Unable to refrain, her emerald eyes finally rose to caress him as the man's deep voice growled out, a warm and gravelly sound that the colliewoman associated with her mate's neutral mood. If Gabriel was half as excited, or nervous, about the visitation of his aunt, he hid it well enough. The woman pressed her black lips into a thin line of disgruntled obedience - It was within her nature to obey him, both as Headman of the Macha tribe (a temporary role that he had been thrust into after formalizing their mateship) and as her mate. Also, his very presence relaxed her somewhat, soothing the fiery Irish nymph and steadying her unruly nerves.

His warm touch released a small growl of distraction from her, but in spite of herself, a coy smile curved about the woman's pixie maw. She could no more resist him than she could the wild cliffs of her home. Instantly, she melted into his touch, allowing herself to be held. The growl fell quickly into a quite hum, which broke off into a sigh at his words. "You're right, of course. I am sorry, mo shúile ómra," Her head tilted as his fingers toyed with the deep auburn of her hair, a rich color shared only by her niece. Her maw tilted to offer him a tender kiss, salmon tongue darting out to lick at the side of his dark maw.

She jabbed her elbow at him as the man's touch became playful, shooing him away even though her face flushed pleasantly. They shared Pleasures often enough that his very touch was enough to get her flustered; She needed a clear mind if she was to deal properly with Mab. Such fun could wait until the night-time, when the darkness would welcome their lover's embrace. She finished tugging on the dress and smoothed it carefully, observing her appearance in a tarnished but surprisingly un-cracked mirror that sat in a gilded frame on the wall, which itself was shedding paint and cracked in places. The emerald eyes that looked back at her were calmer, and Alaine rewarded her mirror-self with a little smile. Gabriel gave her strength - He would help her face his aunt. She wouldn't have to deal with it alone.

Gabriel appeared behind her in the mirror, his dark hands moving about her neck and fastening a gold and emerald necklace about it. Her eyes met his briefly in the reflective surface, and her fingers rose to brush his own, above the deep emerald stones that sat at her throat. The necklace held many fond memories, and had come from the very beginning of their fateful path. It would give her luck, and the weight about her neck was familiar and comforting.

The dark man broke contact, heading off towards the door with a few words. Her laughter followed him. "Make sure they are clean, Gabriel! And for Morrigan's sake, please do not let Cern and Eli out of your sight!" Her voice trailed off as she heard him moving down the stairs. The woman's emerald eyes returned to her reflection a moment. She took a deep breath and straightened, lifting her chin proudly - For a moment, the confident green eyes looking back at her were Niall's. With a tight smile, the woman moved from the room and floated down the stairs, prepared for battle.

Aisling was just sliding down from Nana's broad back as the emerged from the house a moment later. The family group was assembled in front of the old estate home, whose grand features remained in spite of the wear of weather and age alike. The bleak winter weather cast a grey pallor over the home, but the air was sweet and crisp and clear. The girl with the wild tumble of red hair spoke animatedly to her aunt, gesturing grandly, her features bright with excitement. Alaine's emerald eyes followed the child's gesture, and saw the approaching pair. When Mab and Draco drew their horses to a halt, the slender woman in the green gown made a gesture to her oldest son to catch his attention. "Elijah, na capaill a ghlacadh chun an réimse amach ar ais. Fág an aíonna 'tacóid sa cobhsaí, ba mhaith leat, mo milis?" She whispered to the boy, her hand gracing his cheek lightly. Nana, without tack, had already moved in behind the boy - She would follow him obediently without any leadrope.

Drawing in a quick breath, the Winters woman let her eyes finally meet those of the guests - The man, roughly Gabriel's age, who no doubt had escorted the older woman who Alaine's eyes sought out next. Her smile was warm, and welcoming, if not slightly uncertain. "Lady Mab?" Her voice was strong and musical, thick with the accent that Gabriel loved - Confident, in spite of the nervousness she felt. Her fingers twisting together were the only sign of such. "I am Alaine Winters ne de le Poer, matriarch of the Macha estate. Welcome to my household."

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Ezekiel de le Poer · 01-12-2012, 11:43 PM

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Mab’s eyes settled on the slowly gathering party at the house. She studied them all as they approached, her blue eyes hard but not cruel. There had never been a reason for her to be such—even when she had led Chimera her heart had not been made mad. Hardened, perhaps. How could she not have been? A blind eye attributed this fact well enough, though she had carefully learned to shift her wild hair in ways that hid the eyepatch. Few had seen her without it; she disliked the fear produced by such a thing. Her family was not afraid of her, but this was to be expected…though she was certain that Draco had jokingly threatened his children with her “magic”.

There was a brunette woman, well-built, lingering near the red-haired girl. She was busy fretting over what Mab assumed was her daughter, though a taller, paler woman was trying to calm her. A remarkably dark and imposing man was standing behind two boys, both which resembled him to an extent—he was, Mab realized upon careful study of his face, Ahren’s son. There was not much beyond that to go on; Corona had been easy to indentify, but this man…he was a different beast entirely. The boys were different ages, and the gray one was laughing about something or another as they approached. A shock of red peeked out from behind a loose shirt, but it was his eyes she noticed; they were a blue even paler than her own. Something radiated from the boy, something that made her hair stand on end. Magic? Perhaps. The Line had been gone for so long, but yet...

And then she settled on the woman in green. She was startling beautiful, and had a strong look to her despite the softness of her pelt and body. The same sort of feeling came from her, though it was weaker. Mab wondered, briefly, what sort of things had happened to make them such a way. Touched by something, do doubt, as she herself had been.

The boy came forward as they dismounted, with the massive mare behind him. She followed him like he was a colt, and the thought of such a thing made her smile. Mab trusted him immediately for such a thing, and she and Draco passed their loose leather-thong reins to him. He headed off, making noises that she thought at first came from the horses. Animal magic, then, perhaps. At this thought, she made a note to call back her hawk soon—David rarely went far, but he was aging, and she worried for him.

Both ears rose high as her name was called, and Mab subconsciously straightened her posture. She regarded the approaching woman silently, her good eye gleaming against the harlequin face. Matriarch; that was something she appreciated. Women were, often, better leaders then men.

“Well met, Lady Alaine,” she replied, and raised her right hand to touch her left shoulder as was her formal greeting. “I am indeed; though the title Lady is not mine. I am Marquise Mab de le Poer of Montpellier, Head of House de le Poer, Curator of Exham Priory, Head Regent of Cerberus. My consort,” she paused to breath, motioning to Draco without averting her eyes from the dog. “Is Baronet Draco de le Poer, Grand Chamberlain of House de le Poer. Please,” she continued, and lifted her hand with the palm up, facing the group. “Do not use our titles here. We are not visiting as members of court. I do not think such formality belongs amongst family.”

She smiled and took a step forward, gently easing her hands over those still being wrung by Alaine. Mab could see the nervousness well enough, and sought to ease such a thing. “I would like to meet your lovely family, Lady Alaine.”

Sirius Revlis · 01-13-2012, 12:57 AM

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The woman's blue eye - for Alaine could only see one, amongst the locks of well-groomed hair that sat well about Mab's stately features - seemed to scour each of them in turn. Although willing to impress as she was, the Winters matriarch felt a surge of righteous pride within her; Her family was the most precious, most perfect thing she had. They were the result of a long heritage, made from the clay and stone of these cliffs, given breath by the wild Irish wind and beauty by the silver river that meandered through Airgid Gleann. They were the people of the Macha Tribe, blessed by the three faces of Morrigan, and by nature they were a proud, wise bloodline. So whilst the strangers watched them, and whilst she sought their approval, Alaine did not forget herself and fall into doubt. The smile on her beautiful face was natural, and welcoming.

She watched Mab's eyes linger on Elijah as her son moved obediently to gather their horses, and felt deep within the familiar stirrings of protectiveness and worry. Alaine adored her son - Along with Cern, he had filled the void that Caillen had left beneath her breast. However, more than that, the need to defend him before all other came due to his wrongness; She had always feared for how the outside world might condemn her son for his difference, and her love for him had stretched to accommodate that. Her love would have to make up for the rest of the world.

Initially, the Winters family had viewed Elijah with a mixture of apprehension and joy. He was a boy, a true-blooded heir; And yet on first observation, he was tainted. However, after some time spent with him, it was clear that the wrongness could be more clearly seen as a series of Dea-blessed gifts - The boy had perfected the art of mimicry, and was known to replicate the sounds of mornings birds almost to exactness. Because of this, he seemed to have an uncanny gift with creatures of all kinds, but especially horses - Nana continued to dote on the boy as though he were, in fact, her own offspring. But more than that, it was the gradual realization that Elijah was harmless that had settled them into full acceptance. Aisling had taken quite the shine to her cousin, and frequented his company. The two of them were often seen together, with the younger, morose form of Cern trailing afterward.

Finally, the eerily powerful gaze of the one-eyed woman settled on her, and Alaine squared her shoulders gamely. Her ivory fingers fiddled uneasily, a pair of doves unable to settle. When the woman spoke, her voice was unlike anything the Winters matriarch had heard ; Floppy ears rose immediately to graciously listen to that compelling, authoritative tone. Mab's voice was laced with a power that the woman immediately associated to Triad-dome - She had heard Eira use a similar tone when conducting prayer, or such. It was the voice of someone who could see through the thin film of realism, and beyond it, to the depths of truth and perception.

Her introduction seemed long-winded, and many of the titles and words she used were lost on Alaine, for there was no comparable translation. However, she nodded and smiled politely, bowing her head to Draco as he, too, was named. At Mab's latter words, emerald eyes turned round, and pleasure shone visibly on the face of the younger woman. She already thinks of us as family? A deep sensation of reassurance settled in her stomach, heightened as the Marquise settled her hands over Alaine's, stilling their nervous motions. One of the Winters woman's ivory hands rose to gently clasp the other's, and her smile was startlingly youthful, offering a glimmer of the beauty that a younger Alaine had held.

"We are truly blessed to welcome you to our humble hearth, mistress," Her polite reply was followed by a backward step, and aware that they were about to be introduced, the Macha tribe's attention became rigidly polite. Alaine had schooled them well enough to know that propriety was most welcome in this instance; Even the children maintained a decorum of polite stillness. "Here is my sister, Eira - She is the Triad of our tribe, the spiritual leader, if you will..." At her voice, the dark-haired woman with eyes almost identical to Alaine's raised her hand, palm facing outward, in greeting. As each family member was introduced, they did likewise - Save Cern, who merely peered warily around from behind Gabriel's legs and wagged his tail. "… -the boy who took your horses is my middl- My eldest son, Elijah. He has quite the way with beasts," Her accented voice was unable to hide the slight edge of wariness as she spoke tenderly about her son.

Lastly, she moved from Mab's side to Gabriel's. "This is my mate, current Headman of the Macha, Gabriel - Your nephew of sort, I am told, mistress," Her emerald eyes lifted to those of the dark man, and her expression melted into one of utmost adoration, the truest and deepest of loves. It, too, was quickly masked by a more polite expression, but the warmth still lingered in her forest-green eyes. "If you will allow me, ma'am, I would show you to the parlor. Our maid has a nice pot of tea awaiting us there, where we may settle in warmth. Please, follow me," The ground outside was still hard with frost, and clumps of snow lay in scattered white about the roots of skeletal trees. Guiding the small gathering inside, Alaine closed the heavy oakwood doors at their backs, and then ushered Draco and Mab down the corridor to the large room at the back of the house. Mrs Potts had laid out an old silver tray, on which was a large cauldron-like pot with a lid on top. Steam curled fingers from around the metal. About it were four wooden mugs, each many-faceted and showing how masterfully they had been carved; They had initially been smoothed with the scrubbing of stones and large, granular sand, and had since been worn smoother by the passage of many hands.

Alaine lifted the lid on the pot and dipped each mug into its contents, retrieving a dark, sweet-smelling mixture. It was a traditional black tea, steeped with exotic bergamot oils and smoky pine nettle, producing a warming and flavorsome concoction that Alaine favored before any large meal. Passing out the rustic wooden cups, the Winters woman then gestured for them to take a seat on the long wooden lounge or chairs, each heaped with various softened pelts. Taking a seat across from the pair, she waited for Gabriel to do likewise before speaking. "I trust your trip was uneventful, dearest Mab? The weather here has curbed itself for your visitation, it would seem - I feared a snowstorm would catch you on your travels here!"

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Ezekiel de le Poer · 01-13-2012, 01:28 AM

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There was much to be said for the power of perception. Mab was not this way simply by change; she had been born with a dominant sign at her back, and this was coupled with a leadership taken by force at a young age. She had not intended to lead a coup, but who would have claimed Chimera? A madwoman? The rapist son of the alpha who had not yet gone mad? Oh she would have liked to run then, but she had been obligated and obligations would keep her until her eye went blind and her mind threatened to break. She was lucky. Her cousin-turned-brother had not been, and she felt a great sorrow for his loss.

Each name was given a face; there was a woman who was their priestess of sorts, the darker shade to this Alaine woman, and she interested the harlequin wolf almost as much as the boy. Elijah—she took note of this, as well as the intention to seek him out later. For now, though, there was a need for formality.

Such rules, for example, meant she could not reassure the woman she saw nothing wrong with her son. There was a protectiveness there that was more than simply a mother; Mab was a mother twice over now and had watched her children grow and run off to all parts of the world. Last she had heard, Aren was in Freetown with relatives and Gawain was off in Russian and Zenaida had been caught up in the thrill of chasing a Roma boy (much to her displeasure) and Morgan was busy with her father’s family south of here, in Dublin. She was often grateful that Draco had assumed the title of her son; he kept her company when the others had run off to see the great world they lived in—some of which she herself intended, having sent them on missions as she had this boy.

Gabriel; she recognized the name of the prophet and focused her eye onto his own. He was a handsome man, scarred from head-to-toe, with a red brand on his shoulder and a cross around his neck. She found he matched her gaze and there was a flicker of recognition between them; he saw someone else, she believed, and she saw his father. They would have to talk long, these two. So too, she noticed, would the half-brother’s. Both knew; they had known of each other long before meeting, and now as men, they were able to view each other with six years of life behind them. Had they been boys, she was certain they would have been savage to each other. She expected nothing less of Draco, and the wildness in Gabriel was unquenchable.

They followed her silently, Gabriel close to his woman, Mab pleased by this display. She wondered if he was humoring her and keeping his mouth shut. Bowie often did the same, though her husband was a charming man and once been a lively fellow Now that he had aged, he craved quiet—it was lucky they had two properties. They would spend time in Dublin this winter, while Draco and his young wife held down the land in France.

Mab settled, shifting her slit-leg dress as she did so, favoring one leg over the other. Her limp was barely noticeable, though present. She was glad for the lack of snow, and let out a light laugh at the mention of it. “Oh, I’ve seen many an Irish winter, my girl. My mate, he breeds horses out of Dublin. We chose this day well, and I am glad for it.” She gingerly lapped at the tea, used to the heavy taste. While she favored lighter, eastern flavors, she could appreciate this.

Draco remained silent, and he and Gabriel kept looking at each other as if they were sizing up an opponent. The dark haired woman rolled her eyes and shot the red wolf a look. “I think my son,” she said the word firmly, getting the man’s attention. “Might be more comfortable when he retrieves our hawks. Perhaps you,” she looked now to Gabriel directly. “Could show him to the barn?”

The two men rose, Gabriel lingering to brush his hand across Alaine’s, and then departed. Satisfied, the older woman looked at the fair thing before her and smiled warmly. “I’m sorry to break up your party. Draco was never one for formal occasions, and I don’t believe your Gabriel is either. He looks like his father, you know,” she paused to lap at the tea, her smile fading. “I suspect that dark fur of his comes from his grandfather, though. He’s much bigger than either of them, if you can imagine that with his mother being a coyote.”

Another light laugh escaped her, and she refocused her eye back on the collie. “But enough, I came to learn about you and not talk about my nephew.”

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